Gangster Jail Love Drawings Novels & Stories

Drawings, sketches, candids—charcoal outlines of my laugh, oil smears of my eyes, watercolor chaos capturing my fury. Sketches on napkins—my face in every mood, laughter, tears, anger, silence. Not a shrine, but a museum. And unlike the one Dontrell surprised me with in his penthouse, this one breathed. It wasn’t perfection, but passion—wild, obsessive, unfiltered love. My name was etched on the walls—'Allison' scrawled a thousand times. My handwriting beside his. A framed grocery list I once left on his fridge. A torn menu from a dinner I didn’t even remember, where I scribbled a heart beside his initials.

he exclaimed, pulling out a piece of paper and rushing over to show me. I knelt down to get a better look. The drawing was simple, but unmistakable: Joe had drawn himself and Liam standing next to a racecar at the track. Joe’s stick figure had a huge smile on its face, and Liam’s was taller, a bit more detailed, with a cap on his head and a wrench in his hand. “See?” Joe said, pointing. “That’s me, and that’s Liam! We’re fixing the car together. And look, I even drew the racetrack!”

I followed suit, revealing myself to his burning gaze. “Well, let her,” I replied as our lips met, the world outside fading away. At that moment, nothing else mattered—nothing except the here and now. To love a gangster is to embrace the unknown, to be ready to cross every boundary, to stand firm even when the world seems against you. "I love you, my gangster," I whispered between kisses, my voice filled with pride. He paused, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze filled with a longing that mirrored my own, an unspoken promise of forever.

That just seems sadistic in my opinion. And I have been told I was sadistic. Multiple times. Not judging more, I flipped to another page. This one is a drawing. A blackhole. I don’t know what makes them think anyone wouldn’t get the drawing. It was quite fucking clear. But there was a scribbling in bold letters that says, ‘The Black Hole’. I wanted to find the owner and give them a small upside for whatever shit this is. Seeing their taste for a gift though, nothing else should surprise me.

She sees Zane's drawing and bursts into laughter. The wonderful and loving husband drew Naevia as a very slim woman with a beautiful bump on her stomach. Holding guns and shooting at fat women that looked like monsters. The drawing wasn't that perfect, but Naevia loved it. Zane gave it to her and she held it close. The artist wanted to return Zane's money, but Zane told him to take it. Zane takes Naevia back home, where she shows Kelvin and tells him that Zane drew it for her.

I thought mobsters were more religious and took good care of their families. "Okay!" He shouted. Enrico allowed Livia to leave the basement to take a shower. "You’re gonna shower in my bathroom and when you’re done, you’re gonna come back here". "No, I won't!" Enrico pulled Livia. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds while their bodies were close to each other. "You must give me the answer after the bath or you will go back to prison". He just walked away. "Do you understand me? Livia nodded. She walked slowly to the exit. Two men in black suits followed the gangster and his prisoner.

Of course, there are so many others in here admiring the artworks. “This is…” I start, but Michael completes it. “Erotic.” I blush hard. “I’d say sinful. A very sexy, sinful artwork.” I study the drawings starting from the one with a woman shoving a dildo into her big pussy, her face scrawled with desire, and her mouth dropped open to her chest. I move to the next with the drawing of an older man with his cock in hand while his seeds drip from his crown like droplets of water. There’s one with two teenage girls on their knees, their hands bound as they suck a cock from a glory hole.

he continued, voice low and sincere, “sometimes I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and leave. And at the same time, I feel guilty, like I’ve trapped you here with me. That’s why I let you run things at the cartel. In the mafia world, it’s like a chess game. Every move you pull, every piece. you push needs a careful and Calculated decision” Scarlet tilted her head slightly, frowning as she tried to grasp the deeper meaning behind his words. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying... I love you so much it’s made me break my own rules,” Leonardo confessed, eyes searching hers. “I used to think before I moved a chess piece. Now I move it for you. I do things just to make you smile. I don’t want you to

If he were not my husband, if we did not love each other so much, I would have been scared shitless! He chuckled, the dark sound sending chills up my spine as he walked closer to her, his hands at his back like he was about to speak to a four-year-old, his voice lowering further to add to the effect, it was almost comical "Yes, this is a place of business, but I am never one to give a fuck. I could buy this if I want, and even if every person in here heard you scream, no one would call the police, absolutely no one would have the balls to. You see, Cynthia Gonzalez, I know you, I know where you live, I know about your dear grandmother, the sickly old woman you have to take care of, which is

It had ruined everything and then I had disguised all that like into hatred and assured myself over and over again that I hated him. But now, that likeness was back but not as a tiny crush from a 15 year old girl but as a type of love that suddenly threatened to rip my hearts out. I twirled the pen in my fingers and bit down on my lips before reaching for the drawing. I lifted it off the wall and took it to my bed. I gently opened the glass frame and picked out the drawing. With the pen in hand, I gently scribbled on it. 'Mine, Pietro.’