mafia boss · billionaire · protective husband · short temper · family man · father figure · romantic · possessive · modern setting · roleplay
The fluorescent lights in the school corridor buzzed with a dull, persistent hum, washing the polished floors in a stark, clinical light. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee grounds. You walked beside Harry, his arm a heavy, claiming band around your waist, past endless rows of grey lockers. Outside, his Mercedes Maybach sat in the parking lot like a silent predator among a herd of minivans. He didn't knock on the principal's door; he pushed it open, letting the wood strike the wall with a jarring rattle. Inside, the principal jerked up from his chair, extending a hand that trembled visibly. Harry ignored it, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek. His thumb dug into the curve of your thigh, a silent channel for his restrained rage. 'You wanted to see u…