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shujisprettybabe · 10 months

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Nicolas Brown, Worick x Fem! reader

tw: implied nfsw towards the end…that’s about it.

A/n: I am so sorry about the person who requested this?? Like a freakin month ago?? I went on deployment🇺🇸🦅???💀 But I hope you enjoy it!! And sorry if they seem a little bit ooc!! If you want something different or better please let me know!!

Worick was no foreigner when it came to Lingerie. In fact, he prided himself on knowing the difference between them and what looked best on not only himself but his clients, although it never stayed on for long.

But on you? Consider him a new man. Consider him never having seen lingerie a day in his life. Because you. Because you??

He’s flabbergasted. His jaw is dropped and he can't help the way his eyes rake your body, taking in the way the clothing compliments your breast and completes your figure. He’s like one of those cartoon dog’s, you swear you could see the hearts in his eyes.

The funny thing is, this is not the first time he’s seen you wear Lingerie. Throughout the few years you’ve been married and even through the years y’all have dated, he’d act a damn fool when you decided to surprise him with the lacy,silk clothing. He’s your biggest supporter and hypeman, can’t help but to feel like the most beautiful woman.

He whistles, a giant smile covering his face while he rises from the bed. His hands reach around your waist and pull you close. “Is it my birthday or is this a reward for good behavior?” He says with a smile that you can't help but match.

“Hmm? Oh this little ole thing? I’m wearing this for me.” You laugh out loud. “ ‘m just changing up my nightgown.” The faux innocence in your eyes has him chuckling. His hands slide down your form slowly before gripping your ass and pulling you even closer.

“Then I approve this new changeup. I’d like to indulge myself in this new change, if you don't mind.” And with that he picks you up. You can’t help the screech that leaves your mouth as he does with such ease. He places you down on the bed before kissing your breath away.

“So I’m guessing that means you like it?” you laugh.

“Oh my pretty wife, more than you’ll ever know.”

Unlike Worick, Nicolas Brown was a silent appreciator. The first time you walked into his room, he was already seated in a chair, his eyes closed and arms crossed. He had just gotten back from one of his job calls and was patiently awaiting the next one.

He noticed someone was in the room but waited till he felt the tap on his shoulder to open his eyes and the sight behold him had his eyes as wide as saucers .

Not many things could surprise him or at least indicate it on his face.

But goddamn you looked like a goddess standing in front with a timid tilt to your smile. He swallows the lump in his throat and beckons you closer.

Instantly wrapping his hands around your waist and stroking the silky material. You wait patiently for him to finish.

And finally, he looks up. A soft smile decorates his lips and you let out a breath you weren't even aware you were holding as you replicate the same smile on your face.

He lets go of you to sign quickly before placing them back around your waist.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, just wanted to surprise you. You seemed a little stressed out from work and…I thought this might help.”

He lays his hand on your stomach and lets out a soft hum of appreciation before he’s suddenly up and softly pushing you away.

All for good reason of course. Nicolas Brown was very aware of his handsy and T-shirt stealing (although they both steal other’s clothes) roommate. And because of that, he’s also very aware that Worick does not have the concept of privacy when it comes to barging into other people’s rooms.

So like any sane man, he closes and locks the door before returning back to your beautiful figure.

Nicolas grabs you gently, treating you like you were made of glass before placing soft kisses on your forehead, cheeks, nose and lastly your lips. You both slowly melt into each other’s embrace, his hand slowly gliding up and down your back.

And you finally take a breath of air, his head on your forehead. He pulls you back to sit on his lap as he signs. “You’re perfect. Thank you, love.””

You can’t help the smug grin that sets place on your face, feeling him underneath you.

“Let’s see how long this actually stays on.”His smirk matches your as he begins to remove his belt.

#nicolas brown x reader #gangsta x reader #gangsta #gangsta worick #worick x reader #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo #x black reader

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midnightlee25 · 11 months

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Yandere Reaction: Their darling asking them to pretend to be their partner

Nicolas Brown:

Doesn’t like the idea at first so he won’t go along with it but if they keep pestering him about it then he will agree to it. However, unlike his darling he won't be pretending at all. This situation will only give him a chance to act on what he's been wanting to do.

Worick Arcangelo:

He only goes along with it to show everyone that they are together. Not that he doesn't do that anyways by spreading rumors but now he can show people that it's true.

