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Living in the city was never easy; mafias were left and right, trying to take advantage of you and your money.
Especially for women.
Good that you didn’t have to worry about that; you were just an average person. Sure, a bit weak for this place, but mobs here usually didn't go for the men—other than just for your money or if you messed with them, but that was just for anyone who dared look at them weirdly.
Despite being relatively invisible and not getting in trouble, you couldn't even land a job. Because for some reason, being the chronically online person you were was seemingly worse than being a felon.
"It's like we're stuck in the 1930s," you grumbled, staring at an email, which was yet another rejection.
You tugged your hood further down, shadowing your quivering lip. This was so unfair. You could barely even pay rent by being an oh-so-secret femboy for all genders—despite soon realizing that you might have been gay, as you mildly enjoyed the females, but you appreciated them for being caring.
Your ad had only given you a few customers; despite it being up for days, not many seemed to be interested. It made you envy the people who got so many customers, much less made a living out of it.
But you knew that self-deprecating comments wouldn’t change the situation, and you tried convincing yourself that it was just your mind speaking and not your heart. Adjusting your jacket and bunny ears, you started walking to a bar; you had already given them a call, and it had been an agonizing 30-minute interview. Brutally awkward.
you glanced at your phone one last time, lowering the volume of your headphones before walking into the bar. It was dead quiet, only a few murmurs and side glances present.
Though of course you ignored the glances, not like you weren’t used to them in your hometown. Depending on where you lived, there was always someone up your ass about it, some more extreme than others.
A glass of vodka soda was placed in front of them, the bartender nodding silently while leaning against the countertop.
“Yes, of course!” you nodded along with the bartender, realizing hi cue. “I called your business earlier this week. I was wondering if you had an update”
The mute bartender nodded, putting a piece of paper in front of them. There it had a message saying:
“You seem like a wonderful person, but sadly not who I’m looking for. Thank you for reaching out, and I wish you luck on your job search”
You nodded, feeling a bit defeated but understanding. It was a very old-fashioned bar and didn’t fit your vibe or aesthetic.
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You twirled the straw in between your fingers, your cheek squished against your fist. The bartender had given you a few drinks on the house, noting the upset expression. You of course explained there were no hard feelings, and that you were just thinking. But it still lingered.
You appreciated it; you really did. Especially the drinks; you really needed to get your mind off things.
“Long night, ey?” A suit-clad man spoke up; you looked to be in his mid to late twenties, in an expensive-looking suit along with a hat and... headphones? Over the hat?
“Yeah, I guess, but a drink a day keeps the thinking away.” You chuckled awkwardly and glanced at the man, who was smirking and leaning against the table.
“Guess so, mind if I buy you a drink to take your pretty little mind off things?” The man offered, and while you couldn't help but feel thankful, you felt like you would want the bills more than the drink; rent was hell in this economy.
“Ey, Contractee! Yer getting distracted from yer task.” A gruff voice spoke up, making both you and the man, now known as contractee, look back.
A man, tall and broad, sat in the middle of a few identical looking men to Contractee. The man wore a black suit, half of his face covered with his fedora while the other was mostly covered by the fluff of the hood, or maybe his fluff? It looked like bunny ears peeking out from the fedora.
“Sorry, bossman! See ya later, fluff” Contractee winked, signing to the bartender before running off to the group. You couldn’t help but keep staring at the man; you found him... Oddly attractive, which creeped you out to the core, you had sworn to yourself and your parents that you would never be involved with any crimes. Much less a Mafia man.
Not wanting to risk gunshot wounds to your chest, you spent the rest of the night stirring your drink and playing Dandy’s World. God forbid an enby likes a game; you played it anywhere at any time, so much that you swore you heard a main’s footsteps or machine being done.
“‘s this what pretty boys play these days?” That voice... The same voice from before. You spun around, coming face to face with the man, or not really, more like face to chest with the man. It sprained your neck trying to look up at him. “My boys are quite childish; perhaps you’ll like it,” he murmured lowly, more to himself than anyone.
“Yes...? Some at least.” Your voice became quieter than normal, making him instantly cringe. “Hmmm,” the man hummed, and you could only guess that he was staring at the phone, “explain.”
“Huh? Oh, uhm,” you started, a hesitant aura leaking through your mouth. “It's a multiplayer game; basically, you have to turn on a certain number of machines while distracting or avoiding twiste- monsters… villains… Yeaaahhh”
“Violence,” the man hummed, a slight smirk creeping up on his face. “Do you like being prey?”
