#mafia 3

[girly-media-studio]

Shout Out To The Fictional Black Girlies Part 4

30 Image limit hit again!!!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

[vancruejovi]

Every Mafia protagonist so far has been a cutie patootie

[mtcloudsworld]

𝒯ℋℰ midday heat hangs thick and golden over the shore, softened only by the rhythmic crash of the tide and the wide shadow of your beach umbrella. Beneath you, Lincoln lies prone across the oversized beach chair, his massive, broad-shouldered frame taking up nearly every inch of it. His heavily muscled arms dangled over before him, hands causally resting on the warm sand below

Positioned comfortably over his lower back was your body straddling him, your chubby legs resting along his sides. The sage green fabric of your bikini stands out vibrantly against your glistening deep cocoa skin, catching the sunlight whenever you lean out from under the shade. Your dark curls are gathered up into a messy high bun, though the seaside humidity coaxed a few stray ringlets loose to frame your neck and temples.

Pouring a generous pool of cool, fragrant lotion onto your palms, you press your hands flat against the wide expanse of his heated back. Your hands work in practiced tandem as you smooth the cream deep into his skin, sweeping from the thick slope of his neck down to the sharp angle of his shoulder blades.

You lean into it, thumbs sinking firmly into the dense muscle to locate the deep-seated tension he carries around constantly. The moment your fingers catch a particularly stubborn knot and work through it with relentless precision, a low, gravelly groan rumbles from deep within his chest, vibrating right through the chair and against your thighs.

"Fuck, right there..." he grunts softly, his voice thick with a mix of exhaustion and sheer relief. His face is turned to the side, cheek pressed into the white cushion of soft, pillowy towels, dark eyes heavy and hooded as he drinks in the feeling.

You don't hold back, shifting your weight slightly to press deeper, running your knuckles down the long columns of his spine to his lower back before kneading your way back up and down the heavy flex of his biceps. Every hard-earned knot yielding under your touch.

For a man who usually carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, watching him completely uncoil under your touch was sweetest victory of the day. The ridged tension slowly melted away, surrounded by the scent of coconut, the heat of the beach, and the sea breeze flowing on by.

As the last of the lotion absorbs into his skin, your hands slow their vigorous kneading, transitioning into long, soothing strokes down the thick expanse of his back. You let your palms trail lightly down his sides before coming to a rest at his waist.

Lincoln exhales a long, heavy breath—one where he finally releases years of built-up tension—his body of a tank practically laxed into the woven straps of the lounge chair.

"You tryna knock me out, girl?" he murmurs. His voice a lazy, gravelly drawl that you feel just as much as you hear. He doesn't bother opening his eyes, but a slow, contented smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, softening the usually sharp, guarded lines of his face.

A soft laugh escapes you, mingling perfectly with the rhythmic rush of the waves breaking on the shore just a few yards away.

"Maybe," you smirk, leaning down to press your glossy lips to the middle of his back, trailing lingering kisses up to his shoulder blades where you feel the rippling of muscle and then to his neck. "Resting for once wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, baby."

He grunts. "Mmm . . ." Slowly shifting his weight beneath you, muscles twitching under the sun. One of his veiny hands, rough and calloused from a life that rarely affords him peace, reaches back blindly. He finds your thigh, his large fingers molding gently around the chunky curve of your leg.

"Can't argue wit' that," he admits, his tone dropping an octive. His thumb beginning to trace lazy, rhythmic circles against your soft skin, resting just below the sage green strings of your bikini.

Leaning down completely, you sink your weight over him, letting the swell of your tits press lightly against his broad back and rest your chin on your crossed arms just below the base of his neck, causing stray curls to tickle at his shoulder blades.

⤿ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 :: @kimmylikesthemall @amethyst09 @snore-3 @sheaandsunshinejay ( to join, comment down below ! )

©𝗺𝘁𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗱𝘀 ─ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 ─ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

[c4t-pawz]

Decided to replay a few of my favorite mafia D.E. Chapters and I just noticed this , ,

the SASS? HELLO?

