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#cw: mafia
carelessflower · 4 months
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“You know–” With a sigh, the gun found its way, moving from his eyes to the shape of his cheekbone. “I’d hate to die for such a small mistake. Don’t you agree?” There was a familiar glint in those smoldering eyes. 
They had done this dance countless times before, where every rhythm slipped in as natural as breathing. Two leaders faced, one lost, leaving the other begging for mercy, for anything they could do in exchange for their life. There was always a way, of course. 
-Week 1 of Problemalec, prompt ex & mafia. Check the tag before you read it here.
tag list:  @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @ukisteria  @wildesummerchild @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43 @khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart  @raziyekroos  @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood @andrwminward @noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks​ @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible @letsgofortacos @kita-no @mxtthew-fxirchild-apologist  @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @pocketoffeels @cityofdownwardspirals @stupidfuckindinosaur @i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag @animalecfest
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kissmeau · 1 year
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Roman was part of the Russian Committee for State Security (KGB). He had a high rank inside the special forces Vympel, which focused on espionage and counter-espionage domestically and internationally. Due to his knowledge of the Japanese language, he was sent to constant undercover missions within the Yakuza.
And he was also a cold man with an ambition for money and power. He became a double agent. One of high regard among Japanese gangsters, working closely with Russia and never lifting the slightest suspicion... And vice-versa. He had one of the highest ranks on the Vympel unit.
Roman's behavior was always calm, mannered, polite, and intelligent. Wherever he walked, he had an aura of dominion that fooled everyone into thinking he was the most loyal dog for both organizations. Roman fell for the feeling of glory and status. He was fascinated with the compliments, climbing the ladder with fake charisma, and betraying each and all of his comrades for his sake.
Roman's ambitions weren't driven by any other desire than self-supremacy. He didn't have any ideals; hence he didn't care for any social movement, so resolute among the population of Russia's political scene of the 20th century.
Roman only cared about money and about being the most recognized commander. Of course, this concept was built in his head. He didn't care for medals but to achieve his personal goals. Roman wanted to see how far he could take it before one of the organizations he belonged to noticed. He thrived on his disguise of a reputable man.
He married at 30 years old to a plastic artist. He loved her deeply and genuinely. However, it was still hidden from her that he was a double agent; to his wife's eyes, he only worked for the KGB. But Roman never felt he had a double life with her. Inessa, and Marina —wife and daughter— had the real Roman: devoted, caring, intelligent, strong, yet sensitive, with an appreciation for arts and an accepting mind of different realities.
In 1991, the KGB dissolved. Roman was fifty-five years old, and it has been quite a blessing. He had been thinking of retirement, too. He was more centered, less ruthless, thinking of having a boy with his wife, although the biological clock was ticking for both. Love and age had made him more tactful towards himself.
But, as the KGB was going through investigations and the Yakuzas were losing territories, an invisible tightrope was rolling around Roman's neck. With his guard down, thinking of the lovely future ahead, he didn't sense the danger approaching him. He didn't move any pieces on the board game he had so diligently built for more than 40 years, so the pieces played for him, revealing all his tricks.
It was the Yakuzas who went after him, chasing his wife and daughter on a deadly road. The car tailgated on a cliff. It fell and exploded, creating a two days fire in the woods. There were no remains of bodies, just a melted car, and a sapphire covered in ashes, which confirmed Roman's worst nightmare.
Through his grievances, he believed it had all been a terrible accident. Nevertheless, on the night of the funeral, sitting by his family's grave in their mansion's backyard, he was ambushed by the Japanese. He had no strength to fight back; he let them have whatever they wanted. He was hit with the reality that he had brought death upon his loved ones, and he was more than deserving of punishment. Even if the punishment meant nothing to him. Compared to what he was experiencing, the Yakuza's revenge was leisure. He wished to be killed, but he didn't get that. It's not part of their rituals; it's not how they carry revenge in their inner organization culture.
Roman woke up without an eye, and all his bank accounts in Seychelles were empty. He still had money in Trinidad and Tobago and his properties. But it was the end for him. The ambitions that drove him in the past were mere squandering. And the love? The love was all gone.
Unable to end his life, Roman, dressed with anger and sorrow, left Russia and went to Ireland, where he lived in solitude for three years. Until a stubborn boy begged for training at his doorstep.
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new-anon · 11 months
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long overdue art for the “heir to an organised crime family pushing his luck for a date with the exhausted and jaded ER nurse” AU
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dragonflavoredcake · 4 months
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Grian, texting Iskall: Help, I'm being kidnapped! Iskall: WHAT?! Where are you?! Grian: In a car with a strange person. Help me! Iskall: I'm going to call Mumbo Mumbo, answering his phone: Hello? Iskall: Where's Grian? He told me he was being kidnapped. Mumbo: Kidnapped? What do you mean, he's right here next to me— Mumbo: Mumbo: I'll call you back. Mumbo: I JUST HAD A MUSTACHE TRIM! IT'S NOT THAT BAD! Grian: WHO ARE YOU?!
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freedomfireflies · 1 year
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Ours*
Summary: The second part to Mine*
Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has arranged a phone-call with one of his most notorious enemies.
Lucky for you, you’ve got a front row seat to the show.
His cock.
Word Count: 4.1k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*
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“How long?”
“Five minutes. At least.”
“And everybody knows the plan?”
Asher nods. “They don’t move until they have my signal.”
“Good,” Harry murmurs, glancing down at his desk, narrowed eyes finding the open file. “Sugar, are you doing okay?”
Without even looking over at you, Harry can sense the way you’ve begun to recoil into yourself. And your cheeks warm at the dominant but caring edge to his voice as you clear your throat and scoot to the edge of the couch.
“Yes,” you call. “Just…nervous for you.”
Asher smirks to himself as Harry looks up, wearing a similarly amused expression. 
“Nervous for us, huh?” Harry muses, leaning back in his seat as he crosses his arms. “What, you think we can’t handle it?”
“No. No, of course not, I just…I want you to get him,” you clarify, glancing down at your lap to avoid their entertained stares. 
“We will,” Asher tells you, rather resolutely. “Trust me, sweetheart. He’s not gonna be our problem much longer.”
Harry nods once in agreement. “Nothing to be nervous about. He’s nothing. A fucking cockroach with his head up as his own ass. We aren’t gonna let him touch you.”
“I’m not worried about me, Har,” you sigh as you stand from the sofa. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. To any of you.”
He eyes you for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before motioning you closer.
Eagerly, you make your way over as Asher side steps out of the way to make room, and once you’re close enough, Harry quickly guides you toward his desk and sits you down on top.
“You don’t have to worry about me, mama,” he murmurs as he stands and makes a home between your thighs. “M’not ever gonna leave you. That’s why I’m staying here. So I can make sure you’re safe.”
You smile as he takes hold of your face between his large palms. “I always worry about you, Har. Whether you’re in here with me or out there with them. I just…I want you to be okay.”
“I am okay,” he says calmly, dipping down to press his lips to your top one. “Right here. With you.”
Asher clears his throat.
Harry’s eyes roll. “And Asher, too.”
Grinning, you glance over your shoulder at Harry’s right-hand man, who nods his approval.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he agrees. “Sean’s not gonna lay a fucking finger on you. Either of you. I promise.”
You smile your gratefulness before glancing back at your boyfriend, whose lips are pursed.
And you know why. While he understands the sentiment, he hates promises. 
This has been an ongoing argument throughout your entire relationship. 
He thinks promises are bullshit—nothing but wishful thinking and empty declarations. Nobody can guarantee anything. Especially in this line of work. You can’t possibly swear to make sure something happens when the entire world is working against you. 
But you think promises are the only real thing to hold onto you. A trust and a deal created based on faith and understanding. No, you will never be a hundred percent certain. But you’ll try. And sometimes…giving someone your word can make all the difference.
Asher knows Harry’s aversions to the phrase, having been reprimanded for it before. But you know he’s chosen to say it now because not only does he mean it…he knows you need to hear it.
So, Harry allows Asher to make you this guarantee. Because whether or not he believes in the idea…he chooses to believe in Asher. And in his ability to keep you safe.
“So…what do you need me to do?” you ask, fingers curling around Harry’s wrists to make sure he keeps holding onto you. 
