#MafiaBoss

[sunjoys]

when youre role playing hand holding on discord

[writing-by-katt]

Chapter 4: But We Have Homework?

3:30 am

A red 2018 toyota prius pulls up to the precinct. Two figures step out, a short blonde girl with bandages on her face and knuckles and a tall woman with short blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. The woman wears sea green scrubs with little smiley faces all over them over a white turtleneck athletic shirt. She has comfortable shoes and has her badge clipped to her pocket. Her badge has a cute little smiley face holding it on an elastic string. The girl has a pale pink and white Nike gym bag slung over her right shoulder and the surgeon carries a matching backpack along with a white violin case. 

As soon as the duo makes their way through the doors, they’re ushered into a conference room full of impatient people. Carina scuffs her shoes nervously, eyes scanning the room for her sister. She halts in her tracks when she notices Aksana isn’t in the room.

A middle-aged woman introduces herself as Special Agent Clawson. Her dark skin was complimented by curly black hair pulled into a braided top knot. Clawson wore minimal mascara and neutral lipstick. She was only a few inches taller than Carina so she had to look up at the tall surgeon.

“Thank you for your cooperation Ms…”

“Vasha. Vasha Popov. It is saddening to hear about my dear friends the Bjornos. This is Carina Vilkov, where, might I ask is dear Aksana?” Elisabetta asks with an embellished accent. The two women share a stiff handshake as Agent Clawson scans Carina’s injuries. The team knew that she was involved in underground fights but no teenager should be hurt this badly and still be functioning. Noting the girl’s exhaustion and the fact that it was nearly 3:45 am and the girl probably hadn’t had more than a little nap, she made a decision.

“Carina dear, your father has sent some men to pick you and your sister up. They are three doors down, Agents Dawson and Moore will take you there. Your sister is there too.” 

The two called agents stood from their chairs at the end of the table. Dawson smiled softly at the injured girl as Moore glared daggers at ‘Vasha’. Currently, there was no probable cause to detain the ‘auntie’ as she was not one of the Jade Sisterhood’s known members and hadn’t presented an opportunity but he knew she was hiding something. Without proof though, it was futile. None of their claims would hold up in court so they would have to continue to bide their time. 

Agent Dawson took both of the girl’s bags from the two and started to slowly lead her down the hall. Dawson could tell that their charge was in pain whenever she attempted to speak so they decided to fill the silence themself.

“My name is Briar Dawson, pronouns they/them. That sourpuss over there is Zach Moore, he/him. You’re Carina Vilkov correct? Are your pronouns she/her?” They ask with a smile, assuming yes or no questions would be the easiest form of communication. Carina nods while flashing a thumbs-up. 

“Good to know,” the agent smiles, “would you like me to fill you in on what’s been going on so far or would you like your sister with you? Thumbs up for now, thumbs down for Aksana being present.”

Carina flashes a thumbs up. Aksana has probably been through a lot today, she doesn’t need to live through it again just for her sake.

“Alrighty kiddo. As your sister told you, your mother and stepfather perished this morning in a gang-related incident. Did you see the smoky haze in the city this morning? That was the warehouse that was attacked.” Dawson takes a good look at Carina, they want to make sure they don’t overwhelm the poor kid. 

“When the fire was put out, investigators determined that there was a larger threat so we, the FBI, were called in. We found out that you and your sister were in need of a transfer of guardianship so we located your father and he agreed to take the both of you in. One of your brothers was in Chicago for a business trip and just so happened to stop in the city before he flew back to Italy. We were able to get ahold of him and he agreed to take you back with him. His security team is here to take you two to the airport so that you can leave for Italy ASAP. I’m sure you're both exhausted so this may be hard to understand right now.” 

“Brovers?” Carina’s shock was written all over her face. Even though the slurred words, Moore and Dawson could tell that she had no idea that she had a brother.

Moore sighed, “Kid, this is going to come as a shock to you, but you have 7 brothers. You’ll be staying with them at your father’s estate, at least for the time being. Your sister has our numbers in case you need anything and you can always call the American Embassy, they’ll be able to help you. Your brothers range from 30 years old to 17. In order from oldest to youngest, their names are; Viktor, Adrik, Santo, Vito, Luciano, Demitre, and Damyan. Now that I think about it, you have something in common with Santo and Vito, they’re twins too. Your father's name is Cesare Mezzasalma, founder and CEO of Apex Security.” The man places a steady hand on the teen’s shoulder in a silent gesture of solidarity. 