The question in general caught you off guard, and only a slight noise of surprise left your mouth before laughing. Out of shock or ridiculousness was something not even you knew. When the silence overcame the situation, you finally answered, “Yes…? I like the game if that’s what you’re asking.”
The man hummed in acknowledgment, and you couldn’t help but feel his eyes on you. Torn between feeling uncomfortable and liking it to a certain extent, he couldn’t help but sigh out of relief when the man’s friends called out to him, asking when you could leave.
“What is your name?” The man finally spoke up, annoyed; his attention was less on you and more on paying the fiery bartender a hefty load of cash.
“___”
“___, noted,” he nodded, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his tongue. “My name is Mafioso.” The man’s- Mafioso’s voice noticeably softened, but he scoffed, handing you a card. “8am sharp, this building. You have a task to do.”
You stared at the card, the location—which was written in coordinates, weirdo—the time, and the vague “you’ve been chosen” text. It left you with so many questions.
“Why? How did you-” you looked up to see absolutely nothing, well, minus the stares from people who thought you were talking to yourself, but you didn't count. The fiery bartender, which was his nickname because you kept forgetting his name, leaned against the counter and patted your shoulder in a comforting way before sliding you another shot and signing something about “-don't have to- something something- there” but you weren’t thinking a lot after that.
Nothing but him.
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Work was relatively easy; being Mafioso’s secretary helped him a lot since you knew much about the town, and while you didn’t have to do any dirty work, you were more undercover, getting information from people he was after.
Today was rather quiet; there had been nothing planned that day, and it was also a Friday, which meant that you planned on going to a bar that night. Like usual, you spent your time on Dandy’s World; a new update had just been released two days ago, and you did a full nighter just to get research on one of three. Soldier and Consigliere sat on both sides, with Soldier being Vee and Consigliere being Yatta.
“How do I pick up a capsule again?” Consigliere poked at his screen, trying to pick up a capsule. “And why doesn’t it have its usual film tape?”
You looked over from your machine, witnessing Consigliere pick up a Rodger capsule, activating Rodger, which inevitably killed him. Soldier snickered at the situation and continued his machine, happily extracting.
“That... was Rodger; he doesn't have film tapes around his capsule,” You informed them, shaking your head slightly. “It's only like floor 3! My highest is like, 60.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop being cocky and actually do the last machine instead of eating.” You rolled your eyes at the comment, putting your pizza down on your plate and running around the map looking for the last machine.
“Oi,” Caporegime spoke up from the doorway, taking a sip of his beer while he walked over, stealing a few pizza slices from one of the many pizza boxes in the living room, “boss man wants to see you. Good luck; he seems stressed.”
Trying to have a whole base in the city was proven difficult as more and more crimes happened. At first your base was in a small warehouse, a typical mafia base, but after it was raided by some gang called the Serif Family, you decided to switch to an apartment under a fake name. So far it went well; one of the rooms turned into Mafioso’s office while the other room was just left as some sort of storage.
You knocked on the office door, waiting until a slight hum gave you the cue to enter, “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I did. Come,” he beckoned you over, who nodded silently and stood beside him. When you came close enough, he pulled you down on his lap; you froze, not knowing what to do or how to react.
Mafioso seemed as calm as ever, hand on your thigh while you thought deeply. “What... What are you thinking?” you asked while fiddling with your sleeves. “Chance won one of our rigged machines, and I swear he stole our money,” he huffed, putting out his lit cigarette, ignoring how it burnt the fine wood.
“Must be stressful,” you tried filling in the silence, and Mafioso hummed in acknowledgment, pleased about the empathy he was getting from you. “Indeed it is, so I have a... proposition of sorts.” He paused for a bit, fidgeting with your stocking.
“Take my mind off of this, and I’ll let you go home with full pay,” he whispered into your ear, before adding, “And whatever you’d like for your birthday, I know you and your mother’s birthday is nearing.”
Your breath hitched, a shiver trickling up his spine. You nodded eagerly and tilted your head to look at Mafioso, which made him smirk. He hummed in acknowledgment, and his hand sneaked up his thigh, tugging on his boxers.
“C’mon pup, never done shit like this?” He laughed, kissing you harshly. His hand dove under your boxers, grabbing your erect cock and stroking it softly.