“Stay right here,” he declares. “And give me something pretty to look at.”
Your face warms at the compliment, although you know he’s not kidding. “Ha, ha.”
He merely grins as he leans in for another kiss. This one much longer and much…heavier.
Whether or not he admits it…he’s nervous. He wants to know you’re safe more than he wants air in his lungs. Wants to be able to tell you that you’re safe and mean it. 
Deep down, he wants to promise you that nobody will ever get to you.
Finding Sean is simply the first step in that direction.
And if they don’t—
The phone rings.
You jolt in place from the sudden and shrill sound while Harry leans back and meets Asher’s eye.
Asher nods, finger coming up to tap his earpiece as he mutters, “Standby.”
Your heart begins to hammer inside your chest as you look between them and get ready to slip off Harry’s desk so you can return to the sofa.
But before you can, his large arm is outstretching across your body, blocking your path while his other hand moves to retrieve the phone.
Your mouth opens, ready to ask what he’s doing, but are unable to slip the question in before he brings the headset to his ear.
In a clipped voice, he sneers, “What?”
You watch his expression as he listens to the response, secretly wishing you could hear but knowing it’s probably better you can’t.
“Figured you’d find your way back to me eventually,” Harry replies, rather condescendingly. “But I’ll admit…I am a little disappointed I won’t get to put you on your fucking knees and make you beg.” 
Another beat as Harry awaits Sean’s response.
And whatever it is, it makes his brows weave a bit closer together as his teeth start to grit. The muscles in his already strong, tan arms begin to flex beneath his black t-shirt as he grabs onto your thigh and squeezes.
And at this point in your relationship, a firm touch like this doesn’t startle you, so you merely place your hand over his and do your best to offer some comfort.
He doesn’t show any signs of acknowledgment, but you know he appreciates it as he looks over at Asher.
Asher in turn takes a moment to listen to the response from his team before nodding his chin toward Harry, finger rolling through the air as an instruction to keep the conversation going.
“I’d watch your fucking tone,” Harry seethes, leaning forward as his mouth presses into the receiver. “There is no goddamn corner of the Earth that I couldn’t find you. And when you try to weasel your way out of our fucking deal…try to undercut me, and take what isn’t yours…the price on your fucking head goes up.”
You catch Asher mouth something to Harry as a silent conversation is had through tense glances.
With that, Harry presses a button on the base, slams the phone back into the switchhook, and instantly, the speakers come alive with the sounds of shouting.
Curious, your head tilts as you look over at your boyfriend, quietly questioning his intentions.
He simply throws you a smirk and takes hold of your hips right as the ringing of a gunshot echoes through.
And then, it happens again. And again. And again.
You feel the blood drain from your cheeks as you begin to piece together the truth. 
You’re listening to Harry’s team taking Sean hostage.
There’s yelling, and cursing, and more gunshots, and pleas for mercy. You imagine they’re taking out Sean’s own men first before moving for him, and the thought makes your head spin.
However, Harry smiles through it all, cupping your cheek in his palm before leaning in to kiss you. 
You go still in his touch, unsure how to devote your attention to him when so much death and destruction is happening a few feet away.
But Harry doesn’t mind. He kisses you anyway. Takes control of you the way he’s so keen to do. He pries your lips apart and slips his tongue against yours. He moves his touch to the back of your neck to go a bit deeper and fully own you. And he grins sadistically through every second of it.
There’s some faint mumbling from the other side of the phone that you don’t hear or understand. But you do vaguely see Asher press his finger back into his earpiece as he nods at whatever is being said before turning to his boss.
“Ready,” he says as Harry hums and brushes his nose against yours.
“You still with me Sean?” Harry calls, and you swallow as you await Sean’s response.
It takes a moment for it to come, the rustling of violence slowing to a stop as a shuddering breath is heard.
“Fuck you.” The response is seethed through the speaker as Harry once again smiles to himself and rolls his head to the left so he can kiss the other side of your mouth.
“Easy,” he warns the convicted felon. “There are ladies present.”
Asher’s expression is smug and while you feel rather uncomfortable bearing witness to this side of Harry’s job, you can’t help but feel a little…thrilled.
You’ve always loved seeing him like this, although it is rare. Since he’s determined to keep you hidden away from his demons. 
But now, getting to see this kind of rage, this kind of power…you’re rather smitten.
A long stretch of silence follows Harry’s response, and he uses this time to begin trailing his free hand along your outer thigh.
His fingers dance across the fabric of your skirt before innocently slipping beneath to help guide your leg a bit further over, creating more space. 
You quickly grasp onto the edge of his desk to brace yourself as you stare at him, eyebrows flying up your forehead.
However, he simply sweeps his hand from your neck to your jaw, thumb brushing down your bottom lip.
“Do you know why…I’ve devoted so much time…so much money…to making sure that the men I do business with…are capable of doing it right?” Harry asks of Sean, his eyes on your mouth, touch once again traveling up your inner thigh as his intentions become clear. “Do you know why…it’s so easy for me…to find you? Put you on your fucking knees with a barrel to your head?”
There’s no answer from Sean. You didn’t imagine there would be. Harry merely wants an audience as he does what he does best.
Shows off.
“Because you…are fucking weak,” Harry continues in a near growl as he moves his lips to your neck and his fingers to your already damp panties. “Sloppy. Pathetic. Unable to follow a simple command.”
You swallow a whine as he slips beneath the band and finds your clit. He grazes it for only a moment before moving lower to find the pooling arousal being kept from him. 
“You underestimated me,” he murmurs, kissing just below your ear. “Underestimated what I’d do…to keep her safe.”
There’s another loud thud from the phone as Harry grins and eases a finger inside your aching hole.
“So…here’s what’s gonna happen,” he decides, waiting until you’ve actually begun to enjoy the feeling of his hand before taking it away from you altogether…and stepping back.
You just about crumble, whimpering to yourself as your nails scratch down the wooden table, and you watch him with a heavy lust.
But Harry doesn’t notice, instead nodding at his partner. “Hold her open,” he calls softly to the right-hand man, who obediently moves for you.
A tad curious, and endlessly intrigued, you look between them as Harry begins to roll up the sleeves of his nice dress shirt, stopping near the elbows, while Asher makes a home behind you.
His hands find your hips and he yanks you across the desk until your back meets his chest. Then, he leans forward so he can take hold of your legs and spread them as far as they’ll go, your muscles burning from such a stretch.
And Harry watches with a hunger you don’t think you’ve ever seen. You wonder if this has always been a secret kink of his, and truthfully…you wouldn’t be surprised.
He knows that Asher is probably scared shitless right now, terrified that if he makes one wrong move…it’s his head, next.
You imagine that’s what has Harry so awestruck. Knowing that the two most important people in his life have submitted to him. That they’ll do anything he asks. That in this instance…he has the power. The control. You’ll do whatever he tells you.
It’s probably why you’re so enamored, too. Because you know you’re safe. Every other day of your life, your safety can be called into question but now…with both of these men, you have never been more protected.
You’ll happily give them your pleasure, your body, your orgasms. Any fucking day of the week.
“I…am gonna fuck my girl,” Harry continues, once more speaking to Sean as he eyes your cunt and begins to kneel in front of you. “And lucky for you…I’m gonna let you listen.”
Your heart is in your throat with this admission, skin warming as he reaches for your underwear and easily snaps it from your hips. 
“And the second she comes…I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he finishes resolutely before surging forward and licking his tongue up your pussy.
You gasp so hard, you jolt against Asher’s chest, forcing his hands to tighten around your thighs as Harry begins. 
Your eyes just about roll back as soft, practiced licks are had across your cunt, teeth nipping at you with fervor. It’s…ecstasy. 
Sure, he’s eaten you out before. And he’s always been quite exceptional at it, too.
But never like this. Never under these conditions. Not with Asher in the room. Touching you. Holding you open. Holding you down. Keeping you still for his boss—your boyfriend—as a dangerous criminal is forced to listen over the phone.
“Oh, come on, sugar,” you hear Harry tut from between your thighs, and you look down as he glances up at you through his long lashes. “You know better than to be quiet, don’t you?”
He presses his tongue flat against you before you can respond, almost as if to ensure he’ll get the reaction he’s so desperately looking for.