Carina stays silent but an unspoken question lingers in the air. What?

“When you and your sister were born, there was a tragic car accident. You, Aksana, and your mother perished after a drunk driver struck the vehicle transporting you from the hospital to your family’s estate. As it turns out, your mother faked her’s and you girls’ deaths in order to flee the country with her lover, Greg Bjorno. At this moment, it appears as though your mother did this to avoid the public backlash that was predicted should she divorce your father,” Dawson hesitates, their fingers twitching as they ponder whether to say the next piece of information, “She brought you, girls, with her because it was the most convenient cover story. We have reason to believe that your mother suffered from BPD and NPD. She loved you but was very insecure and tended to be defensive to an excess. Tell me, did you and your sister live in Harlem, alone, or did you live with your parents in Tribeca?” The kindly agent looks at Carina expectantly. 

Time seems to stop as images play through Carina’s mind. Her and her sister walking home from school. Their arms locked as they chatted about the day. Aksana’s long ponytail and Carina’s ballet bun reflect bits of twilight as they walk. The pair reaches a run-down but classy building in need of a new coat of paint. 

Aksana’s lightly tanned hand turns a gold knob on a dark green door that opens to cracked tiles and exposed brick. The twins climb three flights of stairs before reaching the top floor. At the end of the hallway is a mint green door with a brass handle. The paint is chipping slightly but there are tiny flowers painted all over it. Their apartment wasn’t much but it was home. The tiny kitchen was heavily worn with peeling linoleum floors. There was a little circular table next to a window that had two chairs and a vase of hand-made paper tiger lilies and baby’s breath. The bathroom counter was small and stocked full of Aksana’s makeup and perfumes. A pastel floral shower curtain and bathmat matched the pink and purple towels that were color coded for each girl. They even found a way to hang a little abstract painting in the room to make it look slightly better. 

There was no real living room due to a lack of space and funds so the girls had two desks in the room with mismatched chairs so that they at least had somewhere to study and pile their crap. 

Through a door on the other side of the kitchen and common space was the bedroom. Straight back from the door was Aksana’s bed tucked in the corner. In the corner to the right of the door was Carina’s bed. Both girls had twin beds with storage underneath. They’d hung floating shelves all over the room except for the far wall parallel to Aksana’s bed. Carina had saved up and worked extremely hard to purchase a little projector that the girls could use to watch TV together while sitting on the older twin’s bed. The girls had opted for twin beds so that there would be room for them to have a comfortable chair tucked in the remaining corner of the room, along with a fluffy rug. On the wall opposite the door, was a tall, thin window, centered in the room. The girls had hung some sheer white curtains and fairy lights to make a light curtain that shielded them from any prying eyes on the fire escape. There were no ceiling lights in the room so they hung LED lights to frame the perimeter of the room as well as glow-in-the-dark stars in an accurate star map. A little collection of handmade clay mushrooms decorated one of the shelves above Carina’s bed and polaroids of the girls together and with their friends were arranged above Aksana’s. While there was a distinction of items based on which bed they were around, it appeared as though the items were fair game for both girls. 

Tears prick Carina’s eyes at the thought of never seeing home again. Of never seeing the home that she and Aksana had made for themselves, albeit dingy and cramped with lousy neighbors and no security. Home was home and they would never see it again. She looks up into Agent Moore’s brown eyes before holding up a number two. 

The trio finishes their journey in a comfortable silence before Moore opens a heavy metal door. Inside the room is a metal table that’s been bolted to the floor along with four metal chairs. Inside the room are four men all dressed in black. Three of them wear complete suits complete with black ties and sunglasses, even though it’s nearly 4:00 am and they’re inside. The last man wears a full three-piece suit minus the jacket and has a white tie. His sunglasses are purple-tinted. Odd.

After some back and forth with Moore and Dawson, the agents step out of the room to stand by the door. The man turns to the girls with a soft grin, “Alright girly, you ready to go? One of my teams is at your apartment as we speak to pack a few essentials for you two so that you have something when we get home. Let’s go.”

His smile falters when Carina ignores him, moving to give Aksana a side hug. The girls clearly have no intention of moving any time soon, he didn’t want to but he decided this was the only way to handle the delicate situation.

