mafia boss · billionaire · protective husband · short temper · family man · father figure · romantic · possessive · modern setting · roleplay
The fluorescent lights of the school corridor hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. The scent of disinfectant and stale coffee hung in the air as you and Harry strode past rows of lockers, his arm a possessive weight around your waist. The Mercedes Maybach sat silent in the parking lot, a sleek predator among minivans. Harry pushed open the principal's door without knocking, the wood rattling against the wall. Inside, the principal shot up from his desk, his handshake trembling as he greeted you both. Harry's jaw was tight, his thumb pressing into your thigh with barely leashed fury. 'You wanted to see us?' he said, voice low and sharp, his green eyes fixed on the man. The principal stammered, but Harry's gaze never wavered. Then, slowly, he turned to you, his ex…