And it works. You whimper as you nod, allowing the sounds to flow from you freely as you slouch in Asher’s hold.
“There you go,” Asher seems to chuckle in your ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
And you know he does. He’s now the only thing holding you up, keeping you from melting through the desk and onto the floor. 
Harry is quick with his work. Usually, he likes to drag this particular activity out. Work you up, leaving you hanging and desperate.
But today, he wants your orgasm. Wants that permission to kill the man he’s been hunting for weeks.
So, as the sounds of muffled grunts and pained groans continue to slip from the speaker, Harry adds two fingers into play. 
The moan you make is so loud, you can hear the echo of it through the phone. You writhe between the two men, head falling back against Asher’s shoulder as Harry’s grip in your knee tightens.
Harry knows you’re sensitive. Knows he hasn’t been able to give you the kind of care and attention you deserve. In fact, he’s had you do it yourself more times this week than he has your entire relationship.
And your own hand is fine, but it’s not him. It’s not his technique or his tongue or just…him. 
He’s the only one you want. He could be shit at it, and you think you’d still come just because he was the one doing it.
The closer you get, the more your legs shake. The more adamant Harry’s curling becomes. Until he’s stroking that one spot with so much determination that you begin to slip. 
And when he feels you slipping…he stops.
Of course, he stops.
After all, he promised Sean a good fucking.
And that’s exactly what he plans to deliver.
Harry straightens back up as you dejectedly slump into Asher, your eyelids growing heavy with longing.
He rips his belt off, the clanging of the metal sending goosebumps along your arms before he undoes the zipper. 
“Of all the fucking shit…you’ve taken from me,” Harry once again calls to Sean, a razor-like sharpness to his tone, “keeping me from my girl…has got to be your worst mistake yet.”
He takes out his cock, and the sight has you drooling. Saliva instantly filling your mouth as you eagerly watch him stroke it a few times before returning to you.
His other hand finds your cunt, fingers dragging up and down and through everything that’s collected. And the brief contact makes your hips buck up as Asher tsks in your ear and forces you back down.
Then, Harry’s touch is retreating and returning to his swollen tip as he drags your arousal down his shaft, just to watch it glisten with you.
You mewl, eyes flicking up to his as you silently plead with him to fill you. To wreck you, to ruin you, to claim you in front of everybody.
He grins.
Exactly one second manages to fit between the time that he places his hands beside Asher’s to spread you a bit further and when he’s burying himself inside your aching pussy. 
He’s not patient. Not gentle. Not kind. He knows you can fit him, knows you’ll take him, so he lets you. Lets you take him, lets himself stretch you, lets himself own you.
You groan his name as your arms fling around his neck, nails scratching down his scalp as he begins his tortuous pace. 
“Fucking missed you, mama,” Harry seethes in your ear, turning to press a lazy kiss to your cheek. “Missed this sweet, little pussy. S’always so good to me, isn’t it? Squeezes me just the way I like—”
“Please,” you whisper, rather dejectedly as the pleasure begins to consume you. Overtaking the part of your brain responsible for rational, coherent thoughts.
“So fucking tight, sugar,” Harry breathes, fingers curling around your thigh as if to steady himself. “Fucking perfect. Bet they wish they could feel you. Bet they wish they could feel how fucking wet you get for me. How fucking warm—”
He snaps forward, making you whine before he’s taking hold of your waist to drag you closer to him.
“Bet Asher would fucking love…to feel you,” Harry continues, almost condescendingly as he sneaks a sideways glance at his friend. “Bet you’d make his fucking day, mama. Bet he’s never had someone as tight as you. As fucking perfect as you and your pretty cunt. Bet he wanks off to the thought of you when I’m not around.”
You can’t see Asher’s face but from the way his touch has begun to grow heavy, you have a feeling you know exactly what he’s thinking. 
Harry’s devilish smirk returns as he presses his fingers into your clit. “Do you? Do you think about fucking my girlfriend? Think about taking her any way you want? Making her moan for you the way she moans for me?”
To accompany his comment, he shifts his thrusts up, forcing you to make that very noise as Asher exhales a shaky breath behind you.
“Know you do,” Harry tells him. “Just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?”
There’s a pause in the conversation, which you assume is meant to encourage Asher’s reply, and after about a minute…it comes.
“No,” he admits, voice thick as he readjusts his grip on your thighs. “No, I can’t.”
Harry is pleased with this, smiling to himself as he slips his hand under your shirt to find your tit and knead it in his palm. “You like watching me fuck her? Like holding her down for me while I ruin her? Like to pretend she isn't mine? But yours? Ours?”
You’d almost feel bad for Asher if you couldn’t feel how much he was enjoying this little show against your ass.
“Answer me,” Harry hisses when he’s met with no response.
“Yes,” Asher grits between clenched teeth, nails pressing crescent-shaped indents into your skin. 
Harry’s smug expression only grows as he drives his hips forward until you're keening. Then, his attention returns to you.
“Gonna come for me, mama?” he murmurs, dipping down to nose under your jaw until your head rolls back against Asher’s shoulder. “Yeah? Gonna let Sean hear your pretty little cries before I kill him? You gonna be the last thing he ever fucking hears?”
And really, you have no choice. Even if you wanted to be discreet, the way he’s got you held, the way his cock is claiming you from the inside out, the way his fingers are attacking your clit is making it impossible.
Suddenly, you feel a hand on your throat as Harry squeezes and forces you upright. “No, you look at me,” he growls. “Look at me while I fuck you, do you understand?”
You attempt to nod but his grip keeps you from doing so. Instead, you simply clench around him and make another indiscernible noise.
And suddenly, everything whittles down to right now. To this moment as you watch him disappear into you over and over again. The way your body stretches to accommodate him. The way he groans at the sight. The way little droplets of sweat have begun to bead around his hairline.
He slows his thrusts some. So he can really make sure you feel him. So he can push past your muscles and drag himself through. So he can hit the spot you need until you go dizzy. Until you’re blubbering, “Please, please, please, Daddy,” repeatedly with each practiced drive of Harry’s hips.
The name seems to snap his last band of restraint as he growls and leaves bruises behind that will carry you through tomorrow.
And even Asher attempts to ease your neediness. His thumbs brushing back and forth on your thighs as he whispers, “Easy, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just breathe, yeah? Breathe.”
You’re thankful for the reminder. You don’t think you would have remembered otherwise. In fact, you’d almost forgotten how. You don’t remember anything right now except this feeling of tightness in your abdomen. Of euphoria building within your cunt as Harry repeatedly strikes you with white-hot licks of bliss.
“Getting close, aren’t you, sugar?” Harry mumbles, kisses moving down your neck as he flicks your clit beneath his thumb. Rubbing it in circles as you attempt to squeeze your legs closed. “Oh, I know. I know, honey. Want you to wait for me, all right? Want you to wait until I’ve filled you and then I want you to come with me, okay?”
You whimper again as his hand returns to your waist, waiting eagerly for him to finally find his end.
And you attempt to help him along, hands tangling in his hair, pussy fluttering around his cock, and soft, little whines urging him closer. 
The veins in his arms are pushing against his skin as he grips onto you. As he fights the urge to just throw you down onto the floor and split you in fucking half. 
You sort of wish he would.
But that thought is dangerous. Much too dangerous and you squirm a bit harder as you wrestle with the impending orgasm. Commanding yourself not to come until he has.
And feeling your struggle has Harry’s eyes rolling back as his rhythm begins to falter and he seethes, “That’s my fucking girl,” before releasing his load.
You bask in the feel of his warm seed filling you to the brim, vaguely aware of anything else until you hear Asher whisper, “Now, sweetheart. Go ahead.”
So…you do.
The office comes alive with near-pornographic moans and whispers of names. And in the middle of it all…gunshots.
Harry’s touch continues its assault on your clit as he rides you through your first and straight into your second. Wanting you to come to the sound of Sean and his men being eliminated one by one.
You choke on a pant as he attacks your sensitive, swollen cunt. As he forces you to find your second orgasm of the afternoon. As Asher continues to keep you spread, the warmth of his body, and the smell of his cologne overwhelming each of your senses.
It’s too much, too good. You feel powerless under the weight of this one moment. Of Harry, and Asher, and their promise to put you first. Keep you safe. Make it worth it.
