#mafia style man

[artismeyou-12]

man

[ahit-mafia-boss-fanclub]

Mafia Boss Headcanon #8

He's all talk no show when it comes to the "high class life", he'll pretend he knows everything about how rich people do but if you put him in a rich person party he has zero idea what he's doing

He'll just shyly stand in a corner trying to not make anybody notice him and wait until he's been there long enough for him to leave.

[eiilese]

what if the strawhats had different roles on the ship⁉️ i swapped everyone’s roles except for luffy because i can’t imagine him being anything but the captain

these are loose redesigns since their canon designs don’t really read as their roles all that much to begin with. some extra doodles and ideas for this in the cut !!

nami, vice captain: i took a lot of inspiration from her beta design!! canon nami already bosses everyone around so she fits right into the role. she wields an extendable staff (usopp still makes it for her); she lost her arm over the time-skip like how zoro lost his eye. i LOVE drawing cargo pants and boots, so she ended up with a sorta bottom-heavy design. frankly it’s probably not her style but i like how she looks

zoro, the cook: my foolproof logic is zoro uses swords = good with knives. he does not use katanas to cut produce however, just normal knives. i was trying to go for “sweaty ramen guy” with the towel around his neck. the majority of the shit he cooks would probably be drowned in alcohol. he also wears his bandana the majority of the time now!! it completes the ramen guy look

sanji, the sniper: i also took inspiration from his beta design for this!!! he has guns!! and perfect aim of course. i was going for more of a mafioso look so germa 66 would be like, a mafia organization on top of all the other villain shit they already do. he has two guns but i didn’t draw a holster bc that’s annoying🤞 he lights his cigarettes with his guns. how would that even work? don’t ask me

usopp, the navigator: his artistic talent lends itself to creating perfect maps! he also still tinkers, making nami’s staff as well as having a specialty for compasses. he uses a slingshot still (no perfect aim we gotta nerf him) and shoots weather-related projectiles. his goggles serve as binoculars, they can zoom to several different distances. i drew him in his zou outfit purely bc it’s my favorite one

chopper, the helmsman: he would predominately use heavy point while maneuvering the wheel. i changed his hat up to look more like a sailor’s cap, with an anchor symbol instead of an X. to be honest i don’t have much else bc helmsman doesn’t bring much to my mind :(

franky, the musician: ROCK N ROLL BABY YEEAHHH come on his stage presence is unmatched. he’s still a cyborg, he has instruments all over his body like apoo does but they were installed manually. his personality changes depending on what genre he’s playing but rock n roll is his default B) (ex. classical calls for a refined gentleman)

robin, the shipwright: her devil fruit gives her as many helpful hands as she needs! she developed nami’s arm (definitely installed some random shit she did Not ask for). she has a robot mecha that she’s able to pilot all by herself using clones. i changed her orange sunglasses to goggle eyewear

brook, the doctor: the irony of being nursed back to health by a literal skeleton 💀the irony of being the doctor of the rumbar pirates yet being the only survivor, saving no one from the poison 💀 i went for a plague doctor look! IM VERY HAPPY WITH HOW HE TURNED OUT i was really tempted to give him the plague mask too, but i feel that would’ve changed his appearance too much compared to the others

jinbei, the archaeologist: the shape of this man demands a little pair of round glasses on his face. he’s an intellectual i tell you!!! plus still a fishman karate master. the history of joyboy and fishman island being so intertwined is how he developed an interest in history

[glitterandlust]

🕷️💎 Angel rested the bat across his shoulders like a yoke, gore-spattered chest heaving with exertion. There was a wide, manic smile on his face as he studied his handiwork. The demon who lay on the ground at his feet was no longer identifiable. Hell, he was barely distinguishable as a demon. This wasn't like the spider's usual kills at all. Usually, Angel would just shoot anyone he intended to kill, since he never went anywhere unarmed. And he had shot this one, that was true, but he had only taken out an ankle and a knee rather than going for a headshot. Just enough to keep him from running.

The arrrogant sack of shit had been fool enough to underestimate him and to believe Angel would actually ask to see him again after what he had done to the arachnid. Yeah, assault was a thing that happened in this line of work, and Angel had killed plenty of sick freaks for just that, but this one... Oh, no no no. He had deserved something special for the shit he had pulled. Which was why Angel had brought a bat. Usually, he would kill anyone who tried him on the spot. He always had at minimum a pistol on him. That would do the job cleanly and efficiently. With this guy, he hadn't wanted clean or efficient. He had wanted agony and terror and to draw out his suffering as long as possible. And goddamn had that been satisfying.

With absolutely no effort made to clean the blood and brain and chips of skull from his person or his bat, he shifted his weapon down to rest against one shoulder and turned to head back towards the hotel. Let people stare. Like hell would they underestimate him again after this. He knew he was probably going to be walking directly into a lecture from Charlie and a berating from Vaggie, but Alastor would at least be happy to see him. And he'd probably appreciate the gore decorating Angel's clothes and fur. That was the only reaction he cared about anyway.

The little tune he whistled as he made his way home had been on Alastor's show the previous night and it seemed quite fitting. "American baseball bat! / Demolish the discotheque! / And how many blows to his forearm and neck / 'Til he lay in the schoolyard, bludgeoned to death!"

[1644s]

trust me, I’ve got nothing for you other than love

warnings/tags: minors DNI, 18+, dark themes, implied babytrapping, woc!reader, mafia!AU (background), arranged marriage!AU, pregnancy, lovesick!lando, reader is on birth control but is she really?, manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive behavior, dark!lando, these tags are not exhaustive

wc: 5.3k (what happened here...)

summary: Your marriage vows are til death do you part but Lando sees no harm in ensuring your forever is, well, forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

unedited, unbeta'd, etc. this was supposed to be maybe 2k but...here we are... anyway! there's a bigger background plot going on but I cannot be bothered to expand on it aldkjfas please let me know your thoughts and happy reading!!

also! sinha = lion in bengali :)

“You just have to meet him, sinha.”

Through the grainy FaceTime call, your mother’s patient expression holds a touch of exasperation. She’s not scolding you but it’s a close call.

“No expectations?”

She shakes her head. “No expectations,” she promises and then she softens. She looks less like the wife of a criminal and more like your mom. “If you don’t like him—”

“Let me know what day he is free and I’ll clear up my schedule,” you interrupt, unable to bear listening to platitudes. It doesn’t matter if you like or dislike Lando Norris. Your father needs his family’s power and resources. This is a formality for your sake.

There are no expectations because this isn’t a choice.

You make a show of looking away from the camera as if being called and then look back at her with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I have to go. Someone’s at the door.” Your mother tries to say something else but you interrupt her with a hurried, “Love you! Bye.”

The call cuts. Your mother’s disappointed face lingers for a moment longer and then the screen fades to black.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, you rub at your face. Your parents have a way of forcing your hand and making it seem as if they are doing you a favor.

Objectively, Lando is nice. There is little overlap between your circle of friends and his but there is overlap and it lies with Carlos Sainz Jr.

Carlos has had nothing but good things to say about Lando when the topic is broached.

“A little immature but it is to be expected,” he laughed, wine sloshing in his glass. “He’s annoying. Like a little younger brother.”

That glowing review is all you have to go off of until Xavier comes back from his recon mission. You don’t think following Lando around with a camera necessitates such a dramatic title but it is not your opinion they ask for.

You’ve heard of what he is capable of but it is not the red flag it should be. Perhaps it is misguided and shockingly insensitive of you, but you care more if he will be a good person to you. You don’t need his affection but you do need his respect. And with that, you’ll need him to care about you enough to want to keep you safe. A man who feels obligated to keep you safe is not one you want.

Your phone pings. The screen lights up with a message from your father.

Clear your schedule for next Saturday. Wear something nice. Details to come.

-

Your spoon is halfway out of your mouth when Lando sits across from you.

His hair is perfectly styled to look effortless. A stray curl hangs down his forehead and only adds to his boyish charm.

He grins at you, eyes bright and shoulders relaxed. A backpack is slung over his shoulder and he’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. They are of good quality but the lack of suit emphasizes his youth.

You’re suddenly struck by how young the two of you must look. It will be many years before Lando is expected to take over his father’s position but looking at him now, you can’t imagine such a situation. You know better, though, given his reputation.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

It’s so ridiculous it makes you laugh. “You really know how to keep a girl waiting, huh?” you say, more amused than not.

He’s fifteen minutes late but you don’t mind. Tardiness is the last thing you worry about in a partner. His body count, for example, is a more pressing matter.

The illegal one that is.

“I see you’ve gotten some food though,” he says, nodding towards the parfait you ordered. “Care to share?”

You offer him your spoon and when he reaches out, you pull your hand back. “Any allergies?”

He leans over the table and grabs your wrist. Dipping his head down, he takes a bite. “None,” he says around the granola.

You make a noncommittal noise. So far, he matches what Xavier’s detailed about him. There’s an easy going air about him which loosens the tension in your muscles. However, as much as you’d like this to be a normal introduction, you and Lando are working on borrowed time. So you’ll need to speed this along.

A litmus test might do the trick.

“Alright, let me see it.”

His smile disappears. “See what?”

“The file you have on me.”

He props his head with his hand. He’s careful as he says, “I don’t have a file on you.”

Leaning back into your chair, you cross your arms over your chest. You let the silence stretch between the two of you as you appraise him. When he continues to maintain his confused look, you sigh. It is foolish of you to think Lando will be honest. Honesty has no place for a marriage such as the one you will have with him.

“Okay,” you say simply. You tap your fingers against the table, a quick three beat tune before you give him a singular nod. “Let me know when and where to show up for our wedding. I’m impartial to a courthouse wedding but,” and you shrug, “It’s up to you.”

He straightens up. There’s a predatory stillness to him. “That’s it?”

You reach for your bag. He’s rented out the entire restaurant for the two of you so you’re sure the wait staff are being paid an exorbitant wage today. But it won’t hurt to leave a good impression in case you find yourself back here. You peruse your wallet, thankful you remembered to bring cash with you. “Yeah. Sorry to waste your time.” You’re perfunctory if not a little clipped with your response.

You think you’ll grab some lunch on the way back. The parfait, while good, only served to whet your appetite.

“Hold on.”

You can’t help but glance at your watch but you wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts.

“Why go through all this fuss?” Lando twirls his finger. “If you are leaving within—“ He looks at his watch and clicks his tongue, “Ten minutes?”

“I’ve been here for half an hour,” you remind him coolly. He winces but still offers no excuses nor an explanation for his lateness, so you steamroll ahead. “And if you’re willing to lie to me about something we both know is true,” you spread your hands out helplessly, “Then why bother with this? I’m sure my parents told you they set this up to appease me and you know what? Consider me appeased.”

He mouths appeased silently to himself. “You’re mad because you think I lied?” he clarifies, furrowing his brows.

“I’m mad because you are lying,” you correct icily.

“You really think I’d lay all my cards on the table so easily?”

“A file is all your cards?” you challenge.

His jaw locks. “No.”

You decide to cut him some slack. You dig through your purse and produce a folded stack of papers. Your parents were able to pull a sizable amount of information on Lando. It is supposed to remain confidential but this is your future marriage after all. You will be the one dealing with the Norris’, and Lando in particular, not them. You were rereading them up until you ordered and you presume Lando was doing the same given how last second this meeting is.

“I don’t want there to be an uneven playing field,” you say, waving the papers. “I want us to have a clean start.” Then you grimace. “As clean of a start as we can,” you amend.

He eyes the manilla folder. It’s fairly thick and you’re sure your color-coded tabbing only makes it more enticing. Lando kisses his teeth before reaching into his own backpack and pulling out a file. It’s much slimmer than the one you have on him.

You itch to reach over and take it but you restrain yourself. Placing your elbows over Lando’s file, you balance your head on one of your hands, mirroring his earlier lackadaisical pose. “So, is orange really your favorite color?”

“They have that in your file?”

He’s torn between being impressed and incredulous. It makes you wonder what they’ve managed to find on you.

You pull out a photo from your file. Flipping it over, you show him at a random dinner a couple weeks ago. You still don’t know how Xavier managed an invite to such a close-knit dinner but you suppose it’s best to not ask questions. “No. You just wear a lot of orange.”

He tries to snatch the photo out of your grasp but you quickly tuck it back into its place. “You have pictures of me?”

“I’ll show you mind if you show me yours.”

He rewards you with a laugh. “Yeah, s’fair.”

You pass over some of your photos and Lando does the same. You’re mildly terrified of how many Lando hands to you but he does not share the same reservations.

Lando flips through the photos. He keeps his expression neutral, betraying nothing as he sees how he’s been tailed without his knowledge.

“Do you have a favorite?”

You take a second too long to answer. “…Yes.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth but you refuse to let him embarrass you. “Do you have one?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he mocks. Without needing to sort through your pile, he reaches over and takes the one off the top. He places it flat down in front of you, waggling his eyebrows as he does so.

You motion for him to hand you the ones he’s holding and he obliges. It takes a short amount of time even with your feigned studying of the pictures to pick one out.

All of them vary in degrees of how off guard Lando looks but this one in particular looks as if it is any run of the mill day for him. He’s laughing, fingers digging into his friend’s arm for balance. His eyes are crinkled and there’s a lightness to him that seems as if it’s attached to him at all times.

You swallow. Heat begins to collect underneath your cheeks. You hope Lando does not realize how much this photo flays you open.

You slide across the table, face down as well, and wait for him.

“On three?” he suggests.

You can’t look at him. You’ve accidentally laid your heart on a platter and now you must let Lando decide if it’s worth devouring. “On three.”

“One…two…”

You don’t know what you were expecting but you do know it is not this.

“Oh my god,” you groan, cheeks warm for an entirely different reason now.

You’re lounging by the pool in an outfit that is appropriate when you think you’re not being photographed by a random man’s family. You’re shading your eyes with your hand, mouth in a pout as you consider someone in the distance. Odds are, you were arguing with your friend Hiba about something stupid.

However, discomfort soon replaces the embarrassment seeping into your skin as you make a mental check of when you last hung out with Hiba by the pool. That had been…months ago. Your parents had made it seem as if this arrangement was a recent idea and not one they’ve been concocting for months.

Your vision flickers for a moment as your blood rushes to your head. At least they decided against springing a surprise wedding upon you, you suppose. It can always be worse.

Lando lingers on his photo and then puts it down. “So lying is a big deal to you.” He frames it as a statement and yet, he glances up at you through his lashes. His bottom lip is tucked beneath his top teeth.

You thumb your stack of photos, hesitant to see the images that have created the baseline of Lando’s perception of you. A sharp pain flares at the corner of your thumb. Blood is smeared across the white edges of the photos. You press your tongue against the paper cut to stave off the pain. Lando follows the quick flick of your tongue.

“It can be,” you admit. You are many things but you are not unrealistic. There will be things Lando must keep from you, husband or not, for your safety and his. But you don’t think it to be too tall an ask for some modicum of honesty to be what the both of you default to. “I want to trust you. And I want you to trust me.”

“So you’ll be willing to divulge all of your family’s secrets then?” Steel underlays the playful tease in his voice.

You keep yourself from rolling your eyes but it’s a near thing. He is so dramatic. “You will be my family when we’re married.” An emotion you can’t place flits across his face. Filing it away for later, you point at him. “And you lied about something easy to disprove. I’d rather us not act like we’re strangers when I practically have a minor in Lando Norris and vice versa.”

He nibbles the granola from your yogurt. “A minor, huh? You’re that confident?”

You tilt your head. “Should I have booked a seafood restaurant instead for dinner then? I heard Mariana’s does an excellent salmon.”

“Ugh, no. They got that correct.”

You share a smile with him. The tension cracks, giving the two of you breathing room. “Look, I’m not asking for full discretion for the…unsavory parts. Just you know.” You shrug.

“A partnership,” he supplies.

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “Is that what we want to call it?”

“Well, I’m a bit of a romantic so…” His voice trails off suggestively. But the brightness in his eyes lets you know he’s mostly kidding.

You bite the bait he’s hanging so lowly in your face. Compromise is one of the commandments of marriage, right? “Oh, are you now?”

He nods slowly. He finishes off the parfait and now points the smeared spoon at you. “Just you wait.”

“Alright Romeo, let’s start with a date first,” you say, unable to keep from smiling. “I promised you that much, didn’t I?”

He slaps his hands against his thighs. “That you did. Steak wasn’t it?”

You make a face. “Boring but yes. Short notice and all.” You drop a couple bills onto the table before slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Ready to sweep me off my feet?”

“Born ready,” he drawls, standing up.

You don’t miss the flash of silver at his waist. The sweatpants don’t do a good job of hiding what’s hidden there but maybe that is the point.

He catches your wandering eye and extends a hand towards you. His fingers are callused and rough but it’s soothing to you. You’ve never known a soft touch in your life and Lando is no exception.

“I take care of what’s mine,” Lando assures you. “You won’t have to worry about a thing with me.”

His smile is all teeth.

-

It’s overwhelming to be the object of Lando’s desire you come to find out.

“Lando, not here,” you breathe, eyeing his closed but unlocked office door. His lips drag across your throat, open-mouthed and with a hint of teeth.

“I’m a newlywed I think I can be forgiven,” he says, rucking your dress up higher on your body. The edge of his desk digs into your thighs but you hardly notice as Lando traces his nose down your hammering pulse. “Or did you wear this—“ His fingers stop crawling around your hips when he realizes there is no scrap of fabric lying against your skin. He runs his hand over your smooth skin again as if to do a sanity check. “Oh, you’re such a tease.”

He looks up at you through heavily lidded eyes and you grin. With how voracious Lando’s appetite for you is, you didn’t think underwear was worth the chance he might ruin another pair of panties. You’re still mourning that hot pink set he ripped with his teeth.

“Didn’t feel like leaving you something to remember me by this time,” you quip, spreading your legs.