Like ok I’m sorry for WHATEVER the hell I DID please don’t yell at me

[jasonbrdy]

LINCOLN CLAY Mafia III (2016), dev. Hangar 13

[snowembrace]

more mafia vines but at some point it’s mainly me making fun of cesare massaro

[wisesimulacrumghoul]

Lincoln fixes your attitude in the back of his car

Lincoln had just come back from the war, and it had been a month since he returned. You had missed him a lot, his voice, his hair, his slick ass mouth, and witty behavior, but you also missed something else. When he came back, you swore the army did him more good than harm, no offense to his hard work or the things he had seen or unfortunately experienced, but everything about him was different. Especially his body… he got wider and taller since you last saw him, and that was four and a half years ago?

His legs looked longer and thicker, full of muscle; the same with his arms, his abdomen, and his face. He looked so damn rugged and just masculine. It made you feel things. It was hard getting back into some sort of routine. This man would wake up at the crack of dawn in the backyard, doing heavy cardio, taking a run around the block at least 20 times, or lifting some weights he had before he left. But you also spent time together; he missed you just as much as you missed him. Nights now included home-cooked meals, going out to see a movie, or curling up on the couch with a book while he watched TV or bothered you. There was one thing he wasn’t trying to do,he didn’t touch you in a whole month of being back home. Why?

After days passed, hell weeks now, going on two months, he still hadn’t tried anything, little kisses here and there in the morning, little back hugs or waist grabbing, but nothing that led to moving into the bedroom…or the couch, or the kitchen, hell, even the floor would’ve done it. He had started a job, so he wasn’t here from morning until noon. Today was date night, which we had every Friday. You both walked around the house like busy bees getting dressed, actually more me than him. This man could wear a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt and still look good, which is exactly what he wore.

He said you were going to some fancy restaurant in the next city over, which sounded nice, but you wanted something else, not that you could tell him. You slipped on a black dress and a pair of low heels, pinned your hair into an updo you saw in a magazine, which came out rather nicely, and topped it off with some red lipstick. You looked in the mirror, seeing him standing against the door frame. As he leaned against it, he whistled, his deep footsteps coming in close from behind. He then wrapped his arms around you, “Don’t you look good enough to eat?” his broad, thick accent seeping through you, making you smile. You loved his voice. “Thank you, love.” You turned to kiss his cheek, and he smiled, “You ready?” You nodded, and you both were out the door.

He opened the car door for you to his black mustang, and you got in, he had this car for a long time, but due to his leave for the war, his brother took it to keep it checked up, since you knew nothing about cars. You looked out the window as he drove. You felt his hand gently rest on your thigh. You looked over at him and eyed him. Gosh, he looked so sexy, his thick facial structure, his biceps that clenched every few seconds, and his thighs… you've never been attracted to a man’s thighs- " You okay, sweetheart?” He spoke up, and it was like you were taken out of a trance, you simply nodded, “yeah, sorry, just thinkin'..”

He gave you a sidelong look, which you ignored. You bit your lip gently; hell, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Why haven’t you touched me?” you blurted, you immediately felt his hand squeeze your thigh a little as there was pure silence for a few seconds until he spoke “touch you?.. I’m touching you right now” he squeezed your thigh again your eyes rolled “not like that- you know what I mean” your voice sounded flustered at this point he went silent again, you looked over at him waiting for an answer. You scoff, moving his hand now, staring ahead. You, of course, felt him look at you from the side of your eyes, but he didn’t say anything; you just heard a sigh.

You both drove in silence until he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. It looked nice, but you didn’t even feel like eating, not at this point. He stopped and stared ahead before he looked over. He could see the irritation on your face, and you weren't trying to hide it either. He spoke up. “You gonna have an attitude all night?” His thick voice spoke up. You stayed silent before you looked over at him. “I don’t have an attitude.” Your tone of voice clearly said otherwise. He scoffed. “I hear it in your tone… you know I dislike it when you talk like that…”

You eyed him as you let out a bitter scoff under your breath. “Hm, right okay, Lincoln.” You didn’t even know WHY you were giving him attitude in the first place. “You’ve been here for basically a month, and you act like you aren’t even attracted to me anymore,” you said, almost quietly but not quiet enough. His brows furrowed as he looked at him. His face softened slightly; he eyed you. “You want me to touch you, huh?” There was a change in his tone, and a shift in the air.

