#music industry mafia

[mx-defying]

If you loved the Netflix doc series The Octopus Murders🐙 you’ll be intrigued by its Hollywood tentacle! I met Danny Casolaro at the center of the Octopus. The Octopus never went away… it just became the Squid 🦑!

NEW ON SUBSTACK:

MCA: The Octopus’ Tentacle That Wraps Around The World, by @Mx_Defying

[troublewithvampires]

//new salvatore au idea?? maybe?? (some vague initial details in the tags)

[msclaritea]

Elton John - Good Fight Ministries

"Like so many artists who have sold their souls for rock and roll, Elton John has been immersed in Satanism. In fact Bernie Taupin, who has lived with Elton John and written most of his lyrics, stated that Elton John’s “home is laden with trinkets and books relating to Satanism and witchcraft” (US, July 22, 1980, p. 42). Taupin, like Elton John with whom he collaborates, is also into Satanism. Taupin admits that he decorates his walls with “satanic art” and has further declared, “the occult fascinates me” (People, June 23, 1980). Many artists like Elton John and Bernie Taupin recognize the devil’s hand in their success and realize that their fans do not have a clue that much of their inspiration is the result of demonic beings that use them as puppets to deceive the public. Elton John has admitted that he is deceiving his fans, “Its all a big con,” and adds, “But as long as the public laps it up, I’m quite happy to go on giving it to them.” (Rolling Stone, July 15, 1976, p. 30)

Like all those who rebel against a relationship with the Lord, Elton John lives a lifestyle that is doomed and headed toward destruction. John has stated, “In most artists there’s a self destructive streak. Drugs, sex and doomed liaisons were my form of destruction.” Besides his sexually perverse lifestyle Elton John has been known for his temper tantrums and deep depression. Elton John has had multiple sex partners, “I would walk into a club and see someone I hadn’t even met and I would already have them on the conveyor belt,” declared John. “They’d come out with a Vercase shirt and a Cartier watch at the other end.” After all of John’s worldly success he has not found the true happiness that can only be found through a relationship with the Savior Jesus Christ. John has stated, “One thing that depresses me is that there are so many successful people that are [expletive) miserable with it.” Elton John has sought to fill the depressed, Christless void in his heart to no avail with sexual perversion and materialism. “I haven’t met anybody I’d like to settle down with—of either sex,” says John. John’s sexually perverse influence on the masses is taught by example, through songs as well as in interviews. He has stated:

“There’s nothing wrong with going to bed with someone of your own sex. I just think people should be very free with sex…They should draw the line at goats.” (Rolling Stone, October 7, 1976, p. 17)...

[freakyformula]

Stockholm Syndrome

Summary: Mafia Max kidnaps the reader and tries to win her over.

A/N: Might make a part two... Maybe.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, swear words, mentions of injuries, oral (both receiving), creampie, light spanking....

Word count: 7,7k

The sound of music and glasses clunking filled your ears as you sat with your friend on the balcony of the most extravagant nightclub the city could offer. The menu was filled with ridiculously expensive drinks and appetizers.

You didn't live here, but your best friend Emma did. You two had known each other since you were in kindergarten and spent every day together in school. When you got a little older though, life got in the way and you got separated by university and work. This didn't stop you two, you still spoke almost every day on the phone.

Emma had recently gotten promoted and decided to invite you over to her city to celebrate. Neither you nor Emma had any other friends, it was just you and her, always together.

You didn't really know why she'd decided on this club, but you had to admit, it was impressive with the expensive-looking ornaments and the huge crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the industrial building.

As you looked around, all you could see was well-dressed men and women. You felt misplaced.

"I need a fag so bad." Emma declares and struts off, leaving you alone inside.

Sitting alone made you feel even more awkward and you could see the others looking down at you with what looked like pity in their eyes.

You sipped on your Spritz and looked down, embarrassed. You dressed modestly, wearing an off-shoulder midi dress in white, fitting you perfectly. Emma and you had been shopping for dresses for the occasion earlier that day. When you got ready a couple of hours earlier, you thought you looked okay, but right now, you couldn't feel more unattractive.

A bunch of men barges out from a room in the back, making the other guests quickly move out of their way. The men were dressed in all black and walk up to the bar, a couple of meters from you. You quickly turn around in the fancy leather sofa, not wanting to draw their attention. When you turn around, you notice a man exiting the same door from which the other males exited only a few seconds before. This man was unlike the others; he strolled in with gentle steps, whereas the others made their arrival sound like a swarm of hippos was approaching. And he looked so put together. That suit of his must be really expensive.

You catch yourself staring and quickly look away.

"Wanna dance?" You hear Emma yell from behind. You really weren't in the mood but you obey her wish. You follow her to the dance floor. You threw your hair and sang along to the song, making the other guests look at you in annoyance, but you couldn't care less in that moment. All you were here for was to celebrate your friend and her accomplishments.

As you walked up to your table again, you went by the bar and inspected the menu closely. You decide on a cocktail and place the order.

"This one is on me." You hear, the raspy sound coming from behind.

The bartender quickly starts working on your order as the man looks at him. You turn around and lock eyes with the man you saw before. He gazed down at you and gave you a sweet smile.

"Sorry, Max." He introduces himself and offers a handshake.

"Hi, I-I'm Y/N." You reply and shake his hand. His handshake was powerful, just like you thought it would be.

"Y/N. Beautiful name. Now tell me, Y/N, what lured a beauty like you to my club?"

You're shocked by his statement, which makes him chuckle, but still keep eye contact.

Is this man the owner? But he looks so young, surely he's lying, right?

"I… I'm here with my friend." You say and point to your friend who is half asleep on the leather sofa, clearly completely off her face.

"I see." Max turns to look at you again. His gaze is so intense, that it almost makes you uncomfortable.

You turn to look at the bartender, who is taking longer than usual to finish your drink. Max lingers by your side, making small talk with you and what you assumed were his friends until you got your drink. "It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Enjoy the rest of your night." Max smiles at you and you sip on your drink and give him a smile back. He was pleasant to be around and you felt a little lonely when he and the black-suited men followed him. You went back to your table only to realize that Emma has dozed off.

"Emma, wake up!" You yell at her. You try shaking her without luck. She was out and there was no way of waking her.

"Fuck, always drinking too much…" You mutter to yourself. Now what were you supposed to do? Before you could think further you started to feel drowsy. "The hell?" You ask yourself as you too drift off into a comfortable slumber.

The sound of men talking fills your ears as you're lulled out of your sleep. The bright light makes it hard to see and it takes a while for your eyes to adjust.

"Where am I?" You ask.

No answer. The satin pillows under your head aren't yours. And you didn't recognize the room either. You were too groggy to register anything about the room you were in, except that it was light. Wait, why were you in a hospital? You try to move your hands to rub your eyes but your hands are stopped. You look up at your hands, they're bruised by the handcuffs around your wrists.

"What the… actual.." You whisper to yourself. Now, panic starts to take over all of your senses and you spring up from the mattress to your knees.

"Help!" You yell.

The room felt sterile, and even if your sight was blurred you noticed the white tile walls and what looked like medical equipment in a couple of cabinets on the other side of the room.

Panic fully encompasses you and you place your legs against the wall to try to pull the metal off your hands. You've quickly used all of the remaining energy. Your eyes water up and you look around for something to help you escape. Everything you see to make you company in the room is the mattress, a couple of pillows and the cabinets.

You cry out and try to remember what exactly happened last night. Emma. Where was Emma? You think to yourself. You had to get out of here. As you're about to start struggling with the chain again you freeze, hearing footsteps and voices from outside of the door.

"Open the door." A familiar voice says, followed by the sound of keys clinging.

You have no idea what to do, so you just collapse on the mattress, pretending to be asleep.

As the door opens, you hear multiple footsteps approaching you.

"Good morning, beautiful." The voice whispers. "Get out before I kill you all." He says, barely audible, assumably to the others in the room. Before you can even register it, the room is empty, except for you and the man.

You feel someone rubbing your arm lightly.

"Ik weet dat je wakker bent." I know you're awake

You have no idea what the familiar voice just said, and just keep your eyes shut. The voice sighs and walks off. You hear a thump and you can only assume that the man has sat down on the floor.

You lie there, quiet, not daring to move an inch.

"You know, Y/N… As long as you treat me nicely, I will do the same to you." The voice speaks.

How does the voice know your name?

Slowly but surely, the happenings of last night come to mind.

The man you met at the nightclub. Max. Was he behind all of this?

You don't dare to look up to check if it's him you're sharing the room with, but the voice is similar.

You hear him moving on the floor, shuffling his way over to your mattress. When you feel his fingers on your hand you instinctively kick in his direction. The man is quick though, and dodges the kicks from you. As if by routine, he grabs your swinging legs. You let out a cry, and you two settle with him looking down at you lying on your back with your legs in his embrace.

"Max…. Where the fuck am I and where is Emma?" You look up at him with tears flowing on your cheeks as you tremble in fear.

"Shhhh, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why the fuck am I here?!" You yell.

"You're simply here because I want you, and I couldn't risk you getting away last night."

You stare into his mellow eyes and try to process what he just said.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Max Verstappen and I'm the head of the mafia around here." Your body tenses up when you hear him. Mafia? Max looked way too innocent to be a part of the mafia. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

"You're mad, you know that? Now, let me loose and we'll forget about all of this." You try to bargain.

"Oh no, that's not how this works, Y/N. You see, I can't just let you go, you belong to me now."

"Where is Emma?" You ask again.

"Your friend? She's safe."

He lets your legs go and starts pacing the room.

"Why me?" You ask in confusion.

"Because you tick all of my boxes. You're beautiful, you've got class, you're funny…"

"You don't know anything about me, creep." You mutter.

"Oh trust me Y/N, I know more about you than you probably realise."

You crawl into a ball, sobbing your heart out as Max looks at you.

"Let me help you, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you, but I also can't let you go.

His words enlighten a rage in you, a rage that you thought you weren't even capable of.

"I literally met you last night, motherfucker! Don't barge in here thinking you know me when you clearly know nothing." You yell at his face.

He looks completely deflated as he looks at you. He stares down at his shoes and seems to think about what to say next. "Clearly, this will take time." He finishes and walks out.

A couple of weeks pass, and you're moved to a new room, equipped with your own toilet, proper bed, kitchen table, and two armchairs. Max would visit you multiple times a day to get to know you, sometimes spending hours upon hours sitting in that stupid armchair of his, either trying to strike up a conversation with you or just sitting there in silence, keeping an eye on you. Either way, he seemed to enjoy himself.

You, on the other hand, either ignored him or argued back to anything he said. You weren't going to make this easy for him, that was for sure. How he kept his cool, was beyond you.

"Liefje, stop that." He sternly says as you hit the door, desperate to get out.

"You know there are at least 12 heavily armed men on the other side with strict orders not to let you out, right?"

You couldn't give less of a fuck, they might as well kill you.

When you're about to hit the door once more, you feel Max's hands on yours, hitting against the door one last time. He presses you against the metal door and keeps his hands on yours.

"You will do exactly as I say, will you not, hm?" Max asks.

"Kill me then! You might as well kill me if I'm going to be held here like a prisoner for the rest of my life!" You yell in his face.

Day after day, he'd come. Sometimes he'd bring you a bouquet of flowers, which you tossed in the trash immediately, sometimes he brought you something you'd requested, like a McDonald's cheeseburger or Lindt chocolate. You were grateful he actually cared enough to bring you those things. Some kidnappers surely wouldn't treat you with this much dignity, you resonated.

A couple of more weeks pass and Max starts to bring you gifts. Clothes he thought you'd look good in, jewellery he'd put his eyes on and needed to buy for you to wear, shoes he'd take off your feet at some point.