Lando groans, sliding his hand down your thigh until his fingers brush against you. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he says raggedly. He nips at your throat, the bite sharp enough to leave the imprint of teeth. The pain dissolves as the fever in your blood heightens. He soothes the faint sting with a wet kiss, apologetic and unrepentant at the same time.

He sinks two demanding fingers into you with ease. You turn your face into his bicep, trying to keep yourself from gasping too loudly. Your teeth dig into the fabric as his fingers curl up, nudging a spot inside that heats your blood to an inferno. You whimper, urging him closer. Lust clouds your senses and makes his teasing touches torturous.

He drags his thumb across your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading down your spine. The muscles in your thighs tighten and your knee hitches up to his side.

Lando huffs a laugh, blowing cool air against your sweaty skin. “Thought you didn’t want this,” he mocks.

“I changed my mind,” you say. Unbuckling his belt, you try to shove his pants down. An impatient whine accompanies you when he doesn’t make it easier for you. “Hurry up.”

He kisses his way down from your jaw to your chest, ignoring how you plead with him. His lips skate across your nipples, tongue darting out to circle them briefly before he drags that same traitorous tongue up the line of your chest.

“Stop being mean,” you whine, trying to push his head off of you.

“You like when I’m mean.” But he acquiesces, shoving down his pants.

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and your stomach twists. The smooth head rubbing against your cunt has you faltering, reminding you of where you are. You almost want to tell Lando to wait but then he’s hiking your leg over his hip as he sinks into you.

A gasp is punched out of you as he stretches you around his cock. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, instead, choosing to press himself into you even further, reaching somewhere in you you didn’t even know existed.

Lando drives into you, his pace so rough that you can hardly catch your breath.

You moan, a broken guttural sound that Lando swallows greedily.

“You don’t want the others to hear, hmm?” he whispers against your ear. His fingers trail over you, featherlight and too much on your oversensitive skin. Yet, you arch into the touch anyway.

Warmth begins to build up in your belly and you feel it down to your toes. Lando slides his hands underneath your hips and yanks you forward, forcing you to take him down to the hilt.

Tears blur your vision. Your blood pounds so loudly in your ears you no longer hear the muffled sounds of Lando’s business partners outside. A shuddering sob of Lando’s name escapes your lips.

“That’s it,” he croons. “Just like that.”

Lando rubs his thumb against your clit, synced with his thrusts. Before long, you’re tightening up and coming all over his cock.

He loses his rhythm as you whine against the sensitivity. With his chest pressed against you, you can feel all of him tense up. He jerks his hips into you shallowly one, two times before you feel the telltale warmth.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he mumbles, resting his head against your collarbone.

Lando lifts your hand and curls your fingers so he can press a kiss against your wedding ring. And you think, yeah, this is a man you can learn to love.

-

The two lines weren’t enough to convince you but the ‘pregnant’ staring up at you is harder to dismiss.

You still rub at your eyes, hoping once your vision clears again, you’ll see the ‘not’ that is surely hidden. You wait a few seconds until your eyes adjust and the result does not change.

An anxiety induced nausea begins to curdle the little food that is left in your stomach.

You’re pregnant.

You’ve only been married for six weeks.

There’s a knock on the door. “Babe? You okay?”

You can practically hear Lando making the mental decision not to jangle the door knob though you know it kills him not to. Instead, he leans against the door. The wood creaks underneath his weight.

Somehow, you wet your throat enough to not have your voice crack as you call out, “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

You put the pregnancy tests back into the box and shove it behind your pads underneath the sink. Carefully shutting the cabinet door, you stand up and wash your hands. Your motions are methodical as if it is someone else commandeering you to scrub at your hands and dry them on the towel.

You turn the door knob slowly, pushing the door outwards. Immediately, Lando gathers you into a hug when you step out.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

You return his hug, perhaps squeezing him a little tighter than you usually do. “I missed you, too,” you say automatically. You’re still processing the two lines and the definitive pregnant you saw. If you had taken only one test, you could have convinced yourself it was a fluke. But two tests from two completely different companies would beg to differ.

“You okay?” he repeats, pulling back so he can look at you.

You don’t know how to lie to him so you say, “Just a little nauseous, that’s all.”

His attention sharpens. “Nauseous?”

“Mm hmm.” You try to duck underneath his arm but Lando holds you back.

“Hold on,” he cautions, running a critical eye over you. “For how long?”

You rack your brain for an evasive answer that will suffice but Lando is like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“How long?” he urges. There’s something wild lurking in his eyes. It cuts a serrated edge to his voice.

You won’t look at him. “I mean,” you hedge. “A while?”

That doesn’t cut it. “How long is a while?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t keeping count!” you snap, throwing your hands up in the air.

“A couple of days? A week? Weeks?”

“Lando.”

He tries to smooth out the impatience in his expression. “My love, please humor me. I’m worried.”

You take a breath and count to ten. Running your tongue over your teeth, you try to remember the first time you felt this bone deep nausea that made you want to take your stomach out of your body. “Five days,” you say. “Now, can we go eat dinner?”

You aren’t hungry in the slightest. But a chewing Lando means there won’t be a talking Lando and you will take your wins where you can get them.

He looks like he wants to continue this frankly riveting conversation but you pout. It works more times than it does not and right now is no exception. He kisses his teeth and mutters an agonized, “You’re unfair.”

You force yourself to eat dinner. Your nausea clogs your throat, making each bite a monumental task as you try and listen to Lando recount his day. The food is heavy in your stomach, a leaden weight that you are overly conscious about.

Lando slows down in his complaints about Carlos. He puts his fork to the side of his plate. You find it hard to hold his attention for long.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Smiling tightly, you nod. Saliva pools in your mouth and you pray you’ll last the five minutes needed for Lando to finish eating. “Just been a long day.”

He doesn’t believe you but he’s always indulged you so he swiftly moves onto discussing the rest of his day. You nod at all the right places and ask him follow up questions. Lando becomes so engrossed in picking at your brain that his suspicions are temporarily set aside.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish eating and for you to make your escape, citing a much needed shower as your reason. You rinse off quickly and run through your night routine before Lando can sneak in. You examine yourself in the mirror with every conceivable angle and find your stomach looks as it always does. Your pregnancy is in its early stages but somehow, you are fearful Lando will know by simply looking at your bare stomach.

He joins you while you finish brushing your teeth. There’s a disgruntled wrinkle to his brows and if you were in the right headspace, you might ask him what’s wrong.

He leans his hip against the door frame as he watches you apply your moisturizer. The wrinkle deepens.

“You feeling okay?”

The nausea has finally settled but your nerves have not. A staticky energy buzzes underneath your skin. “Yeah.”

It has only been two hours since you found out and you don’t think you can keep this to yourself for any longer. God, you guys haven’t even discussed kids yet. Lando deserves a proper announcement but you can’t do that when you don’t know if he even wants kids this early.

But waiting will do you no favors.

“Lando,” you say. Your throat strains and you feel the pinpricks of tears beginning to fill your lash line. “I need to tell you something.”

He tips your chin up. Worry darkens his eyes when he scans your sickly face. Whatever he’s searching for he does not find given by the flex of his cheek muscle. A specific type of misery replaces his worry and it makes your stomach tangle into a knot to know you’ve put such an expression on your husband’s face. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t look like he’s keen on the answer but he smooths his hand over your jaw encouragingly. His shoulders straighten as if he wishes to brace himself.

“I’m pregnant.” The confession is clumsy on your too thick tongue.

For a moment, Lando doesn’t react. It’s as if the words have no meaning to him.

“You’re pregnant?” he breathes. Both his hands are placed against your cheeks, cupping your face gently. “You’ve taken a test?”

You nod, unable to speak. And then you hold up two fingers, hoping he understands.

“Both of them were positive?”

You nod again.

A bright grin spreads across his mouth. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your stomach.

“You’re not…upset?” you ask in a small voice.

He’s quick to snap his attention back to you. “Why would I be upset? Are you upset?”

You bite your lip. You haven’t given it much thought despite how you’ve spent the last hour on the brink of a panic attack. You want kids, that much has always been clear to you.

But you certainly hadn’t anticipated getting pregnant only weeks into your marriage to someone who is essentially a stranger. You like Lando, and in your private moments you can admit to yourself you will come to love him for who he is, but you don’t know Lando.

“No,” you say, testing how it makes you feel. It gives weight to the indecision warring within you so you try to remedy it by following up with, “It’s overwhelming.”

He strokes your cheekbone gently. “We’ll be okay. We’re probably better off than most.”

You cut him an irritated look. Your baby will be provided for but they will also be in danger for the unforeseeable future simply because of who their parents are.

It is something you’ve always known for your kids but you thought you would have more time to prepare for it.

He frowns. “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you. Or our baby.”

“I know that. It’s just—“ You shrug helplessly. “It’s so soon, Lando. We barely know each other.”

He scoffs. “We know each other plenty. Our, uh, what did they call it?” He looks around as if the word will materialize in front of him.

“Courtship,” you offer, amused.

“Courtship! It was long. Longish,” he corrects sheepishly.

Considering how quickly both your families wish to secure this alliance, the period before your engagement was quite long. You’re reluctant to call it dating given that you and Lando knew exactly how it would end but it was a two month period you wouldn’t have been afforded if Lando hadn’t pushed for it.

He had been gracious with your hesitation, promising to go at your pace. For all of Lando’s lightheartedness, he had a maturity about him that surprised you. His patience endeared you to him and it didn’t take you long to stop pushing off the inevitable.

And now look at the two of you: married for six weeks with a baby on the way.

You think you are going to be sick and it has nothing to do with your pregnancy related nausea.

“How are you not freaking out?” You press your forehead against his shoulder.

Lando takes things on the chin. It’s something you admire and wish you could adopt into your own personality with equal finesse. Unfortunately, you are built to overthink and anticipate the worst case scenario.

“I don’t think it’s hit me yet,” he admits. “But when it does, I’ll still be just as happy. It’s me and you. We got this.”

Fear clings to you but it’s tempered by his confidence. “I’ll freak out for the both of us then.”

He laughs. The sound is pure sunshine amongst the doom and gloom you’ve held close to your chest the past few hours. “Don’t you always?”

You punch at his arm, if it can even be classified as that. He laughs again and lifts your head so he can kiss you. He’s smiling so much it’s hardly a kiss but it warms you all the same.

“Where are the pregnancy tests?” Lando asks when he pulls away.

“Behind the pads downstairs.”

His eyes widen. “That makes so much sense,” he says to himself. You look at him weirdly but he doesn’t notice. “Be right back.”

He’s out the door and down the stairs in a matter of seconds. You’d find it cute if he wasn’t literally going to go grab some sticks you peed on. But you also deprived him of finding out with you so you suppose it is cute.

You eye your box of birth control pills on the counter almost forlornly. You were supposed to start a new pack two days ago but with how severe your nausea has been, you didn’t bother taking them the last two days seeing as they would end up flushed down the toilet soon enough.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up the pack to throw it away. When your finger meets the frayed edge of the box, you pause.

You know you didn’t open this pack. You couldn’t have and yet, it pulls apart easily. Pushing the pack out of the box, your eyebrows creep to your hairline as you notice the first two days of pills are missing.

A hand disrupts your vision as Lando smoothly plucks the box out of your grasp and tosses it into the trash. You follow the box as it drops into the trash. The two punched out holes peek at you over the opened edge.

Unease knits itself across your heart. An unfamiliar tightness coils in your stomach, the sort that makes your blood curdle in your veins. Lando wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do this to you.

It would be much easier to convince yourself if a self-satisfied smile wasn’t currently curving Lando’s mouth.

“Guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

this fic is finished. there won't be a part 2. thanks!

[melonn-soda]

Kinktober Day 3 - Dazai Osamu

word count: 3.2k

warnings: HATE SEX, dubcon, cuffing, overstim, slight dumbification, edging, dazai calls u petnames and he's an ass, reader is a slight brat, bottom cis male reader, top ftm dazai

prompt: dazai visits his favorite mafia member and gives him a little reunion gift

notes: READ WITH CAUTION, THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK THEMES. tell me if there's any other warnings I should add, please. sorry these prompts are super fucking late. different texting style but I'll go back after kinktober prompts are all posted. still currently working on the other ones because this is taking longer than expected. too much plot going on with them lmao. anyways, I'm tired of ftm characters always being on the bottom, so I contribute this. trans dazai canon because I'm trans and I said so.

fem aligned dni

The air blew a cold breeze around Yokohama, chilling the residents of the city and keeping them locked up inside their homes. Nobody went outside without some sort of extra layer to protect themselves from the chill of the atmosphere, either wearing jackets or hoodies over shirts when they strolled down the streets. Dazai Osamu blew hot air into his palms to warm them up as he walked down the sidewalk, eyeing every shop that was on his right. The bakery he passed by was closing down due to lack of patrons and he made sure to get some pastries for Atsushi, Ranpo, and himself beforehand. Some clothing shops were bathing in money because of the upcoming fall and winter seasons approaching faster with people preparing for the cold days by purchasing thick layered clothes. Every store was having its own ups and downs at the moment.

Even with all the tempting things he could buy, he still passed by most of them until he was at the edge of the city, with fewer people and cars coming in and out of this area. There were a few supply trucks coming in and out because of all the supply shipments coming in but that was going to be all. However, Dazai didn’t come to the warehouse for no reason. After all, he always went to somewhere that had a purpose.

He walked through the gates without anyone stopping him, walking to a particular warehouse before pushing the doors open. It was dark and gloomy in the place, yet felt strangely warm from the contrasting colder outside weather. Dazai made sure his steps were slow and quiet, keeping his presence minorly hidden to avoid getting himself hurt if someone were to attack him. He made sure to peek around the corners of supply crates to make sure no one was going to blast bullets directly at his face, eyes scanning with caution in every area he invaded.

A loud clang alerted his senses, and the sound of sizzling came humming after. Dazai’s intuition was right, he was here doing exactly as he thought he would. Footsteps increasing in speed, he rushed towards the source of the sound, still making sure to look over corners rather than going in head-on. Since he wasn’t that far away from his target, it didn’t take him long to get there, seeing the person he was looking for with a mischievous smile. Oh, how he missed seeing his face.

The burned part of a shipping container was melted off in the shape of a circle, laying on the ground as the material was still a glowing red before returning to its original color. The man who stood next to it, the person who caused the eruption of a loud noise from metal hitting cement was none other than his long lost Port Mafia ex-coworker. [l.name], [name]. So many memories were shared with that boy since they’ve known each other since their teens. 

Dazai watched you step into the shipping container, following after you and watching as you rummaged through products, putting multiple things up to inspect before putting them back in place. He knew which product you were looking for and where it was, eyes landing on the box before flicking back onto your figure. With silent steps, he walked in, but once his other foot was placed inside, a loud creak was made and it alerted you to fire a burst of flames that shot out from your palms. Dazai, of course, saw it coming as he leaned so that he narrowly missed it, feeling the heat on his chest before grabbing your wrist and moving his weight around to get himself behind you and out to safety before using his foot to swipe and make you lose your balance. Alarmed and unprepared, you fell onto your stomach as Dazai moved your arm behind you mid-fall, getting your hands effectively pinned against your back.

“Ah~, [name], always so reliant on his ability. It was always your biggest flaw, y’know?” Dazai began to tease, pressing his knee against your lower back to keep you on the ground. He watched you try and wriggle out of his hold, knowing that you were too physically weak to actually break free. Weaker than him, I dare say.

“Dazai! What the fuck are you doing here? Let me go!” You scowled, glaring at him over your shoulder, cheek pressing against the cold metal. Your eyes still held the deep fire as always, so bright whenever you got fired up or even mad. The ex-Port Mafia executive always found that really cute about you, but he never really admitted it out loud, only doing it if he wanted to get a reaction out of you.

“Looking for you, of course!” He chimed with a playful smile, one that always managed to piss you off, “I figured you would be here looking for that really important document from overseas, but I can’t have you getting your hands on it. After all, we’re enemies, are we not? I have to do everything in my power to foil your devious plans.”

You tried thrashing around a little harder as he spoke, not wanting to see or even be within a 100-foot radius of this man, “Can’t you just leave me be this once, you fucking psychopath!?” You yelled out, clearly upset with the predicament you found yourself in. Chuuya really needed those papers and if he found out you didn’t even get the chance to find them, you don’t want to know how mad he might get.

“Oh my, is that the way you should be talking to your past loving boyfriend?” The brunet gasped in mock offense, leaning in a little closer to your ear.

Your face flared slightly at the closeness, “Past!! We’re not dating anymore, sicko. We broke it off the minute you left the Mafia, or have you forgotten?” You glowered at him, “For years, I’ve wondered where and how you were, only to get a message from an unknown number that told me we can’t be together anymore. I knew it was you because of your texting style.”

“But I can tell that you still want me,” Dazai continued to poke around with your feelings, not caring about any of the consequences that might follow after. He heard you immediately deny it all within a seconds notice but, “Oh, but you do still desire me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be blushing so hard over me just whispering thiiis~ close to your ear.” He chuckles as you shift your face so that he couldn’t see it.

“Just get the hell off of me.” You threatened weakly, feeling him shift around slightly while still on top of you.

You could hear Dazai sigh in what seemed to be in disappointment before he yanked you up and got you to sit on his lap. Dazai was sitting on the floor and you could feel your face grow even hotter as his body pressed against yours even more in this position.

“Y’know, I could really care less about you taking those documents. I didn’t come here to stop you either,” The detective told you, causing your eyes to widen and look back at him, “I only decided to foil your plans because I wanted to see you again. Do things we never got to do with you. For instance,” with a pause, one of his hands let go of your wrists and teasingly slid down your waist, getting dangerously close to your sex, “now that we’re adults, you can lose yourself to me.”