The second one hits you so hard, it feels like a slap across the face, and Asher releases his hold on you so you can collapse into Harry’s chest and bury your face in his neck.
And Harry is more than happy to have you in his arms once again, caging you to his body as he murmurs his praises and gently slows his pace.
He kisses the top of your head, runs his fingers down your spine, and tells you how proud he is.
And as he does, Asher reaches for the phone, lifts it up, and slams it down to end the call. 
"Did so good for us, didn't you?" Harry says as you sigh with contentment and melt into his touch. "Didn't she?"
Asher hums. "So fucking good, sweetheart."
You revel in their voices. In their assurances. In the way they still sound like they're far from through with you.
And in the way you feel so safe.
Protected.
Now…it’s just the three of you.
And truthfully…
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Next Part:
~ Yours* (Pt. 3)
Previous Part:
~ Mine* (Pt. 1)
- Full Mine Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
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craykaycee · 1 year
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I have not read Sleuth Jesters
So uuhhh @naffeclipse this your guy? Detective AU by @sunnys-aesthetic
Main image w/o text under the cut :D
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zimthandmade · 2 months
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Hi! Love your works so much and thanks for everything you are sharing with us! I'm curious if you have any thoughts on how Mello communicates with mafia guys? I saw Rod Ross on one of your works and it was so cool. I have a small headcanon that Rod was kinda a father figure for Mello in some moment (taught him how to shoot or other mafia stuff) Would like to know you opinion. And one more time just thank for you art
I definitely like the thought of Rod and Mello having this really weird father-son-relationship going on, at least from an outside perspective. They're not really affectionate but Rod is surely keeping Mello close at all times, like - you gotta keep your friends close and your enemies even closer kinda thing.
When Mello showed up out of nowhere at the gangs place, I think Rod saw him as either a valuable ally or terrible enemy if he didn't play his cards right with that kid. "If we dont keep this kid he will ABSOLUTELY go to someone else and if he made it this far he will be able to get in here again”.
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----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵
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aka-indulgence · 1 year
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So... me and @llamagoddessofficial have been cooking up an au for a while... let me show you our hmf!Sans :> (Horror Mafiafell Sans)
You're a waitress working at a bar/restaurant, and a certain skeleton has been coming back again and again. You can't help but wonder... why?
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“He’s all yours, babe.”
You look up from notes on the wall. You’d like to ask ‘who?’ but both you and Lisa know there was no use. You already knew who it was. You didn’t even have to look out the circular window to check. You just stare at Lisa helplessly.
“Really?” You try, “can’t you just… a bit longer?”
Your words come out a perfect mess. Lisa understands anyway.
“Look… I don’t know how to tell you this (Y/n),” She puts a hand on her hip, “you know I can’t go back out there to him.”
“But…!”
You bite your lip. You know she’s telling the truth. You wish you could tell her to suck it up and go back there, no matter how scared she was but… you’re not taking chances with the current patron sitting in the corner of the bar. No one would.
For Lisa’s… and everyone’s sake, you’re not going to see what he might do if you sent her out to tell him that you won’t be serving him tonight.
You sigh, and take a peek through the window. Though elusive nowadays, it was unmistakable who the man- the skeleton in question was.
Sans was built like a tank, his form hunched over the table. Even sitting on the wide, plush red sofa, he looked like a giant, dwarfing the table and chairs like they were playsets. Monsters were already bigger than humans in general but him… he grew bigger than he used to- at least from what you’ve heard. Not like you knew the mob boss years and years ago before he got his infamous skull injury, and the blown eye in his left socket that was soaked in the blood of those who had crossed him. His mouth was set in a frown, filled with razor sharp teeth- one of which was golden.
The same scary face you saw shrouded in shadows in the alleyway, a sharp bone gripped in his large hand, dripping red.
You fled that night, not quite believing what you’d saw. That you’d just saw a skeleton kill a guy in the back of the restaurant? That it was the mob boss Sans?! He didn’t chase you then, and you hoped that’d be the end of it but then… he showed up to the bar as a patron one night.
You were almost certain then, that he had come to kill you. Especially when your dear friend Lisa had so helpfully told you that he’d asked for you in particular.
“her…” his bony finger had pointed at you. She DID tried to save you, to err on mistake- which one did you mean sir?
But every time you moved, his phalange followed. There was no mistaking who he was asking for.
You remember her panicked voice.
“He asked for you! Specifically!”
“W… huh? Why’d he ask for me? Can… are you sure-”
“YES! And I don’t know WHY!”
As reluctant as you were, you still went to serve him. You asked for his order while your grip on your pencil and notepad got slippery as your palms got sweaty. He took his time ordering, perusing through the menu with great attention, while you were praying that your legs didn’t looks as shaky as they felt. You’d never rush him, of course, even if you hadn’t seen him towering over a dead body.
You took his order, served it (stuttering), and… then he left.
… And came back. Again, and again. Every time, he’d ask for you to serve him. He always stares when you weren’t at his table (and actually, when you were at his table too). You could feel that red eye staring a hole into your back from behind. It was unnerving.
It’s a wonder why a man of his infamy would choose a bar like this. You’ve seen your fair share of criminals in this job- it was an alright-sized bar, and not exactly in the best place in town. You’ve learnt to turn the other cheek whenever they were around (and you were sure you didn’t realize just how many of the patrons were gangsters), pretend you were blind to their… occupation.
None of them had been as scary as Sans, though. In fact, his presence alone was enough to drive away most petty criminals.
This place was nothing special. It’s a wonder why he’d choose this place out of all places, especially for a guy who doesn’t like being seen much.
… Ok, that was a lie. Everyone working knew that he was here for you. But that didn’t explain the why.
It was clear to you now that he wasn’t coming here to kill you for witnessing… what you witnessed (Why was a man like Sans doing in that nothing alleyway anyway?). But if not for that then… why did he keep coming, to keep asking for you? Maybe he had… business around here and he liked the place enough to keep coming?
Whatever it was, he was here for a reason and you just… don’t get it.
You don’t get why he wants you to be the one serving him every time he was around, but you did anyway. It’s been a couple of nights now, but you can’t say you’ve become less nervous over time.
After a small inner pep talk to yourself and wringing your hands, you push open the door, walking into the dining area. There isn’t a lot of people inside, a common occurrence whenever Sans visited. Even if it had been busy before, some people would hurriedly finish up whatever they were doing, paying all at once and leaving. You’ve even seen someone stop before finishing their meal. The rest that stayed sat uncomfortably, trying their best to ignore the menacing air that the skeleton brought with him everywhere he’d go.
It didn’t work, of course. A presence like that wasn’t you could easily ignore.
(You wish you could ignore him.)
You smile awkwardly as you walk to his table, setting his drink down. At least you had a little bit of your work cut out for you, with Lisa taking his drink order. His eye zeroed in on you as soon as he noticed you, and though you’ve been taught it’s rude to not make eye contact, with him it felt like looking him in the eye would be the wrong thing to do.
“Is there anything else you’d like?” you ask, your voice sweet and soft as ever, hiding the sound of your beating heart.
He stares.
He always stares.
You see his pupil dilate a little, then he opens his mouth.
“want…”
Sans was a man of few words. He only said his order, and nothing else. It kept your meetings with him brief- even when it looked like he wanted to say something else, he wouldn’t.
This time, he spaces off for a moment, eye looking away from you. You watch his brows draw together, pinched as he concentrates on a thought. You wish you knew what he was thinking of, especially when his frown starts to peel back into a snarl, like he was angry.
You definitely weren’t expecting a hand around your waist, snatching you a second later.
You squeaked, notepad and pencil clattering to the floor, bumping against his sturdy chest. Everyone heard and turned to look, and as soon as they saw tiny you, sitting on the giant’s lap, practically all of them pointedly turned away. You wish they were still looking now- you were pleading with your eyes, help me I don’t think I’m supposed to be here!
He pushes you here and there, so that you’re sat more comfortably on his lap. Your mind goes blank, your body freezes. You could feel his chest expanding and contracting as he breathes. He sounds much calmer now that you were on his lap. Your breaths are shallow, and stop completely when you feel one arm wrap around your middle, like a restraint. His free hand raises, calling for Lisa, who you’ve just noticed is watching from the corner, clutching her apron, as clueless as you are. She approaches, trying to keep her eyes on the skeleton instead of you.