He convinced you to eat dinner at the same time as him. Usually you'd wait for him to finish his meal in order to avoid having to face him. To you, it would equal defeat and you were adamant on making his life a living hell.

"So, could this be concidered a first date?" He smiles at you.

"In your dreams, Verstappen."

His whole body shuddered as he heard you use his last name.

You sitting at the same table as him was progress. In the beginning, you wouldn't even look his way.

"So, when are you letting me free?" You ask with a stern tone.

"When I know you won't run away."

"So in theory, never?"

"If that's what you want." He shrugs as his eyes darken. "I will always find you if you run away. Always."

A couple of days pass and Max once again walks into the room. He'd visited you in the morning, accidentally waking you up. Now though, he was ready for dinner.

"My cook made us dinner." He says as he takes off his coat and approaches you sitting at the table, completing a puzzle he'd bought for you; you were pleasantly pleased when he stepped in with it, you'd mentioned that you enjoy crocheting, reading and solving puzzles at some point, and he'd picked up on that.

"Hmmmm… I'm not hungry." You say.

"I know you're hungry Y/N. My men told me that you didn't eat breakfast."

And he was right, you were starving.

"Ugh… Hate you." You mutter to yourself.

"You don't mean that." Max whispers, reassuring himself.

You move over so you sit opposite the handsome man. You gladly eat the food the cook made, you have to admit that the food they made was delicious.

Max looks at you fondly while you eat until you look up at him.

"What?!" You ask, irritation evident in your voice.

"Just admiring my girl."

"You slam down your fork into the table, leaving four small dents in the wood.

"Your girl? I'm not your girl Max. You kidnapped me! I'm not here of my own free will."

He smirks at you. "Just give me some time and I'll change that."

"Do you promise to be a good girl?" He asks of you as he ties the blindfold around your head.

"Yes, Max." You sigh.

Finally, he was moving you from the lonely room to his very own house.

He leads you into the car, making sure you're comfortable.

On the way, the guards, the same men you met that night, kept communicating with each other. You wondered how many men Max needed to feel safe.

"Don't worry about them, it's only a precaution to keep us safe. I've got important cargo on board." He chuckles as he grabs your hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

You huff, "Last time you call me cargo, imbecile."

When Max opens the door for you and removes the blindfold, you finally realise the extent of his wealth.

What he had defined as a house was a mansion in reality. And the garden… Surely, this is where he got those bouquets from. You also catched a glimpse of the padel course and the swimming pool close by.

All of the guards welcomed you respectfully. It was weird seeing all of them like this, months after your first encounter at the club.

"Y/N, these are your personal guards, Daniel, Lando, and Charles. They will keep you safe at all times." Max states.

The men don't dare to look at you, afraid of Max's reaction. They simply just nod.

Living with a mafia boss had it's perks and drawbacks. He'd bring you flowers from his garden daily, and gifted you something ridiculously expensive weekly meaning your new wardrobe started to fill up with new expensive clothes and jewellery. Max didn't trust you enough to be alone outside the house, so you were still followed by at least one of the guards.

You tried your hardest to be nice to them, it wasn't their fault that you were in this unfortunate situation. They were clearly uncomfortable being your guards, not wanting to look your way, touch you or talk to you, afraid of their fate if they angered their boss. You were thankful though, they helped you with things you needed help with and stayed out of your way when you needed them to.

You had to admit, you lived a comfortable life. You'd spend your day either by the pool or comfortably inside the large, luxurious house. You wouldn't have to lift a finger again with Max as your man. The problem was, you were itching to get out into the world again. You had no contact with the outside world. You missed your parents and siblings at home. You missed Emma. Hell, you even missed work.

One day, after dinner, Max walks up to you with a box.

"Open it." Max encourages you.

"Not another gift, Max. I've told you, I don't want any!" You complain.

"I promise, you will like this one."

You sigh and study the neat black box with a black ribbon on top.

And Max is right, you love the gift. He had gifted you a phone, how generous of him. Finally, you had a way to keep in contact with the world. You had one contact. Emma. You immediately dial her and wait for her to pick up.

"Hello, who is this?" You hear your dear friend ask.

You instantly burst out crying when you hear her voice.

"It's Y/N! I'm so glad to hear your voice!"

"Y/N?! What the fuck, where are you, are you okay? I reported you missing months ago! Honestly, the police, your parents, and I started to lose hope of finding you." You hear her sobbing too.

"I'm okay, I've been forbidden to tell you where I am but I'm fine. Please send my parents my regards."

You continue talking for the rest of the evening. Max leaves you to it, trusting you enough not to tell your friend about your whereabouts. Max permitted you to call Emma once per week, and your calls was all you looked forward to. Hearing Emmas voice was soothing and felt like home.

"Y/N, I'm going mad, where are you? I want to meet up." Emma asks after a couple of weeks.

You look up at Max and Lando, both of them standing in front of you, hearing her question as she's on speaker.

"Uhhh, I'm afraid I can't tell you, Emma, but I hope we can meet up soon." You nod at the men and they nod approvingly back. Not being able to tell your best friend hurt more than it should have. That night you spend sobbing your heart out into one of your goose down pillows in your bed, cursing Max out as he pats your head.

"Fuck you, Max!" You curse.

"Shhhh…. It will get easier. And if you behave and act like a good girl for me, I'll let you meet Emma." Max tries to soothe you.

The day after, you tried calling your parents when Max didn't see or hear, but the call didn't come through. Surely, Max had a function on it, meaning the only person you could call was Emma. Max found out that you'd disobeyed him by calling your parents and took your phone away, enraging you even more. You soon realised that the only way you'd get out of this was by obeying Max's rules.

You were peacefully eating breakfast when Max and a couple of his men followed him into the kitchen.

He sneakily appears behind you and steals a piece of your toast as you're about to have a bite.

"Heyy!! Thief!" You yell.

Max and his men let out a giggle at your annoyed expression.

"I'll be home at 7 pm, okay?" Max asks.

"Yeah." You shrug at him. He gives you a small smile and turns around.

You spend the day at the pool, reading a book Max gifted you. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Why he chose that book, you didn't know. Daniel and Charles spend their day near you, standing guard. Luckily they don't have to be by themselves and you can hear them laughing now and again.

You craved a friend like that too. In a way Max was unfair, he let his men talk to each other and have friendships but letting you meet Emma was out of the question.

You figured you'd freshen up before Max got home, and walked inside. The men didn't follow for once, seemingly deep in a conversation.

That meant that you could discover the mansion by yourself. The men had stopped you from exploring the whole building for some reason. Mindlessly, you strolled around the house, checking the doors. Weirdly, all of them were locked. Bored, you walk back to your room. On the way, you walk past Max's room. Curiosity overwhelms you and you check the door, and it's open. You hear the floor creak as you walk on it. You try to walk even lighter as you find your way further into the room. The floor was painted in a dark wooden accent and the ceiling was filled with paintings of angels, lambs and plump clouds. You turn to the fireplace with a huge painting of a man above it. The man looked like an older version of Max, surely it had to be either his father or grandfather.

All of a sudden, the lights come on, and you see Max standing in the doorway.

"Sneaking around, are we?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" You try to explain, as Max walks closer to you.

"Shhhh…" He shushes, "This is the perfect opportunity to show you our bedroom. This is where you'll be sleeping for the rest of your life when you decide to move in."

"I like it?" You say, insure about the dark red tones and tassels spread around the room.

Max takes notice of your facial expression. "I'll have it renovated for you, maybe that will encourage you to move in quicker?" Max asks. "I'm making no promises." You shake your head and give him a teasing smile.

Max creeps closer to you, not breaking eye contact. You've gotten used to the man and you don't back off when he walks closer to you. He grabs your arms, pulling you even closer. You feel the heat he radiates as your bodies touch. And that signature cologne he wears every day smells different at this proximity. Before things get too heated for your liking you pull away, which results in Max pulling you in again, making you yelp. He bends down and places a delicate kiss on your forehead. Then, finally, he lets you go.

You're so shocked, you don't even register that his hands aren't holding you in place, and you stand there for what feels like an eternity, staring into his ocean-blue eyes. Your breath is heavy, and so is his. Max returns his hands to you, but this time he doesn't hold you in place but rather supports you. His hands wander from your sides down to your hips.

Max lets out a small moan. "Feel so good. You're driving me crazy." His words are messing with your head. You know what he's trying to do and you refuse to fall for his gaslighting. But goddamn, his hands felt so good on you. His hands grow bolder and fall to your ass, giving it a little squeeze.

You break from his soft hold and glare at him.

"Too soon? Sorry, liefje."

A couple of weeks pass, and you're growing accustomed to Max and his life.

You and Emma talk almost daily at this point and you're starting to enjoy your surroundings, despite the lack of freedom. Well, lack of privacy to be exact, as Max has let you off his premises a couple of times to do some shopping. The guards were still following you wherever you went though.

Max would try to get closer to you, stealing light kisses on your forehead and cheeks.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Max smiles when he sees you walk into the kitchen. You grab the kettle, "Good morning… You sound like you're in a good mood."

"I am, I actually have some very exciting plans for us later." He says as he walks around the kitchen island and walks up behind you, turning you around.

"Here." He lends you his black card, "Take this and get yourself something nice for later."

"Max… What do you mean by "nice"? You ask.

"Something that will make people drop their jaws, I give you free hands."

And with that, he leaves for work. Lando, Daniel, and Charles are ordered to take care of you. They quickly nod and wait for you to get ready. Just to mess with them a little, you take your time eating breakfast, choosing your outfit, and applying makeup.

"Finally!" Lando exclaims, followed by a slight push by Charles. They lead you outside, walking close by in case you decide to run away. What they don't seem to realise is, you're in heels and you're not running anywhere with them on.

You walk around the mall all day in order to find something nice to wear for the evening. It was harder than you thought, especially since you had no idea of what Max's plans were.

You finally decide on a black maxi dress with a slightly exposed back. You walk out from the changing room and ask the men for opinions.

"Errrm, it's fine, I guess?" Charles answers, unsure of what to say.

"It looks awesome on you." Daniel corrects his co-worker, followed by an approving nod by Lando.

"What exactly are I and Max doing later?" You ask the trio of guards as you walk out of the shop with a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"He told us not to tell." They simply state.

"Ugh." You roll your eyes at them, annoyed by their loyalty to their boss.

Your eyes land on a jewelry shop, and the most beautiful necklace you'd ever laid your eyes on. You turn your heel, making the men almost crash into you. They apologize profusely but you don't listen. "Good day, miss." The store clerk greets. "Searching for something in particular?"

You walk over to the grand necklace. "How much is this?"

"100." The salesperson states.

You look at them, confused. 100? Surely the necklace was worth more than that.

The clerk must've noticed your confusion because they cleared their throat and looked at the men behind you with a questioning look.

"100 000, miss."

The words came off their tongue like it was nothing. On the other hand, you could not believe what you'd just heard.

"….100 000?" You question. "Consider it sold." You say, smiling. The clerk turns and stares at you with big eyes. The trio behind you stare at you with even bigger eyes. Theoretically, you could get a house for the same price. You finish up the deal and walk away as a proud one hundred thousand necklace owner with the guards taking care not to walk into you again.

When you get home, it's already late and you need to start getting ready.

"When is Max coming home?" You ask Lando.

"Soon." He answers, leaving you alone in your room.

You take a quick shower to freshen up. You wrap a towel around your naked body and when you get out of the bathroom you're startled by Max, as he's lying on your bed scrolling on his phone languidly.

"What the fuck, Max? That's my bed!"

"Hello schatje, miss me? And actually, you're in my house, I can do whatever I want in here."

You groan, "Some privacy please?!"

Max gets up and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek, something you don't fight against.

"Wanted to see you, that was all." And with that, he exits your bedroom and closes the door.