The last parts of his words were said in a whisper, causing a shiver to go down your spine as your lips pursed to suppress a whine. However, your body decided to show your true feelings you held towards the brunet with your dick hardening and sensitivity going to overdrive. You still loved Dazai, you really did, but you didn’t expect to react this way. Maybe it was because of the stress from the Port Mafia? I mean, it has been months since you’ve last jerked off.

“Oh dear, it seems like you're getting excited.” Dazai chuckled next to your left ear, his hand gently brushing against your crotch as you let out a whimper, “and your sounds are just the cutest.~ I’ve been imagining this scenario so many times, and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to believe that it’s ending up like this.”

A strained moan left your lips as you could feel his hand press harder against the tip of your cock, head falling forward in shame over turning into putty from just his voice and soft touches alone. In a near desperate tone, you still attempted to resist his efforts, “S-stop- this isn’t right-!”

“You may say so but your lovely body still craves my touch.” You could feel his fingers undo your pants and slip into your underwear, his cold touch coming into contact with your blistering heat, “You still desire me, otherwise, why would you still keep pictures of me on your wall after so many years, huh?”

“Go.. ah- fuck yourself.” You growled, a loud wince ripping through your throat at a particular tug at your cock, your back unconsciously arching and the back of your head hitting against Dazai’s shoulder, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“When did you become such a brat?” Dazai huffed out annoyingly, “Have you been spending too much time with that stupid slug? It looks like he’s beginning to rub off on you.” His hand picked up in pace and technique with a squeal of surprise coming from your mouth causing the brunet to smile slightly, “Ah, but I think it might make breaking you even more enjoyable.~”

Tears began to spill from your eyes from the stimulation, whining and moaning pathetically in Dazai’s hold as he continued to pump your cock. He even noticed that you stopped retaliating against his ministrations, fully submitting from the pleasure racking your brain into a state of stupidity. God, you looked so good like this.

“Fuck!” You suddenly yelled, thighs quivering around Dazai’s legs, “I’m close, ‘Samu- can’t take anymore-!” Words slurring like you were drunk, your hips bucked to bring yourself to your release.

Much to your dismay, Dazai pulled his hand out of your pants promptly, causing you to whine in protest, “Not just yet, lovely. I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.” He whispered sweetly though menacingly, causing you to shudder in delight.

Within a blink of an eye, he slammed you back down on the cold metal floors face first, taking out handcuffs from his back pocket and locking them on your wrists. You took the time to catch your breath as he got up away from you to dig into one of the containers, pulling out a black box with gold lining on it. 

He took a seat next to your slumped figure with a mischievous smile on his face, opening the box and pulling out a solid black strap-on and a bottle of lube. The dildo was about 5-inches in length as far as you could tell, although there was nothing on the other side to please Dazai. Did he just buy that thing only to watch you become fucked out in ecstasy?

Dazai grabbed a bag of toy-cleaning wipes from the box as well, making sure to wipe the strap-on down as he continued to look at you deviously, “Do you like my surprise, lovely? Are you excited?”  He asked, removing some of his clothes to place the toy around his pelvis.

Your dick twitched in anticipation, drool pooling on the ground as you looked dazedly at the sheer size of it, “However,” Dazai interrupted, “Because you’re a virgin, you’ll have to wait. After all, you’re nothing but my fragile little doll. As much as I would love to see you crumble, I wanna take my time shattering you.” He smirked, popping open the bottle and spilling its contents over his long, pretty fingers.

Positioning himself behind you, he gently grabbed your hips with his non-lubed fingers to lift your ass up into the air. Pushing only one of his fingers in your hole, he continued to pour lube consistently onto his hands to keep your insides from tearing. It wasn’t even 30 seconds before he found your prostate, pressing on it harshly to see you jolt and gasp, easily making you into nothing but a plaything. Even still, the fucker avoided it on purpose for the next few minutes of stretching you out. He added finger after finger when he saw you ready for the next, but wouldn’t even press that specific area. 

After what seemed like an hour of teasing, he pulled out his fingers as you trembled on the cold floors. He wiped his fingers on the inner parts of his trench coat, hands then finding themselves on your waist to make it so you could feel the silicon against your thighs that were pressed together. You don’t know if you were enjoying this, or hating this.

“You ready, dollface?” He asked you, hands sliding up your chest and pulling you up so that your back came into contact with his body. You could feel the toy slip through your thighs for a brief second before he positioned it so that the tip could press against your hole, pressing lightly against your rim as you let out a shaky moan.

Glaring at him from the corner of your eye, you growled, “Just put it in, you asshole.” Maybe Chuuya has begun to influence your attitude.

With a grin, Dazai shoved you down onto the silicon dick without any lousy comebacks, causing a loud wince to fall from your lips. From the tip of the cock pressing against your prostate, you wailed pathetically in desire as your body was beginning to give up, letting your torso fall back onto the ground with a light thud. Your limbs started to feel like jelly, trembling terribly as Dazai pressed his hips even closer, reaching even deeper as you sobbed out in pleasure.

“Ah-! F-fuck-” You cried as Dazai began to pull out briefly before rocking his hips into yours repeatedly, setting a rhythm for himself. Incoherent ramblings spilled out of your cute lips as he continued to press against your prostate, your body feeling extremely heated.

“Oh, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” He cooed into your ear, one of his hands trailing up from your hips and to your nipple, pinching and pulling on it lightly to stimulate you further. He brought it up to his mouth to wet those fingers then returned them onto your chest, the slight chill making you shiver when the cold air brushed underneath your shirt, “So sensitive, too. I hope I’m the first person to see you like this.”

“U-urgh~... Dazai..” Words slurring and hiccups turning into broken moans spurred the brunet even further, pistoning his hips even better when he took ahold of one of your ankles and lifted it into the air with ease. You were just so cute like this.

“Osamu.”

Staccato moans turned into full on wails as you could feel the tip of the dildo poke at your prostate, sending you into a mess of tears and babbling nonsense. It was too much. It was all so much for you. From the edging Dazai did earlier, the pent up stress from being in the mafia, now the dick inside you that was ramming you into stupidity, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. And fuck, if it didn’t come fast.

You were sobbing thick tears as cum spilled out of your pathetic excuse of a dick, seeing Dazai’s face contort into one of amusement as you came all over the floor. Body shaking from the heightened stimulation, you wanted a break, wailing at him in hopes to tell him to at least slow down.

You should really know better, though, because he’s an asshole and would do anything in his power to watch you crumble for his own entertainment. And you acting like you hated him only motivated him to fuck you even harder. So here he was, bending your left leg so that your knee nearly touched your chest while continuing to move his hips at his brutal pace. It didn’t help that his toy kept pressing into your sensitive spot either.

“W-wait! Nnng!” You cry out, fingernails digging into the metal of the shipping container, “Osa- ah! Osamu, sl-slow down-!” Your voice squeaked as he used his hand that was on your hip to press down hard against your tummy, feeling the tip of the silicon dick disappear and come back.

The agency member giggled, raising that same hand and wiping away the abundance of tears flowing down your face, “Look at you~ just so adorable and begging for me to stop. Don’t you remember what I said? ‘I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.’” The attitude in his voice becoming condescending and dark.

His hand travelled down to grasp your dick, causing you to bite your bottom lip to quiet down the scream that nearly left your lips. Almost too quickly, your cock hardened once more with tears flowing down the sides of your face from overstimulation. Dazai only gave you a shit-eating smirk while he looked down at your pitiful face, feeling a rush of excitment through his veins.

God, you should’ve taken the day off.

…

Dazai took off the strap on with ease, letting it fall back into the box, shiny with lube and Dazai’s own slick. He didn’t care about his own orgasmic pleasures, just wanted to see you once more, even if that meant fucking you stupid. He wasn’t lying when he said that. Dazai was cruel, there’s no doubt about it. However, he still had the courtesy to clean you up with multiple wet wipes and redress you. Too bad he couldn’t do anything about the bruises and bite marks littered beautifully across your sleeping form.

The brunet pulled up his pants and closed the box with the sex toy in it, holding it by pressing it against his side while his other hand fished his phone out of his trench coat’s pocket. Quickly, as if he remembered the phone number by heart, he dialed one of your co-worker’s digits and his phone began to ring.

“Who is this?”

“Chuuya!” Dazai said in a chippy tone, hearing the other groan and spit out a “what do you want?” in response, “Well- for starters, [name] is in a shipping container, currently knocked out. You know, the one you wanted him to check? Could you be a good friend and pick him up safely? Oh! But be careful, he’s a little sore in the lower half.”

“What the hell did you do to him!?” Chuuya barked on the other side of the line, Dazai hearing him kick open doors to rush over to where his coworker is.

“Just a little reunion gift.” Dazai singsonged, pressing the “end call” button before he could hear his long time friend yell again, “Man, they sure are becoming too similar. I’ll have to fix that.”

[intergalacticaquarium]

What if I just started the most targeted fashion roast blog ever made

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

--

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Dog-eared | Chapter 1: The End

Summary: You know your boss is involved with organised crime. The flashy cars, men in tailored suits, call girls that come and go, and the odd hours he keeps. It screams organised crime of some kind, or a cult. But you’ve been able to keep it all separate from your personal life. Until now. Chapter Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Mafia Themes/Mob Violence etc., Swearing, Nearly Naked Price. Main Masterlist | AO3 Wordcount: 2556

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

On the surface, working for the Mob is no different to any other corporation, you do your job – a cushy gig as a Cyber Security expert – you get paid. There’s no union busting, or quibbles over PTO and pay, simply because it’s laughable to even consider them when your boss is literally the head of one of the most notorious London crime gangs.

You butt heads with the department heads and shareholders of the shell company just as frequently as at that company owned by Nestle, you’re pulled from project to project just as often as working for Amazon’s tech support, you work unpaid overtime at the same frequency as that law firm down the road.

The key difference is the pay.

You’re flush with savings, your student loans repaid, and you live a pretty cushy life, all things considered.

“Alrigh’, lass?” The familiar Glaswegian twang shakes you out of your post-lunch daydream at your desk and you smile up at your friend as he perches on the edge of your desk. You didn’t even hear the door to your office open.

He’s dressed to the nines in a blue three-piece number, suit jacket slung over his shoulder. His waistcoat is a slightly darker blue with gold brocade embroidered on the silky material. His tie is a bright yellow to match, if you didn’t know any better, he’d almost pass for a Canary Wharf banker wanker.

His hair is styled in the usual short mohawk he’s favoured since you were kids. A bittersweet remnant of the boy you once knew shining through the hardened exterior of the very dangerous man you’ve come to love.

“Soap MacTavish, those will kill you,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you point to the cigar tucked in the exterior pocket of his suit, “Celebrating?”

“Not yet,” he says as he drums his fingertips on the desk, “But Cap’n thinks we’re about to strike it big.”

“I don’t want to know,” you playfully cover your ears with your hands, “So zip it.”

“You asked,” Soap says with a grin, “Besides, Price is keeping this one on the need-to-know basis, so I couldn’t tell you even if you were feeling a wee bit nosy.”

“Good,” you say with a huff as you lean back in your chair, “Just come back in one piece, yeah?”

“Always,” he promises with a wink as you see the lift doors open behind him, Ghost and Price in full view through the glass walls of your office. Both men are deep in conversation, “Besides, I’ve got plans this weekend, can’t woo my missus if I’m dead.”

“Speak of the devil,” you grumble as Ghost and Price stop outside your open door. The scarred blond man nods at you, a subtle twitch of his eyebrow and scarred lip more than anyone else gets in this place. He’s in a pale salmon suit, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to brandish the gold chain around his neck.

Price looks through you like you don’t exist. His azure eyes cold and emotionless as you nod in his direction. You can’t help but notice the way his rolled up shirt sleeves hug his thick arms, nor the gold shirt garters that only add to the old-school gangster look. His dark trousers are pressed to perfection, the hems brushing over the tops of his maroon Brogues. His beard is freshly trimmed, framing his thick lips in a way that makes you yearn to know what it’s like to feel them brushing over your skin.

It used to sting, the sheer indifference he shows you, but after four years, you’re over it. Mostly. You try to give him the same wide berth, mostly talking through Kate, his COO, if the need arises.

But you’re not so proud to admit you’d climb him like a tree if he so much as hinted that he was interested.

“Duty calls, hen,” Johnny leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, “See you soon.”

You feel the multiple eyes on you at the overly familiar gesture. The rumours that you and Soap were/are fucking have been circulating since you first joined Price and Sons. It makes you laugh, because – to you – it’s obvious how in love Soap and Ghost are.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” you call after him playfully, “Aaron from HR is on my ass about inappropriate work relationships!”

“Whatever you say lass, you love the attention,” Soap says without turning back, his laughter echoing through the hall as he joins Price and Ghost outside your office. But being the subject of office gossip is the least of your concerns, it seems.

An alert flashes up in a command window, then another, and another. Emails start piling in along with Teams and Slack messages from multiple department heads and C-level execs.

You groan inwardly at the workload dumped at your feet, on the wrong side of lunch on a Friday. You’re going to be here into the early hours, you just know it.

You call up Farah, getting her to ensure the counter measures are doing their job across the system as you do the same. It’s a standard DDOS attack, aimed at the infrastructure layer, and one of thousands the company experiences each year. But there’s something about this one that makes you doubt it’s run of the mill. You don’t have time to question why as you see a second and third wave of emails and video calls coming through.

You’re pulling up Farah on a video call as you hear the glass door close behind Soap.

You don’t notice the way John Price lingers at your door, his gaze transfixed as he watches you work the problem. You miss the way he clips Johnny over the back of the head, telling the younger man to “behave”.  

~*~

You’re trudging through the rowdy streets of London on a Friday night, still glued to your work phone as you try and wrack your brains over the incident. Farah offered to stay late onsite, which you had gladly accepted. You trust Farah more than any other colleague you’ve ever had. She’s capable, smart, funny, and most of all she knows her shit.

You’re only a few streets away from your flat now, thumbs furiously typing away as you hear the distinct rumble of thunder in the distance. You curse yourself for not packing an umbrella this morning.

You: Farah, don’t stay up too late, the worst of it is over, we can pick back up in the am.

Farah: Yes boss, will catch you in the morning, have a good one! Don’t lose any sleep on this, I’ve got it covered.

You: You too, night.

Farah: No promises, now put the phone away and let me know when you’re home safe.

You smile to yourself as you close the app. You know she’ll be glued to her work computer all night, but at least you can say you tried. You feel the heavy drops of rain splatter against your skin as the weather turns rapidly around you. The Friday night partygoers screeching and groaning as they too fall prey to the fickle whims of British weather.

You’re soaked through by the time you reach your building, the doorman letting you in with a sympathetic smile. You miss the guilt etched into his face as you shuffle through to the lift.

All you want to do is settle down with a glass of wine, your scrunkly elderly dog Lola, and the latest episode of that period drama series everyone is going on about.

You approach your front door, pawing through your handbag to find your keys when you hear it. A short, meek little yap that barely registers as a bark. A sound you’re far too familiar with to mistake it for anything else.

Lola.  

You look up to see your door ajar. Your stomach drops as you see the bloody streak of a handprint smeared over the handle. You look down to see a scarlet boot print stamped on your welcome mat as you nudge the door open with the toe of your shoe.

“Hello?” You call out as you use the torch on your phone to illuminate your dark flat.

You can smell the red-copper scent of blood in the air as you follow the scarlet droplets that trail through your open plan flat. The jingling of Lola’s collar makes bile rise in your throat.

“Look, whoever you are,” you start your bargain with a surprisingly level voice, “I’ve got money, I’ll give you whatever you need, just leave my dog be, yeah?”

There’s no response as you drop your handbag down on the sofa, the familiar landscape of your home shrouded in darkness as you lament not turning the light on at the door. But the warm light spilling from your bedroom tells you exactly where your intruder must be.

You make your way to the safe on the far side of your flat, dangerously close to your bedroom door where the intruder lies – the bloody handprint smeared on your bedroom door a perfect match to the one you saw on the way in only stoking your fears.

You quickly disarm the safe and pull out your – very illegal – Colt 1911 with blackened frame and mother of pearl grips. You hit the mag eject, acknowledging the full clip before sliding it back into place and pulling the slide back to arm the weapon. You may not technically be part of the mob, but you’re not so naïve that you’d not prepare for this sort of thing.  

You steel yourself, phone forgotten on the floor by the safe as you support the underside of your pistol grip with your off-hand, your dominant hand steady around the grip, aimed at shoulder height as you prepare to breach your bedroom.

“Last chance,” you call into your bedroom and the unmistakeable sound of Lola’s happy grumbles catches you off guard.

You kick the door in and immediately you’re left dumbfounded, but you don’t falter, gun pointed towards the man slumped on your bed.

“What the…?” You trail off as you feel heat singe at the tips of your ears, flooding your cheeks as you take in the sight before you.

John Price is shirtless, stripped down to his tight grey boxer briefs as his head lolls back against your expensive mahogany headboard. His hair sticks to his head, blood and rain smeared through his short locks. His face is bruised and bloodied, his lip split and one of his eyes swollen shut. Even beaten half to death, the man is striking.

“Mr Price?” You hiss as you slowly lower the gun, setting it down on a chest of drawers to your left, “What happened?”

You struggle to decide your next move, there’s a loud, shrill voice in the back of your mind that makes you want to dab his face with a wet rag. Shower him with care and attention like some trite romance novel. An equally loud voice tells you that it’s not your problem, this isn’t what you’re paid for, and you should just turn him out on the street.

Then you see the duct tape strapped tight around his hairy chest, two wads of what look like sanitary towels bunched up over his lower abdomen and another tampon-looking object stuck in his right bicep.

“Call me John,” he wheezes out and you jump back at the sudden signs of life from the beleaguered man. You can’t believe he’s still breathing, let alone conscious right now.

“What the fuck are you doing here, John?” You hiss as you notice the big lump under your blood-stained duvet, a long tail wagging against Price’s side as Lola seems to finally realise you’re home.