You gasped at the sudden cold hands on his body, a peep leaving your mouth while the rest of the noises that threatened to escape your throat drowned into the kiss. Mafioso seemed to be skilled as he split his attention between moving his hand up and down his shaft while squeezing the base and keeping his tongue busy and down your throat. His thumb circled your tip with great precision, and squirming was all you could think of doing, your mind going blank with great pleasure. His thumb circled your tip with great precision.
“Mafioso” you accidentally spilled out in gasps against his lips; Mafioso pulled away and clasped his hand over your lips and cooed, “Don, call me Don.”
Oh god. you swore that you were on your deathbed because of that one sentence.
“‘Ey, boss.” A sudden voice boomed from outside the office, and Mafioso- Don tensed up, his hand stilling on his length.
“Hide,” he ushered, pushing you to sit under his desk. You sat there obediently, looking up at Mafioso as he interacted with Consigliere, his cock still hanging from your skirt.
“Yes, yes. I’m aware; I ordered him to fix it,” he grumbled, hand resting on his thigh. Slowly but surely he reached down and ran his fingers through your hair, making you lean against the touch and rest your head on his thigh.
You couldn’t help but nuzzle into his gentle touch, but Mafioso was seemingly more agitated than domestic, with the only reason why his touch remained gentle being that he didn't want to scare you. He gently tugged at your hair, pushing your head against his groin.
You blushed profusely, the hint right in your face. Literally. you slowly nodded and peeled down the zipper, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not be caught by Consigliere.
Mafioso’s cock sprung out, slapping you in the face. A full 10 inches standing proud in your face. You clumsily stroked him up and down, squeezing him at the base. you knew it was working from how his cock twitched and his body tensed.
“Me and Soldier can go check it out- wait where’s ___?” you heard Consigliere ask, and the Mafiosos’ hands tightened in your hair. “___ went home to check on their parents; that woman got sick or something,” Mafioso replied nonchalantly.
Consiglier hummed in acknowledgment before starting his rant again, letting Mafioso focus on your touch instead. Your hands were soft as a bunny, your touch as gentle as one too. So vulnerable.
You looked up at Mafioso before opening your mouth. His cock slipped down from your cheek to your palate, bumping into your uvula. Your head bobbed up and down from his lap, your palm—which gripped the base—being the only thing keeping your nose from hitting his pelvis.
“-and suddenly, and I swear I wasn't going crazy, he disappeared right in front of my eyes! Dunno anything about the dude, but damn, it sure is difficult to catch him.” Consigliere sighed, used to his boss’ silent demeanor. But this time, it wasn’t like usual.
“Uhm, boss, you good?” He asked, and Mafioso nodded, despite his out-of-breath state. “Of course I am; it’s just... hot in here.”
“Uh huh...” Consigliere looked out the window, eyeing the snowy roads. “Even though it’s -5° outside?”
“Yes.” Mafioso stated firmly, acting suspiciously defensive. Consigliere raised his hands in defense, “my bad, but what should our next step be?”
Mafioso went on trying to make up a plan to catch Chance, the keyword being trying. He took random pauses, which weren't random for both you and Mafioso, as every time those pauses took place, it was always when you took him whole in your throat.
Mafioso knew well enough that he looked suspicious but just couldn’t do anything else but force you further down on his cock. Your cheeks hollowed, creating a tight section around his cock. His jaw clenched tightly, and the hand that was tangled in your hair tugged tightly, keeping you down while ropes of his cum poured into your mouth.
And so, for what felt like forever, your nose was kept pressed against his pelvis while he rode his climax. Only letting you go when the last drop leaked from your chin.
Mafioso let go of your hair while he listened to Consigliere’s feedback on his very clumsily put together plan, letting you contain yourself despite having cum leaking down your shirt.
“Noted, I’ll tell the others about it. Nice talk. And please, maybe put a scarf on; you’re probably going to get hypothermia.” He requested, sending him a look before leaving a room.
Breathless, Mafioso zipped up his pants again and grabbed you by the underarm, pulling you up on his lap. You looked a bit rough, so he made sure you looked decent before whispering in your ear, “Good bunny. Next time I’ll let you get your pleasure. Now, I’ll go out and distract them, go to the bathroom and make yourself decent, then sneak to the front door and act like you just came in.
You obediently nodded, jumping off of his lap and watching with a smile as he left the office and started taking his henchmen's attention away from the door of his office. You snuck out and locked the bathroom door after you.
You looked a bit rough, hair frizzy and clothes crumpled. You would have to fix that before anyone noticed the door was locked.
Not like it mattered; you only live once after all.
Well, if you survived the scolding you would get.