“Come with us.” The leader of the four men orders. The twins look at each other skeptically. Carina, in her bruised-up glory, steps slightly in front of her sister, hands tensed at her sides. The man raises a brow over his sunglasses, “No need to get hostile Ms. Vilkov. We are not here to hurt you, but we will be taking you with us one way or another. Now, are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“Explain our options and where we’re going, and maybe. MAYBE. We’ll come with you. If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I’ll rip your face off.” Carina snarls, words slightly distorted by her injury. 

“The easy way is you come with us willingly. We will take you to Mr. Mezzasalma’s personal jet. From there we will fly to Genoa, Italy where you’ll be picked up by your brothers. They will take you home. The hard way is this; You resist, we subdue you, you wind up in Genoa, Italy, and you meet your brothers. Either way, you will be going to Italy, meeting your brothers, and coming home. Your father awaits your return.” The man stares, face neutral as if he didn't just casually describe kidnapping. 

Aksana grasps Carina’s hand, making the younger girl relax slightly. The younger twin lowers her left hand slightly with a silent exhale.

“Alright…You say we have brothers? Why aren’t they here? Why did they send a bunch of gangster wannabes instead of picking us up themselves? Also,” she fixes her confused eyes on the middle man with a white tie, “Did you say Italy?! We can’t just up and leave the country! We have..like homework!”

The group of men stifle snickers at the futile attempt at excuses. Carina looks each man up and down, assessing their threat level. Her eyes scan the group before landing on a stocky, tattooed man. He has purple-tinted sunglasses and she has definitely seen him somewhere. 

The man smirks as he watches the girl’s brow furrowed in confusion. She can’t quite place where she’s seen him but she definitely recognizes him. He steps forward with an outstretched hand, “The name is Nicholas Stone, call me Nix.”

“You…” Carina’s face scrunches further, eyes scanning his face for something to give away the reason she knows him, “You!”

“Me!” There it is. She’s figured it out.

“...Thanks. You saved my ass back there.” A pale hand reaches to run through her hair. Carina nods to Aksana while giving her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You said Italy? How long will the flight be, if you don’t mind me asking Mr… uhm.. Nix?” Aksana’s fingers tap Carina’s hand rhythmically as she speaks up for the first time. 

The men note that, while nervous, the girls work to hide it. To the untrained eye, they would seem mostly unbothered. Nix raises his right hand to his earpiece.

“Alright kids, your brother, my boss, wants wheels up within the hour. It’ll take Nearly 40 minutes to get there, leaving us only 15 minutes of wiggle room. I’m glad you’re cautious but we do not have time for this.” Nix swishes his hands, shooing the girls toward the door. The two men standing outside the door nod to their boss and the agents as the group walks toward the building’s exit. 

Aksana drapes her arm around her sister’s shoulders. All the older twin wants right now is to talk to her sister in private. She clearly won the fight but her face is almost half covered in bandages! What the fuck happened? Who was she paired against?! Both girls are clearly stressed, hungry, and exhausted. 

Two black Lincoln Navigators pull up in front of the building. Nix opens the back door to one, helping Carina into the back row before Aksana joins her. Before he shuts the door, a man with red fingerless gloves walks up with two blankets. 

“Ah Knuckles, what’s up? You got the stuff right? Boss wants wheels up in,” Nix checks his watch, “47 minutes.”

Knuckles smiles as he reaches back to give the girls the blankets, “Yeah, I figured they may want these, it's fucking cold man. The poor kids are in shorts for fucks sake. These were on their beds, I assume they mean a lot and honestly, they’ve been through a hell of a day.” He hands a fleece tie blanket that has white music print on one side and a lilac fabric with pastel stars and basketballs to Carina. He frowns seeing her messed up face. “Damn kid, the fuck happened to you? When’s the last time you had any pain meds? Shit looks like it hurts!”

Nix slaps the 23-year-old man upside the head successfully spurring him to hand Aksana a fleece tie blanket with the same music side but a pale pink side with darker pink floral stems. The strong bro hands Nix a little bag to give to the girls on the plane, it holds gummy bears, jellybeans, deodorant, new toothbrushes and paste, a few hair ties, and their phone chargers. Nix claps Knuckles on the back before climbing into the front passenger seat. Knuckles moves to the other SUV while a pretty young man and another woman take seats in the same vehicle. Two men join SUV 1 in the row in front of the two overtired teens. 