“... burgers.” he says, simply. She nods, and gives you a glance.
You furrow your brows, and you want to hiss Lisa help me! But as soon as she sees your expression she turns around, avoiding eye contact. You could almost hear her say sorry babe, can’t help you there!
You almost call out to her when a hand lands on your head. You go stiff, and after you take a quick peek at him, you look straight ahead. The monster’s phalanges start petting you, slowly, sinking into your hair, scratching your scalp. Sans let’s out a long breath, brushing your hair. A shiver runs down your neck.
… Well. I think I’ll be here for a while…
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Sitting on the lap of a giant skeleton was certainly an experience. You tried distracting yourself, but it was impossible when you could feel every time Sans breathed. There was nothing you could do but sit there, playing with your apron until it was a crumpled mess, sweating a puddle onto your uniform… and maybe onto Sans’ expensive suit. You couldn’t relax, even though taking away big scary skeleton aside, he was comfortable to sit on, and he was warm… and smelled of rain and embers of a dying cigar.
He ate carefully, always leaning forward (squishing you against his chest) when he took a bite of his burger, making sure the crumbs wouldn’t fall on the top of your head, wiping his hands and his mouth before he leaned back. You could feel him sighing, and since he was the only thing you could notice, it felt like this was the most relaxed he’s ever been while in the bar, his breathing slow. Apparently he really liked your hair, with how his claws kept carding through it, even while he was eating. When his hands were clean, he’d let his hands wander all over you- but nothing untoward. You could feel him tilting his skull forward to look at you, while he thumbed your cheek, and his other hand roamed around your waist and belly. Though you were nervous, you could feel when he rubbed your thigh that it didn’t feel particularly… heated.
He sighs, and you feel the pressure of his skull on the top of your head. It took everything in you not to hunch over and avoid it. You screw your eyes shut when you feel him turn his skull, and it felt like he was… rubbing his cheek on you? Like he was snuggling you? Is… is that what he’s doing?
You’re not sure and your nerves are too frayed to call it that.
He didn’t stop after he finished either, his plate clean. He was still there- and subsequently, you stayed sitting on his lap- even after they closed the bar. It was just him now. Your coworkers kept the lights on just for him, and even most of them have gone.
He’s leaning back on the cushions, and he brought both his arms around you to pull you plush against his chest, almost tucked into his neck. You wondered if this was what a teddy bear would feel like, being hugged.
The bartender was cleaning up in the kitchen. It was just you and him in the dining area.
You swallowed… wondering what he wants to do. It’s past closing, late at night, just the two of you, and his hands were still (gently) rubbing you. They haven’t gone anywhere private but- what if he wanted to? … What if he wasn’t here to kill you but.. wanted you to… you don’t know, service him or something? Did he have unsavory requests for you?
You think that thought might’ve scared you even more than the thought of him killing you.
You startle when he grunts eventually, like he’s addressing you. A giant hand cups your cheeks and against your will they turn pink. Even though you were frightened, even if his touches were unsexual they still felt… intimate.
You squeak for the second time that night when both his hands pick you up, and sets you down on the sofa. You feel a ball form in your throat when he stands up and turns to you, thoughts running with all sorts of ‘what-ifs’. He takes your hand, opening it up, and then…
And then he places a thick wad of cash in it.
“... thank you.” He says, quiet.
You stare at the stack of paper on top of your hand, blinking once, before turning to the skeleton, jumping in your seat.
He was gone, just like that.
He was always quiet, wasn’t he?
You sit there dumbfounded, for what felt like minutes, your lips parted, money still sitting innocently in your hand. You think no one can blame you when the only thing you said after you sat there in silence was a very emphatic “... Huh?”
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renfieldsheart · 3 months
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Mafia!Husband x Vampire!Reader thoughts…
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Depictions of: violence, guns, blood, fluff? (Is that possible?), dark yet wholesome?, slight suggestion at end but idk it’s pretty tame.
Vampire!Reader who gets restlessly jealous whenever they smell a stranger’s blood on their husband, but can’t bring it up without exposing their own vampirism.
Mafia!Husband who doesn’t understand how you always know he’s home before he opens the front door, or how you know where he’s been that day just by ‘guessing.’
Vampire!Reader who can smell the smoke from gunfire on their husband’s clothing when he comes home and tries not to show their concern.
Mafia!Husband who hid his job from you for months, scared you’d resent him, only to be completely dumbfounded by your obvious excitement when you finally find out.
Vampire!Reader who begged him to take them with him to his job one day, to which he firmly refused.
Vampire!Reader who confesses their vampirism to their husband, expecting an argument or at least fear, only to be met with pure fascination and curiosity.
Mafia!Husband who now takes you with him to work sometimes, letting you feed on the casualties.
Mafia!Husband who lets you take the wheel for torturing victims, your infectious bites being the perfect threat.
Mafia!Husband who doesn’t bother washing his bloody hands before coming home because he knows you’d lick him clean without a second thought.
Mafia!Husband who makes out with you in the middle of a shootout, lips interlocked and tongues intertwined as blood spatters and sprays through the air, mangled remains of what was once human beings tossed around like confetti.
Match made in hell ♥️
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biscuitsngravie · 5 months
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gangsta fairytale (shanks x reader)
cw/tw: mafia/gang setting, age gap (shanks 39, reader 22), fem reader, kidnapping (brief), not exactly a sugar daddy but he we love extravagant flauntings of wealth & financial security, smut lol, piv sex, size kink (he’s 6’6 like cmon LMAO), exhibitionism, we cum inside cause its fun inside, breeding kink, dacryphillia, nickname for reader is “buttercup, and pretty girl” unprotected sex, slightly public sex? Smol mention, belly bulge
part 2 -- part 3
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At a club on a thursday night cause you wanted to go, but your friends aren’t free till the weekend and you couldn’t wait. But of course that means it’s mostly a sausage party even tho girls get in free before ten cause it’s still a thursday. And every sausage in the party wants your attention
You’re at the bar nursing a drink wondering why you even came and start debating to leave when a very not sleezy looking guy comes up to you and asks “you wanna know my favorite number?” right before leaning way too close to whisper in your ear “69” before you can even turn to scowl at him
Shanks who grabs the hand that’s about to grab your waist (unbeknownst to you) and leans down to ask the guy “you wanna know my favorite number?” his voice is so heavy you can feel the vibration in your own chest despite the blaring music. You turn around to see an absolute tree of a man and you don’t know if your fight or flight or fuck is kicking in
The guy scurries off cause like….its fucking shanks
Instead of being a bigger fish to outsleeze the guy he asks if you’re alright. You just kinda nod and give a half-assed “yeah” with your eyes mostly down and away from him. He just nods back and taps the bar as he gets ready to leave going “well be safe out here” and it’s that that has you asking him to stay. You insist you wanna buy him a drink and it’s not too hard to convince him to stay for free alcohol so he does.
He compliments your fit casually and is your face warm? No, it’s the alcohol silly. You start talking about all the annoying guys here and how “uncouth” they are (he raises his eyebrows at that one) as you just complain about how “there’s piss in the dating pool.” you wonder if you’ll just have to find the “least shitty” person and settle with them
He starts talking less as you enter your tirade. Eyeing you down and going “well if you don’t mind hanging out with this old fart, i can show you how we did dating back in the day.” you try to give him your snapchat but he doesn’t have it and can’t work it even when you get him to download it, so you just give him your number instead
He tells you to shoot him a text that you got home safe and you think it’s cheesy but you do it anyway
The date is super nice, he takes you to this really nice cafe you’ve been meaning to go to. It’s kinda strange cause the menu doesn’t have prices so it’s hard to choose (being a college student and all) but he assures you he’ll cover the bill and to eat your heart out. After that he takes you on a ferry ride and talks about history on every part of the waterfront. It’s then that you find out he’s in love with the sea and the taste of adventure, but he’s (mostly) settled down nowadays. You hope you can go on an adventure with him one day
You two spend a lot of time talking together (you mostly about your classes and professor drama, him mostly about his adventures in his youth, it’s then that he tells you he’s 39) and spend the waning hours of daylight shoreside, and as the sun sets he maps out the stars for you
“Not to be too forward, but i’d love to steal more of your time.”