You get ready for him in record time. When you come down the stairs, he's already waiting for you. The dress you wear fits you like a glove and you feel sexy. What finished your look off though, was the necklace, that you'd paired with some other jewelry to match.

Max meets up with you halfway and takes your hand, kissing it.

"When I said 'free hands', this is exactly what I had in mind, Y/N."

"Do you like it?" You ask, giving him a spin.

"I love it, I love you." He admits as he pulls you close and kisses you. This was unexpected and you should've refused but you just… couldn't. When he pulls away he studies you once again and huffs,

"So beautiful, mijn liefde."

"Ready?" He asks as he guides you out to his car.

"When are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

"I'm taking you to see my mother."

"You're taking me to meet your mother?! I thought you were taking me for dinner!"

"Well, technically I am, she's an excellent cook and she's making dinner for us."

You shake your head aggressively, not happy with the situation. Max keeps talking as if nothing happened on the remainder of the car ride. "Here we are." Max says happily as he turns onto the road leading to his childhood home. You see a lady waving on the stairs leading up to the large manor.

"Max, Y/N." She yells. "I'm so happy to finally meet you!"

"Mama!" Max runs to hug her.

He walks back to you to lead you up to his mother.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you." You try to be nice to the woman and give off a positive impression.

"Hello, I'm Sophie, Max's mother. He has told me so much about you."

You give him a questioning look as you walk in. They give you a tour of the large house, and you can't help wondering what both Max and his mother are doing with such large houses when they live alone, excluding the guards of course.

"I hope you're hungry, I've made dinner!" Sophie tells you with a wide smile.

Sophie is one of the best cooks indeed, and you eat with a good appetite, much to her delight.

Sophie spends the rest of the dinner sharing awkward stories about Max. He buries his face in his hands in order to escape his mother's story about how he shot himself in the foot when he was 11. "And then, he stole his father's gun and ran away… Not knowing it was loaded." She explains.

You enjoy their company, and you can tell that Max has inherited his nice manners from his mother.

"Will you excuse me and Y/N for a moment, I'd like to show her the rose garden?" Max asks his mother.

Sophie nods and you take off outside, it's getting late and chilly, so Max offers his suit jacket to you. As you slowly walk towards the garden, Max creeps closer, wrapping his arm around your back and landing his hand on your hip.

"Your mother is lovely, Max." You look up at him.

"I know, and she seems to love you too."

When you reach the garden, he stops you. "I brought you here because I wanted to ask you to be my one and only for the rest of my life." He asks as he leans in, stopping only a few centimeters from you.

"W-what are you implying, Max?" You ask nervously, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I'm asking you to be my beloved. I want to make you my wife, the mother of my children. I want to grow old with you, and die by your side."

His words makes your stomach flutter. You can't help yourself anymore, you crash into his mouth and he very eagerly kisses you back.

"Max…" You moan, out of breath. "I think I like you."

He sighs. "I love you, Y/N, and I intend to make you love me too, but I understand if it takes time."

As you walk back up to the manor, Sophie is already standing at the stairs.

"We better leave, it's getting late." Max looks at his armwatch.

After saying your goodbyes and getting into the car, Max drives homeward.

His hand is glued to your thigh the whole way, squeezing it.

You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you press your legs together. Max must have noticed this, because he pries your legs open with his hand. He quickly slides his hand up to your heat before you have the chance to close your legs again.

"Mijn god, you're so wet already. And I haven't even done anything yet." Max gasps as he moves your thong to the side and slides his finger along your slit.

"Max, please."

"So pretty, begging for me like this. Are you mine, huh? Are you?" He asks.

"Please, please. I'm yours."

Max groans and stops the car at the first bus stop he can find.

"Get in the back." He commands. Luckily he brought the SUV, because there was plenty of space for you and him in the backseat.

"Come here, beautiful." He pulls your dress up to your hips as you slowly straddle him, taking care to not rip your dress.

"Just like that…" He whispers. "Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you." You can hear your own heart beating, and Max probably noticed too.

"Can I touch you… Like this?" He asks as he kneads your buttocks. All of a sudden, he gives your left asscheek a slap, making you yelp.

"Ouch! What was that for?" You raise your eyebrow.

"For making me wait so long." He whispers, feeling his breath on your face.

You enjoy him massaging your ass but you have another place that desperately needs some attention. You try to grind down on him to get some friction but when you do, he grabs your hips to hold you still. You groan, looking at him disapprovingly.

"What do you need, schat?"

"Need… Need you."

"Need… This?" He asks as his hand wanders to the sides, pulling your thong halfway down your legs and touching you where you need him most. His finger starts flicking your clit while he slowly and gently inserts a finger into your cunt, making you moan out. You feel your walls tightening around his finger deliciously, making him moan. You grind down on him while he adds another finger into your aching pussy. By curling his fingers, he quickly makes you scream out your orgasm. It was drawn out, warm, sweaty and stopping your breath. You collapse on him, making him chuckle.

"We need to continue the drive…" Max whispers in your ear when you've come down and your breath has steadied.

The rest of the car ride home, you spend looking at him, you study his features… His dark blonde ruffled hair, big puffy lips, delicious thighs, blue eyes, and his beautiful soul. Deep down, you knew he was good, he was just brought into the wrong family and upbringing.

Were you falling for him? Absolutely. Helplessly, shamelessly.

When he parks in front of the house, he walks over to your side and pulls you into his arms, carrying you inside.

"I was hoping you'd sleep with me tonight…" He looks down on you.

"If you promise not to snore." You smile up at him. He bursts out laughing at your shenanigans.

"You're allowed to kick me off the bed if I do…" He softly replies as he walks up the stairs.

The guards are smart enough to stop in their tracks at the stairs, leaving you completely alone with Max.

"Why does this feel like some sort of wedding night?" You whisper.

"Does it? Are you nervous?" He looks at you with worry in his eyes.

"Yes… I mean no. I mean… Uh, maybe a little?"

"Don't worry, liefje. You're okay." He whispers back in your ear.

By the time you reach the bedroom, his lips are on yours in a delicious and heated kiss. He lets you down from his arms but as soon as your legs reach the floor his hands are on your hips, swaying you from side to side.

"Would you like to dance?" He asks.

"I can't dance…." You look down in embarrassment.

"Everyone can dance." He huffs and walks up to a stereo hidden in his wardrobe. The songs on the old CD give off the exact atmosphere Max wanted. He walks up to you and grabs your hands, leading you to the middle of the room. He lifts your right hand up slightly and places his other hand on your hip, swinging you from side to side to the music. He leans down and rests his head on your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

"You won't believe the effect you have on me, Y/N." He mumbles.

You hum and keep slow dancing. When Max lifts his head, he puts his hands on either side of your face and leans in to kiss you. The kiss was heated and turned into a makeout session. You feel your knees becoming weak and Max grabs you to hold you upright. He gives you a tiny nudge to take a couple of steps back and when you feel the edge of the bed behind your legs you collapse on top of it.

Max takes a moment to admire you as you lift yourself on your elbows and pout your lips. He hovers over you, picking your legs up on the way.

"Is this fine? I don't want to hurt you." And you nod as an answer. How in the fuck is this man a mafia boss. You'd never been with a man this caring.

He unzips your zipper and slides the dress down your body, with your help. The sight he's met with was like something from a wet dream. You, with a naked chest, in front of him lying in his bed. He slips your dress off, pulling your thong off along with it.

"So fijn…" He coos as his hands wander on your body. When his hands land on your bare chest you look up at his wide eyes. Your hands reach for his, grabbing them and holding your breasts with him. You gasp at the feeling of his rugged hands on you sliding along your sides, finding their way lower down. He leans into your heat, giving your clit a light kiss, looking at you for permission to dive in. As soon as you nod, he sticks his tongue out and tastes you. The taste makes him moan out loud. He's sure the guards downstairs can hear his sounds but he doesn't care at the moment.

"Taste so good, princess." He says as he laps his tongue around your clit and down to your pulsating hole, teasing it with his tongue. He continues eating you out as his finger works wonders on your clit. You try to cum quietly but you're unable to when Max sucks your clit into his mouth while adding two fingers into your sopping cunt.

You announce your orgasm, "I'm cumming!" and grab a hold of Max's hair to bring him impossibly closer as you cum all over his face.

"My turn." Max growls and pulls you up on your knees, as he quickly pulls his pants down to his knees. You see the outline of his dick in his underwear. You get the hint and pull his briefs down, and his dick springs out, making your mouth water. It was above average but not too big. He had more girth than length, and the head was pink and… puffy? For lack of a better word.

You instinctively open your mouth and stick your tongue out, giving max full access to your mouth. He doesn't waste a second and sticks his cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat instantly. You gag, but he doesn't stop. He wasn't rough per se, he was still attentive and stopped when you started struggling.

"Taking me so well…" He breathes out as he pushes himself into your gape again.

"Do you think you're ready to take my cock?" He asks.

You let his length go with a pop and nod.

He positions you under him, with your legs placed on his shoulders. "Do we need to use protection?" He asks.

"I'm clean and I've got an IUD."

"Good, let me know if I'm too rough."

And with that, he slides his cock through your lips and teases your entrance. Finally, his tip finds its way home, and you yelp out at the feeling of the intrusion. He slowly pushes his whole length into you while you try to breath through the feeling of him stretching you out. He gives you a break for you to adjust to his size.

"You okay?" He checks in.

"Yeah… Please move."

Max slides his length out, leaving only the tip inside of you, and pistons his way inside of you again.

"Oh god… So big." You moan.

He chuckles and increases the pace. You can't help yourself, and moan out in pure enjoyment.

"Shhhh…" He shushes you, putting his hand over your mouth.

He increases the pace even further and you squeeze your eyes shut in another toe-curling orgasm. Max doesn't stop though, and continues destroying your dripping pussy.

"Come here…" He pulls you up and you watch him lie down, and get on top. You grab his dick and guide it to your entrance. At this point, you're so wet that it slides in without any resistance.

You start riding his cock at a slow pace, making Max grunt in desperation. He grabs your hips, trying to set a quicker pace but you're having none of it. You slap his hands away and continue at your own pace.

Your pace quickens when you feel Max twitching in you, spilling his seed inside your pussy. He groans out every last drop that he has to give and pulls you down to his chest, peppering your face with kisses as you giggle at his antics.

"I love you." He admits as he stares into your eyes with a warmness in his eyes, something that you hadn't seen before.

When you part, he studies your pussy as his cum drips out, playing with it and stuffing it inside of you again.

You're exhausted after the nights activities and you collapse on the bed, falling asleep within a minute.

You're awakened by birds chirping and chattering. Your vision is blurry but you see the outline of Max on the other side of the bed. You stretch your body and hum happily, having last night's happenings fresh in your mind.

"Come here, Max… It's too early to be up."

It wasn't, but you'd gotten used to sleeping in over the last couple of months.

"Good morning, mijn schat." He coos as he walks over to you, kneeling on the bed. He gives you a quick peck before he pulls on your arm carefully, encouraging you to get up while you grunt, still plagued by exhaustion. "I guarantee pancakes if you get up." You look up at him and spring up from bed, suddenly not feeling tired at all anymore.

When you're done with your morning routine, you walk out of the bathroom and see Max getting dressed, with his back to you. You're shocked to see 5 small dents on his back, making you walk closer to inspect. As you trace your hand along his strong back muscles, he tense up.

"Stop that, Y/N." Max asks sternly.

"Why?" You tease.

"I said stop it!" He turns around and grabs your hands, holding them in his strong hold.

You yelp. "You're hurting me!"

As soon as he hears that, he immediately lets you go. His change in mood makes you take a few steps back in fear.

"I'm so sorry, liefje… I just c-"

"Don't touch me." You warn him holding your pointer finger up.