As the Navigator starts the 40-minute journey to the airport Nix turns around to look at the girls. “Carina, Aksana, meet my friends, coworkers, and associates, Beck, Smokes, and Watchman. Beck and Watchman here were in the room with us when you were debriefed, Smokes was on the squad that went to your apartment to grab a few essentials. She was in charge of the team Knuckles was on when he got your blankets. Nice blankets by the way.”

Carina offers a little wave as Aksana greets the woman driving the SUV and the two men sitting in front of the two. 

Nix pulls out his phone to inform his boss that they’re on their way to the airport as the car falls into a comfortable silence. 

Beck turned from his spot behind the driver’s seat to let the girls know they were nearing their destination only to find them asleep. Camera clicks sound as he snaps a few pictures of the girls snuggled up in the back. Carina’s head leaned on Aksana’s shoulder with the older sister having secured the younger in her arms. Both were covered in their respective blankets and looked cute as they finally got a little rest. Beck didn’t want to wake the two yet so he motioned for the rest of the car to stay quiet until they could get the girls onto the plane. The group’s collective idea was that it would be easier to carry the teens onto the plane and get them settled rather than coaxing them onto it. They were still on a schedule after all. 

[joyffree]

Protecting Elijah (His Obsession) An MM Spicy Romance Novella by Medusa Stone

Babysitting the mafia boss’s son? Not exactly what I signed up for.

But protecting Elijah? That’s a job I’d kill for.

❤️Dive into my new line of SHORTS, a thrilling world of MM romance, from very Dark and edgy to light, romantic hotness…❤️🔥

[senehtavil666]

Trapped - COMING SOON (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1499383419-trapped-coming-soon?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=snehtavil666 "You're Trapped with me, for FOREVER "

[alfredsonger]

Part 3 - Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair - Part 3

Albert Anastasia (born “Anastasio,” the masculine form of the Italian name) was a mobster who came out of the tough streets of Lower Manhattan to run one of the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra through the first half of the 20th century. Along the way, he built a reputation as one of the Mob’s most feared killers. Anastasia was reportedly a member of Murder Incorporated, the kill-for-hire crew that worked for Charlie “Lucky” Luciano and others in the years of Prohibition. Anastasia was, according to reports, one of the four men in 1931 who assassinated Giuseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria, a powerful Mob boss, in the bloody gang rivalry known as the Castellammarese War. Anastasia was charged in three murders – in 1928, 1932 and 1933 – but in each case, witnesses either disappeared or refused to testify. Two other high-level Mob informants, both under police custody, died before their testimony helped bring Anastasia to trial, in 1941 and 1942. During World War II, Anastasia joined the U.S. Army. He also reportedly helped engineer the deal that eventually allowed Luciano, then ostensibly serving a life sentence for multiple prostitution-related convictions, to get out of prison (and go into exile in Italy) in exchange for keeping the New York City docks free of wartime Nazi infiltration. Anastasia worked for the Army training longshoremen on the East Coast. In 1943, he received U.S. citizenship for his military service, and he was honorably discharged from the Army in 1944. Eventually, Gambino moved against his sometime family boss. Anastasia was gunned down while he was sitting in a barber chair in Manhattan. Gambino assumed the family leadership, which would eventually become known as the Gambino crime family.

[music4soul]

(FancyEventSinger)Price performing at a very, very high end (and over priced) restaurant, the band switching from slow orchestras to upbeat jazz and the guests either conversing with one another or swaying to the music.

(MafiaBoss)Nikolai sitting at the bar and quietly sipping his whiskey while listening to the siren-like voice coming from the stage(if he were a sailor lost at sea, he’d surely be dead by now).

Nik stared at him as if he were in a trance, eyes longing, soul wanting, hands tapping against his glass, mind wondering if he could get the gorgeous performer to sing his name like a hymn.

He wanted him, and by all means he was going to get him.

[winterspiderpurrs]

Okay but Peter getting kidnapped. The doe eyed innocent, science puns, very conservative with clothes and layers. The one who isn't associated with the business. Sure he had some basic training to help protect himself. But he wasn't like the rest of them.

And Tony and his men doing all they can to hunt down the person who took Peter and to rescue him.

They were not expecting a dinning hall full of dead bodies.