So you guys go on another date. And another. And an—
Part of you wonders if/when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend, but you don’t wanna do the “what are we?” talk, so instead you do your best to enjoy whatever it is you do have. No matter how many times he grabs you by the chin to face him when you’re looking off into the distance asking “what’s up, buttercup?” you just give the same variation of nothing answers. He knows what you want, but he’s scared to give it to you cause of who he is. If only you knew.
You’re walking down the street one day and try to ignore the scurrying behind you. You knew you should’ve left the library earlier, as the days are getting shorter, but the project is due this friday and—
You can’t even scream properly since they cover your mouth first. Your keys are between your fingers, but they grabbed your wrists at the same time. You’re blindfolded and gagged, delicately (as possible) placed in the backseat of a car. They keep saying how perfect you are for their boss and a bag of rocks drops from your stomach to your ass 
They take you inside a building, up an elevator and blah blah blah, they take your blindfold off and “present” you to their…
“Shanks!”
“Watch your mouth!” one of them is about to smack you for the disrespect but shanks stops him with a raise of his hand and gives a sign to untie you. You run to him on his ridiculously fancy chair and hop in his arms crying about how these guys kidnapped you and were going to send you to some creep
He asks if you’re hurt, his frown lines pressed into his face as he realizes how bad you’re trembling. He holds you close when you look at him with tears in your eyes, wobbly lips, and a shaky voice saying you’re fine. 
If looks could kill, the pair would’ve been incinerated on the spot. But they can’t. So shanks sends them away for a more effective method. They’re never seen again.
It’s then that he says he tells you that he’s the boss. You don’t understand at first until he explains that he’s “inherited” the title since the passing of his father as the crowned prince of the organization
While you’re trying to process it, he explains that that’s why he never asked you to become official with him. That and he didn’t wanna “steal your youth” away from you. But after you beg to stay with him despite it all, he sighs and says he has to be a “real man and stop pussyfitting around.” you’re his girl, and he should’ve been man enough to admit it and take care of you like he should have
Yall are official now. :)
@honeeslust here ya go!
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gabessquishytum · 2 days
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The first time Hob Gadling smells Morpheus Endless, he (Hob) had just shot someone in the face.
Hob tries very hard to be invisible. His job is to do various "tasks" for the Endless Organization. He is to be discreet and effective. And under no circumstances are his activities to point back to the Endless family and their (legitimate) dealings.
This is easy enough as an omega -- even in this current age, people still don't think omegas are "violent" or engage in acts that aren't fluffy and sweet. It's almost insultingly easy to be on the "wrong" side of trouble as an omega.
Hob is not the demure sort of omega. He'd just as soon punch an alpha in the face as purr for one. (When he must interact with alphas "like that," heats and such, Hob is fond of tying them down and riding them to his satisfaction.)
Morpheus Endless doesn't smell forgettable, like the rest of his family. He smells like Hob's favorite things, like home. Hob is going to make Morpheus his, and no one (even Morpheus himself) better get in his way.
Oh god, I LOVE a dominant omega.
Morpheus doesn't have much to do with his family's criminal enterprise - in the dynamic of the family, its his job to appear to the public as a perfectly legitimate philanthropist with an interest in art. But that doesn't mean he's not aware of how the money is really made. And it doesn't mean that he's not a target for rival organisations.
He'd found himself damn close to being kidnapped by some of Burgess's goons when Hob seemed to melt out of nowhere and silently, quickly and expertly shot the kidnappers dead. Then he quickly cut the zip-ties from Morpheus’s wrists and grinned. Morpheus - who would never usually even bother to speak to one of his family's "employees" - nearly melts into the floor with overwhelming lust for this dangerous, smiling omega.
Hob takes Morpheus to the nearest building owned by the Endless organisation and insists on checking him over for injuries. He practically straddles Morpheus while feeling his wrists for any damage, checking him for concussion, even scenting him to make sure that he's "calm enough". Morpheus is far from calm, actually. When he puts his hands on Hob’s waist his feels the holster that's strapped under his clothes and very much bulging with various firearms. Hob smells so dangerous and so good and all Morpheus can think about is fucking him...
But Hob makes it quite clear that he's not interested in a one night stand. Nor is he interested in parting as friends. He fully intends to make Morpheus his mate, whatever the consequences may be. Hob is very much used to getting what he wants, and he doesn't intend to give up. If he has to he'll tie Morpheus up and really kidnap him, take him away from his family and give him a mating bite so it's too late for anyone to object. He'll make sure that Morpheus puts a baby in him, if that's what it takes.
And Morpheus really doesn't need this kind of persuasion, but fuck if it doesn't turn him on. The idea of being taken by his omega is so arousing, he nearly cums right there with Hob just sitting in his lap.
Hob won't be purring any time soon, but he will certainly manage a contented hum a few months down the line when he's introduced to the rest of the Endless family as Morpheus’s mate. It's far too late for them to get rid of him, when he's already carrying a little Endless heir inside him. But he packed his favourite firearms, just in case. It does make Morpheus so horny when he sees his precious little omega holding a gun to somebody's head...
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dragonflavoredcake · 4 months
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Iskall: "Don't feed the birds"? What kind of a sign is that? Stress: Some birds won't leave you alone after you feed them. They just follow you forever. Grian: Can confirm. Mumbo gave me a cracker and a Red Bull six years ago and I haven't left him since.
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uravitypng · 2 years
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𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢! who would...
so this is port mafia dazai and it's under a cut for obvious reasons. this is dark stuff so please be warned and tread carefully. originally this wasn't under a cut and i would've posted it how it is, like i do with most of my shorter writing, it's less than 300 words. mdni just like always . cw: humiliation, threats of drowning, choking, objectification, cockwarming, knife play, gun play, possessive dazai, power play, water sports/piss, (probably a bunch more, lmk)
in my mind dazai is sadistic but still has feeling for you, he always cared about you, plus reader gets off on fear and pain so that's why you're drawn to each other, even if sometimes their relationship isn't the healthiest ! <3
sadist dazai would tell you to say ah, you would and instead of having his dick rammed down your throat like you thought, he'd just piss in your mouth not because he has a piss kink but because he wants to see you utterly humiliated.
sadist dazai would hold your head underwater while he's in the bath wanting you to suck his dick while you try to not drown.
sadist dazai would choke you until you pass out, laughing at how you struggle while he tells you all the things he's going to do to you.
sadist dazai would make you thank him for him fucking you because he could've used anyone and you should be grateful that he picked you.
sadist dazai would put a knife to your throat whenever you resisted him or talked a little to much with chuuya, running the blade over you and telling you to behave or he'll have to remind you who you belong to.
sadist dazai who would make you cockwarm him in meetings, reminding everyone how much power he has over people and reminding you that you're just an object to him. if you start making noise he'll slap you right there because you're being a distraction.
sadist dazai would hold a gun to your head and tell you to keep bouncing on his dick if you slow down he won't hesitate to use it.
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freedomfireflies · 1 year
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Mine*
Summary: Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession.
But he's found the perfect way to make it right.
Word Count: 3.6k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*
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“So, what did he say?”
“What do you think he said? Gave me some bullshit excuse about not knowing the rule and tried to save his own ass.”
Harry tsks as he throws an arm over the back of the sofa. “Fucking pathetic. They’re all the same.”
“All of ’em,” Asher agrees with a nod. “But I had a couple of the guys tail him, and he led us straight back to the warehouse.”
“Good. Think it’s time we pay him a little visit,” Harry decides before his eyes trail over to where you still stand in the kitchen.
You usually try to keep your distance when Harry’s in one of his meetings. And perhaps this isn’t exactly an official meeting per se, seeing as it’s taking place in your living room. But nevertheless, you’re hesitant to interfere.
Besides, you’re more than content to just watch when he’s in his element like this. Like to watch the way his expression will grow dark, and his voice will take on a certain edge. The way he’ll speak about death as if recalling the weather. The way he’ll drop threats as if they were weightless.
He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be. Most of the men that work for him won’t even make eye-contact with him. And you’re almost certain a few of them have even pissed themselves on occasion.
Asher is about the only one who doesn’t flinch when Harry enters a room. Perhaps that’s the result of their lifelong friendship, or perhaps it’s because he knows he’s Harry’s right-hand man. 