"Please, let me explain. I'm sure you can guess what those marks are. You see, Y/N, I'm not proud of what I am. Those marks remind me of what a monster I really am."

Your heart melts when you hear the man in front of you talk that way about himself. The usually so hard and masculine man is suddenly small and showing emotion. You see his eyes watering, looking fondly at you.

"Oh, Max…" You walk up and hug him, while he hugs you back with a tight grip.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He sobs into your shoulder.

"I know, I know." You comfort him. You lead him to the bed, making him lie down while you lie down on top of him, grounding the man.

After lying like that for what feels like a minute but surely was more like 10 minutes, Max lifts you up, smiling.

"Thank you, mijn schat. You're so kind to me, despite my flaws. Now, didn't I just promise you pancakes?"

You get up and strut down to the kitchen, smiling and laughing, happy with the fact that Max was making you one of your favourite breakfast dishes. In the end, you had to give him some assistance, men are bad at multitasking, but you didn't mind at all. The teamwork made them taste even better.

The guards are no where to be seen so you and Max get to enjoy your breakfast in piece on the porch, enjoying the view over his garden.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 2

(A/N) Ehehehe. Hahahaha. Muhahahaha. That's all. Have a great day.

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: fluff and a bit of angst

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You continued to think about Simon and Millie the entire way home and even when you lay in bed, trying to sleep, your mind kept replaying the events of the evening. After tossing and turning for hours, you gave up and got out of bed. If you couldn’t sleep, you could at least be productive.

One look at the clock told you that it was already two a.m. and you’d have to get up and leave in a few hours anyway, so why not do it earlier? Plus, you still had cleanup left from yesterday - might as well get a headstart on that.

As soon as you entered your bakery, you turned on the coffee machine, knowing you would need the energy throughout the day. After flipping on all the lights, you put on your apron and started to prepare the baked goods you needed for the day. Different kinds of bread, rolls, and sweets - all freshly prepared in the morning. By the time most of the goods were in the different ovens, Mary entered the bakery, surprise clear on her face.

“What are you doing here so early?”

You smiled at her from your position at the sink, rinsing everything before putting it in the industrial dishwasher.

“Couldn’t sleep. Plus I didn’t finish cleanup yesterday. Thought I could do that instead of tossing and turning.”

She chuckled and nodded in understanding, quickly getting ready to help you. Mary was an older woman in her late 70s. She came by a few weeks after you opened and the two of you quickly fell into a friendship. Since then, she’d come by every morning and help you prepare for the day. She made her famous salads, a favorite amongst your regulars and something only she could make. You tried it once, with her recipe, when she was sick, but it just didn’t taste the same.

The pair of you worked side by side in silence, quiet music floating through the air as you mopped the floors and she cut the different ingredients. You quickly got lost in your own world, Simon’s face appearing in front of your eyes more often than you’d care to admit. Mary had to call your name three times before you registered her voice. You quickly spun to look at her, humming in acknowledgment.

“There is a gentleman outside. He’s been waiting and staring for a few minutes now.”

You turned to look and to your surprise, you saw Simon. He was wearing a thick wool coat over a black suit, his hands hidden behind his back. With wide eyes, you put the mop in a corner and rushed to the door, opening it and ushering him inside, baffled that he had waited in the cold, instead of just knocking on the door.

“Simon! What…What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you, slowly bringing his hands out from behind his back, a large bouquet of different wildflowers in his hands.

“I wanted to thank you again, that you took care of Millie yesterday.”

You felt yourself blush as he gazed at you, holding the bouquet for you to take. With shaky hands, you did, feeling the weight of it settle against your fingers. Your eyes flickered up and you blinked a few times, not sure what to say. It was the first time you had ever received a bouquet, not to mention such a gorgeous one. And how did he know that you preferred wildflowers over roses and tulips?

You started stammering out something akin to ‘thank you’ when Mary interrupted you, swooping in and rescuing you.

“Oh, that is lovely.”

She looked at you with pointed eyes, mumbling your name.

“Why don’t you introduce me to this gentleman?”

That kicked you back into action and you nodded, eyes flickering between Simon and Mary.

“Right. Mary, this is Simon. Simon, Mary. Simon’s daughter Millie got lost yesterday and found her way here, I took care of her for a bit until Simon came by.”

With an understanding smile, Mary reached out and shook Simon’s hand.

“I see. Well, it is very nice to meet you, Simon.”

Mary turned to you and gently took the bouquet.

“I’ll find a vase for those.”

You nodded and quickly thanked her, watching until she disappeared into the kitchen. Then you turned back to Simon, who was still staring at you.

“I…Thank you, it really wasn’t necessary.”

He shook his head and took a step closer. Immediately, you could smell him - a mix of cigarettes and gunpowder and wood. And while you usually couldn’t stand the smell of cigarettes, it fit him and you didn’t mind one bit as long as it was him that smelt like it.

“Nothing I could do would ever be enough to show you how grateful I am for last evening. I’m sure you have figured out who I am by now, and if any of my enemies would have gotten a hold of Millie, they…she…”

Rage and fear filled his eyes as his hands shook from the strength with which he clenched them into fists. You instinctively reached out, holding one of his fists with both of your hands.

“They didn’t. And that is all that matters, right?”

He slowly nodded, softness returning to his eyes as they flickered to look at your hands still holding his. You quickly let go, but before you could pull them back, he caught them in his, gently squeezing. Heat returned to your cheeks as you stood there, him holding your hands, a soft smile on his face. It felt serene as if the world melted away and only the two of you were left, but the moment just had to get ruined when the alarm you had set on your phone.

A quiet groan escaped you, as you fished the phone out of your pocket and turned it off, letting go of Simon’s hands in the progress. He chuckled as he watched you grumble something incoherent, before glancing up at him.

“I have to…”

He nodded and leaned closer, pressing his lips to your temple again, before pulling away and with one last smile, left the bakery, glancing back once. You again watched until you could no longer see him before you returned to the kitchen, where Mary waited, a smirk on her face.

“He sure is handsome.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you returned to your work, leaving the statement uncommented. After all, it was true and there was nothing you could add.

The rest of your day went by as usual. Once you opened, Mary left, and you started serving customers. You couldn’t lie, you spent the whole day, hoping Simon and Millie would walk through the door, but they didn’t. And neither did they the following day. Or the one after that.

After an entire week went by without so much as a whisper from them, you gave up, accepting that all Simon did probably meant nothing to him and he just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t report him to the police.

You had just finished up cleaning when the bell over the door rang out again and hope filled your heart. With a wide smile, you rushed into the salesroom, but it wasn’t Simon waiting for you. Nor Millie. It was a group of four individuals, all of them wearing long, black coats and suits. They looked similar to Simon but…their presence felt off. They looked around, the grins on their faces way too smug and there was no kindness in their eyes.

“C-Can I help you?”

You hated the way your voice trembled and clenched your fists, trying to get your emotions under control. The one in front looked up, his grin turning sinister.

“Ah. You are the little bird Riley has grown fond of, aren’t you?”

He had a German accent, something you rarely encountered. The way he said ‘Riley’ sent a chill down your spine and you slowly took a step back.

“What do you want?”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes dragging over your form before a single word left his lips.

“You.”

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @lunamoonbby @distinguishedprincesstrash (Couldn't leave you two hungry for too long)

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[lo1k-diamonds]

💎Masterlist💎

All my writing can be found on ao3 and there’s no way I’m putting my gigantic stories here 🙈😅

That said, I’ll still put here the list with all my stories and links to find them!

[All my stories have angst - from just a misunderstanding to full-blown out-of-proportion fights 😋]

🔥 » SMUT | 📚 » multichapter | 🎀 » fluff [G- general/T- teen/M-mature/E-explicit]

Series

Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) >> [Masterpost] >> In this soulmate alternative universe, there are no marks, no strings, and no traces to guide them to their other half. But if they listen carefully, destiny is just around the corner patiently waiting to mix them in the soul palette and create universes - together.

SX Seoul >> [Masterpost] >> SX Seoul is a new club in Itaewon. Decorated with neon lights, its cozy and enveloping ambiance will have you living your wildest dreams. Each story is standalone - one per member!

RM 

Unique (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ

Part 1: After overhearing something he shouldn’t have, Namjoon promises to make it up to the bride by keeping her maid of honor company during the rehearsal dinner party. What was supposed to be an unremarkable night became something so much more. [Tumblr]

Part 2: It’s a year later when Angie decides to visit Hyejin, both women looking to get away from their problems. But a certain group is just pausing their tour, and old feelings are rekindled when their paths cross.

Klartraum (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ - AU » A story that follows Namjoon as he takes notes of his dreams of you in a dream journal.

Smoke Sprite (M) 🔥 - idol!Namjoon x So!YoON! - A short drabble about the song [Tumblr]

Closer (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » NJ x Reader » Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark. [Tumblr]

Jin

Carnation (T)📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (1st entry)» OC x idol!SJ » In early 2018, BTS were at a crossroads: after working so hard to set foot in the music industry of South Korea, their sudden jump into stardom became something they never anticipated. Jin believed in his dongsaengs but was just as lost as them when his soulmate entered the picture. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Break-line (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Jin x Reader » You’ve been chasing dreams and medals ever since you can remember, with your best friend Seokjin by your side. You thought you had everything you could possibly want — until you find out Jin is keeping a secret from you. [Tumblr]

Suga

Call you mine (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (3rd entry)» OC x idol!YG » A slowburn rejection soulmate story about falling in love with Min Yoongi. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Sugar Rush Ride (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » YG x Reader » You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party. [Tumblr]

Too Sweet (E) 🔥📚 » You x Demon!YG » Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want? [Masterpost]

Stellar Behavior (E) 🔥📚 » Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader »  Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.[Masterpost]

J-hope

Seeking the sunrise (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (2nd entry)» OC x idol!HS » No one needs a soulmate to have love, right? [1st Chapter - Tumblr]

Jimin

Dress (E) 🔥 - OC x idol!JM » After pining for years, she has reached her breaking point — and it started with a dress. [Reader version - Tumblr]

Like Crazy (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » JM x Reader » You let your desires run wild and things got too far while figuring out the choreography for Jimin’s next single. You thought it was best to pretend it never happened, but he decided to chase you, hoping to set things right. [Tumblr]

V

Love Crumbs (M) 📚 - OC x Office!Tae - Office AU » Quinn’s plans were simple: win that promotion and maybe have a little fun on the side. Taehyung was in love with someone else, but that wasn’t an issue. It’s a shame things are never really that simple.

A woman's best friend (E) 🔥 - Tae x (f) reader » When you met, you and Taehyung hit it off instantly, becoming the closest of friends. You thought he was off limits, meanwhile, he’s been begging for a chance to put an end to your friendship. [Tumblr]

Paramour (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Tae x (f) reader » You were born for the quick and glamorous life surrounding celebrities — they had their little dramas and breakdowns, and you were there to clean up the mess. But you have your own secret, and doing your job might get you in trouble with your paramour. [Tumblr]

Jungkook

Far Cry (E)🔥📚 - OC x idol!JK - Lost AU » After barely escaping captivity, Jungkook is lost in a jungle on an unknown island with an injured Namjoon and an amnesiac girl. {ongoing 💜} [1st Chapter - Tumblr] ➡ snippets

Standing Next to You (M) 🔥 - You x Demon!JK - MV based » JK is a lust demon — a powerful being that inflames desires at the simplest glance. That is his nature and all there is to his existence. Until there was you.