“Deal went sideways, shit really hit the fan this time,” he coughs out through gritted teeth as a tremor wracks his body, “Got the bullets out, used some of your shit in the bathroom, will compensate you.”

“Right,” you say as you shake your head, “I don’t want to know, don’t need your money, not like tampons are expensive anyway.”

“Fuck off with your sanctimonious bullshit for once, love,” Price hisses as he glares at you with his one good eye. You bristle at that but hold your tongue, glowering right back at him, as if he isn’t one of the most dangerous men in the country.

“You need a hospital,” you say slowly as you perch yourself at the end of the bed, “But I’m guessing you’re going to tell me to fuck off with that idea?”

“You catch on fast,” John says with a heavy exhale through his nose as Lola wriggles her way out of the bedding, her greying muzzle popping out of the covers dramatically as she sniffs you out, “I need to stay here a while, lay low while I plan my next move.

“Absolutely n-,” you begin but you’re cut off, John continuing to speak as if you aren’t even there.

“I will compensate you financially, of course, but you cannot let anyone know I’m here.”

Lola stretches her old body out with a soft whine before trotting down the bed to you, wonky tail swishing back and forth before she plops down onto your lap. Milky eyes peer blindly up at you with adoration as you scratch behind her ears.

“What about Soap? Ghost? Gaz? Kate’s gotta be worried sick,” You say, watching the wounded man labour through each breath. You try not to admit to yourself that you’re worried about him. He’s a mobster, scum, you should have nothing but resentment for him. But the nagging voice telling you to care for him, nurse him back to health, just won’t quit.

It's the right thing to do.

“Kate’s the reason I’m here,” he says as his voice becomes faraway, distant, “Said I could trust you.”

Before you can ask any more questions, Price passes out. His jaw falls slack and his one good eye flutters closed as you look between the haggard man and old dog in your bed. You groan as you release the mag from your gun and eject the chambered round, placing the disassembled piece down on your bedside table.

You force Lola out to do her business, the small dog grumbling the whole time you pry her away from the warm bed and even warmer man nestled under your sheets. You pick up your phone up on the way as you text Kate to see if she’s awake.

Kate: Call you in 5.

Is all you get as you’re lifting Lola back onto the bed, who immediately settles against Price’s side.

Traitor.

You think as you rummage under your sink to find your cleaning supplies. The welcome mat is burning away in a steel bin filled with lighter fluid on your balcony, but you need to clean up the rest of the blood before the nausea eats you alive. You phone begins to ring just as you’re locking your front door. You answer with a scowl as Kate says your name syrupy sweet in your ear.

“Cut the shit Kate,” you snap as you hold the phone in the crook of your neck as you start mopping Price’s blood from your tiles, “What the hell is going on?”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

[artismeyou-12]

🖤

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[We went on shopping (it didn’t go well)] - TF141*F!Reader

not a chapter actually just a rambling, it's kinda messy and not my style imo, pls feel free to skip this etc. might rewrite this shit when I have time since I’m busy with my job these days and I just accidentally sliced my thumb open making it difficult to type, hence not much to provide sorry :( and the weird stranger incident in the latter part did happen irl damn it’s creepy af, but I was the one telling them to fuck off tho (they harassing my cute friend RAGE)

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After your car graduates from its car life in about a week, congratulations, the poor shelf accompanies you since your college life is finally undone, fragments spreading across the floor making you shout Mama and mourn for its graduation.

You don’t have a car right now, so when Gaz offers to drive you to buy a new shelf, you agree to his suggestion without a second thought. Yet when the day comes and you open the car door, only to be greeted by the wide smile of Soap and Gaz, you almost slam the door close in reflex.

“Okay, but why do all of you come together? this isn’t an elementary school field trip!” You gawk at them when you squeeze in the car.

“Sounds fun, how can ye not tell us?” 

“Gaz I thought you could seal your lips!”

“Sorry love, Ghost exchanged it with some goodies.”

Oh yeah, Ghost is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Wait, he’s sitting in the driver's seat?

“Goddamnit—“ Your scream dies out on your tongue when said man puts his foot down. 

Ghost does a good job at providing you the same experience as riding a rollercoaster, glad that you didn’t throw up in the car and arrived at the warehouse without dying. If he's your Uber driver, you will give him five stars and block the hell out of him. 

You hop out of the car and walk to the door. As the automatic door parts after sensing your presence, you feel much better when the cold air of the store. Nice a.c. is one of the important features of a nice store, and you already built a fondness for the warehouse with how refreshing the chilly air is inside.

The first area welcoming you is food. Not bad, 6 out of 10 if it needs to be precise. Gaz pushes the cart and follows you as you saunter to the aisle with cereals.

“Oh, they have my favorite brand.” You murmur to him as your eyes travel across the price tag.

Wait, you must still be dizzy because no way it’s 30% cheaper than the same one you just bought from the supermarket.

“Kyle, it says it’s 3 pounds, right?!” pointing at the tag, your voice raises a whole eight-tone with excitement.

“Yes?”

“Good.”

5 boxes of cereal are added to the cart. 

Actually, 9.9 out of 10 for this place, you fix the evaluation as you watch Gaz putting some of those ten bags of chocolate Ghost and Soap dump into the cart back on the shelf, and as a little revenge to Gaz for letting the other two men join the trip without you knowing, you choose to turn a blind eye when you spot Ghost sneaking all of them back in the cart.

Not forgetting the primary goal for today, you go straight to the furniture area after letting Soap throw five packs of gummy bears in the cart and convincing Ghost not to get a cup of tea from the random tea shop. You’ll make a much better one for him when you get home — you coo when he stares at you with unhappy eyes not covered by the mask, glad that he seems to accept the idea, so he huffs and lets you drag him and Soap out of the food area.

“You should buy this.” 

“Ghost I don’t need a green shelf in my shop thank you.”

“Then ye should buy this bonnie!”

“That’s not even a goddamn shelf, Soap.”

“How about this?” 

Your eyes brighten up when Gaz shows you a wooden shelf, it’s stripped-back, with not many decorations, but it surely will fit wonderfully into your store with its aesthetic vibes and high functionality, thus you pick up your phone to type down the product number immediately.

“Oh my, Kyle, you’re the best.”

and you’re too busy typing the numbers down that you don’t notice him shooting the others a taunt of victory.

The last area before the cashier’s counter sets a bookshop. You don’t plan on buying books, but you indeed need to go to the bathroom, so you dismiss yourself and tell them to look around before you’re done.

Why are the bathrooms always hidden in a bloody long hallway? What if someone can’t hold back during their way? Your footsteps echo through the corridor as your mind starts hitting you with a fresh and unnecessary question, glad that you aren’t that urgent though, so you’re able to get to the destination without wetting your pants.

Washing your hands, you step back to the hallway again, but you yelp in surprise when you bump into someone.

“Sorry!” You nod at the man and start heading back to the bookstore.

but it’s weird, the man you just bump into walks so close to you, that you suddenly realize he’s just a step behind you.

Hey, don’t panic, might just coincidence, you try to tell yourself as you make another step.

“Hey, lovely.” Okay, it’s not a coincidence, fucking hell. You curse when his hand touches your shoulder and stops you.

“Sorry for bumping into you, Sir. Anything that I can help?”

“No, I’m waiting for you to separate from the blokes for a while can’t ask for your phone number when they surround you like dogs.”

“I don’t give strangers my number, sorry.” You try to leave, but the man’s hand grabs your shoulder forcefully preventing you from moving.

“Hey, give us a chance yeah? I’m sure we will have some nice time together.”

“I don’t fucking know you!”

Prying off his hand, you turn and start walking fast, almost running when you hear the stranger’s footsteps coming towards you.

Fuck fuck fuck, you haven’t run with such desperation in years, last time must be high school.

“Who the fok are ye arsehole?”

The tears prickling in your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice ringing in your ears before you feel a pair of warm hands drag you behind him.

“Ghost and Soap will deal with him, let’s go.”

Adrenaline pumping through your body finally subsides when Soap and Ghost reappear from the hallway, you don’t want to know what happened to the stranger, maybe hope they’re still alive and in one piece so you won’t involve yourself in another chaos, 

“I think it’s time to go home, Kyle. Is it okay?”

“Of course, wanna grab some food before we leave?”

“I guess Ghost already bought sufficient chocolate for us.”

A burst of laughter catches your attention whilst Gaz looking at the cart with bags of chocolate stuffing under your cereals with disbelief, and a smile crawls back to your lips as you look at Ghost slamming his forehead against a lower door frame and Soap laughing over him.

They aren’t that bad, maybe, or they reserve the remnants of tenderness for you, you’re not sure whether is correct, but at least they have your back when you need them, and that’s enough for you to stop exploring the answer for now.

“Oh.” A book gets knocked off when you shift to stand up. Turning around to pick it up, you have a good look at the shelf behind your seat.

Your eyes dart from ‘Today’s recommendation’ to the book within your grasp.

‘Surrounded by idiots — by Thomas.’

You will rate this recommendation 10 out of 10 for sure.

After insisting on paying yourself and shooing the men off, you take out your card and place it on the scanner.

‘Insufficient balance :( please try again’

You frown when the machine shoves you a nuh-uh, and you open the bank app to check your balance.

So you overspent 10 pounds huh? What a shame to your title for being a successfully financially broken adult. Which link loses and makes you make a wrong shopping decision? 

you scan the list of items with sharp vision until you land your eyes on a product.

Surrounded by idiots - £ 10.61

Ah.

a/n: thx for reading :D sorry it's messy and unlike my previous writings :( hope I can have time to write again btw Price went on business trip so he's missing everything

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww @ghostysloot @hxnneydew @cutiecusp @beigechristmastree @rejectedbytheempty @lupikekee @hotvinimon @whitetiger846

[lady-ashfade]

Ours

Yan!Mafia!Bakusquad x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Plot: After getting stood up by your date things take a twist when a group takes notice.

This isn’t really mafia but has undertones and me thinking about it.

Warnings: Being stood up, flirting, slight yandere vibes, hinted sexual themes, nothing to much on this.

Liquor filled them room with many other mixed smells of perfume, rich and cheep each. The place was crowded and it wasn’t what you had in mind for a first date, let alone to be set up at. A deep feeling made your stomach twist at the people that filled up the tables and seats, they all seemed off. About two drinks in you swirled the straw around the cup of fruity alcohol that the bartender recommended. It was funny to think that you had to convince yourself to come to this date and in the end you got stood up.

It’s been thirty minutes since you sat down and waited for the man to walk threw the doors but still saw no sign of him. The dress around your figure was black and red, something to show off the body you had just right. Your stomach showed its fluff and the dress stop just below your knee. You even shaved for the dude, hoping you’d get at least some relief from the date. He was a handsome fellow and seemed to be your type, he was overly sweet when you met him.

But still couldn’t have the decency to tell you he was running late, or not even coming at all? It ticked you off.

Across the bar sat a group of friends that unknowingly owned the bar, a set of cards in their hands while chatting about anything they could think. The girl with pink skin and matching hair seemed to pay no attention to the boys she was with and instead looked a beautiful girl all alone. Her hair seems styled perfectly, the dress she wore had herself drooling at the hips and body, and don’t get her started on the legs and thighs that showed. She sat on the arm of the chair a guy with red hair sat in, his eyes playful and looking at the blonde in front of him.

“I think I have you now.” He showed a toothy grin that showed pointy white teeth. The blonde smirked and rolled his eyes while leaning forward, “Doubt that.” His rusty voice made the rest smirk and watch the two boys. At the rest of the table sat two other boys, one with more yellow blonde hair and black dyed ends, he wears a loose button up shirt. Beside him was a man with black hair with many piercings, his ears filled with different types and then his brow which matched the red haired boy. When he talked you could see the black haired boy had a tongue piercing.

“Say, how many games have you guys played tonight?” The girl, Mina spoke while forcing her eyes away from the beauty she was staring at. Her fingers found the red hair on the body near her.

“About twenty.” Katsuki, the angry blonde spoke and threw his hand down to show the cards, the other man groaned and leaned back. He laughed and pulled the money to himself and started to count everything he won. Mina hummed and licked her lips while turning her head back across the bar.

“Do any of you know who she is?” She asked. The boys then turned to see who she was talking about. They all saw how sexy the girl in question was and wondered how they hadn’t noticed her yet. “If I did I wouldn’t be sitting around.” The other blonde, Denki smirked while his eyes traveled over her body.

“She’s been all alone since she walked in and the glass across from her has already melted.” Mina pouted her lips in pity at the thought of you getting stood up. “I think she got stood up, poor thing.”

Bakugo sighed, “She doesn’t look like she knows what this place is, you think she’s a spy or some shit?” The table didn’t consider his question or didn’t care. Hanta smirked and got up from his chair and straightened his jacket, “I could find out.”

Mina pulled him back down to his chair and replaced his place on the floor, “If anyone gets to speak to her it’s me, I noticed her first.” Her hands brushed off her hips to freshen herself up first. “Plus, I’m a girl. She would be more comfortable with me first.” The boys watched with slight jealousy they didn’t get to speak to her first but let it go, because it would be their turn soon.

You decide that it was about time to head back home because you thought everyone noticed that you were alone. It was embarrassing to think about. As you continue to take a few sips of your drink someone walked up to you mid sip and you looked at them. The most beautiful girl looking at you with a smile on her face, your cheeks flustered at her attention.

“Hey cutie, what are you doing her alone?” Her voice was cheery and sounded like sugar. The table made a clink when your glass hit it and you swallowed the slightly burning liquid down your throat.

“I um- I don’t really know to be honest, seems like men become more dicks these days.” A giggle was heard from her and your ears heated up at the sweet sound. You couldn’t deny the feeling you had toward her because she was attractive so you felt pride when you made her laugh.

“Good men these days are hard to find, but they are there.” She inches closer and leaned her arm on the counter, “The names Mina.” She winked at you.

“Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You gave her a kind smile and she couldn’t stop herself from falling for you. There was something about you that made her scream inside to be close to you and have you by her side. “Y/n.” She repeated, “The pleasure is all mine.”

You watch her name move up to your face and grab ahold of the peace of hair that was by your ear and stared to spin it between her fingers. Butterflies filled your stomach and ran everywhere, “You’re too pretty be here alone. Mind if we keep you company?” She asked so smoothly. But you caught her wording and arched a brow.

“We?” Her smile only grew bigger as your attention on her blinded you from the men standing behind you.

“Don’t get her too worked up, we still need a chance.” The sudden voice made you turn around and your eyes went wide. Four men stood before you and you couldn’t help but take notice of their bodies. Two were huge with muscle, one with a small frown and the other with a grin. Then one with a smirk who spoke, a calmer one but he held a charm. They all looked rough and had something about them that you couldn’t pinpoint, but they were very attractive.

“Don’t bitch about it, I was just warming up.” Mina threw a arm around your waist. You looked down nervously at her hand and back up to the imitating men with hunger in their eyes. The one with dark hair and piercings stepped forward and grabbed a hold of your hand to give it a soft kiss. “Call me, Hanta.” You nodded.

“Denki is the name, better remembered.” You looked at the blonde with yellow eyes to match his hair. “D-Denki, nice to meet you.” He laughed at your stuttering. It was cute to be so shaky around them. “Whatever, Katsuki is fine.” The other blonde growled and pushed his hands into his pocket, his red eyes making you fold slightly in fear. “Call me Eijiro or Kirishima, any one you want.” The red haired man leaned on the angry one with a more playful aura.

All the attention on you made you feel overwhelmed, they all seemed too attractive. “My names Y/n like I was telling mina here.” You flashed a smile and her grip on your waist squeezed for a second. “Isn’t she cute?” Her voice called out and your eyes went wide and your body heated up again.

“Awe,” fingers wrapped themselves around your chin and made you look up into black eyes “Don’t get so embarrassed now, we’re just getting to know you.” Hantas lips curled up into a smirk because he knew how close he was to you. You laughed nervously as he let you go.

Mina dropped her head on your shoulder and her chest pressed against your back and her arm was still on your hip. “Care to dance with us?” The boys watched you go through your thoughts to find answers. Bakugo walked passed them and took Hantas place, he looked at you with a slight glare.

“I deserve the first dance, I am the boss after all.” Mine whined and the guys huffed at his statement. His hand reached out and you saw his rough and tough hands that had scars on it. “Boss?” The way you titled your head made Bakugo feel some type of way, you seemed so innocent to not even know who they were. And where you are.

“I own the damn bar, now you dancing or not?” His voice got louder and more angry. You took his hand hesitantly but then gave him a smile. “Sure.” He grinned and pulled you close to his chest and began to walk you over to the dance floor. The group watched you two carefully and admiring everything about you.

“We agree to keep her right?” Denki asks with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Damn right, can’t have her getting hurt.” Kirishima glared his eyes at the thought of you getting hurt. You came into their territory so they have a claim to you easily.

[gurugirl]

A Delicate Thing*

Summary: Harry is a crime boss and he meets the woman of his dreams on an important night. Mafia boss!harry x innocent!reader

A/n: this was a very specific request (no longer tagged bc they changed their username). Also, here is a link (NSFW) to some porn that was also suggested for a little inspiration. It's just for aesthetics, please imagine who you like as the mc.

7.6k words

Warning: Smut, innocent virgin having sex for the first time, mean Harry (he's not mean to y/n), mentions of mafia stuff (nothing too deep), a creepy father, some cliche themes (this is just for fun guys)

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After his father, Desmond, passed away, Harry took over the family business. He was a perfect fit for the job. As tough and ruthless as Harry could be, he was also a shrewd businessman and he knew how to run his organization and keep the men and women working for him happy so they were loyal. Harry was only cruel when it was necessary, and luckily, his father left him with a great crew of people to help him run the business and they already looked up to Harry and respected him. The men under him took his word as scripture. They knew not to fuck with Harry or the Styles’ name. Harry wouldn’t allow it because Desmond never did. Never mind that the Styles’ business was a known crime organization, no one could touch him. Law enforcement wouldn’t even take them down. The Styles clan was too big and too powerful.