Either way, Asher is the only man on the team that Harry truly trusts. Which is probably why he was invited to your home this evening.
Of course, Harry claimed he merely wanted to relax and catch-up. But you knew better. 
The only way to get Harry Styles to actually unwind and relax is by fucking him.
You fidget by the fridge as you’re forced under his cool stare, a tad apprehensive about why you’ve garnered his attention. You hope you haven’t disturbed their conversation, although you do wish he’d wrap it up.
He’s hardly been home the past couple of weeks. You understand why, of course. A threat was made to the company that Harry needed to eliminate. And you’d never stand in the way of his work.
But…you miss him. Miss getting to be near him. And maybe you wouldn’t as much if he actually allowed you to visit him at his office. But he declared it was too unsafe. He doesn’t like when other men look at you. Doesn’t appreciate when the people that he pays get the nerve to gawk at what’s his.
Although, truthfully, you think it’s rather cute how overprotective he gets.
Harry smirks as he motions you forward, seemingly amused. “Come here, sugar. You’re too far.”
Relieved to know he’s not upset, you let out a deep breath and obey his command, feet padding across the hardwood floor to bring you closer to where they reside.
You smile a shy greeting at Asher, who offers an entertained grin of his own before Harry is looping his outstretched arm around your waist and placing you on his lap.
“There,” he declares as his chin slips over your shoulder. “S’much better, isn’t it?”
You nod, face warming and hands gathering in front of you.
You’re not sure why you’ve gone so quiet. So still. Something feels…off. Incomplete, in a sense. 
Sure, the warmth of his body is doing wonders for this…lost feeling in your head, but it still doesn’t feel like it's…enough.
However, Harry can read you like a book. Knows what each nervous habit and tic means. Knows when you’re feeling anxious, nervous, shy.
Submissive.
And he knows exactly how to fix it.
“Was just telling Asher here about sending our good friend Sean a little message,” Harry murmurs, subtly pulling you back into his chest. “M’getting so fucking tired of playing all these games. Tired of being kept…from what’s most important.”
His fingers begin to tap against your thigh, maybe in an attempt to call your attention to him, but either way…it makes your thighs squeeze a bit closer together.
You feel him smile into your neck. “Are you tired, too, mama?” he hums, in that low tone of voice he knows makes you weak. “Tired of waiting for me? Tired of needing me to make it better?”
Despite yourself, your lashes flutter as you sink even further into his hold. Needing to be encompassed by him. Cocooned by his smell, and his touch, and his intentions.
You’re vaguely aware of the way he’s begun toying with your dress, gently guiding the fabric further up your legs. Giving you enough time to realize. To stop him if that’s what you want.
And maybe you should want to stop him. Should be more concerned about poor Asher, forced to watch from his chair a few feet away. But right now…right now it feels necessary. Like if you stop him…you’ll die.
“So unfair. Being kept from you,” Harry whispers, pressing his lips to the skin just below your ear. “So fucking unfair…knowing that you’re waiting here for me. Like a good girl. Laid out in our bed…needing me to take care of you.”
The cool air feels sinful against your bare thighs, but you welcome it. Welcome the chill that travels down your spine as your cunt grows a bit needier.
Despite yourself, you begin to squirm over his lap, rather desperate for some friction. For him.
And he chuckles darkly at your attempt, the one arm on your hip tightening ever-so-slightly to prevent a second effort. “And I haven’t been, have I? Haven’t been taking care of you the way you need. The way you deserve. Huh, sugar?”
You’re quick to shake your head, longing to appease him. Make him happy. Give him whatever he wants. An answer, your body, your time.
He has it. It’s his.
His hands find their way to your underwear. He’s gentle. Tame. Innocently grazing his finger over the front of your soaked panties as he hums with contentment.
“Oh, my poor little girl,” he coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? Bet you feel so fucking empty…don’t you, mama?”
Another quick nod, your eyes growing heavy as you rest back against his shoulder, breaths quick and light.
He adds a bit more pressure. Enough to make you choke on a whimper as you steel yourself against his chest. You grasp onto his wrist, maybe in an attempt to warn him, or maybe in an attempt to just…touch him. Be a part of it. But either way, you don’t let go.
“What?” he asks gently, dancing a few innocent kisses down the curve of your neck. “What, sugar? What do you need?”
And you want to tell him. You do. But…you can’t speak. You couldn’t really speak before, either, but now…now it’s impossible.
Instead, you sigh. You sigh and you squeeze his arm and you hope that he understands.
Which he does. 
He always understands you.
“Come on, honey. Tell me,” he pushes, the determined strokes growing a bit more powerful. “Need me to make it better?”
You swallow thickly, a soft whine melting from between your lips as you slowly grind into his hand.
But that small voice inside your head reminding you that you aren’t capable of making a coherent decision pipes up. 
Harry doesn’t share. He never has, he never will. You don’t imagine he’d appreciate Asher bearing witness to such a sight, and you have to wonder if Harry even remembers the poor man is even still in the room.
Your head rolls, eyes finding Asher’s figure, still seated in his chair. You’re hoping to call attention to him, so Harry is forced to recall his presence.
And it works, Harry looking over as well while Asher murmurs, “Hi, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks heat up as you nestle further back into Harry’s chest.
However, instead of growing annoyed, Harry simply smiles. “Oh, sweet girl. Are you worried about him?”
You nod once, looking back up at your rather cocky boyfriend.
In return, he tsks soothingly, hand coming up to brush down your cheek. “You don’t have to worry about Asher, mama. He doesn’t mind. Does he?”
“Not at all,” Asher replies calmly, almost as if unaffected by the scandalous act before him. “What the boss man wants…the boss man gets.”
And for some reason, knowing the handsome second in command is watching you makes your mind grow that much fuzzier. As if fully surrendering to that floating feeling trying to trap you.
Once Harry sees that you’ve fully succumbed to your subspace, he hums again, and presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay, sugar. M’gonna take care of you. I’ve got you, all right?”
You don’t have the strength to nod, instead making a rather needy noise as you tug on his arm and turn to bury your face in his neck.
 Another chuckle emits from his chest, reverberating across your back as he readjusts in his seat to get started.
First, he takes hold of the pathetic excuse for underwear you slipped on and begins dragging them down your thighs. Then, after eagerly flicking them free from your ankles, he tosses them toward his partner. “Hold these for me, yeah?”
Asher catches them midair, nodding his understanding as you suck in a sharp breath. 
And you can’t help but squirm, now growing hot under the realization of your nakedness to the room.
But you appreciate the way both men attempt to make you feel safe. Asher doesn’t stare, instead relaxing in his seat as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. Patiently waiting for Harry’s next instruction. Obediently waiting for him to do what he needs to do.
And Harry does what he always does. He takes care of you. Whispers things in your ear like, “Shh. That’s it, there’s my sweet girl. I’ve got you, honey. Just gonna have a little taste, yeah?”
It’s an out-of-body experience. It’s like you’re here…but you’re not. You know he’s touching you but that’s all you know. It’s all you want.
He takes your legs in each hand before pulling you further open, resting your thighs on the outsides of his. 
You’re good and truly spread now, allowing even more of the cool air to travel its way to your aching cunt.
And you shiver when you feel it, lashes falling shut as you take a deep breath in. Harry’s familiar cologne calming your nerves almost instantly.
“There you go,” he praises gently, smoothing his palms along your skin. “That’s it. Just relax for me, okay? Relax…”
So you do. You release each inhibition and just…let him. Let him do whatever, take whatever, have whatever he wants.
When his fingers return to your pussy, it’s like magic. Exactly what had been missing, and you jolt at the faint but welcome contact.
He teases you for a moment, dragging his touch up and down, through and over. Never in. Never hard. 
Never enough.
And you whimper every time he leaves your swollen clit, wishing more than anything that he would merely give you what he knows you need.
Maybe he’s trying to show off for Asher. Or maybe he just likes having an audience and wants to prolong the experience.
Either way, it almost kills you.
“Please,” you breathe, once again attempting to thrust up into his hand before pouting when he pulls away.
“Please?” he repeats, grip constricting around you. “Please what, hm? What do you need, sweet girl?”