Bubbles (E) 🔥📚 - SX Seoul Series » JK x Reader » You’re back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes. - [Part 1] [Part 2]

How to Choose a Valentine (T) 🎀 - reader x idol!JK » Who knew the best company for Valentine’s Day would be a lovely Doberman? And who knew he’d get you a Valentine? Well, sort of. [Tumblr]

Be as it must (E) 🔥📚 » Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader »  It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?[Masterpost]

[lalaballa]

They (=miles and alex) indulge in a love affair (bad habits), the music industry (=mafia boss) oppresses them (aviation), so they are forced to stay hidden (=buried in the sand, eycte) and continue their relationship in the dark (miracle aligner, especially the ending)

What if the eycte mv tetralogy is their story 🥹

[awfulmidis]

Lost Media Found! I knew my cousin vin and said he found this game that was said be buried in sadam andler's closet. an unknown gem, known as nedm. people, and omong gamesters, know this today as "not even doom music", as stated to be a hidden pilgrim of the Meme. But in truth there has been no real answer what nedm stood for. I say it is Nintendo Entertain Dumbo Mondo! Because it was told this was one of those games id software sold their engine to and made a s****y super nintendo shooter!!wtf!?! but in truth it was just a bootleg port for the it made from New Germany. Well anyways we dug a bit deeper on this conntecting the schemy publisher of the bootleg beeing SlyEye, a third-party coop. Ties with Segtendo, idk, idc. Point being they owned the dev team GIGABAD Studio, a colleges dorm squad formed in florida. Know a guy know a guy situation between John Carmack and and Tommy Tallirico (what a bambino!) Vin played the game on Lint.tv and some of the original devs showed up! They talked about how they sold the license to the game for fucking 50k euros. I'm American so I can't get those numbers working at the moment but that's a wallop of fondue! They legit moved onto working in the industry on the side, like the type of guys you'd see in the credits but in the smallest of all texts scrolling by after a 70$ AAA game. They did mention that the bootleg is a complete botched port and the original game made for DOS-MS was vastly different in everywway, so far as saying it's as good as DOOM was but more. This was sort of a small team trying to make it big but gets swindled by the last minute type of crud. Somehow no different than the Action 52/Cheetahmen situation. They even said they had a whole comic that came with the game it was supposed to be shipped with, saying it was like a 1-to-1 story mode as the game goes on. Not a lot info spread aferwards, the stream got cut due to a DMCA takedown from the band Jerry Flintstone from copyright infringement, which alas was just a false auto flag. very luckily i was recording cousin Vinstripe, The Mafia Gamer play this game and paused to listen to the music. This was said to be the final boss's theme song or one of many. the dev said they don't know who made this. they only went by the intitials. A.M.

[ excuse the quality my roommate was downloading deadlock on steam without the thottling so it sounds like an aol.voice chat =[ ]

[nayziiz]

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Amelia's father, Harold Rossi, had built his family business with a steadfast commitment to integrity and cleanliness. As the head of the powerful Rossi Enterprise Holdings, he understood the potential profits that could be reaped by engaging in questionable dealings, yet he chose to walk the moral high ground. His priority was his daughter and only child, Amelia, and he went to great lengths to ensure her safety.

Harold Rossi's unwavering commitment to ethical business practices shaped not only the trajectory of his enterprise but also the upbringing of his daughter, Amelia. The rejection of lucrative deals, each one carrying the promise of substantial wealth, left a lingering bitterness in Harold's mouth. Yet, he remained resolute in prioritising the safety and well-being of his only child.

Amelia, in turn, spent countless nights in her teenage years immersed in her father's office. Reading through contracts and listening to recorded business meetings became second nature to her. Every facet of her father's business, every decision made in the pursuit of integrity, became ingrained in her understanding. Harold was moulding her into the future leader of his empire, and she absorbed the knowledge with the diligence of a determined heiress.

Despite her father's faith in her capabilities, scepticism lingered in the eyes of Amelia's mother. A dedicated wife and mother with few personal pursuits, she harboured reservations about Amelia's ability to take the reins of the family business. However, from a tender age, Amelia harboured an unyielding desire for control and power, traits she admired in her father. Her ambition set her on a path to prove her mettle in a world where expectations for women were often limiting.

Upon graduating from university, Harold presented Amelia with a substantial challenge—a small, second-hand car dealership. It was a test, a gesture aimed at allowing her to prove herself in the realm of business. Undeterred, Amelia transformed the modest dealership into a bastion of luxury vehicles, leveraging her business acumen to establish a prominent presence in the London automotive scene.

Everyone who mattered in the city knew Amelia by name, recognizing her as a force to be reckoned with. Her ability to secure coveted vehicles and her extensive network of contacts became legendary. Importantly, she achieved this without seeking her father's assistance, proving that her success at the dealership was a testament to her own entrepreneurial skills.

Lando, in stark contrast to Amelia's focused and specialised approach, had cast his influence across a diverse array of industries. From music to nightclubs, motorsports teams to golf, and electronics to security, Lando's ventures were as eclectic as his charismatic personality. Despite his multifaceted business portfolio, he never forgot the bonds forged during his school years, especially with Amelia.

Upon learning about Amelia's foray into the business world, Lando extended numerous offers to involve her in his ventures. However, Amelia, driven by her determination to prove herself independently, consistently declined his invitations. While she valued his advice and listened to his proposals, she was hesitant to align herself with Lando's expansive empire.

Amelia's reluctance to accept Lando's assistance stemmed from a desire to break free from her father's imposing shadow. The limitations imposed by her familial ties made expanding her business a challenging task. She faced a dilemma – either seek her father's aid, which came with its own set of constraints, or explore alternative means, even if they involved engaging in less-than-savoury deals on the side.

Despite the potential moral complexities, Amelia's decision to embark on a less conventional path was not a compromise of her principles. Rather, it was a testament to her unwavering commitment to proving herself in the fiercely competitive business world. Recognizing her struggle, Lando offered not a handout, but a genuine partnership. Their shared history of navigating rough waters during their school years built a foundation of trust between them.

Lando understood the challenges ahead, aware that Amelia's journey towards expansion would not be without hurdles. However, he believed in her capabilities and resilience. The partnership they forged was built on mutual trust and a shared understanding that success would be hard-earned. Lando's involvement wasn't just about the financial benefits for both parties; it was a commitment to standing by Amelia's side as she ventured into uncharted territories. As Amelia delved into a world beyond her father's confines, she found an ally in Lando who recognized her potential and trusted her instincts.

The pulsating heartbeat of London's nightlife reverberated through the streets as Lando and Amelia emerged from her office in the dealership. Their first shipment to Monte Carlo had been a meticulously planned operation, executed with precision and finesse. The three Ferraris, symbols of luxury and opulence, had been transformed into vessels of secrecy, their interiors carefully packed with the requested cargo. Lando and Amelia had spared no expense in ensuring that every detail was attended to, from the placement of the hidden compartments to the timing of the delivery.

As the cars navigated the labyrinthine streets of Monte Carlo, they moved with the silent grace of phantoms, their sleek exteriors betraying no hint of the valuable cargo concealed within. It was a delicate dance, navigating the bustling city under the cover of darkness, but Lando and Amelia had anticipated every possible obstacle and contingency. Lando’s expertise in the underworld of illicit dealings had served them well, allowing their shipment to evade detection and reach their destination unscathed.

For Lando and Amelia, the success of their first shipment was both a triumph and a relief. It was validation of their skills and capabilities, a testament to their ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld. As they received photos of the Ferraris and their contents safely delivered to their destination, a sense of pride washed over them.

Their destination for celebrations was one of Lando's exclusive clubs nestled in the heart of London's East End. The club, a hidden gem known only to those in the inner circles of London's nightlife, exuded an air of exclusivity and mystery.

As Lando and Amelia made their way through the bustling streets of the East End, the anticipation of the night ahead hung in the air like a palpable energy. The club beckoned to them like a siren's call, its entrance discreetly tucked away from prying eyes, accessible only to those who knew where to look.

Upon arriving at the club, Lando and Amelia were greeted with nods of recognition and whispers of admiration. It was a familiar scene for Lando, who moved through the club with the effortless grace of a seasoned host. Amelia, though less accustomed to the spotlight, found herself drawn into the whirlwind of excitement and energy that surrounded them.

Inside, the club was a symphony of lights and sounds, the air alive with the pulsating rhythm of music and laughter. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the promise of a night filled with revelry and indulgence.

Lando's gaze swept across the crowded dance floor until it settled on Zara, perched gracefully at the bar, a vision of elegance amidst the pulsating lights and swirling colours. She sipped delicately on a pink cocktail, her slender fingers wrapped around the glass with effortless poise. With her long, lithe frame and striking features, she exuded an aura of confidence and allure that was impossible to ignore.

As Lando approached, a smile playing on his lips, Zara turned to greet him with a warmth that matched her beauty. Their exchange was easy and familiar. But as Amelia joined them, her insecurities threatened to overshadow the moment for her.

Standing alongside Zara, the contrast between them was stark. Where Zara was tall and statuesque, Amelia felt small and insignificant. Where Zara exuded an air of effortless glamour, Amelia couldn't help but feel plain and ordinary by comparison.

The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface threatened to boil over as Lando's attention shifted between the two women. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, Amelia couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that gnawed at her from within.

Amelia found herself in an all-too-familiar situation, struggling to connect with Zara as they sat together at the bar. Despite her best efforts, the conversation between them faltered, stumbling over the awkward silences that hung heavy in the air.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Amelia's part. She searched desperately for common ground, grasping at straws in an attempt to bridge the gap between them. But try as she might, she couldn't shake the feeling that she and Zara were worlds apart, their lives and interests diverging in ways that seemed insurmountable.

Zara, with her effortless charm and easy confidence, seemed to effortlessly navigate the social dynamics of the club. She was surrounded by admirers, her laughter ringing out like a melody in the crowded room. In contrast, Amelia felt like an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

As the night wore on, the gulf between them widened, each passing moment serving as a painful reminder of their differences. They had nearly nothing in common to speak about, no shared experiences or interests to bond over. Try as she might, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong in Zara's world, a world of beauty and glamour that felt foreign and inaccessible.

In the midst of the chaos and noise of the club, Amelia couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. She longed for the easy companionship of her male friends, for the camaraderie and understanding that came so naturally to her in their presence. But with Zara, she felt like an outsider, an intruder in a world that she could never truly be a part of.

As Lando and Zara slipped away to dance together, leaving Amelia alone at the bar, a wave of loneliness washed over her. She watched them disappear into the crowd, their laughter and easy banter a painful reminder of her own insecurities.

Taking a seat at the bar, Amelia felt the weight of her solitude pressing down on her shoulders. She longed for the familiar presence of Charles, one of few people who had always seen her for who she truly was, flaws and all. In his absence, she couldn't help but feel adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and doubt.

Closing her eyes, she summoned memories of their time together, the moments of laughter and connection that had anchored her in times of turmoil. Charles had a way of making her feel seen and valued, of reminding her of her own brilliance even when she struggled to see it herself.

As she nursed her drink, Amelia couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy that plagued her. She knew she was capable of so much more than she gave herself credit for, but in that moment, surrounded by the glittering lights and pulsating music of the club, it was easy to lose sight of her own worth.

With a heavy sigh, Amelia wished that Charles was there beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. She longed for his reassuring words and gentle touch, the reminder that she was enough just as she was.

But as the night wore on and the music swelled around her, Amelia knew that she would have to find the strength to face her insecurities on her own. She couldn't rely on Charles or anyone else to validate her worth; she had to find it within herself.

As Lando returned to find Amelia at the bar, a sense of relief washed over him. The weight of their successful shipment lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a buoyant euphoria that seemed to permeate the very air around them. The liberating effects of alcohol only served to enhance the surreal glow of the night in Monaco. Leaning against the bar beside Amelia, Lando raised his half-empty glass of champagne in a toast.

“To successful partnerships.” he declared, the words carrying a weight of gratitude and accomplishment.

Amelia smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. She clinked her glass against Lando's, the sound echoing through the bustling atmosphere of the bar.

“And to keeping secrets.” he added with a sly grin.