So it was because of this that Y/n’s dad, William, wanted to get on Harry’s good side. Perhaps get a leg up in the organization. William had been working for the Styles’ since he was in his 20s, and now a man in his 40s, he wanted a bump up. More responsibility. More money. More power. His daughter, Y/n was young and pretty. He knew she was pretty because any time he brought her around the men would make comments and tell William he should be careful to let her out of his sight. So he had an idea when it came time for the annual Styles gala. The gala was a fundraiser of sorts. The townspeople always attended, as well as politicians, public figures, and all of the members of the organization were there. It was a big night, especially for Harry. It was the first year Desmond would not be in attendance. So, Harry would be the lead for everything and head the event and reception. Though he had people to do almost everything for him, he was the man of honor for the night, officially stepping up and taking over where his father left off.

William had Y/n get absolutely dolled up. He was bringing her to show her off to Harry at the event. Perhaps get Harry’s attention with his daughter. Y/n did not want to go. She was not excited about showing off her legs or her arms, smiling all night at creepy men, painting her lips red, keeping her hair just so, all so her father could flaunt her off. It felt gross. It felt shameful, but what could she do? Her father was not one to defy. So, she reluctantly allowed the beautician, esthetician, tailor, and stylist to do their thing. Her hair was perfectly done, left long and wavy, silky, and shiny. The esthetician gave her skin (face and body) a beautiful glow, soft, supple, and smooth. Her eyebrows were sculpted, and her hair was removed from her body (including her bikini region at her father’s request). Her makeup was done in soft shades that complimented her pretty face. Nails painted top to bottom. And finally, she was adorned in a dress that was fitted to her physique to show off her body.

The emerald satin of the dress accentuated her skin and eyes and even she couldn’t deny how alluring she appeared in the mirror as she stared at herself. But it didn’t make her feel good. Yes, it was pretty, she looked pretty. But the entire scheme was disgusting. Her father was a disgusting man for doing what he was doing. With his own daughter of all people. It felt wrong. She felt like a pawn in her father’s game.

She was a pawn in her father’s game.

The venue was full of wealthy guests, townspeople, politicians, and servers. Harry was one of the first to arrive to make sure everything was going to plan. He was excited about the night, it would be the first in his honor. He wanted to make a good impression but he was also there because he needed to meet with a handful of his closest men. On his left arm was Darcie, the beautiful brunette whom he’d been fucking for the last week. She was fun and easy. And she looked good in her little black dress for the event. Harry wasn’t worried much about her. He’d have her sit by the bar and have a couple of drinks while he and his men discussed work.

William was amongst the men at the meeting with Harry. He left Y/n at the bar as well and told her she could have a glass of wine but no more. Darcie immediately noticed the young woman in emerald. Competition perhaps.

Y/n felt awkward and uncomfortable. Her dress was a bit too fitted in certain spots and her thigh was displayed. Sitting on the little stool at the bar and sipping a glass of wine she watched as the guests arrived. Most were sitting at tables and being served, some were standing and chatting with people they knew. Music began to play and suddenly William was by her side, “Let’s go. I want you to meet Harry.”

This was what she was told would happen before coming. She knew she was here to meet someone named Harry. Her dad’s boss. She wasn’t keen on it. Not at all. Her glass of wine was left at the bar as she followed William to a table where six men and three women were sat. William pulled at Y/n, pushing her in front of him, “Harry, this is Y/n. My lovely, lovely daughter. I’ve been looking forward to you meeting her.”

Y/n smiled at everyone at the table, most didn’t look up at her but she did recognize the woman in the black dress with brown hair, long down her back. She was also at the bar with her when her dad had left her for the brief meeting. She made eye contact with the woman but didn’t receive a smile in return. Rather it was a cold gaze and then the woman turned her head toward the man she was sitting next to, the one William was trying to introduce her to called Harry.

“Thank you, William. You can have your seat.” Harry stated, never looking in Y/n’s direction. Harry had seen it all. He was sure William’s daughter would not be of interest. Harry didn’t need a young, insecure daughter of one of his men as part of his posse. He had what he wanted. When he wanted. Darcie was fine for him at the moment. She was a sure thing at the end of the night. It was boring, actually. To have William trying to flaunt his daughter was annoying more than anything.

“Harry, Y/n here would like to shake your hand at least. She’s a big fan of yours. Could you at least do her that favor?” William was desperate. He knew that if Harry just looked at Y/n there could be a chance of having him see her beauty and maybe there’d be favor gained.

Harry sighed and placed his glass of whiskey down on the table to appease William. His goal was to get William to go away with his daughter. He didn’t care in the least. He drew his gaze up over the young woman and she was almost shivering. Her eyes were downcast toward the floor, and her bottom lip bit into her mouth. She was nervous, Harry could see. It was obvious that William’s daughter was put up to this, and she was not here because she was a fan as William stated. There was something else at play and Harry didn’t like the looks of it.

The girl was stunning. Shy, insecure, and shaking. Harry frowned and looked at William and then back to the poor thing who was uncomfortable with the situation and he was filled with a touch of anger at the way William had paraded his daughter to him in this way.

Y/n knew Harry was a big boss of a crime organization and not one to be interrupted or annoyed. She felt as if she and her father were doing just that. That this was going to be her end and that Harry would have them done away with.

“William. Thank you. Y/n, come sit with me, here,” Harry snapped his fingers at the server who was standing at the table and motioned for them to bring a chair to his side, opposite where Darcie was seated. When the chair was placed on Harry’s left side, William nudged Y/n to sit.

She looked at her dad with worry, “Go on, darling. This is our chance,” he whispered to her.

Harry kept his eyes on William, “I said thank you, William. Take your seat at your table. Your daughter will sit here at the table with me.”

Y/n sat down as she was directed and kept her face downward. She didn’t know what to expect. Her heart was pounding. She’d never seen Harry in person, but he was very intimidating and his green eyes were striking. He was an eye-catching man. But she was still unsure of what to expect. His power and his ruthlessness proceeded him. She’d heard of the things he’d done to men before. Harry was not a nice man and now here she was sitting at his side amongst other men and women who were also not nice.

Darcie, who was sitting on Harry’s right side leaned in toward Harry and spoke loudly enough that Y/n could hear, “Poor girl. Wearing a cheap dress like that probably feels quite out of place here with us,“ her laugh indicated she wasn’t being nice in her words. Darcie knew the sudden arrival of the young woman was a threat to her place.

Harry ignored Darcie completely and looked over Y/n’s frame as she kept her eyes down. He was intrigued. The girl seemed scared but she was the daughter of one of his top men. A man that was looking for a promotion in the organization. The more Harry considered William, the more he wondered if the fact that he brought his daughter here was just a way to get Harry’s attention for a raise or a leg up. Harry didn’t like this. He didn’t like to use people as pawns and for William to use his own daughter in this way felt disgusting.

But it wasn’t Y/n’s fault. He could see that right away. No, Y/n was innocent. Pure. A sweet thing who was not here because she wanted to be. She was here because her father’s intentions were unkind and rather insulting. What did William think this was? A way to gain some kind of favor? Harry would do what he wanted and if William deserved favor he’d have it but not this way.

“Darling, is this normal? For your father to bring you to places and show you off in this way?” Harry was curious about how William had been treating this beautiful creature sat next to him. He moved the hair from her face gently so he could get a better look at the delicate thing.

When she finally turned her head to look into Harry’s eyes there was no turning back for Harry. She was far more beautiful than he even realized. The moment her eyes met his he felt his heart thud and his throat nearly went dry. Her pink lips and her delicate features, the sparkle of her eyes, and her slender neck were like something he’d dreamed up. He was unable to help himself as he moved his eyes down over her dress and to the curve of her waist and the spread of her thighs under her satin emerald dress. An angel was before him.

Y/n opened her mouth and tried to reign in her breaths. She was scared. “No. I mean… sometimes he brings me around, uh…” she wrung her hands in her lap and looked back down to calm herself. His eyes were searing into her and it was distracting. The way he was looking at her had her ears going hot and her senses blurred.

Harry turned to face the girl and placed his hand on her jaw and turned her face back toward his, “Sweetheart. You don’t need to be scared around me. I’m not going hurt you,” he spoke and brought his other hand up to her shoulder, bringing his fingers down her arm softly to soothe her, “Now, go on. Tell me what you were going to say.”

Goosebumps were left in the path of Harry’s fingers down her arm and she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. The warmth of his touch sent her heart racing. She opened her eyes again and tried to speak clearly, “He brings me around some of the men in your organization. He tells me it’s so I can learn to be good for powerful men.”

Harry scoffed and tilted his head to the side, keeping his eyes on the angel, “No baby. That’s not okay. You know that right?”

Suddenly Darcie leaned in and stretched her hand out toward Harry, wrapping her long fingers around his forearm to get his attention, “Do you think that’s really true, Harry? She’s obviously just trying to make you feel bad for her…”

Harry’s face turned into a scowl as he turned himself and yanked his arm from Darcie’s grasp, “You’re dismissed. You can go find another table to sit at. I no longer am in need of your services,” Harry turned back to Y/n, and his eyes immediately softened at the girl.

“My services!? What? You’ve been fucking me all week and that’s what you call a service? This stupid virgin isn’t going to be giving you head like I did just this morning. That I can guarantee. Good luck with the lying bimbo!” Darcie stood up but before she could walk away Harry stood and grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip, “The fuck did you call her?” He pointed at Y/n as he snarled at Darcie.

Darcie’s eyes went wide when she realized how angry Harry was, “Apologize to her now!”

Darcie shook her head, “Harry, I’m sorry…”

Harry slammed a fist onto the table, the dishes clanking and his glass of whisky sloshing, and now the whole room was watching the outburst, “Not to me you stupid whore. To her!” He again pointed in Y/n’s direction.

Darcie blinked her eyes as tears began to form on her lower lashes. She looked from Harry down to Y/n and sputtered out her words, “I’m sorry.”

Before Harry released Darcie’s arm he leaned into her and spoke calmly and darkly, “Now get the fuck out of here before I have my men remove you. You are no longer allowed to be here.”

Harry wiped his hands down his suit as if he was brushing dust off of himself before sitting back down. He pulled Y/n’s chair closer toward him and leaned into her, “Sorry about that, baby. Are you okay?” He moved her hair from her shoulder and drew a hand up toward the side of her neck tenderly.

Y/n nodded quickly. She was still nervous. She’d been a little surprised by the way Harry treated his date but she’d seen worse with some of the other men before. She was glad he made Darcie apologize.

“Good,” Harry kept his eyes on Y/n’s as he snapped his fingers again and the server was quickly by his side.

Harry spoke softly, “What would you like to drink, darling? A beautiful thing like you deserves the finest things. Champagne maybe? Top shelf?”

Y/n opened her mouth and raised her brows in worry, “My dad told me not to drink too much…”

Harry tsk’d at her and smiled, “You don’t need to worry about William anymore. I’m going to be the one to take care of you from now on. And if you’d like the finest champagne you’ll have it.”

Y/n nodded, “Okay,” her voice was quiet and fragile.

Harry ordered a bottle of champagne to be brought to the table and fresh strawberries to go with it.

Harry doted on Y/n during the dinner and the speeches that were made during the event. Never taking his eyes off her, his fingers gently dancing on her skin. He knew it was probably a bit too much but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her and looking her over. She was going to be his.

When dinner and the main event were done it was time for the reception and party. Harry moved Y/n and some of his crew toward where there’d be entertainment and music for the rest of the night. He sat along the wall where there was a plush couch and some tables. Y/n was about to sit down when Harry took her wrist and pulled her into his lap. He needed her to be as close as possible.

When her soft bottom met the top of his thighs he angled her so he could still see her face and he brushed his hand along her bare back, where her dress was low and he could feel her soft skin under his fingers.

More drinks were served and chatter was all around them but Y/n was feeling something deep in her stomach with the close proximity to Harry. He’d been so soft and kind with her and the attention he was giving her, the words he’d whisper were all so much. She’d never experienced it before but she wanted more.

Harry put one hand on her bare thigh, gently moving his thumb over her skin, “Shit, you’re beautiful,” he whispered to her, his lips brushing her ear, “Do you know that, Y/n? You’re so fucking stunning, baby. Want you to be all mine. Okay?” His warm breath and the accent of his words with his deep voice were overwhelming Y/n’s senses. She wanted that. She’d just met him but she wanted him. She wanted to be his.

She licked her lips and turned to look at Harry, “Okay,” she whispered and nodded.

Harry grinned at her and the hand on her thigh slid higher up, the pads of his fingers finding the material of her dress and dipping just under it, “Yeah? You want that? Fuck, baby. I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

Harry pulled her to him, his hand at the back of her neck and his mouth finding hers. She tasted like honey and berries and champagne. The softest and sweetest and most delicate thing he’d seen and felt in all his life.

Before the kiss could get too hot Harry broke away from it and it left Y/n breathless, her lips parted and eyelids low. Now she knew what she wanted without a doubt. She wanted to please him and to have him please her. His mouth on her ignited her insides and she felt her nipples perk under her dress.

Harry noticed it too. He realized the state he’d left her in so he moved a hand further up her dress discreetly and whispered, “I know baby. I’m going to take you home when we’re done here and give you everything you want. Anything you want,” he pressed his fingers upward until he met her bare pussy. She was not wearing panties and Harry nearly lost his mind when he felt the slickness between her legs. Harry immediately thickened in his pants. This girl was going to be treated so well and he was going to take care of his angel properly.

The rest of the night was difficult for both Harry and Y/n. Harry couldn’t stop kissing her and touching her and Y/n was slowly wetting her satin dress where she was seated. Harry was treating her so sweetly and saying just the right things to her. And when Harry pulled her hand down over his trousers so she could feel him hard underneath and it startled her.

Now, Y/n had masturbated before and she could make herself orgasm by softly rubbing herself on her pillows her using her fingers but she was a virgin and she was not experienced otherwise so she’d never touched a penis before. She’d seen pictures but had never been in the presence of a real-live penis. But here she was, on the lap of a man who was so aroused by her that his own prick was thickened and she knew that this meant he wanted her in the same way she wanted him.

When William eventually approached them he had a creepy smile on his face and he was clearly drunk. Y/n wrapped her arms around Harry and shrunk in his lap, not wanting her father to see her like this. She really didn’t want to see William at all for any reason. In fact, she’d nearly forgotten all about him with the way Harry had made her feel safe and wanted on his lap and with all the attention he was giving her.

Harry noticed Y/n’s sudden change of demeanor and held her close to give her comfort and turned to Randy as he pointed at William, “Get him out of here.”

And that was that. Harry and Y/n didn’t have to see William again that night. Harry would take care of William another day. At that moment, he could only think of how he was going to take care of his girl.

Harry had his driver take them to his estate when he felt it was a good time to slip out without being noticed. Most everyone at the event was occupied, dancing, talking, and drinking so no one cared much when Harry whisked Y/n away with him and out the back to the car waiting for them.

When they pulled into the long driveway past the iron gates to Harry’s mansion it was a shock. It was the biggest house she’d ever seen. Her eyes were wide as Harry helped her out of the car and put his arm behind her back and walked her to the door and inside. A man greeted them at the door and the inside was just as ornate and fancy as the outside.

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from swiveling her head around to look at all the beautiful finishes and decorations. The tall windows, twenty-foot ceilings, marble floors, stair banister, walnut inlays, chandelier, art, expensive looking vases, and bowls and rugs, the walls were covered in silk wallpaper with subtle designs…

“It’s a lot. I know. This was my father’s home. His tastes were a bit extravagant, but it grows on you. It’s the finest decorations and furniture from all over the world. Just wait til you see the rest of the place, darling,” Harry smiled at Y/n as he watched her take it all in.

“It’s so beautiful, Harry,” Y/n brushed her hand along the edge of the velvet high-back chair that was near the staircase where Harry was leading her.

Harry kept his eyes on the beautiful girl and nodded in awe of her, “It is so beautiful.”

The bedroom was large with high ceilings and tall windows and the biggest bed Y/n had ever seen. She heard the heavy walnut door being closed behind her when Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her front, pressing her back into his chest.

He began to kiss her neck softly and she started to melt once again in Harry’s arms. His broad chest was solid and she felt safe in his arms. When he moved his hands down to her hips she felt the warmth of his palm even through her satin dress. But she also felt his solid length poking into her bottom and she was reminded of her own situation between her legs.

“Can I take off your dress, baby? Will you let me see you?” Harry whispered into her ear as his hands slowly smoothed up her sides over her dress. He knew she’d look like perfection. He could already tell. Her thigh had been on display and her dress was scooped low down her back where the front draped perfectly over her breasts and hugged her waist and hips.

Y/n nodded. She wanted relief. She was feeling the ache and the neediness that had begun at the reception earlier when he sat her in his lap. Her nerves were peaking but she was excited about it.

Harry removed his suit jacket and draped it over a chair and then turned to face Y/n and very slowly began to remove her dress, bringing the thin straps off of her shoulders and pushing the material down, exposing her breasts to him where he paused and placed a soft kiss to each of her nipples and she softly moaned at the touch.

Then he dragged the dress the rest of the way down her body and lifted her legs, one at a time to help her step out, leaving her in only her high heels and Harry thought he was going to faint. She was smooth, soft, and untouched by any imperfections on her skin.

He knelt down and put his hands up to her hips and placed his warm mouth on her tummy, kissing and squeezing her until he dropped his mouth to right over her sweet, pussy. She was already wet and he could see her juice peeking out from her labia, the shine and the smell made him twitch in his pants. He brought his lips down, going around her pussy, over her thighs, and to her knees, on each side, and then back up.

He looked up at her and she’d put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself when he pushed his tongue out and licked the very center of her wet slit with only the tip of his tongue.

