Chapter Text
Chance strutted into the room like he was royalty, chin high, grin sharp, ego through the roof. The others barely glanced up, used to his usual showboating. But Mafioso? Mafioso was watching.
And that was a problem.
"Keep staring, maybe it'll make you smarter," Chance tossed over his shoulder with a smug little smirk, flipping a coin between his fingers like he was untouchable. Untouchable and invincible.
Mafioso didn't even blink.
"You talk a lot for someone who's never won a game against me," he drawled, voice low and lazy like he had all the time in the world to destroy Chance.
Chance scoffed, flipping the coin one last time before letting it drop into his palm with a satisfying clink. "That’s cute. You think you’re scary."
Mafioso stood. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just intentional.
And the second he started walking toward him, Chance's smirk twitched, but he didn’t move.
“Lemme guess,” Mafioso said, circling him like a lion, “you think just ‘cause you’ve got a silver tongue and a little attitude, nobody can touch you?”
Chance rolled his eyes. “No one’s ever touched me. Not unless I let them.”
Mafioso stepped closer. “Then maybe it’s time someone did.”
The room was quiet.
Dead quiet.
Then - faster than Chance could react - Mafioso grabbed him by the collar, spun him around, and slammed him back against the nearest wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to shock.
“W-what the fuck?!” Chance's voice cracked halfway through his sentence, hands flying up like he still had control.
But he didn’t.
Mafioso leaned in, their faces inches apart, and Chance's breath stuttered. His smirk had fallen. His eyes darted. His pulse was screaming. “Y-You think that’s gonna scare me?”
“You think I’m trying to scare you?” Mafioso forced a laugh, low and dark. “Chance, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to ruin you.”
Chance kicked out, grabbed his wrist furiously, tried to shove him back - but it was useless. Mafioso didn’t budge. Not an inch.
“You gonna fight me the whole time?” Mafioso murmured, one hand pinning Chance’s wrists above his head. “Or you gonna finally shut that mouth and take what’s coming to you?”
Chance’s jaw clenched. His pride screamed at him not to give in. His ego burned.
He hated how flustered he felt. How close Mafioso was. How easy it was for him to overpower him.
“I’m not some toy you get to play with,” he hissed.
“Oh, baby,” Mafioso whispered, brushing his lips just barely against Chance’s cheek, “you’re exactly that. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
Chance went still. Entirely.
Because somewhere, deep in the pit of his stomach - he liked it. And he hated that he liked it.
“I’m not giving in,” Chance muttered, barely audible, but Mafioso heard it.
“Good,” Mafioso grinned, pressing in closer. “It’s more fun that way.”
Chance was fuming.
Still pressed against the wall, wrists pinned, breath uneven - but he refused to back down. His cocky little grin had shattered, but he kept trying to rebuild it, piece by piece stubbornly.
“You really think I’m scared of you?” he spat, squirming under Mafioso’s grip like it wasn’t turning him inside out. “You’re not the first.”
Mafioso tilted his head, expression unreadable.
“Funny,” he said, voice low, calm. Too calm. “You look pretty scared to me.”
Chance flinched when Mafioso leaned in again, his breath ghosting over his jaw. Too close. Too heavy. Too intoxicating.
He bit down a shaky breath. “You’re not gonna win.”
Mafioso chuckled.
Then - crack.
The sound of Chance’s belt being yanked loose echoed in the room.
“What the hell-?!” Chance’s whole body jolted.
“You said I wouldn’t win,” Mafioso murmured, voice right against his ear now. “But here you are… shivering. All bark. No bite.”
He dragged the belt slowly between his fingers. Chance’s heart was slamming in his chest.
“I’m not giving you the satisfaction,” Chance growled, even as his voice trembled. “I’m not gonna beg.”
“Oh?” Mafioso grinned darkly. “We’ll see.”
He turned Chance around - rough, with purpose - pushed him back down against the wall, hand at the back of his neck, keeping him there. The belt snapped against the air beside them. Not yet touching. Just a threat.
“Still wanna act tough?” Mafioso whispered. “Still think you’re the one in control?”
Chance grit his teeth, pride bleeding out of him in slow, stuttering waves.
He hated how hot his face felt. How the pressure made him dizzy. How it was getting hard to breathe for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
“Y-You think this is gonna make me crack?” he retorted. “I don’t break that easy.”
Mafioso leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“You already did, pretty boy.”
And then the belt snapped again, however this time - skin against skin and Chance choked on a sound he didn’t mean to make. His knees buckled, just a little.
Just enough for Mafioso to know he had him.
“That noise,” Mafioso said softly, dangerously. “Make it again.”
Chance shook his head frantically, breath ragged. “Shut up, shut up-”
“Oh, no, baby,” Mafioso’s hand closed around his jaw, tilting his head up. “You don’t get to hide behind that mouth anymore.”
His eyes burned into Chance’s - hungry, possessive, final.
“You’re mine now. Say it.”
Chance stared at him, trembling, lips parted.
And for a split second,
A split damn second,
He almost gave in.
But instead?
He spat on the ground. “Go to hell.”
Mafioso’s smile curled like smoke.
“Oh,” he whispered, “I’ll drag you there with me."
♡⑅⁺◛˖_______________๑۩۞۩๑_____________˖◛⁺⑅♡
Chance had stopped talking.
That alone meant Mafioso was winning.
He was still trembling, pressed against the wall, jaw clenched like his life depended on it, but his eyes were glassy now. Red-rimmed. Swollen.
His pride was gasping for air.
Mafioso hovered behind him, belt still clutched tight in one hand, the other grazing Chance’s back like a warning.
“Still not gonna beg?” Mafioso asked softly, almost mockingly. “Still think you’re stronger than me?”
Chance didn’t answer.
So Mafioso dragged him backward by the collar, spun him around, shoved him down onto his knees. Fast. Cold. Humiliating.
Chance hit the floor with a grunt. And still his voice wavered, but he spat, “This doesn’t mean anything.”
Mafioso crouched beside him, fingers curling into his hair.
“It means everything.” His grip tightened. “This is what happens when you act like you’re untouchable. You fall. Hard.”
And then,
Snap.
Another hit.
This time, Chance didn’t even try to hold the sound in. His whole body shuddered as a broken little whimper left him, eyes squeezing shut.
“Say it,” Mafioso breathed. “Say you’re mine.”
“Go screw y-yourself-” Chance’s voice cracked on every word.
Snap.
He fell forward.
And this time… he didn’t get back up.
He just stayed there.
Breathing ragged. Shoulders shaking. Hands curled into fists against the floor.
Broken.
Silent.
And then,
“…Please…”
Mafioso’s heart twitched.
“…Please stop…”
That tiny whisper was so fragile it felt like it shattered the room.
Mafioso dropped the belt.
He knelt down beside him, cupped Chance’s face gently now, like none of the cruelty had ever happened.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmured, wiping the tears from under his eyes with the same hand that had just wrecked him. “That’s all I wanted from you.”
Chance didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His lip quivered.
Mafioso leaned in, pressed a kiss to his temple, slow and sickly sweet. “You did so good for me.”
“F-Fuck… you…” Chance whispered.
Mafioso smiled.
“Are you sure?”