Dazed and enveloped in the euphoria of their success, Lando leaned in and pressed a reassuring kiss against Amelia's cheek, a silent acknowledgment of their shared triumph. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they savoured the warmth of the moment, the weight of their unspoken bond hanging in the air between them.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and Lando disappeared once more into the swirling crowd of revellers. Amelia watched him go, a sense of exhaustion washing over her like a tidal wave. The day's tension had taken its toll, leaving her feeling drained and in need of solitude.

Without a word, Amelia slipped quietly out of the club, her footsteps echoing against the pavement as she made her way into the cool night air. She didn't look back, her mind consumed with thoughts of rest and respite.

As she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Lando and Zara to continue their own celebrations, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in her heart. It wasn't jealousy or resentment that plagued her, but a sense of loneliness that seemed to settle over her like a heavy cloak.

[nikosaki]

Summary: your mafia boyfriend loves you a lot you are glad for it too. But singing has taken up your life a lot and you’re insecure whether you actually inspire people in the music industry or not. So why not spend your final moments with your lover?

Genre: romance, fluff

Wanrings: death, signs of depression, reader is a famous singer A/n: SO EXCITED FOR DIS AAAH

The world shone infront of you cheering as you sang your voice out like a soft melody, and in that crowd you could see your boyfriend, chuuya smiling adoringly at you.

Oh how you wish you could tell him the truth

This is still in unfinished draft but I promise you that this will be really well written and extra long so please wait patiently.!

[mx-defying]

🔍The Kardashians’ journey from Hollywood’s shadowy backrooms to cultural dominance reveals a deep legacy of payola, power, & key alliances. Can they leverage this influence for justice, or will they protect the criminals who ruined their father? 🌐

[anamelessfool]

extremely fast playing around drawing of Pre-Apocalypse May June in her iconic costume from Cityslicker Sweetheart (released 2073)

Pinstripe Suit inspired by 1950s wool suit by Christian Dior

born Mabel Blaszkiewicz April 4, 2042. Utica, NY

Loved to sing all her life. Gifted student. Discovered when working at the perfume counter at a Utica Department store by a Hollywood exec visiting his mother-in-law for the Christmas holidays. Dropped her dreams of poli-sci academia for Hollywood fame.

Got her 15 minutes of fame recording industrial musicals for Vault-Tech through their newly acquired StarTone Records label. (Ok one thing I really wanna see in this Fallout show is a Vault-Tech industrial musical. Holy hell those are great)

Starred alongside Cooper Howard in the Western/Mafia Crossover Musical film City Slicker Sweetheart. She played Marina Bellafonte, Mafia princess forced to live out west in Witness Protection due to her dastardly capo boyfriend Antonio. (She was picked because she's sorta from New York) Was a total bomb.

Her plan to be vaporized by the initial atomic bombs while relaxing poolside unfortunately failed. She's been a ghoul ever since. She can't sing anymore but as Mayor of Stumptown she's finally taken seriously.

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 1

Pairing: Mafia!Boss Bucky x f! reader

A/N- Deep breath. Promised myself I would jump and publish this today, so here we go. This is a completely different story than any of the others I’ve written. Please read all warnings before proceeding- this is not the universe you’re used to me writing in if you’re familiar with my other stories. THIS IS NSFW, REPEAT, THIS IS NSFW. DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER OR THE STORY. It’s my first time publishing anything in this world, let’s see what happens. There is a lot of world-building in this chapter, just hang with me, okay? And for the record- I fully support anyone who chooses to use their body in whatever industry they choose. You do you, babe, and I love you for it.  

Warnings for this chapter: f! reader, reader is an exotic dancer, some slight angst, swearing, fake names. 

Story Warnings: Mafia Boss Bucky and all that comes with that, and a lot of smut, slow burn relationship. Reader has a pet name that she will primarily be referred to as through the story, but there will be a moment of Y/N. 

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION TO HAVE MY WORK COPIED, PRINTED OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. MINORS DNI- 18+ONLY. Likes, comments, and reblogs deeply appreciated from age appropriate readers. 

Chapter 1

Flash ‘em that sweet, seductive smile....and done. Music fades- thank god. 

The crowd went nuts. You turned like you were going to exit, stopping to slip your thumb along the side seam of the tiny black lace thong you were wearing- just about all you were left wearing at this point- and a downpour of dollar bills fluttered onto the stage as the roaring of the crowd grew. It technically wasn’t against the rules to make them THINK you were going to take the thong off- just as long as you didn’t actually do it- and it always got you more tips. C’est la vie. You fluttered your fingers over your shoulder as Rhodey announced your stage name again over the mic, and you made your exit to uproarious applause. 

You managed to suppress your eye roll until you were back behind the shimmery silver mylar curtain. Sprite the stage hand darted out to gather your clothes and tips as the lights dimmed over the runway you had just vacated. You snatched the robe you had left on the hook back there and quickly covered up. It had been just your luck to draw the short straw tonight and have to perform to “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. You used to like that song, but ever since you had to take this job, you’d come to hate it. All the women who worked here hated the song. They heard it every freaking shift. But there was something about it that just made their clients go feral. So every night, someone had to dance to it, and tonight had been your unlucky night. 

You stretched your neck from side to side, trying to keep the frustration inwards and off your face. You’d been told many times by the other girls that you wore your heart on your sleeve. You’d always been a highly emotional person, acting on your feelings first. So you worked doubly hard to keep up the smile while you were onstage. The girls who smiled and played nice always made more money. And god knows you needed that money. 

You had moved to New York City with the same big dreams every kid in the midwest had. You were going to be a professional dancer. Maybe in the ballet, maybe a Rockette, maybe on Broadway. You didn’t care where- you just wanted to dance. You’d thrown your life into training since the age of four, taking any and every class you possibly could. You’d placed top of your rank in competitions, gotten leads in your school recitals and musicals, even gotten a scholarship- nothing could stop you. Except the harsh realities of trying to be a working performer in New York. 

That’s how you ended up at Voulez Vous two weeks ago. They were advertising for specialty “dancers” and you had been desperate, not having had a gig in at least a month with rent being very much due. Voulez Vous was the most upscale strip club in New York City. Much to your surprise, you’d loved it instantly. This place was fantastic. Clean, professional, positive work environment. A lot nicer than some of the other dancing gigs you’d gotten. Taking off your clothes wasn’t that big of a deal to you, especially after some of your...past extracurricular activities. And you still got to dance here- after a fashion. 

They treated each other wonderfully. Most of the other girls were friendly and sweet. Natasha Romanoff was the best boss you’d ever had; kind, loyal, but firm and no nonsense when she needed to be. The pay was incredible, not to mention the tips. It was the only way you were surviving in New York while still trying to go on as many auditions as possible. The late nights of your job made it a challenge, but you were determined. So you put on a carefully crafted and seductive smile every night, pretended you were onstage at Radio City Music Hall, and danced your heart out while dropping your clothes on the stage. So your dreams had to change a little; you could do this. 

But it didn’t change the fact that dancing to ‘Cherry Pie’ still SUCKED. 

Just as you angrily tied the sash of your robe, Gamora came up to you, a sympathetic smile on her face. She held out a bottle of water to you. “Thanks,” you said, trying to force the fake smile back on your face. Gamora and you had become close over the past two weeks- she was sarcastic and sweet, with a fierceness that you could only envy. 

She huffed a kind laugh at your attempt to hide your feelings about getting saddled with ‘Cherry Pie’. “Sorry that you ended up stuck with that song tonight, but girl, you KILLED it,” she said, taking off her own robe and hanging it on the hook yours had just recently occupied. “You have got to teach me that leg thing you do. They are losing their damn minds every time you pull that out.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s becoming my signature move,” you said, a little proudly, trying to keep up the smile. “I wasn’t sure where to throw it in- did it work on that high note part?”

“God, that was perfect timing. You nailed it, baby. And now, just think! You’re out of the drawing pool on that song for at least a week!”

That cheered you up instantly, causing you to actually smile. She grinned back. “Atta girl,” she said, gently slugging you on the shoulder. “Listen, rumor has it there’s a new round of dancer auditions over at Zemo Studios in a couple days. You should totally go.” Before you could say anything, Rhodey announced Gamora’s number. “Thank me later,” she hissed with a grin before bursting her way through the silver mylar curtain to loud cheers. 

You shook your head, but couldn’t help smiling. Gamora was always looking out for you, even on those days where you weren’t so great at looking after yourself. Sprite came hustling offstage, narrowly avoiding Gamora and handing you a wad of crumpled bills. “Here you go, Miss Angel,” she said with her typical mischievous grin. She looked like she was about twelve and straight out of Neverland, but Natasha had assured you she was overage and just incredibly genetically lucky. You smiled, peeled off a ten, and handed it to her. Sprite’s grin grew- you always tipped her well.

“Thank you Sprite,” you said quietly, then made your way back to the dressing rooms. You were so focused on turning the bills the correct way and putting them in monetary order that you nearly ran right into your boss. 

“Whoa,” Natasha said, grabbing you by the shoulders so you didn’t collide. You looked up quickly, nervous. “Where’s the fire, babe?”

“Oh shit, sorry Ms. Romanoff,” you gasped, both from the surprise and the immediate guilt welling up in you. You should have been watching where you were going, idiot, you hissed at yourself. You nearly plowed your boss over, moron. What if she thought you were intentionally being rude or disrespectful or-

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Natasha laughed, trying to calm the panic on your face. She knew that you were still nervous after only being here two weeks. She rubbed your arms kindly. “And please- call me Natasha, okay? I promise it’s alright.”

“Right. Sorry. Again.”

“No problem. C’mere, I have something I need to tell you,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the dressing rooms. You tried not to be nervous- the boss wanting to talk to you mid shift never seemed like a good thing, but Natasha was cool as a cucumber, so it couldn’t be anything that bad, right? You followed the petite red head into the small dressing area. As soon as the door was closed, she immediately turned to face you. 

“Okay, I know you’re still new here, and I don’t want to freak you out, but...you’ve got a booking in the VIP Champagne Room. Right now.” 

Your heart stopped. Oh god. The Champagne Room. You knew the club had a whole section of them but you had never been booked in one yet. Your nerves went into overdrive and turned your veins to ice. 

Natasha took the wad of money out of your hand and sat you down in front of the dressing room mirror. She began delicately fixing your hair and your makeup from all the hair tossing and sweating you’d done during your number. 

“Trust me, honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not nearly as bad as what you’re thinking, okay? I know the guy, you’re going to be safe with him. Just...try to make a good impression, alright? He’s a frequent flyer around here. He does this with all the new girls. He likes to introduce himself, and talk to you a bit. He just wants to get to know you and make sure you’re doing okay. That’s it.”

“Uh huh,” you said faintly, staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to will the nerves away as she pulled you out of your seat, and draped a sheer lace wrap dress around your body. “Just...get to know me?” you asked quietly, hoping she’d understand what you were trying to imply. She stopped and faced you with a gentle smile, knowing you needed reassurance right now.

“The rules for the Champagne Room are always in place, no matter who it is,” Natasha said firmly, taking your ice cold hands in her warm ones. You vaguely noticed that her hands were a bit calloused- surprising on such a quiet, gentle person- but your brain was much more occupied with what she was saying. “They keep all their junk in their pants at all times. They are not allowed to touch without your consent. You can take anything- ANYTHING- you want to off, but only if YOU want to. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to do more while you’re in there, that’s your choice, and yours alone. But you are not required to. Consent is still alive and well in my clubs, and always will be, thank you very much,” she added with a little grumble at the end before letting you go and draping a fake diamond necklace around your neck.

