Hear me out, mafia boss!leedo talking to you in his deep voice and from there on things…develop
Alright, this is exquisite...
Mafia boss in an expensive suit, shoulder holster on of course.
I can just imagine him having someone as his right-hand woman, so to speak. Always in the room with him, standing by his side. He would confide in them, take advice from them on business matters, but just as easily he would make good use of them when he pleased.
Due to the need for secrecy though, he would always stand just a bit too close, speaking right into their ear. So close that his lips would brush against their skin, electrifying the atmosphere. He never intends it to be sensual, but it almost always leads to something happening between them later.
Sitting behind his desk with his lieutenants in the room discussing the latest job, with his trusted right hand under the desk sucking him off.
Once the lieutenants left though, he'd start moaning their name, letting himself go a bit. Maybe even land up grabbing them by the hair and pulling them up from their knees, bending then over the desk, and fucking them hard and fast to get himself off.
That man has no patience and is unbelievably strong, so it's going to be rough. Enjoyably so. Plus, he can't keep quiet no matter how hard he tries. Puffing and panting, grunting as he cums, and growling "You're mine" into his lovers ear.
Safe to say everyone else in the organisation knows about this, but they'd never show it.
Notes: G/N reader, implied consent, pure fantasy (like jesus tattoos hurt, ain’t anybody going to be wanting to fuck someone while getting one, plus it would be grossly unsanitary)
Word count: 698 | Minors DNI, 18+ only
═══════════════════════════
You’d heard about a tattoo artist making waves underground in Seoul and after looking at his work you knew you had to get something from him.
Before people got to know you they’d never think you were inked, but you’d spent dozens of hours on those black benches, and you were planning on many more. This is the issue you faced when you walked into the makeshift studio where Jung Wooseok worked.
You sensed his cocky attitude right away, clearly he didn’t have high expectations of you as a client; in his mind you were either going to get the lamest design ever or land up passing out and tapping out on him. That didn’t put you off though, you saw it as a challenge. One that you were more than willing to accept.
Barely a word spoken to you, Wooseok throws a portfolio of flash on the desk for you to look at. It’s full of tiny overused designs with no detail or flair to them so you chuck the book back to him, telling him how you expected better from an artist with such a cult following.
“I was after a dragon, traditional style but black and grey with some red, on my ribs.”
His eyes widened, shocked that you’d asked for not one, but two of the most notorious things in tattooing: rib placement and red ink. He kept acting like a cocky asshole, but there was a hint of something else in the way he approached you now... desire, fascination, he was intrigued by you.
Skip forward an hour and you were lying on his table going through hell in the name of art. Wooseok had been tattooing you for around 30 minutes and he had already started asking if you were alright, if you were going to tap out or fall off the bench. Again you just challenged him, looked him right in the eyes and told him that he would be more likely to quit before you did.
This tit-for-tat kept going, steadily progressing to be more personal, more intimate. You normally weren’t like this with people that you didn’t know but something about him made you want to try and push his buttons to see what would happen. A few more hours passed just the same before you decided to really push the boundaries, you just hoped you had gauged it right.
“So... do you normally finish things quicker than this or does your girlfriend have to tap out because it takes you all day to get her off?”
You could see the spark in his eyes as he gently placed the tattoo machine back on his workbench and stood up, towering over you, walking to the other side of the table.
“Really wanting to go there?” he said, not expecting an answer. “I’ll fucking show you how quickly I can get things done.”
He was undoing your jeans and shoving his hand into your underwear to try and get you to cum as fast as possible, his long nimble fingers working wonders on you. Not one to lose without a fight, even as your breaths became hoarse and more laboured, you reached for him and started massaging his cock through his trousers. God knows how long he’d been hard for but it felt good knowing you had such an effect on him without trying.
When you looked up you could see he was biting his bottom lip trying to hold back whatever animal sound was threatening to claw it’s way from his throat. Knowing you had the power to make him lose it, you pulled his cock out and stroked up and down his length, taking the time to put a bit more pressure on the head as your thumb brushed over it.
The closer you got to your own release, the faster you worked him, turning on your side to use both your hands. One focusing on the shaft and the other keeping the stimulation on the head of his dick at breaking point. Wet with pre-cum, your fingers rolled over the most sensitive part of him, teasing a few raspy groans from that cocky bastard mouth of his.
Surprise is a fleeting feeling that flows through Ren as he realizes just what is occurring. Having settled down to the floor in his room to meditate it didn’t take long for him to feel the ever present signature of Rey’s light flowing about him. Though neither of them had reached out to the other their bond has not been severed. If anything he is comforted by the fact that the vow made that neither of them would be alone again remains true.
What he hadn’t been expecting was that the force grew tired of their stubborn avoidance of each other and thrust him into her personal space. He finds himself seated across from her as she is clearly meditating in her own room wherever she may be hiding away from the First Order; from him. His impulsive response is to jar her out of her meditation but he wasn’t overly fond of the reaction that might bring about.
So he sits before her mirroring her position and becomes attuned to her slow even breathing. Every inch of her he rakes over with his eyes trying to to gauge how she has been fairing since the last time they saw one another in the shambles of the throne room upon the Supremacy. With her eyes closed he lowers his guard, and gazes upon her with such longing that he tries with all of his might to sever the connection before his bleeding heart gets him into even more trouble.