“Is this okay, Y/n? Do you want me to make you feel so good?” He spoke over her pussy, his warm breath cascading down her folds and she gasped at the feel and nodded, “Yes, please.”

Harry stood up and moved her toward the bed and had her lie flat on her back in the very center, legs spread wide at his urging. He held her thighs apart and looked her over, taking all of her intimate bits in. Everything was perfection and she was his. He could hardly believe it.

Harry was gentle at first, kisses and licks and soft laps at her pussy. She didn’t know what to do with herself it felt so good. Better than her fingers for sure. But when he realized her clit was standing at full attention and she was puffy and whiny he knew she was ready for more. She was fully aroused.

So he put his mouth around her clit and softly brought it into his mouth, sucking the tiniest bit and watching her to get her reaction and he was not disappointed. The shock on her face turned into ecstasy and her pink lips parted as she moaned and cried. Harry smiled and repeated his actions, holding a thigh down for his access to his center.

Soon, as Harry was licking her and lapping her and sucking her just right, he circled two fingers over her tiny entrance and dipped just the tip of his fingers in to get a feel. Her muscle was tight but she was very wet and so he eased his two fingers into the first knuckle slowly. She gasped and tilted her head up to see what he was doing.

Harry’s intense gaze was on hers the whole time. She saw his pink tongue lapping at her slit and circling her clit and he had a hand at her entrance, prodding, and poking softly to open her up.

Harry lifted his face, “I’m gonna finger you darling. Just to get you used to the feel of this. Have you ever put your fingers into this little hole right here?” He wiggled the tips of his fingers inside of her as he asked.

She let out a soft breath and shook her head, “No.”

Harry smiled. He figured she hadn’t. So he went slow and watched her expressions change and the way her mouth got wider and wider and her moans got deeper and louder the further he pushed his fingers into her. She was so wet she was getting the comforter under her bum slick, just like Harry liked.

By the time Harry had his fingers pushed in all the way to his last knuckle, and his rings were disappearing into her hole she started fucking herself down onto his fingers by herself. She had the natural instinct to sink down on something inside of her and Harry gave her a good slurp on her clit and inserted another finger and she came with a yelp and a gush on his tongue. Her body shook when she felt her orgasm burst and it was better than any orgasm she’d ever given herself. His fingers had been poking and pushing into something delicate and sensitive inside of her that she’d never experienced before and it made her whole body shiver.

Harry let her come down and he gave her plenty of time to recover from her shock as he laid next to her and kissed her neck and her cheek and whispered to her how good she’d done.

“Such a good girl, Y/n. My sweet baby. I’ve never seen anyone come so pretty before. Taste so good too. I’m going to have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day from now on, okay?’

Y/n smiled and nodded as she lulled her head over to look at Harry. His eyes were dark with lust and she knew she wanted to please him too. So she turned to face him and moved her hand down to his crotch, where he was solid and harder than ever.

Harry groaned at her touch and he grinned, “Want to see it?”

And of course, she did. She nodded and sat up as Harry began to remove his clothes. When he had pulled his underwear down his legs and crawled back into the bed with her she was speechless. She put her hand out toward his long cock and touched the very tip and sucked in a sharp breath at how warm he was.

She looked up at Harry with wide, round eyes, “It’s so big.” She knew that a penis was meant to go inside of a vagina and that she had a hole where Harry had his fingers, but she couldn’t imagine it fitting into her.

Harry grabbed her hand and pressed her palm down on him harder, “It’s all yours. Do you want to taste?”

Again, she nodded. She was curious about it. Harry pulled her toward him and she got onto her knees on the mattress next to him and dipped down to kiss the very tip. Her lips found his slit and Harry hissed and smiled at her, “Good girl.”

She knew that was a good sign so she kept going. Kissing the shaft and looking up at him when she poked her tongue out to lick the edge and taste him. It wasn’t bad. It didn’t taste like much really. Just warm skin on her tongue. She began to get the hang of it, licking and kissing along his thick shaft toward his base and then back up.

“Put the tip inside your mouth and suck,” Harry said as he nodded at her.

She eagerly lowered herself and opened her wet mouth, placing it over his crown and using the flat of her tongue to get him wetted and swipe around the head, perfectly caressing his frenulum and he moaned and put a hand into her hair, “Just like that baby.”

She continued doing what she thought he liked, keeping her eyes on his. She lowered a bit more and sucked hard at his urging and he threw his head back with a growl and he smiled at her eagerness and her soft lips.

“Spit over it and use your hands to get my cock all wet,” Harry nudged her.

So she did what he said, spitting on him and using her hands to smooth the saliva over him and down his shaft. She spit a few times to get him all slick in her hand and then continued to suck and swirl her tongue on the tip of his prick.

Harry was in heaven. But he wanted to feel his girl. He wanted to know what her pussy would feel like on him and he hoped she wanted that too.

He pushed her off of him softly and he looked at her in amazement, “Can we try something else, my angel?”

Y/n was in for anything at this point as she nodded.

Harry made her lay flat on her back as he knelt between her legs and held his heavy cock in his hands and swiped his tip through her drenched slit and it was a beautiful site.

“My penis will fit inside of this hole here,” he said as he plunged his middle finger into her entrance and then he pulled it out and licked his finger. Y/n bit her lip and she had a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Harry asked as he thumbed over her clit to get her all worked up again. She started to wiggle a bit and roll her hips upward toward his finger for relief.

“I think it’s too big, Harry.” She said with a straight face.

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “No, baby, it’s not. Your hole will stretch and open up when I press this in. This is where babies come from, you know that right?”

She nodded and blinked. That made sense.

“And if a baby can come through this hole, my penis is sure to fit. And it’s going to feel so good. You’re gonna love it. You know how good it felt when I had my fingers inside of you?”

Harry slide a finger inside of her again and curled it up for her to feel the pressure and she nodded with a gasp.

“Exactly. It’ll feel even better with this in there,” he said when he began to swipe his cock up and down her labia again and softly nudged at her entrance with his head. If she were anyone else he’d already be fucking her and making her toes curl. But this was his Y/n. She was delicate and too sweet. He wanted her to feel comfortable and safe with him. He’d make her feel like a queen if she let him.

She nodded and she knew he was right. He’d only been gentle and caring with her this whole time. She trusted him, “Okay.”

Harry kept a thumb at her clit as he angled her hips for him to more easily push in. He stayed sat back, his knees bent with legs under him as she laid flat, her thighs spread and open for him.

She closed her eyes when she felt his crown begin to poke into her. His thumb felt nice on her clitoris and it helped her feel grounded.

“Look at me, Y/n. Watch my face, honey…” he squeezed her hip to get her attention and she opened her eyes up right away. Looking at him as he slowly pushed past her tight muscle and continued to circle her clit with his thumb.

She could see how good it felt for him as he got deeper inside of her, his mouth parted, his brows scrunched. But to her, it didn’t feel as bad as she thought it would. She was old enough that her hymen was probably broken by now and even though she’d never even put a tampon inside of her, she’d ridden horses and bikes and was aware that activities like that, along with just naturally moving day to day over the years that it would mean her vagina would be rid of its hymen lining.

Harry went very slowly. He could feel how tight she was but her arousal was drenching him and making it hard not to just pound into her right away. He knew she could take it. Her body was ready. But he didn’t want to startle her or scare her. So he only pushed in as slowly as possible and kept watch of her face.

He pulled himself out to almost the tip and then nudged his thick cock back inside a little deeper this time and she moaned. Harry smiled. She liked it. It felt good.

He repeated his actions a few times, getting a little deeper on each thrust, but still going as slow as possible until she was panting and her eyes were wide.

“How does that feel angel?” Harry breathed his words out.

She lifted her neck and looked down to where he was fucking into her and she nodded before putting her head back down, “So good. It feels really good.”

This was Harry’s cue to begin fucking her properly. Not hard, or fast, but now he could begin thrusting into her at a pace that might get her off. He began to pull back and push in, watching her pussy spread for him and her lips surround his cock with each pull and push. It was wet and the sound was delicious, “Hear that?” Harry said as he slowly pushed in and pulled out, the wet noise of his cock thrusting into her entrance and pulling back was not something she expected. But she could hear the wet noises coming from between their bodies.

She nodded, “Yeah. Is that because I’m so wet for you?”

Harry groaned and smiled, her words were dirty and she didn’t even know it, “That’s exactly what that is my angel. Your little pussy is soaked because she’s so aroused and that makes it easy for my cock to slip right in and out the way you need. Like this…” he demonstrated by pushed into the hilt, and then backing out until he could see his tip before pushing back in, the sticky sound of their bodies coming together.

His cadence increased a small bit and it made her body move on each press inward, her tits softly bouncing at each plunge of his cock. The wet sounds were now met with the sound of Harry’s skin meeting her skin, the soft smacking of their bodies colliding, and the rustle of the blankets below them.

Y/n’s moans began to get louder again like they had when he ate her out and fucked her with his fingers. She felt good and that’s all he wanted. To make her feel good and safe.

“Oh god…” her eyes widened and her pink lips puffed out a heavy breath, “that’s good… so full…” her panted words were music to Harry’s ears. She was feeling what he was feeling and she was saying what she wanted as her brain and body were naturally responding to sex the way it should when it felt good.

“Yeah, baby? Am I stuffing you full? Feels so good doesn’t it?” Harry continued his languid strokes into her, smacking into her gently, continuing to rub her clit softly.

“Yes. Yes… oh yes…” she breathed out in gasps, “So full, so good… mmmm….” She brought her hands down to grasp his thighs where he was working himself into her. She felt his strong muscles under her hands, flexing as he rolled into her.

“You’re made for me, angel. You know that? Gonna make you mine in every way…” he moaned as he rocked into her, imagining her dripping with his come and then becoming pregnant and swollen with his baby.

Y/n nodded and bit her lip as she bucked upward into his thumb and whimpered when Harry couldn’t help himself and he plunged into her a little harder, a little faster.

Now he was smacking into her harder, sending her body upward with each deep stroke. It felt good inside of her. His prick was filling her and rubbing into something inside that felt like rainbows and stars and all things good and right. She couldn’t stop her moans or the noises she was making. Harry was making her feel better than she’d ever felt in her life.

“That’s it, angel… just feel it. Let it take over,” Harry watched her body and her face as he fucked into her a little harder now. He couldn’t help himself but to go in deeper and harder. She was feeling so good around him and she liked it so he knew he could poke deep into her and she’d like it.

Harry continued rubbing over her button and looked down to where they were connected, his cock was wet with her creamy arousal. She’d gotten his groin soaked, down her ass and to the bed below. Harry groaned at the site of his cock moving into her and spreading her apart. He knew his cock was pushing her insides apart, pressing deep into her belly and rubbing over her g-spot on each stroke. Her eyes were almost crossed as her mouth was dropped open with constant mewls and moans falling from her mouth.

“So pretty… look at you, shit…” Harry was losing it. She was clenching and pulsing around him as her legs started to shake slightly.

Harry went in hard now, he couldn’t help it. Now he was acting on primal tendencies to push her over the edge so she could come and so he could come. He wanted to destroy her insides (in the kindest way of course) with his big cock. She was taking him so well and he knew she was so close to coming.

Y/n’s breasts shook and bounced, the sound of the thuds of skin and wetness together with her loud moans could be heard down the hallway of his mansion. He knew his house staff was hearing this but he didn’t care at that moment. He only cared about making Y/n come.

When she clenched hard and he felt her pussy spasm and she cried out his name, “Oh god! Harry! I’m… oh… oh… I’m…” her words were nonsense suddenly as she melted on his cock and spasmed around him, her legs shaking and her world spinning. She grabbed her tits and squeezed for something to hold on to as she gushed over Harry’s cock and he continued fucking into her, giving her the best experience she could have; a nice thick cock pushing into and pulling out of her fluttering walls as she came, her muscles clamping down on him with all she had.

Harry gritted his teeth as he watched his angel coming on his cock as he sunk into her deeply and finally released in his own orgasm, his cum coating her walls and her slick muscles inside as she quivered and cried. His throbbing cock pumped into her, stuffed as far as it could go inside as he groaned and pushed upward, connecting them so fully and deeply that he knew she’d never want anyone else. He’d make sure of that.

When his balls were emptied and everything was poured into her cunt and her breathing began to slow Harry kissed her lips softly and slowly before pulling out of her.

He held her thighs apart and watched as his come dripped from her pussy down over her ass. He scooped up a bit of his liquid and brought it back up to her pussy, rubbing it over her labia and then pushing it back in slowly.

Harry couldn’t get enough of the view. It was so pretty and soft and lewd. Their juices mixed together over her pussy and now inside of her pussy…

“How do you feel?” Harry looked up at Y/n and she was smiling, red in the cheeks, her chest flushed, hair messy, “Happy.”

This made Harry smile. He wanted her happy and feeling good. He smoothed his hands up her hips over her tummy, wrapping them around to her back, and pulled her up and into his arms, “Good. I’m going to make sure you stay that way. Always want you to be happy with me,” he kissed her temple and smiled.

“My good girl.”

The Check-in*

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[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 1]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist

| mafia!Simon x fem!Reader - mild unwanted touching |

it wasn't easy living on borrowed time

wc: 4.9k

Six years later.

Sometimes, if you squeezed your eyes shut tight enough, you could pretend you were somewhere else.

The gentle hum of the dryers around you could be confused with the electrical whirring of the tube, and you could convince yourself you were traveling outside of London. Or maybe it was a spaceship taking you to some far off planet with strange plants that glowed as you weaved between their stems and leaves. The swishing of the washers could be mistaken for the sound of roaring waves of an ocean, and you could almost feel the water lapping at your feet while a small flock of seagulls played alongside you. 

But your escapism was fleeting, and you were always brought back to the cruel reality that you were nothing but a silly girl playing with string in a laundromat. Cat’s cradle was what it was called. It was a game no one wanted to play with you as a kid, because there was always something more interesting to do than play with string. But that was fine. It taught you the most important lesson you ever learned: keep your hands moving. If your hands were still, the humming of the washer and dryers around you might get overwhelming, or the buzzing of the cheap laundromat lights could drive you insane. If your hands were still, you might have thought too much about the unmarked envelope that sat in your lap and who would be coming to pick it up. 

However, the thing was, no matter how often you moved from the soldiers bed formation to the candles formation, every now and then you would end up with a knot in the center of the design. It was supposed to be a simple move, a gentle weaving of your fingers between the strings to get to the next section, but you always ended up ruining it somehow. Hands well versed in mistakes, no amount of practicing could erase the fact that errors were intertwined with your DNA. 

The noise of London suddenly grew to a thundering roar as the laundromat door opened to allow entrance to another patron. Eyes locked onto the string in your hands, you tried not to pay attention to the fact that this man entered without any clothes to wash. Of course you could assume he was there to pick something up, but you knew better than that. His footsteps were loud and overdramatic on the tile floor as he sauntered over to you and made his home on the bench next to you despite the fact that there were plenty of open spots elsewhere. 

Oddly enough, it wasn’t this man's close proximity to you that made you uncomfortable, though it certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was the scent of him. It only got worse as he reached his arm behind you on the bench as if the two of you were friends, and it washed over you in a suffocating wave. It was his cologne. While it smelled expensive, he used it as if it was as cheap as water, and it burned your nose so fiercely your eyes nearly began to water. 

“You’ll have to show me how to play that sometime,” he said, disregarding any formal greeting. 

As you unwound the string from your fingers, you ignored the way his hand brushed against your thighs as he grabbed the unmarked envelope out of your lap. He was always touchy like that, as if the two of you had known one another your whole lives, and though he made your skin itch, you knew better than to say anything about it. Marco, your unwanted friend, was not known for his patience. 

“Maybe some other time,” you replied, which only made him chuckle. 

While you shoved your string into the pocket of your pants, Marco got to work on opening the envelope. A small wad of cash was stashed inside, and he eagerly pulled it out before counting it by hand. You dared a glance at him while he was occupied, though you didn’t find anything new about him that you didn’t already know. His style was just as simple and flashy as usual with acid washed jeans and several unnecessary decorative chains hanging from the belt loops. There were a few new scrapes on his knuckles, but that wasn’t anything surprising either. Though you didn’t know exactly what he did in his free time, you had a pretty good idea. 

“Perfect, as usual,” he quipped as he finished counting the notes. 

Marco stood from the bench as he shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jumper, stowing away all the money you had given him. You wanted him to leave. Wanted him to walk out of there without making a fuss and leave you be with your stupid game of string, but he didn’t. He always had something more to say. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood in front of you. 

He gently kicked your foot, prompting you to look up at him, which you reluctantly complied with. Marco wasn’t a bad looking man, though you still hated making eye contact with him all the same. Really, with a sharp jawline like that and eyes the same shade of grass, he could have been a model. Instead, he got caught up in the darker side of London, and unfortunately, so had you. 

“You’ve been pretty good at making full payments,” he commented. His eyes glanced up and down at you as if he could caress you with his gaze alone, and once again you found your skin tingling. No amount of good looks could erase the fact he was filthy and slimy just like usual. “My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble, though.” 

He did it on purpose. Of course he did. It was a poorly kept secret that you weren’t really good at conversing with people, and eye contact never came easy for you. So of course he made you look at him before saying that to you. Maybe he thought it was funny. Maybe he just liked the fear that blossomed in your eyes. 

“No thanks,” you said, voice small. 

Shrugging, he took a step away from you while patting his pocket. “Alright. You know where to find me when your luck runs out, babe.” 

When he turned to leave you were finally free to cast your gaze back to the tile floor, and you found the grime there significantly easier to look at than Marco. Yet it did nothing to comfort the anxiety rising in your chest. Most days that feeling gripped your heart so tightly you swore one day it wouldn’t be able to pump at all, and still, you endured. As if you had any other choice. There was no flourishing in your life. There was no moment where you were able to sit and enjoy a cup of tea without something raging in your chest or mind. Because even in your laughter, even in your good moments, all you ever did was survive. 