He started up the car. “Get in the back,” he said, his voice sounding commanding, not in an asking tone either. His face looked hard as stone. You didn't even want to question him, so you got your ass right in the back. He put the car in drive and drove around the parking lot, but towards the back, where there were basically no cars, he pulled into an empty parking spot and turned off the car. He sat silently before he reached up, grabbed the rearview mirror, and pointed it towards the back at you, which left you confused. “Your little attitude problem…I don’t like that, you know that, right?” He said, and you looked at him; your mouth gaped open to say something, but the next thing you knew, he was climbing into the back with you.

You gasped out of surprise as he grabbed your feet. He slipped off your heels, tossing them to the front seat. “You said I wouldn’t touch you, hm?” He leaned forward, causing your breath to hitch. You could smell the liquor and cigarettes on his breath mixed with his musky cologne, which seemed to be your favorite thing in the world. “It’s true,” you replied back, eying him, and he eyed you back, his eyes flickering to your lips and then back at your eyes. He only hummed in response.

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, causing your chest to rise and then drop within seconds. “You think I didn’t want to touch you?” He placed another kiss, going lower and lower until he reached your collarbone. He began to suck on that same spot as you bit my lip before letting a groan slip out. You could feel him smirk against your chest. He looked up at you. “Do you know I’ve fantasized about fucking you…for four years straight, going insane over ya?”

His voice was husky; you felt him press up against your thigh. He was hard, hard as a damn rock. He grabbed your lower face, pulling you into a deep kiss. It wasn’t gentle, no, no, it was rough, wanting, obsessive, and you liked it. The kiss was sloppy and uneven; it was like you both wanted to fuse into each other. He grabbed the hem of your dress, lifting it to your waist. His hand went down between your legs. You let out a moan. You were already aroused before he even fully touched you.

He pulled away from the kiss as he looked down at you. He smirked, “All this from just me kissing you? You missed me that much, huh, baby?” His big, thick fingers rubbed over your clothed pussy, you let out a low moan. Gosh, you forgot how thick his fingers were. He took one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder, and then the other. The car wasn’t big, but it wasn’t too small either, but the back was too small for him. He scooted back slightly as he lifted the lower half of your body towards his face, bending your body slightly. He wasted no time using his tongue to lick over your panties, causing your hips to buck into his mouth.

He took two fingers, sliding your panties to the side, and slid his tongue in between your folds, causing you to gasp and let out a moan. His tongue constantly slid up and down your folds; you whined as your hand flew to grip his hair, bringing him close. He grunted, feeling himself harden even more, if that was even possible, eating you like a man starved. His fingers gripped your thighs harder, leaving marks as he pulled you closer. His lips latched onto your clit. You hissed, feeling your legs shudder and shake. You gasp, your eyes closing as his tongue licked and his lips sucked on your clit. “Lincoln, I-” you breathed out. Your legs began to stutter, and your hips began to buck into his face more. He moved back slightly, his face covered in your slick.

He brought two fingers to your clit, rubbing circles, and not at all soft; he remembered your body; he knew you were close. “Cum for me, baby,” he mumbled. Your thighs attempted to squeeze around his wide torso, but they couldn't. Next thing you knew, you came all over his fingers, causing you to let out a gasp, almost close to a cry if anyone else heard it.

“You did so good, baby.” he leaned forward, pulling you closer under him, your body feeling like it's floating on clouds, your updo now a lean do, unraveled and ruined, yet you still looked beautiful. He brought his lips to yours in a deep kiss, he murmured against your lips.

“I'm not finished with you yet… let's get you home”

(this had been drafted for like 6 months i low-key hate it but posting it anyway so I can get back to writing 😭 HALF proofread if I spelled his name wrong NO I DIDNT)

[ctrvpani]

Put these four in a room together, who’s walking out crying first?

In my opinion I think Donovan would be the last man standing. He would find a way to make the three of them cry using his words 😭