Peter sitting at the head of the table. Sitting on the lap of someone with a knife in his eye. He was in what appears to be a lacey teddy lingerie. Calmly sipping the lobster bisque. He had on a metal collar that was chained to the chair. A gun sitting next to the half empty glass of white wine. Bullet shells scattered around.

" Oh good! You're here! My neck is starting to hurt"

[umbrellaleg]

Commissioned the wonderful @just-an-ari to create a scene based on the lovely @bee-nutauthor 's Wednesday!MafiaAU story "Indelible Marks on our Hearts (Tear Worlds Apart)." Rating M

And it came out AMAZING.

[hangesbrattyapprentice]

Sleuths & Syndicates

Part 3

Mafia Boss! Shigaraki x fem!reader

art by ichiya1115

˚✧₊⁎ find Part 1 & Part 2 here ⁎⁺˳✧༚

~MDNI~

Being Tomura Shigaraki’s captive becomes easier once you stop fighting it. Before, he’d leave you bound and gagged for hours, days, unconcerned with your wellbeing. Only consumed with having your body available for him whenever the urge struck him. He’d fall asleep nuzzling your breasts, his cold legs entangled with your immobile ones. For weeks, the only people you’d see besides him were the cleaning staff who seemed assiduously oblivious to your existence even as you screamed for help. But you saw how soft he’d get when you were pliant, and your will to survive made you use it to your advantage no matter how much you hated yourself for it.

He was observant. Knew just how to get a reaction out of you. Weeks of having you tied up and unable to stop him or squirm away from his prying fingers and tongue had let him learn exactly what made you tick. Things you hadn’t even known about yourself. He made you feel good. So if you forgot everything about the world outside of that room, about who you were, things weren’t so bad. He kept you fed and made you cum and only hurt you if you displeased him – or if he felt like it.

When you’ve both grown more familiar your situation, he gradually gives you more liberty. You’re allowed to move freely within his mansion, although he’s strengthened the guard. You don’t often ask for things but when you do, Tomura makes sure you get them.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Sunny? You just had bubble tea yesterday,” he rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t send one of his men. He gets it himself on his way back home so he can see the stars in your eyes when he hands you the cup. “Whadya say, brat?” And here’s why you have him wrapped around your finger. You know he’d be happy with a sweet “thank you, Don” and a blowjob, but you don’t need him happy. If you are to survive – to escape someday – you need him absolutely enraptured.

So you make sure he reads the sin in your eyes before you ask him if he’d like a taste. And when he takes the bait, quirking an eyebrow, you pop the seal and let the milky liquid pour slowly over your mouth, neck, and breasts, drenching the shirt you’re wearing until the fabric is sheer and stuck to your nipples. It’s almost endearing how his jaw hangs open – or it would be, were he not the devil himself. But you channel your hatred into lust and guide him by the back of his neck to your mouth, letting him lap up the sweet drink. His tongue runs up along the column of your neck before he lowers his head further to suck greedily at your tits through the shirt. The feel of his tongue with the added texture of the wet fabric has you moaning above him, raking your nails against his scalp.

And because he’s feeling extra generous, he turns you around and gives you his solid thigh to ride from behind while he teases your nips, head bent over your shoulder, with slow licks and quick twists between his fingers. Despite yourself, you’re coming undone so quickly, the feel of his hard thigh under pressed trousers somehow giving you what you need. Heel lifted, he pulses his leg up and down in time with the rocking of your hips and you’re so close, already feeling the tiny contractions coming when he suddenly pushes you off of him, making you fall to the floor on all fours.

“No, please!” You wail, hips thrusting uselessly into nothing, chasing your lost orgasm.

“I thought the bubble tea was for you, pet. Not me,” he smirks. His pants are around his ankles when you turn to face him and he’s found the half-empty cup, tilting it over his throbbing erection. “Don’t you want it?”

You give him what he wants – a messy blowjob worthy of a porno, wondering if your little act was all for nothing. He’s seconds away from cumming when you decide to risk your life for some petty revenge. You lift your head, gasping for air, but instead of swallowing him right back down your throat, you stay put, panting on his flushed cock, just out of reach.

“F-fuck! Sunny-nnghh!” Tomura roars, legs quivering. But instead of grabbing your head and violently fucking your face like you expected, he’s whimpering beneath you, begging, and then you’re both gaping at each other in equal surprise. Tentatively, you reach for the restraints that would usually hold your wrists and his ruby eyes follow you, a slew of emotions reflected in them clear as day. He’s a little frightened but also very hopeful.