It wasn’t easy living on borrowed time. 

Just when you had calmed your nerves, just when you were ready to leave that wretched place, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. In the process of fishing it out of your pocket, the string you had used to play cat’s cradle tumbled out with it and plopped on the floor. It stared up at you as if to make fun of you. As if to remind you that your only comfort was a stupid piece of string. Sighing, you reached down to grab it as you looked at the caller ID on your screen. 

“Hello?” you answered as you pressed the phone to your ear. 

“Hey! I just wanted to check in to see if you still planned on coming tonight?” the chipper voice of your friend, Row, hummed through the line. 

Row was probably your closest and only friend, and even through the phone you could imagine her sweet smile and the slight tilt of her head as she spoke. You had known her since you were a kid, and she had grown to become more of your sister than anything else. She always doted on you like a sibling, called you weekly, insisted that she saw you at least monthly; sometimes it was as if she was more of your mother than anything else. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied with a soft chuckle. 

“Good. Do you need a ride? John should be leaving work any minute if you want him to pick you up,” Row suggested. 

“No, that’s alright,” you insisted. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish up, so I’ll just take the bus over.” 

“Alright, but if you change your mind just let me know. I’ll make him turn around if you need,” she added humorously before pausing. “What’s that sound?” 

Confused, you glanced around the area until you remembered where you were at. The simple drone of the washers and dryers were just as loud as ever, and one of the various machines had just announced their finished cycle with a lovely little chime. 

“Oh, I’m at the laundromat,” you explained simply. 

“Well, alright. I’ll let you go so you can finish your chores,” Row said with a sigh. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” 

The smallest of smiles overtook your lips at her tone, and you nodded your head despite the fact she couldn’t see you. “See you in a bit.” 

When the line died, all the tension in your body seemed to melt away, but the strain in your mind only grew. All your social energy had already been expended after dealing with Marco, and you still had a dinner to go to. Usually your dinners with Row and her husband, John, were fine, but she informed you some of John’s work associates would be tagging along which meant more people to meet. Maybe you should have said no, or made up some excuse. If it had been any other day except that day, it would have been easier, but you never wanted to draw suspicion. Row could sniff out a problem like it was a bad wound. 

So you stood from that uncomfortable metal bench and slid your phone back into your pocket. The glass doors of the laundromat showed the hoards of pedestrians mingling about outside, and you found yourself swallowing at the sight. With a final glance around the area, you swiftly exited the building empty handed. It felt odd leaving a laundromat without any clothes to take home, but you never did laundry on the 25th of the month anyway. 

After a short stop by your apartment for a change of clothes, you found yourself on an uncomfortably crowded bus during the busiest time of the day. It would take you the better part of half an hour to make it to Row’s house, but that was alright with you. Despite the mass of fleshy bodies around you, all you had to do was stick your earbuds in, listen to music, and watch the scenery pass you by. It was grounding being the observer. Stuck in some sort of in between, only being able to watch, unable to be touched. It was safer that way. Usually. 

Eventually the concrete and glass buildings softened into something more colorful and natural. Golden trees waved in the chilly October breeze and you watched their leaves fall like raindrops where they covered the ground in a saffron blanket. When the bus finally reached your stop, you exited where you were greeted by the soft scent of old rain and wet leaves. That aroma continued to follow you as you walked down the cracked pavement towards Row’s house. Her and her husband were very well off and lived in a neighborhood that represented that fact well. Perfectly manicured lawns, pristine paneling, and fresh paint were the trademark features on every home you passed, which was loads different than you were used to in the city with chipped brick and peeling wallpaper. 

By the time you reached the house the sun had just started to dip below the horizon, and you could clearly make out the warm glow of the kitchen lights bleed through the sheer curtains that covered the windows. Several unfamiliar vehicles parked in an odd pile in the driveway, which consisted of rather pricey looking cars and even a motorcycle. Belonged to John’s work partners, no doubt. Even though you had showed up ten minutes early, it looked like everyone else had already arrived. Perhaps you should have taken that ride from John after all because the thought of walking into a crowded home with all eyes on you had you grimacing. But you couldn’t face him while your anxiety was still high from dealing with Marco. You would just have to grit your teeth and bear it.

After steadying yourself with a deep breath, you approached the door with as much faux confidence as you could muster before knocking. Over the years, you had gotten quite good at concealing the anxiety that often wracked your brain, and even when your thoughts got the better of you, it rarely ever showed on your face. When living with an untamable beast for so long, you had at least gotten good at yanking back on the leash. 

Moments later the door opened with a click and you were greeted by Row’s beaming smile. Boisterous laughter boomed behind her as she reached her arms out to embrace you. You fell into her hug with a slight giggle before she pulled you inside the warmth of the house. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” she exclaimed as she led you through the entrance. “I know you’ve been really busy with work and all.” 

“I traded shifts with one of the other hostesses, so it’s not a big deal,” you politely excused. 

“Of course. God forbid they give you a proper day off,” Row chuckled. “But you came just in time! John and I just finished cooking, and the boys are all already here if you wanna grab a seat in the dining room.” 

You had been over at Row’s house plenty of times that you didn’t exactly need to be coddled anymore, and yet she still insisted on leading you through the kitchen and to where the others waited. Several dishes of food adorned the rectangular table, and it looked like the only thing that was missing was the main course which could be noted by a large, empty spot toward the center. Plates, cutlery, and glasses of water awaited at all six spots, three of which were already occupied by unfamiliar faces. 

Row made introductions simple and quick as the two of you took your seats. First, there was a man named Johnny. You vaguely recognized his voice as one of the louder ones you first heard when you entered the house, and he was just as smiley as his laughter would have you believe. A messy, flattened mohawk sat on his head, and several piercings adorned his ears with a silver glint. Then there was Kyle, a handsome man with an easy smile, he greeted you with a kind nod of his head. You couldn’t help but think about what a good complexion he had, but you opted to keep that thought to yourself. 

Then there was Riley. He was easily the largest, and frankly the most intimidating out of all of John’s other guests. Slight hints of tattoos poked out underneath his sleeves by his wrists, and there were a few faint scars on his face that lined up with the unnatural curve of his nose. There was an aura about him that you couldn’t quite place, but all you knew for sure was that when he looked at you with eyes so piercing and dark, your stomach felt odd. 

“Boys, this is Chip,” Row introduced

The ceremonious use of your nickname nearly made you cringe, and yet you kept an even face despite it. Really, you should have been used to it by that point. That name followed you around everywhere, even the cooks at work called you that. But that could most likely be attributed to the fact that they probably forgot what your name actually was. Either way, none of the men got the chance to ask you about it before John entered the dining room, ready to serve the main course. 

Dinner went just as you expected it to go. Everyone conversed around you while you kept your eyes on the food in front of you. Your reasoning for staying so quiet wasn’t because you were bad at talking, or didn’t want to participate; it was because your mind was still restless over the day's events. You would speak when someone asked you a question, or maybe give your input when prompted, but otherwise your mind always wandered back to Marco and that stupid laundromat. You could still feel his hand graze against your thigh, feel his arm around your back, still smell him. If it wasn’t looked down upon, you would have taken the string out of your pocket to distract yourself. 

The conversation was entertaining, at least. There was friendly banter between the men, inside jokes you didn’t quite understand, and several Scottish expressions from Johnny that were quickly met by Riley jokingly telling him to speak English. Even Row chipped in with her own fiery humor that left the boys poking fun at one another. Yet your attention kept returning to the large figure on your right. Perhaps it was the scars on his face that had intrigued you so much, or the small hint of tattoos that played peek-a-boo by his wrists, but there was something about him that drew you to him. So much so that you stared at him, something that he quickly caught on to. His eyes met yours for only a split moment before you quickly glanced back to your empty plate, embarrassed. 

“Price,” Johnny said just as everyone had finished their meal, “I heard you got a new pool table.” 

John wiped his mouth off on his napkin before he haphazardly tossed it onto his plate. “This your way of askin’ to play a round?” 

“Might be,” Johnny grinned. 

Chuckling, John stood from his seat and began to gather everyone’s plate, balancing them as best as he could on his forearm. “Alright. But I don’t want any of you muppets scratching up the felt, yeah?”

“Tell that to Garrick,” Johnny quipped as he nodded to the man sitting next to him. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Kyle mumbled. 

“What about you, Chip?” Johnny then asked. 

Surprised to hear your name, your ears perked up at the sound as you glanced at the men at the table. Clearing your throat, you offered them a sheepish smile. “Oh, I’ve never really played before.” 

“That’s alright. Riley’s a good teacher,” he insisted as he nodded to the man next to you. 

It was impossible to say no with so many eyes on you, looking at you so expectantly, hoping you would say yes. Even Row seemed a little interested in your answer, and you knew that if you denied their request she would just find some way to rope you into it anyways. You spared a glance towards Riley, who busied himself by taking a sip of his water, yet you were certain you saw his gaze flicker to you as he set his glass back on the table. 

Bashfully, you agreed, and you found yourself in the dim lighting of the garage with a pool stick in your hand. While Row and John cleaned up the mess left from dinner, Kyle set up the table where he racked all of the balls in a perfect triangle. Riley, who apparently was the master at pool, was the one invited to make the first shot. The crisp sound of the cue ball whacking against the others echoed off the dull garage walls, and the tight triangle had dispersed like buckshot across the table. 

One by one the boys took turns making their shots. Just like Johnny had teased previously, you learned Kyle really wasn’t all that great at pool, and you had to do your best to stifle your giggles at their teasing, because you knew that you would do significantly worse when your turn came around. In order to prepare yourself, you watched the others like a hawk as they took their turns. You noted hand placement, how they leaned across the table, how they eyed up their shots; all of it. 

Yet when your turn came, you didn’t feel any more confident than you had previously. You were on Riley’s team, which meant you were stripes, and your only saving grace was that the cue ball seemed perfectly lined up with one for easy pocketing. But when you attempted to position yourself everything fell out of place. The stick position felt awkward, and you couldn’t get it stable enough to make a clean shot. You were about to make a fool of yourself, you were sure of it. 

“Here,” Riley said as he leaned his cue stick against the table. 

His warmth suddenly engulfed you as he stood behind you, chest brushing against your back. It took everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he guided your hands into position so that you could strike efficiently. Your guiding hand rested firmly against the table, and your grip on the stick was significantly more secure. Eventually everything felt more stable; everything except your mind. Riley’s close proximity had your diaphragm freezing, and you tried your best to ignore the way his breath fanned across your ear as he spoke. 

“Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, angle a little bit to the left,” he guided. 

Eventually his hands slid off of you and his chest was no longer at your back, but his scent still lingered. It was pleasant. There was a hint of some sort of cologne, but it wasn’t overwhelming, unlike Marco’s. There was the scent of tobacco mixed with the earthiness, though it was stale, and you noticed a slight hint of what you thought was leather. But you didn’t have the time to think about how pleasant it was, or how you could still feel the ghost of his hand on yours. Staying as steady as you could manage, you made your shot, and though it was wonky you still managed to pocket it. A series of celebratory whoops escaped the boys at your shot, and you found yourself smiling half with relief, half with triumph. Riley went for a more tame reaction, and he rested his hand on your shoulder to give it a tight squeeze. 

“Nice shot,” he murmured. 

Heat rose in your face at his touch, and you tried to swallow the warmth back into your stomach as you tapped your cue against the tip of your shoe. "All thanks to you, Riley."

For a moment, he was silent as he leaned over the table for his turn where thick fingers guided his cue along the table. Pudgy skin and muscles forced his shirt to tighten along his shoulders, and you stood there speechless as he hit his shot. He easily pocketed yet another ball before he straightened back up and turned his attention to you. His dark eyes, the ones that had caught you sneaking glances at him all night long, gave you a quick once over before he tilted his head slightly. 

"It's just Simon to you, sweetheart."

The rest of the evening went just as well as it could have. You and Simon ended up winning the game, no thanks to you, and it wasn’t long after that everyone began to pack up to leave for the night. It was strange. That buzzing heat that ignited underneath your skin after Simon helped you with your technique didn’t seem to waver at all. It was still just as strong when he left as it was when it first began to burn. Kind. Maybe that’s what it was. His touch was gentle and kind, unlike the insidiousness Marco usually tainted you with when the two of you saw one another for your monthly meetings. 

“You feeling alright?” Row asked.

The gentle hum of the car had nearly lulled you to sleep in the passenger's seat, and you found yourself humming in confusion at your friend’s question. It didn’t take long for the words to eventually register in your mind, and you nodded as you leaned back against the seat as you looked at the passing view. It had gotten well past dark by the time you were ready to go home, and Row refused to let you take the bus back to your apartment, especially with how cold it got during autumn nights. 

“Yeah, sorry. Meeting new people just gets a little exhausting for me,” you explained, though it was only half the truth. 

“I know, my sweet little introvert,” she teased. “But you seemed to get along with them alright. I don’t see much of Kyle, but he’s sweet enough. And Johnny, well, he can be a bit much most of the time, but Riley’s a good man. He’s been working for John for about six years now.” 

“Yeah, they were all very friendly,” you concurred. “Though Kyle is a bit better at pool than Johnny tried to convince me he was.” 

Your comment got Row to laugh and you found it quite contagious. Though the two of you were close, it felt like it had been eons since the two of you really got any sort of alone time together, and that realization seemed to hang heavy in the air between the two of you. After a small stretch of silence, she leaned her head to the side but still kept her eyes on the road as the car came to a stoplight. 

“What are you doing Saturday night?” she then asked. 

“Working,” you replied simply.

“Per usual,” she muttered. “What time do you get off?”

“Midnight, if I’m lucky.”

“Wanna come to the Halloween party they’re putting on at John’s club?” 

Every cell in your body screamed at the very thought of stepping foot into that place. You had been there a few times before, and each time it was because Row had practically begged you to go with her, and you learned that clubs weren’t for you before you even entered one. Even then in that car you could smell the sour alcohol and sweat, along with the blistering heat of bodies much too close to your own. 

“I don’t know…” you started, unsure of what excuse to give her. 

“Awe, come on Chip,” Row whined. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a girls night with just the two of us. Really, it’s been forever since I’ve really gotten to see you at all. You’re worrying me a little with how much you’ve been working.” 

Worry. Of course she was worried, you had given her every right to be over the last few months. Work had all but consumed your life, and it wasn’t all that rare for you to pull all-nighters in the name of getting a few extra hours on your paycheck. The last time the two of you had seen one another you had mentioned wanting to get a part time job on top of your other job, and you swore you nearly gave her a heart attack. You hadn’t exactly done anything to ease her mind since, either. 

Sighing, you looked away from the window and over to your friend just as the light turned green and she sped off through the intersection. “Can you promise me we’ll be home by one?” 

“How about one thirty?” she countered. 

You dropped your head with a sigh but hid the slight smile on your face as you glanced out at the street. “Do you promise?” 

“You have my word,” she assured. “We can even sit in the VIP section where there’s less people and better booze.”

Even though her words weren’t particularly funny, the two of you still chuckled together as if it were some inside joke. And yet, despite the laughter, some sort of odd pit formed in your stomach that not even a deep breath could vanquish. Whatever warmth you had felt tingling under your skin minutes ago vanished the very moment Row admitted she was worried about you. 

Of course she had every right to be worried about you. She was your friend, your sister, and it only made sense that she noticed the odd changes in your habits and nature. But worry often brought a second feeling with it; the want to help. Perhaps her dragging you out to her husbands club was her own weird way of helping you, but you knew there were greater lengths she was willing to go if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. Maybe you should have embraced it. Any real friend or family member would, but the last thing you needed was someone trying to help you again. 

You knew all too well what that brought.

taglist: @datlilwrench @xxkay15xx @cutelibrariangf @talooolaaloolla @stargirl411

[thestoryofusstan]

Sweet Creature

harry styles masterlist

pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader

summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.

warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.

—

harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?

his mother.

his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.

“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”

and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.

but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.

“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”

“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”

“she got an accent?”

“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”

“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”

“i’ll come visit soon.”

—

and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .

except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.

alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.

so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.

and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.

all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.

and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.

her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.

she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.

and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.

gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.

“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”

she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.

he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.

she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.

“you really are jumpy, huh?”

“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.

he almost laughs.

“it’s my room.”

and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.

“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“

the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.

“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“

“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”

“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“

“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”

“i feel bad.”

“well, don’t.”

he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.

“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“

“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”

“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“

“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.

“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.

“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”

anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.

who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.

“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”

he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.

—

the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.

she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.

once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.

when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.

“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.

he muttered something she didn’t understand.

“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”

“i noticed.”

he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.

“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”

“it’s yours. i’m fine.”

“are you—“

“i’m sure.”

rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!

—

harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.

he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.

his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.

“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”

“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”

“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”

“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”

“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”

—

a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe

[dreamescapeswriting]

Whispers Of Belonging ~ KSM [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

GENRE: mafia AU, cinderella(ish), feelings of not belonging, people speaking down to the reader, Seungmin being the soft boy he is meant to be and making her feel welcome,SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, above a crowd, seungmin making the reader feel wanted and special,

PAIRING: Seungmin X Fem!Reader

���Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

As the two of you stepped out of the boutique, Seungmin watched you closely, your hands clutching the bags of clothes he had just purchased for you, not a single thing even breaking his card limit and nothing felt enough for you.

Seungmin felt guilt weighing down on him after one of his men tried to kick you out of the changing room in your underwear and he was determined to make up to you even if it was the last thing he did.

"I'm sorry about Bailey again, he can be overzealous at times," Seungmin added as he shot his guard a glance who was looking anywhere but at the two of you.

"No harm, no foul." You laughed nervously not wanting to make it into a bigger deal than it was. Seungmin had already bought you so much that he didn't need to continue to be sorry.