Another displeased huff as you scratch your nails down his tattooed skin, pressing deep into the ink as if hoping to see it bleed.
The fucker has the nerve to laugh. “S’not an answer, is it, mama?”
You’re growing impatient, half a mind to shove his hand away and do it yourself. Which you don’t think he’d mind.
No, he doesn’t like when you touch yourself. But that’s only if you don’t ask permission. As long as you ask him first and allow him to either see it or hear it…he doesn’t mind.
“Touch me,” you whisper, so faintly, you’re almost sure he didn’t hear.
And you’re proven correct when he dips down and murmurs, “Again.”
“Touch me,” you repeat, a little bit louder, but still airy. “Please, Har…please touch me.”
Another tsk. A deliberating noise as if debating whether or not to agree. “I don’t know. S’kind of in the middle of something. Maybe I should finish my meeting first, hm? Think you can sit here and wait for me?”
And you groan. Because no. No, you can’t possibly wait. Not anymore than you already have, and he’s so cruel. So fucking cruel to do this to you.
“You can,” he decides, ignoring your outraged plea. “You can be good for me. Know you can, sugar. Come on.”
With that, he leans back against the couch, and turns to Asher, diving once again into their previous discussion.
And you assume that part of Harry’s little game will involve him taking his hand away from you. To actually make you wait until he’s decided it’s your turn.
But you’re more than surprised when he continues his light, feathery touches across your cunt. Playing with your folds and your clit almost mindlessly. 
“Should I send the guys down tomorrow?” Asher asks, fighting a smirk as Harry mulls this over.
“Not yet,” he decides. “No. No, I think we need to make him sweat it out a bit. He knows we’re coming. Let the fucker spin.”
“I’ll have Blake watch him,” Asher replies. “Make sure he doesn’t skip town.”
“Good.”
“You wanna bring him in for questioning?”
Another pause as Harry trails his finger down, teasing your hole before pulling back. “Not yet. Think we need to remind him what happens…when he lies.”
And just as this decision is made, Harry finally concedes to your needs and pushes himself in. All the way to the knuckle as you gasp and writhe over his lap.
It’s not at all subtle, and you’re almost humiliated by how unpoised you’ve become. But you can’t help it. Can’t help any of it. Not the sounds you’re making, not the noises coming from the gentle thrusts of his finger in and out of your pussy.
It’s echoing across the room like music from the record player.
But neither of the men pay it any mind, instead carrying on in conversation as if you’re not even here. As if you’re not dripping down Harry’s hand, soaking his nice trousers.
“You think he’ll lead us to Matthews?” Asher asks next, resting one arm over the back of his chair.
“Maybe. If we do it right,” Harry says, stroking your inner walls with devious intent. Looking for that one spot that unravels you faster than anything else. “But there are ways of making him. If we need to.”
Asher nods. “I’ll call Blake tomorrow. Arrange the trail.”
But you miss Harry’s reply beneath the sound of your own desperate whine, your chest now heaving under the stress of pleasure building within your stomach.
His thumb flicks across your clit before pressing into it, hard and with fervor. He maneuvers it in frantic circles as your pants grow louder. 
You don’t know what to do. How to breathe. No idea how to remain relaxed when he’s doing this to you. When he’s so determined to make you cum in front of his guest.
“—wouldn’t matter then. He knows. They all fucking know,” Harry is saying to Asher before his lips are pressing back into your cheek. “And I’m not going out there if I don’t have to.”
“That’s fine. You know we’ve got it,” Asher responds. “Would you still like Alec on patrol?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admits before a second finger begins easing into you. “I don’t like the way he looks at her.”
Asher’s head tilts. “Was he looking at her?”
“He was fucking thinking about it,” Harry scoffs, the hand on your hip tightening. “And if I can’t be here with her, I need to know she’s safe.”
“I can send a few more guys over. Make sure there’s someone at each post.”
“No. I don’t want anyone else watching her but me,” Harry grunts. “Fucking bring her with me before I let someone else in.”
You sigh at this. You know he worries about your safety and care more than anything else. It’s why he’s gone so often. He wants to keep you hidden away in the apartment. Out of sight from his men, and his job, and his…well, enemies.
You understand it, you suppose.
Not that it makes it any easier.
The coil in your belly tightens as he brings his other set of fingers into play. Now, both hands are devoted to you. One making sure to fill you and stretch you just the way you need, while the other plays with your clit like you’re nothing but a toy.
“We can find a safe house in Seattle,” Asher offers. “A place to keep her if you need to bring her along.”
“Maybe,” Harry murmurs, his chest flush with your back as if trying to push himself through you. Consume you. “But if they know she’s there—”
“They won’t,” Asher interrupts, almost resolutely. “They’re not gonna fucking touch her. I promise.”
“No,” Harry agrees, growling the word in your ear as you clench around his fingers and gasp. “No. They’re not. Not gonna use her…to get to me. Not gonna fucking take…the only good thing I have. Not gonna take…what’s mine.”
The energy has turned dark. Angry. Now he’s not trying to tease. Now he’s trying to own you. Remind you who you are. Who you belong to. 
The explosion of your orgasm is racing toward you, hurtling so fast, it makes your lungs ache.
He needs you to cum more than you need it. Needs to know that your body only bends for him. That your pleasure is his.
That you are his.
Even if you tell him every day. Even if he knows you’d never look at anybody else the way you look at him.
He needs to feel it. Needs to understand that he’s not gonna lose you the way he loses everything else.
And one of the ways he understands this…is by making you cum so many times that you don’t know anything else but him.
“Almost there, aren’t you?” you hear him whisper, his teeth finding your earlobe as he tugs.
“Yes,” you sigh, so pitifully wrecked that you can hardly speak. “Yes. Wanna cum for you. Please…”
“I know,” he hums. “I know, sweet girl. And you will. Gonna cum all over my fucking hand, yeah? Gonna let me taste how much you missed me?”
You give him nothing more than a zealous nod as you begin to squirm harder over his thighs, seeing that blissful end. 
And when it happens, you just about start crying. It’s so…powerful. And you don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you’ve been feeling so needy today. Maybe it’s because of Asher being here. Maybe it’s because you can feel how angry Harry is.
But it doesn’t matter. It’s everything. So deliciously perfect that you almost don’t want him to stop.
He’s gentle as he rides you through. As he mutters his praises and leans you both back into the couch cushions. As he keeps you trapped between his arms and keeps his lips on your skin. 
“There you go,” he coos, his praises like a symphony in your ear. Warming your body, your heart, your soul. “There she is. Fucking squeezing me, honey. Feels so good, you know that? Fucking missed it. Missed the way you feel.”
You know he did. He tells you all the time how good your body is to him.
And you believe him.
When he delicately takes his hands away from you, you deflate. Whining some at the loss of contact and fullness, nearly praying for him to touch you again.
But he’s got something else in mind. 
He brings the hand that was inside you up to your mouth, soaked fingers trailing across your bottom lip in a silent instruction to open wide.
So, you do. You take his large digits into your mouth, and you suck. You take everything on your tongue as you swirl it around him. As you swallow and let your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy.
And as you do, he brings his other hand up to his mouth. Doing exactly the same thing as you both sit there and taste. 
And the sound of him cursing with content at the way you coat his tastebuds is fucking magical. Everything he does is magic to you.
You’ve never felt so happy.
No, you’re still not quite in your right mind, but you don’t even care. Don’t care how far away you feel because you know he’s here to bring you back when you’re ready.
“Good fucking girl,” he practically purrs, palm once again stroking down your cheek. “Did so good for me, mama. So fucking good. My perfect angel. Feel better now, honey? S’that what you needed?”
You smile. “It was certainly a start.”
Harry smiles a bit bigger now, laughing beneath his breath as he drops his hand back down to your aching pussy, cupping it firmly. “A start, huh?”
You nod, a catch in your throat as the intrigue starts to build once again.
Harry hums.
“Then I guess we better finish it.”
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I know this isn't everybody's thing, but if you guys would be okay with me maybe doing a part two...I kind of love this Harry? 😭
Next Part:
~ Ours* (Pt. 2)
~ Full Mine Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
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yoinkschief · 11 days
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Strip/Mafia Tord !!!
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zimthandmade · 2 months
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Sit Down.
----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵
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