Straddling his torso, you tie his right hand to the bedpost and then his left, kissing him slow and tender in between. He’s an absolute wreck and you haven’t even started yet. You’ve never done anything like this before, wouldn’t even know what “edging” is but with how responsive Shigaraki is, it comes to you naturally. With kitten licks and slow strokes of your fingertip, you bring him right to the edge of release before backing away and letting him cool off, over and over and over again. And when he moans, you can’t help but moan with him. You’re enjoying this, too. Your pussy aches with need. You want to ride him, and when you ask him if he can hold off his orgasm til you say so, he huffs a drunken laugh.

“Sorry, Sunshine. Don’t think I can hold it if you so much as breathe on my dick right now. What’s wrong?” he adds, seeing the frown on your face. Then he growls. “Fuck, don’t tell me this is turning you on that much, my sick little pet. C’mere.”

When you just look at him confused, he clarifies, “come sit on my face. Use me to get yourself off ’slong as you want, baby.” He’s panting hard, voice raspier than usual, cock twitching helplessly. Something inside you snaps.

You’re bracing yourself with your forearms against the wall, riding Shigaraki’s tongue as he eats you out like his life depends on it. His arms strain against the ropes, corded muscles bulging. You’re cumming for the second time, slick and spit dripping down his face and he’s groaning like he’s in agony but can’t stop lapping you up for even a second, even though you’re whimpering and backing away from the overstimulation.

Suddenly one of the restraints snaps, and in the back your head you’re furious – how often you’d have given anything for one of those ropes to snap when it was you tied up – but you’re somewhat blissed out, mid-orgasm and caught off guard when Shigaraki uses his free arm to topple you so you’re on your back, head hanging off the side of the mattress with his arms now holding both your thighs open for him and his mouth free to continue its assault on your cunt.

His lips close over your swollen clit, suckling on it hard. You scream, hands fisting and tangling in his fluffy, white hair. Two thick fingers stretch you out and pump into you, easily finding your most sensitive spot and you’re cumming all over again, legs shaking uncontrollably and sparks going off in your head. You’re pulled back fully onto the mattress by your throat and his fingers are quickly replaced by his cock and fuck he’s so damn hard you’ve never felt him this thick before. He’s not fucked you so rough since before you became “Sunny” but you love it and you’re so grateful when he spills his seed inside you but still keeps going, fucking it deeper into you. You’re begging him not to stop, and he’s eager to oblige.

It takes a while, but when you’re both worn out, clean and curled up in bed, Tomura is sweet and gentle. He’s got you tucked into his side, head resting on his chest, hand carding through your hair while the tv throws dim, flickering blue light over an otherwise dark room. He kisses the top of your head.

“I love you, Sunny,” he murmurs, and you’re just about far gone enough to almost feel as if this could be a normal relationship. Almost.

“Fuckin’ love you so god damn much. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”  

You curl up further into yourself, and to Shigaraki, it feels like a hug.

[sunjoys]

callout post

ups is gaslighting me

[hellfire--cult]

i just love me some alpha!mafiaboss!eddie

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

But can't we just hug and snuggle her for a bit? You can share can't you?

@chunibyo-x-sorcerer

Sukuna was doing his best to keep from killing the anon. "I told you before. Touch her..you die." he growls now getting ready to strangle the anon. "I don't share my princess with anyone. She's mine."

[hitcbmgc]

thoughts on mafiaboss!irene???

omg mafiaboss!irene..

definitely see her like ceo!irene except she’d want to hurt anyone that’s interested in you. she wants you as her own and she wants to be yours too she’ll treat you with all her wealth and protection as long as it means she gets to be loved and fucked by you. at the end of the day, mafiaboss!irene just wants to be told that she did well for handling her work in the day

irene makes sure her gang treats you with so much respect so that they’ll listen to your commands as well. if she sees another woman checking you out, she’ll get so jealous and wants everyone to know you guys are together. loves marking your neck or anywhere else that’s visible so it’s obvious that she’s yours and she wants to belong to you as well

loveslovesloves g*nplay and kn!feplay too like having either of them drawing down her thighs and near her core so she’s squirming underneath you. scared but knows you wouldn’t want to hurt her like that