You knew it was true. At least 3 people got tossed out every night for touching or trying to touch the performers. No one touched Natasha’s girls without their say-so. “And,” she added, as she touched up your lip gloss. “Fury will be right outside the door. If you need him, you just say the code word and he’s in the room with you immediately. But you won’t need him. Like I said, I know this guy. He wants to talk and that’s it. I swear. So just be your good girl self, and you’ll walk out of that room in one hour with more money than God.”

Before you were even close to ready, you found yourself outside the pale pink door marked ‘VIP’, Natasha whispering encouraging things in your ear that you barely heard. This was the most luxurious of the rooms in the place, so whoever it was definitely did have money, like Natasha said. You tried to remember that this was apparently a ‘thing’ for whoever this was, and tried to banish the self-hating thoughts about why anyone would pay so much money just to spend time with you. The fake diamond crusted Fuck-Me Heels you were wearing gave you confidence; fake confidence, but hell, you’d take anything you could get right now. You took a deep breath, reached out, and turned the gold door knob. You entered the room. 

And your heart began to beat in a way it never had before. 

Sitting on the expensive blue velvet chaise lounge, nursing a tumbler of bourbon, was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. The deep, ocean blue eyes caught yours immediately. Neither one of you moved as you locked gazes. His dark brown hair was cut short, nearly buzzed on the sides, with just enough on top for you someone to run your their fingers through. There was no hint of stubble on his jaw (that could clearly cut glass- it was that defined), like he’d just shaved. He was wearing an off-white suit with a black shirt, patterned with gold. His left ankle was propped up on his right knee, patiently waiting. His black leather-gloved fingers were gracefully curled around his glass, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as he slowly brought it to his sculpted and expressive mouth. After a long sip, he set the glass down on a crystal coaster sitting on the table next to him. And he gave you a seductive smile.

“Good evening, Miss Angel,” he said. The timbre of his voice made you want to both melt and snap to attention, all at the same time. There was something so...intriguing about his tone. Dominant. The notes of his voice that said this wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with, but...something more too. Something deeper. Something that made you want to melt to your knees and  bow at his feet, but prove yourself too. It was the strangest dichotomy. And you couldn’t figure it out right now- you were too busy gaping at him. “And how are you tonight?”

Suddenly remembering that you were at work and here to do a job, you recovered your own seductive smile immediately, although it was nowhere as near panty-dropping as his was. “I’m wonderful, thank you,” you purred demurely, causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. Good. He wasn’t entirely immune to your charms either. “And how are you, Mr....?”

The gorgeous man brought a gloved finger up to his lips for a moment, rubbing them as if he was thinking. He looked over at his tumbler of bourbon. “Nick,” he finally said. 

“Just Nick?” you asked shyly, determined to stay on the right foot with this guy, no matter how mind-numbingly hot he was. He grinned as he stood up, and looked back at you. 

“Ol’ Nick, if you want the full name.”

“Ol’ Nick?” you repeated in disbelief. There was no way this man was what anyone could consider “old”. 

“Yup. Ol’ Nick. Like the devil. Figured since you were “Angel”, I’d give you a name that matched yours. A...worthy adversary, if you will,” he said, one eyebrow bobbing up in a challenging way. 

A challenge. Hm. That sparked something in you. 

“How kind of you,” you said, letting your eyes twinkle at his mischievously. “I love a worthy adversary.” The corners of his gorgeous lips pulled up even more, seeing that you were playing along. “So what can I do for you, Nick?”

To Be Continued....

Chapter 2

[marinas-drafts]

|| Sarge & Lil Mama

|| Finishing What They Started ||

Blurb: 1k word count

Warnings: PG13 -Mentions of gun violence, assassination attempt, mentions of the murder of Sam Cooke, discussions about the real mob connections to record labels that threatened Cooke and others, Elvis being a protective husband and daddy, slightly misogynistic commands for a woman to give up her vocation??

Note: this is very much self indulgent for my own fascination with Sam Cooke and my theories regarding why he was shot dead in a Los Angeles motel while at the top of his fame, dismantling segregation with his performances, starting up a new label where artists owned their work and becoming publicly supportive of the likes of James Brown and Cassius Clay. He’s was RCA’s second most successful artist right behind Elvis Presley, a lovely human and an incredible artist, if you haven’t listened to him I throughly encourage you to, he’s groovy 💋 You may recall that in the proposal fic of Sarge, Elaine mentions having helped produce Cooke’s recent first record and Elvis urges her to marry him, there’s always time for music ventures after babies

Sarge & lil Mama Masterlist

February 1965

“Elvis, you don’t understand!” Elaine insists as if there’s nuance to the fact she’d just got shot at in broad daylight on Memphis’ Main Street with Jesse in her backseat.

“The hell I do!” He screams back, disheveled from the beating he’d administered her bought-off driver and gloriously beautiful in the greatest rage she’d ever seen take over him. Their sunny nursery on the top floor at Graceland was illuminated by a cheerful late winter’s sun and the pastel’s of the empty baby crib and curtains was in stark contrast to the dark mood hanging over the couple.

Elaine had gotten three shots into the windshield of the car that had done the drive-by and the Shelby county police were on a manhunt and giving Graceland’s phone an update call on the quarter hour.

Elvis hadn’t waited for no police when he’d heard shots outside the studio. Runnin’ out and finding no other culprit to get his hands on save the most recently inducted member of the Memphis Mafia who’d paused in a damn intersection plenty long enough to allow the hitmen to aim, fire and leave despite Elaine’s screams and threats. The man wasn’t recognizable in his mug shot, so swollen and bloodied was he from Elvis’ ire.

“Woman,” Elvis claws at his destroyed pompadour with gnarled hands, “you tell me our friend Sam Cooke didn’t die by accident, ya tell me he got taken out with two bullets in him and bled out on some seedy motel floor -not for some damn hooker but over y’all’s lil venture. You get your car windows blown out by a twelve gauge, my fanmail’s laced with love letters from the fuckin’ Chicago mob warnin’ us, sayin’ leave off the music level venture -or else. Ya tell me ya ain’t paranoid then ya ask me to let ya just keep at it? W-w-what do ya expect me to do, Tink? Huh? W—w-What?” he is bellowing at her by now, his terror coming out in anger, and Elaine just stares at his positively battered fists.

“E, your knuckle’s bleedin-“

“-don’t change the goddamn subject!”

“I’m not it’s just- it’s drippin.” she mutters meekly as the lemon yellow carpet specks from crimson drips.

He sticks the offending fist in his mouth and sucks at the cut before continuing, his voice shaking, “Ya tell me all this then ya insist on goin’ about your damn career! I don’t get ya. I really don’t get ya.”

“It’s not just my career, Elvis!” she begs, “It’s yours! It’s the future of dozens of independent record makers hinging on this. If I just lay back after this -we ain’t gonna have a free music industry where artists get their rights, own their work! We’ll always be payin’ up to the mob -and we ain’t ever gonna be free of Colonel without it! This is why they’re so damned scared, E, so scared they’d turn to murder! I’m doing this for us, keepin’ at it for you!”

“W-w-we got enough as is, Tink.” he whispers, eyes wide and scared for her as he looks down at her, pastel blue coat grimy and bloody as his hands, a mockery of their pristine little life. “We got enough as is, an’all that risk takin’ -i-it ain’t your job, sweetheart. That’s man's work.”

“They killed that man, Elvis.” she repeated disbelieving the truth that’s been haunting them these past two months. “They’ve killed Cooke. Our friend, my collaborator. Killed him dead. And they think they’ve got us all scared, ‘cept for me. And they tried to finish it today.”

“Yeah.” he agreed, eyes watering, “And I ain’t gonna let that happen to ya ever again, I just ain’t. Not even if I gotta chain ya to my bed.”

Elaine swallowed down the warmth she felt rush through her at his rampant protectiveness. “A couple more months and we’ll be set, we can switch you over, you’ll be independent.” she sniffles, “You won’t be beholden to the colonel. You’ll have options.”

“I-I-I d-don’t need rid of him, Tink?” he disagrees while his tone stays questioning, still unable to understand her icy animosity towards the man. “He done gave us all this!”

“-and to quote your mama, we don’t need all this.’ We never have.” Elaine replies, putting her hand over his fist as he’s walked closer to her seat on the edge of the nanny bed, “But it wasn’t him, it was you that gave us all this. He goes on like he’s connin’ the nation into lovin’ ya. What a fool. There’s not a soul on God’s green earth who didn’t love ya once they knew of ya.”

“I don’t need all them lovin’ me.” Elvis whispers, his eyes glued to her lips as he sits down beside her gingerly as if fearful he’ll hurt her while he’s still keyed up, “Jus’ you. Tink I can’t do nothin’ -nothin without ya.”

“Elvis, just give me a few months more,” she begs softly as they sway towards each other, “give me your men and guns and what else, but let me finish. For Sam. And for us.”

His nose brushes hers, long and elegant and nuzzling her cheek and the bridge of her own, nuzzling tears she didn’t notice she had shed, his breath ghosts over her parted lips.

“No.”

He answers as he slots his mouths over her own gasping one, dragging his lips over and up and to the side of her own, smooching her clean, savoring the softness of them like he nearly lost her.

Which he had. He almost had.

He grips her tighter and forces her to accept his terrified love, bending her backwards in his fervor, massive hand, so recently used to maul her attacker, now cradling the back of her neck tenderly, rubbing at the soft spots on either side of her skull.

“Elvis-“ she whimpers at the denial.

“No.” he mutters and shakes her by the neck like a kitten, “Lovin’ ya gives me enough right as it is, but I got more, you know I’ve got more reason. You're my children’s mother! You ain’t meant to be out there gettin’ shot at! Working nine to five like some sunnuvabitch’s damn Secretary. I married me a woman not a-a-“

“I’m doin’ this for us.” she insists weakly.

“And I’m the one who decides for us.” he reminds, his hand still firm on her neck and those lean, piano playin’ fingers span all the way to her pulse point, she thinks she feels pressure increasing there, “And I say no. Be my wife, Tink, be their mama. S’why I married ya.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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@ashtag2887

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@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

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@loving-elvis

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@60svintage

[reality-detective]

WIRES>]; ATTACK ON ISRAEL WAS A FALSE FLAG EVENT

_Israel with over 10,000 Spys in the military imbedded inside IRAN. Saudi Arabia and world Militaries.... Israels INTELLIGENCE Agencies, including MOSSAD which is deeply connected to CIA, MI6 .. > ALL knew the Hamas was going to attack Israel several weeks before and months ago including several hours before the attack<

_The United States knew the attack was coming was did Australia, UK. Canada, EU INTELLIGENCE...... Several satellites over Iran, Israel, Palestine and near all captured thousands of troops moving towards Israel all MAJOR INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES knew the attack was coming and news reporters (Israeli spys) in Palestine all knew the attack was coming and tried to warn Israel and the military///// >

>EVERYONE KNEW THE ATTACK WAS COMING,, INCLUDING INDIA INTELLIGENCE WHO TRIED TO CONTACT ISRAEL ( but Israel commanders and President blocked ALL calls before the attack)

_WARNING

>This attack on Israel was an inside Job, with the help of CIA. MOSSAD, MI6 and large parts of the funding 6 billion $$$$$$$ from U.S. to Iran funded the operations.

_The weapons used came from the Ukraine Black market which came from NATO,>the U.S.

The ISRAELI President and Prime minister Netanyahu ALL STOOD DOWN before the attacks began and told the Israeli INTEL and military commanders to stand down<

___

There was no intelligence error. Israeli intensionally let the stacks happen<

_______

FOG OF WAR

Both the deep state and the white hats wanted these EVENTS to take place.

BOTH the [ ds] and white hats are fighting for the future control of ISRAEL

SOURCES REPORT> " INSIDE OF ISRAELI BANKS , INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES AND UNDERGROUND BASES LAY THE WORLD INFORMATION/DATA/SERVERS ON HUMAN TRAFFICKING WORLD OPERATIONS CONNECTED TO PEDOPHILE RINGS.