"Will you still save me a dance?" He arched his brow at you, extending his hand as he carefully lifted it to his lips and kissed your skin softly.

"It would be an honour to dance with you," He added, your heart fluttering as you stared at him. You'd heard stories of the man but you'd never come face to face with him until now. 

"I will try, I'm working at the event as well as attending so it might be a little hard," You admit shyly. You weren't ashamed to admit you'd be working the event, everyone needed to work after all, but you weren't sure you'd even have time to grab a glass of water never mind dance with someone.

"I'm sure we can arrange something with your boss," Seungmin countered as you nodded a little, smiling at him before heading in the direction of your car. 

Seungmin watched you the whole time, biting back a smirk as he felt a flutter in his chest. Bailey watched his boss, it was a rare display of kindness that he was showing to you and he didn't know if he liked his boss this way or not.

"Back inside, I need a suit and I want the staff to find everything that will fit Miss YLN's style and that is in her size sent to her place." He ordered, turning back to the cold boss that everyone knew him as.

Packages had been arriving all week long, at the work office and it was a little overwhelming. Everything from clothes to accessories were inside of the boxes and it was starting to make you a little uneasy. What if Seungmin was expecting something more than just a dance in return for the items? 

"Do you remember the plan?" Your best friend - Chloe - asked you as she walked with you toward the back entrance of the event hall where tonight's ball was being held in. The further you walked inside the more out of place you began to feel in the dress he'd purchased for you. It was a masterpiece creation, crafted from the finest of silk, a midnight blue colour that shimmered every time you moved making it look like it was lit by a thousand stars. It hugged your frame perfectly, accentuating every curve with elegance and grace, dipping with a modest neckline teasing just a little of your breasts. 

"Just one dance, give him some excuse about needing to be somewhere else and then I'll go back to the kitchens, change into my outfit and finish working," You assured her, smiling a little as she smirked at you. The whole week leading up to the ball Chloe had been encouraging you to go through with it, that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime thing but you felt so out of place and the silver tiara that Seungmin had sent for you to wear wasn't helping that situation.

"You look hot," Chloe promises, holding you tightly before smirking at you, straightening out your hair one last time and admiring the makeup she'd done for you tonight before letting you go.

Out of the fishbowl and into the ocean, you stared around at all the people who were inside the ball unease washed over you like a chilling breeze and you realised how out of depth you truly were. 

Every eye in the room felt like a spotlight, casting judgment on you as you made your way through the other elegantly dressed guests trying to find Seungmin.

Whispers started to follow your every move, their hushed tones feeling like a dagger digging into your back leaving you feeling more exposed and vulnerable to the world. 

"Come on," You whispered to yourself, your eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next, desperately searching for any sign of Seungmin.

"I'm sure she served me at an event once," A voice giggled making your heart sink and your hands begin to tremble, you should never have agreed to this. You were out of depth in this place, everyone here had no doubt seen you and it would get back to Seungmin that you were a waitress. An imposter at his ball and he'd probably hate you for it.

As you continued to wander aimlessly through the ballroom, the comments about you working other events grew louder and your sense of isolation deepened with each passing second until you decided to make your way back to the exit. You were almost there when you felt a hand gently touch your shoulder,

"There you are sweetheart, I'm sorry I'm late, I've been looking everywhere for you." You stared up at Seungmin, his eyes warm as he stared down at you with a smile on his face. 

"It's okay," You breathed out, his being near you was like a sense of belonging washed over you and he smiled taking your hand in his and gently placing a kiss on the top of your hand.

"Does he know he's dating the help?" Someone laughed loudly from your left, but Seungmin either chose to ignore them or simply hadn't heard them as he began to walk you through the hall again.

"How about we dance in a little while, I thought I might introduce you to some friends of mine," Seungmin suggested as he linked your arm with his, unease filling you once again as he led you toward a group of men. You were only supposed to be here for a dance, if you were too long Chloe wouldn't be able to cover too much and you'd no doubt get fired.

"Changbin, enough details about your latest heists, I'd like you all to meet someone," Seungmin called out as seven men turned to look at you, your whole body burnt at the sudden attention you were getting from all of them.

"Lovely to meet you, Seungmin's never brought along a date before." The one known as Changbin said making Seungmin's cheeks flush and your whole body tingle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," You said, your voice betraying you by giving off a hint of nervousness.

"No need to be nervous, sweetheart. They don't bite," Suengmin whispered in your ear, his hand gently rubbing circles on your lower back, the small action sending shockwaves through your body and yet relaxing you at the same time. For some reason you believed him, you felt safe with him and that no one would hurt you while he was around.

As time grew on you found yourself drawn into Seungmin's world, forgetting all about work and getting swept up in the whirlwind of laughter and conversations shared between all of the men. The more you stood there the more you realised that all of them were more than just members of a criminal organisation, but they were a family, bound by loyalty and mutual respect for one another. Standing there, you found yourself feeling a sense of purpose that you'd been searching for your entire life, a sense of belonging that was filling the void inside of you.

"Welcome to the family," One of the men, Chan, whispered as they finally began to leave you and Seungmin alone once again. 

"Now, can I get my dance?" Seungmin winks at you, your hand placed in his as he leads you toward the dance floor. 

Seungmin led you onto the dance floor, his movements graceful yet commanding. As the two of you swayed to the music, you couldn't help but marvel at the effortless charm and sophistication he exuded. The sense of belonging washed over you as you danced in his arms, the two of you enveloped in your private cocoon of warmth.

Your steps were synchronized, a seamless dance of two souls drawn together by fate. Seungmin's eyes never left yours. In that moment, you glimpsed the man behind the legend, the layers of his persona peeled back to reveal a vulnerability you hadn't expected.

As the music swelled to a crescendo, Seungmin drew you closer, his touch sending shivers down your spine. 

"You're a natural," he murmured, his voice low and husky, as you felt your cheeks flushing with warmth and your heart pounding in your chest.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice barely audible above the music. As the two of you continued to dance unease began to creep its way through the cracks of your facade. Whispers of guests around you grew louder, their words like poison arrows that pierced the fragile cacoon of happiness you had been in.

You tried your best to ignore them, to lose yourself in the safety of Seungmin's embrace but their voices continued to echo in your ears, mocking and taunting you with cruel words.

"Who does she think she is, waltzing in here as if she belongs?" Someone grumbled as Seungmin spun you around, bringing you back into his chest but you could no longer enjoy this. Their words grew louder to you as if they were all holding microphones and speaking to the whole room.

"I heard she's just using him to get what she wants in life." A female voice mumbled, your eyes shooting over to her to see her glaring in your direction.

"I bet she's fucking him for money, she could never afford that dress alone." Another voice ripped through you,

"Did you see the way she was with Changbin and Chan? She's probably trying to cosy up to the whole crew." Each word was a dagger to your heart until you were unable to bear the scrutiny any longer. You tore yourself away from Seungmin, your breaths becoming ragged gasps,

"Yn? What's wrong?" Seungmin's voice was filled with concern as he stared at you but it was as if you no longer saw him as tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. You stumbled toward the nearest exit, dropping the small clutch bag you had been carrying but no longer carrying as you sprinted out of the suffocating confines of the ballroom.

Seungmin called out to you, his voice once again filled with concern as he bent down to collect your bag, frowning as you disappeared through the crowds leaving him with nothing but a memory of your night together.

"I can help you forget her," Someone breathed out beside Seungmin but he merely snapped his fingers as Bailey appeared beside him, escorting the woman away leaving Seungmin thinking of ways to find you again since he would never be able to ignore the spark that had ignited inside of you both.

The bell above the entrance of the small cafe you'd started working in tinkled and you got ready to greet the next customer. Ever since your mishap at the ball, you'd quit the job you had in hopes it would stop Seungmin from searching for you. You'd never felt so embarrassed in your life and you hoped that the small dance with you was enough for him to leave you alone. Even if it did pain you to never see him again.

"Everyone out!" The voice you'd heard less than a week ago bellowed out, your head shot up to see Bailey standing there with his gun at the ready. People rushed out of the cafe and you stared at Bailey who had a slight smirk playing on his cheeks.

"Boss doesn't like it when people hide from him," He stated with a soft tone, putting his gun away as you stared at him. The bell above the door once again rang,

"I'm going to get fired for this, you know that right?" You cocked a brow at Seungmin, your heart going into overdrive as you saw him once again. You hated your heart for betraying you, he was in a different world to you, and the two of you would never work.

"You dropped this," He said as he held out the small clutch bag, your phone had been in that and you'd been terrified you'd never see it again.

"Thanks, I-I thought I'd lost this," You stammered, your voice tinged with gratitude as Seungmin offered you a faint smile, his gaze softening. 

"Bailey, out. Make sure we're not disturbed." He ordered in a cold tone, a completely different Seungmin to the one you knew.

As soon as the two of you were alone he held out a chair for you before taking a seat across from you.

"I made it my mission to find you...I couldn't bear the thought of...you losing something so precious," He saved himself from wanting to tell you he came for his own selfish reasons because he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. 

"Thanks," You whispered, your eyes staring down at the table not daring to look at Seungmin but he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours as he clasped your hand in his.

"I hadn't heard what was being said at the event," He admitted as he gently ran his fingers over your skin,

"Rest assured if I had, they wouldn't live to speak again," He grumbled a little, his eyes flicking with darkness making you bite your lip a little.

"It's nothing. They were right, I don't belong in that world...Your world. I'm not meant for it." You mumbled, trying to take your hands away from Seungmin but he gently squeezed yours softly.

"You belong at any dance I take you to, you belong anywhere I take you. YOU belong in my world." HJe told you, his voice commanding and yet reassuring,

"Anyone who dares to look down on you isn't worth the time of day. They're mere flakes of dirt on your shoe that aren't deserving to be in your presence." He assured you, your eyes brimming with tears as you felt your heart overflowing with gratitude from him.

"I-I don't know what to say," You admitted, your voice trembling a little. Seungmin squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Say you'll give me another chance," He implored, he'd been wanting to get you to come out with him again and this time he was going to show you how much you truly belonged by his side.

"Say you'll let me show you how special you are. How you belong in my world." You stared at him, biting on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Seungmin made you feel as though you could do anything and when you were together you felt as though you could rule the world so you nodded.

"I'd like that," Seungmin smiled leaning across and brushing a small kiss against your cheek. Seungmin smiled as he gently raised from the chair, determined to show everyone that they were wrong about you and that they should worship the ground you walk on.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow night at 7." He said, watching you as you nervously raised from your chair and nodded,

"Sure. I'll wear one of the many dresses you got for me," You teased softly as a blush began to creep its way onto Seungmin's cheeks and a smirk played on your lips. 

"I'll see you then," He whispered before placing yet another kiss on your cheek and leaving you alone, with a lot to explain to your new boss as to why his business was empty.

The night arrived and you were standing by the window of your apartment waiting for him, your heart fluttering with excitement about the night you were going to have. Seungmin had been non-stop texting you ever since the day before, fueling your crush on him even more. There was a knock on the door sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins as you rushed to the door, smoothing down the fabric of your gown.

When the door opened Seungmin's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, he was dressed in a tailored suit and holding a bouquet of red roses for you.

"You look stunning," He murmured, you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and your heart thumped harder against your chest.

"Thank you, you look very handsome," You replied, Seungmin held out the bouquet for you.

"For the most beautiful girl at the ball," He said with a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, you giggled taking them into your apartment and placing them into a vase of water. 

"Shall we?" He smirked, taking your arm in his and making his way down the staircase with you close to him the whole time. 

"I got a limo for us, I wanted us to arrive in style," Seungmin smirked at you as you stepped toward the waiting car, your mouth dropping open in shock. 

"No back entrances for the belle of the ball," He whispers in your ear before opening the car door and helping you inside, your heart racing at the thought of what adventures awaited you tonight.

As it turned out the night had been filled with you and Seungmin dancing so much your feet were staring to kill you from being on the floor, people had stared a lot but not one had dared to say a word about you tonight. You didn't know if it was because Seungmin had threatened them beforehand or if they were a different crowd from the one from before. But you'd been left with a group of girls all gossiping about their dates, which you'd met at the last ball. 

"We will date dangerous men." You heard one of the women mention as you laughed a little, 

"My ears are burning," Changbin chuckled, snaking his arm around his date and smiling over at you.

"Nice to see you again, Yn," He tipped his head at you before taking his date out onto the dance floor, all of the men slowly coming back and taking their dates one by one until it was just you and Jisung's girl and Jisung who seemed to be talking amongst themselves.

A little worry began to wash over you as you felt alone again, the feeling of not belonging beginning to creep onto you until you felt a hand on your lower back.

"Sorry, I try not to discuss business when I'm in good company but sometimes they have to steal me away," Relief washed over you as Seungmin smiled down at you and you felt your heart stutter a little.

"Shall we go somewhere more private? I want to show you something." Seungmin smiles, taking hold of your elbow and nodding at Bailey to follow you both before he leads you to a staircase at the back of the room that was blocked by velvet ropes and a "closed sign." Seungmin lifts the ropes and walks up the stairs, leading you with Bailey trailing behind.

"Make sure nobody comes up," Seungmin ordered as Bailey stood at the base of the stairs and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are we doing?" You giggle a little as Seungmin winks at you, taking your hand and pulling you along the narrow hallway until you reach a balcony that overlooks the ballroom. Excitement washed over your body as you looked down a the people attending the ball.

"I wanted to show you the best view, to look over the people that had spoken down to you before." He smiled, standing behind you as you were pinned to the waist-high wall unable to move.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" You breathed out, your stomach clenching from just how close Seungmin was pressed against you.

"We're the biggest donors, we can do whatever the fuck we want." His breath caught on your ear making your whole body shiver and your thighs rub together. All night long you'd been needy for Seungmin and it was becoming slightly more unbearable as the night went on.

"I love being able to watch everyone." You admitted, looking down at everyone as Seungmin stared at you.

"How do you feel about them watching you?" His voice dropped an octave, shivers running down your spine as he ran his hands down your hips.

"W-Watching me?" You stuttered out as he pulled the layers of your gown up revealing your legs.

"Say the word and I'll stop...But I need you," He whispered as he dragged his teeth along the back of your neck, pulling your dress up higher exposing the tops of your thighs. You inhale sharply, your heart thumping harder than before, there must have been at least three hundred people down there.

"Do you want them to watch us?" You arched a brow.

"I want them to look up here and have no idea I'm fucking you...But I want you to come in front of all these people, sweetheart. To prove that you own them and that they should be the ones scared of you instead of you them," He whispered in your ear, his hands gliding over your hips and down between your thighs and you automatically spread your legs wider for him. Allowing him to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles.

"I'm going to slide my cock inside of you, fucking you until you come for me,"  He whispered, your hands flying behind him and undoing his belt as heat floods your entire body. You looked out at the sea of people below you, wondering if they had any idea what you were doing. If they were completely oblivious to what was happening up above them while they danced and drank their champagne, 

"You're so wet for me," He groans as he continues to rub your clit, your body shaking and he'd barely started. 

"I've wanted you all night," You admit, your hands gripping the small wall in front of you as you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt.

"Hold onto the wall tightly," HGe orders as you brace yourself against the cool brick, your fingers gripping the edge tightly as he pushes his thick cok into you. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried not to cry out at the stretch,

"Fucking Christ, you're so wet for me." He groans loudly in your ear, his hips stilling as he fills you completely, rubbing your clit gently.

"You're made for me," He whispers in your ear as you press your lips together,

"You're made to rule over everyone," He told you as he slowly began to pull out of you, only to push back in making you squeeze around him, whimpering a little.

"Fuck," He moans out as you glance down to see if anyone had noticed but no one was paying you any attention and you allowed yourself to moan.

"Oh god," You whimper, your nails digging into the brick in front of you as you let your eyes roll back. Seungmin smirks as he begins to fuck into you ruthlessly, no longer caring if someone were to look right now and see. In fact, he wanted them to. He wanted them to see that you were his and any disrespect that they sent your way had a direct impact on him also.

"Fuck, Seungmin." You cry out as you felt him getting rougher with his movement, the tip of his cock hitting that one sensitive part that made it impossible to keep quiet.

Your legs were starting to shake as he pounded into you, the people below completely forgotten as you gave in to the pleasure.

"Cum for me baby, you're doing so fucking good." The praise sent shivers down your spine as you cry out his name, your head spinning while you squeeze around his cock. You felt nothing but the deep euphoria taking over you as you cum around him, your moans coming out strangled as your legs shake beneath you, buckling a little but Seungmin holds your waist up, bucking into you as he fills the condom he was wearing.

"Fuck," He whimpers, his hips bucking as you continued to clench around him, whimpering his name until the two of you slowly pulled apart from one another. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A year Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure I look okay? I don't want to ruin their day," You told Seungmin as you once again checked your outfit over, brushing your hands over the small bump that you'd skillfully hidden under the bridesmaid dress you'd been asked to wear by Jisung's wife to be.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." He assured you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"This is your fault," You scolded him, the two of you were more than happy to be starting a family, even if it was only a year since the two of you began a relationship, it felt like the right time and happy accidents happened all of the time.

"I told you I thought it would be fine in the pool." He chuckled as you smacked him with your clutch, making your way to the other girls and all their dates.

"Letting a girl beat you up?" Changbin arches a brow at Seungmin who quickly glares at him.

"Proposed to yours yet?" He teased knowing Changbin was scared to pop the question to his girlfriend yet and was lashing out at everyone else because of it. 

"What dress does she have?" Jisung pried, staring at you all but Hyunjin pulled him back away from his fiance.

"Leave my muse alone, you'll see your girl in less than 20 minutes relax." He chuckled making you all giggle and shake your heads at them, your eyes flicking over to Seungmin as you pictured what your wedding day was eventually going to look like. All you could picture was your little boy or girl walking down the aisle with you toward their dad as you started another chapter of your lives together and you couldn't think of anything more perfect.

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