]> [ EPSTEIN] was created by the MOSSAD

with the CIA MI6 and EPSTEIN got his funding from MOSSAD who was Ghislaine Maxwells father> Israeli super spy Robert Maxwell_ ( who worked for, cia and mi6 also)/////

____

The past 2 years in Israel the military has become divided much like the U.S. military who are losing hope in the government leaders and sectors. Several Revolts have tried to start but were ended quickly.

🔥 Major PANIC has been hitting the Israeli INTEL, Prime minister and military commanders community as their corruption and crimes keep getting EXPOSED and major PANIC is happening as U S. IS COMING CLOSER TO DROPPING THE EPSTEIN FILES. EPSTEIN LIST AND THE MAJOR COUNTRIES WHO DEALT WITH EPSTEIN> ESPECIALLY ISRAEL WHO CREATED EPSTEIN w/cia/mi6

_

_

____

Before EPSTEIN was arrested, he was apprehended several times by the military intelligence ALLIANCE and he was working with white hats and gave ALL INFORMATION ON CIA. MI6 . MOSSAD. JP MORGAN. WORLD BANKS. GATES. ETC ETC ECT EX ECT E TO X..>> ISRAEL<<BIG TECH

GOOGLE. FACEBOOK YOUTUBE MICROSOFT and their connection to world deep state cabal military intelligence and world control by the Elites and Globalist,<

_

This massive coming THE STORM is scaring the CIA. MOSSAD KAZARIAN MAFIA. MI6 ETC ECT . ect etc AND THEY ARE TRYING TO DESTROY ALL THE MILITARY INTELLIGENCE EVIDENCE INSIDE ISRAEL AND UNDERGROUND BUNKERS TO CONCEAL ALL THE EVIDENCE OF THE WORLD HUMAN TRAFFICKING TRADE

_ THE WORLD BIG TECH FACEBOOK GOOGLE YOUTUBE CONTROL

_THE WORLD MONEY LAUNDERING SYSTEM THAT IS CONNECTED FROM ISRAEL TO UKRAINE TO THE U S. TO NATO UN. U.S. INDUSTRIAL MILITARY COMPLEX SYSTEM

MAJOR PANIC IS HAPPENING IN ISRAEL AS THE MILITARY WAS PLANNING A 2024 COUP IN ISRAEL TO OVER THROW THE DEEP STATE MILITARY AND REGIMEN THAT CONNECTED TO CIA.MI6 > CLINTON'S ROCKEFELLERS.>>

( Not far from where Jesus once walked.... The KAZARIAN Mafia. The cabal, dark Families began the practice of ADRENOCHROME and there satanic rituals to the god of moloch god of child sacrifice ..

Satanism..... This is why satanism is pushed through the world and world shopping centers and music and movies...)

- David Wilcock

Something definitely doesn't seem right and destroying evidence has been going on for a long time, think Oklahoma City bombing, 9/11's building 7 and even Waco Texas was about destroying evidence. Is this possible? Think about it and you decide. 🤔

[toiletwipes]

to prove myself to you | mafia!wilbur

~1.8k words / back at it again! this time with a mafia au! The hoes were talking about him and when they brought up this gem of an idea- I couldn't help myself. Again. Lmao. Anyway! Tagging these hoes @consequencesbylovejoy @lillylvjy @drop-of-void @tr1ental1s-boreal1s

[Wilbur is tasked with getting information from a rat from their local rivals. You, being the bartender, happen to be the rat. Try not to get killed.]

Title from Demolition Lovers by My Chemical Romance

I'll be doing a part 2 when I get home <3

~~~

He's fresh out of a job, blood staining the better part of his shirt but his blazer covers what the dimmed lights don't. He usually doesn't come in here, especially with the way he can feel eyes being trained on him.

It's not his territory, this club. However, Phil put him on this job- and the job calls for him to be here. At this club. That belongs to one special, sicko. Luckily, if the rumors are true, he doesn't come down from his office.

Still. Right now, even with the music pumping through his veins and the bass vibrating through his chest, he's got to stay focused. Find the girl. Get the info. Get out. That's all it is. And if that's all he's got to do after removing various body parts from the other sad fucks in the underbelly of this godforsaken town, then that's what he'll fucking do.

So, with the lights dimmed, and with other lights flashing and creating a dizzy sight, he heads straight to the bar, his sights set on the person tending it. Weaving his way through the crowd, he doesn't mind the additional jab to his ribs and stuff. Hisses at the contact but moves on. He's on thin ice being here, he's not about to get himself killed getting some information.

With the lights both dim and bright somehow, he only has one thought when it comes to the bartender, reaching one of the free spots up front. The bartender is quiet. Aside from sliding the drinks to the patrons, flashing a smile, all they're doing is making drinks as fast as they can. Wearing a black button up, sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons undone, showing off skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. And when they notice him, quiet as they are, they don't stop, but their eyes never leave him.

"Can I get you anything?" Their voice breaks through the pulsating music, eyes trailing down his face, down his shirt and past the blood that peaks from his collar.

"Looking for Lionel, have you seen him?" The phrase he was given to use, to make sure nobody gets any ideas that somebody is trading industry secrets in their fucking house.

And it's then, he knows it's you. You're the informant, your body stops moving so fast, eyes locked permanently on him. "He's not here, can I offer you something on tap?" There it was, your hand lands on the slick surface, so close to his and if he didn't know you, or need the information you have on these people, he'd slam the knife that sits delicately in the inside, jacket pocket, straight through your hand, through the tendons and bones and tissues and right into the bar.

He doesn’t do that, especially when your eyes are as lit up as yours, biting on your lip like that. He's on a job and this is an act, a cover for your ass, specifically. And he'd do well to make sure the cover works. Especially for someone as… appealing as you.

(He's not immune to a pretty face. He can hold himself back from indulging in a night of fun, but this is a mission that can turn sour very quickly. And if this wasn't as delicate as it was, tonight would turn out very differently.)

"Nothing on tap, you have something light?" His hand twitches from beside yours, as he waits for something, anything. Phil told him he could get a file, whether that's a USB or a literal manilla file, or it's just a slip of paper. But the information is crucial, vital enough it could take their order down if the information is handled properly. And Wilbur is nothing but a proper handler.

Your lips twitch up into a smile, "I just might have something, yeah." Pulling bottles down, cups here and there, portioning it out, you slide a drink his way on a napkin. "If you don't mind waiting, I get out in five." Your expression reads flirty but when you slide your hand down his bare arm, your skin is not only cold but tense.

Definitely the informant.

So, turning around, he eyes the crowd that weaves and bobs like water, bouncing and moving and crashing to the beat of the music. It's a cesspool of life and crime, waiting to pounce in the folds of these clubs. He's all too aware of it.

"Wilbur, didn't expect to see you here." He hears his name and he almost loses his cool. Some guy, Jared, he used to know. Until he became a rat and joined someone else's ranks. He didn't matter the moment they found out.

He matters now, though.

"I'd say it's good to see you, Jared, but ah, it's not." He flashes a quick, all teeth, smile, a glare coming down fast after.

"Look, it was nothing personal. And besides, that's all in the past." Jared waves off the threat like it's nothing. Like Wilbur couldn't kill him and get away with it, in here. On someone else's turf. But, sure, nothing personal. "Have you met Baby?" Jared turns toward the bartender and this could not possibly have gone worse.

When Jared and him are turned back towards you, you send them a confused smile, "Jared? I thought you were out of the city?" He can see the panic underneath the mask you wear, see the anxiety budding underneath your fingers.

A beer almost slips from your hands as you hand it over to Jared, and he sees the irritated, angry skin on your forearm. Bad habit of scratching, especially under stress. This doesn't spell good news for you, maybe him if Jared doesn't leave before you.

"They called me back, said they needed me to take care of an infestation. You know how it is." And Jared takes a swing, and in the second his eyes close, your mask slips and you're begging him for help. Fucking christ.

"Sounds like you shouldn't be drinking on the job." Wilbur says, pulling Jared's eyes away from you. He sees the relief in your mask but he keeps his gaze focused on the man in front of him. Jared shrugs, turning away from them entirely, sighing through his teeth.

"I just got back in tonight, they said I can start tomorrow. So, if you'll excuse me," he turns fully back to him, pulling out a fist full of crumpled notes, slapping them on the bar. "Tonight's on me, hope we can forget about our grievances." His eyes flit to you, mindlessly wiping glasses. "Take care, Baby."

When he leaves, Wilbur scoffs, sipping from the glass. Grievances. Like he didn't get his entire family almost killed.

Finishing the drink, he stares down the glass for a second before placing it down, watching you take that and the money too. He waits two more minutes before you untie the apron around your waist, shoving it in a cubby under the bar and barreling through the door beside the wall of liquor. He doesn't hesitate, finding his way out of the club, more eyes than ever fixated him. At least five more heads than before. He breathes in the stuffy club air before pushing the door with a little more punch than necessary, it bangs against the wall outside and the line of people give him dirty looks. He holds up a hand, half apologizing and walking away. Heading to the other side of the club. He walks three blocks before making it to his car, and in the back seat, he finds you.

"How did you know?" He asks, turning the key in the ignition.

"Jared complained about your car all the time when he first came around. Couldn't get him to shut up about you. Did you two have a thing going on?" Your eyes light up with mirth, one of your hands reaching down and lightly scratches at the skin of your forearm.

"He was a close friend before we knew he was a rat." And the silence that overcomes the cab of the car is nearly deafening. "So, what-" he wipes under his nose, pulling out from beside the curb, "-do you have?"

"Rufus has a son, nobody knows who it is. But he's planning on celebrating the kid's birthday with only a handful of his most entrusted members. Here's the location, blue prints, the fucking schedule. All of it. Everybody you need gone? They'll be there. Two days from now."

Wilbur watched as you pulled out a folded band of papers, watched as your hands shook holding them out and watched your hand scratch as he took them from you. He places them neatly in the passenger seat. He continues to drive. "Thank you." If they get the details sorted out within the hour, their rivals will be nothing but a memory this time next week.

"What about your side of the deal?"

"My side?" He repeats, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror and he finds yours in a desperate squint.

"Phil said if I gave you the information, you'd get me out of here." He lays a foot made of lead on the brakes and the car, thankfully miles away from the club and anybody that mattered, screeches to a stop. He hears you curse as you latch onto the headrests before he turns around. You're panting as your eyes lift up to his. "What the fuck?" You gasp and he doesn't say anything. Not yet.

"My job was to take the information and get it to Phil. Now, considering you're probably known as Baby, and not just Jared referring to you in a sick, sort of pet name, you're not just some bartender. Are you?"

He can hear your teeth grind as you growl out in frustration.

"Even if I was some bartender, if they found out I was telling you this, they'd kill me."

"But you're not some bartender." You're trying so hard to maintain eye contact but in the end you bite the bullet and turn your eyes down.

Your voice is small, shaking, "are you gonna take me somewhere safe or not?"

"Are you going to tell me the truth?"

You laugh wetly, turning in your seat to look out the back of the cab. Wiping your eyes before you spoke, "the truth is Rufus… owns me. He finds out I ratted him out- he'll-" your choke on your tears, gasping for air as you think harder on a fate worse than death.

He faces the front. He taps the wheel before cursing under his breath.

"Fine. I'll get you somewhere safe." They only had one place safe enough where you could make it out alive by the end of this. He takes you to his house. "If you rat us out-" he begins, parking the car in a spacious garage but you shake your head.

"I promise I won't." A promise didn't mean much from a rat, but from someone who's desperate to get out? He turns the car off and turns in his seat again, your face streaked with tears and a shuddering breath.

"Okay. Let's go."

He couldn't resist a pretty face in the end, after all.