#yandere #yandere reactions #gangsta worick #gangsta nicolas #gangsta.#gangsta #nicolas x reader #nicolas brown #gangsta nicolas x reader #gangsta nicolas headcanon #nicolas brown x reader #worick headcanons #worick arcangelo x reader #worick arcangelo #yandere nicolas #yandere worick

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osakunt · 1 year

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worick x reader x nicolas angst to smut if you don't do that then angst to fluff I just need some gangsta material tbh

- MINORS DNI

God I’m so sorry for the long wait 😭 I can’t think of anything angst to smut ……. Here’s just some smut

Nic’s balls clap against your ass while he vigorously trusts into you. The way his curved cock drags inside of you has you on cloud nine. Scraping your insides while you swirl your tongue on Worick’s tip. The precum he leaks makes you want to devour his dick whole.

The stimulation you are going through is something that was a first, definitely a must try again experience .

Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take trying to calm your self down.

The man between your legs moves and the blue eyed loud mouth takes over. His dick is much thicker than. Nic’s, filling you up to the brim.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we ?”

Worick can’t hold his excitement anymore. He goes for it without a warning. Nicolas is the next to shove himself into your mouth. You take it. They try to dominate you but you don’t let yourself get thrown under.

You had been submissive ever since this started. You grab his cock and let your mouth do it’s magic while clamping your walls around Worick. At this rate neither had a chance against you.

“Doll, you’re being a little to aggressive”

Nicolas grunts to the blond’s comment, his balls had already tightened on him. It was a matter of time before he tapped out.

Worick was another that was to lose the war against your cunt. Your pussy had him completely drunk - with Nic drained - you pull the gigolo towards you. Your rough kissing pushes him over the edge, spilling himself into you.

#gangsta nicolas #gangsta worick #gangsta x reader #gangsta smut #worick arcangelo #Worick smut #nicolas brown #[‼️] yess responds

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theintrovertedextrovert · 17 days

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My favourite short kings <3

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #nicholas brown #gangsta #anime and manga #my pookies #dark haired men with a traumatic past 🤝🏽me #captain levi #twilight gangsta #eren jaeger #gangsta worick #short king

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aucasaurus · 2 months

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#pink #aucasaurus #manga #gangsta #gangsta manga #gangsta chapter 5 #gangsta worick #worick arcangelo #worick

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petrichorramen · 9 months

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moth to a flame [1]

main lead(s): n.brown, black fem!reader

character(s): w.archangelo, a.bendetto, christianos, monroes, pauklees, corsicans, georgiana, nina, dr. theo, original character(s) & more.

content warning(s): age-gap relationships, explicit language, sex & sexual acts, nudity, drugs & drug use, prostitution, misogyny, human trafficking, slight mentions of sexual assault, mental disorders, suicidal ideation & suicide, organized crime, death & murder, violence & gore, corruption, discrimination & more.

author notes: the reader is a burlesque dancer and is very sure of herself and her skills.

You hadn't expected him to be here. You really hadn't.

You breathe, straddling the sheened, stygian vinyl floors and rocking your hips with smooth vigor, your fingers running across your thighs and torso freckled with your signature golden flecks. The apricot-led lights of Bastard’s insignia hanging from the prop behind capture the bejeweled pieces of costume scattered across the stage and the copious boa scarf dangling around your neck, veiling your breasts. There are praises and whistles from the showgoers— all you can see are shadows of faces, the burnished uplighting obscuring your sight, but you honestly don't care and nothing matters except for your stage, your dance, and you.

You turn your back and stand with the boa scarf in your hands, swaying your embellished cage panty-clad ass and twirling your hands toward the Arcadia as if allotting worship because tonight, well— you chuckle through your nose— you were all. Tonight, you were everything.

You sit with your legs crossed at the edge of the stage, an arm propped behind, and the other pulling at the shawl around your neck powdered with sweat. The jazz band drags the note of their instruments to inflate the anticipation, the ache— the wait. And still, when the article of clothing nearly plunges from you, both hands bunch feathers toward your breasts, feigning a look of innocence that earns a parade of laughter.

You carefully remove your grip with the muffler sliding down your back and down to the crook of your elbows, slithering them over your stomach once again and then over the contour of your waist and hips, the musicians belting the final interval of the song. Then, the uplighting dissipates and you nearly miss him.

He leans against the PA speakers in the far back, arms crossed and eyes riveting into yours, the alloyed tags around his neck amongst the sea of them sending taunting glares. Your gaze trails down to the brandished sheathed blade laced to his side with a red ribbon you had flung in his direction during one of your enactments years ago.

After they resigned from the Monroe Family, your latest semi-encounter with the neutral power known as Benriya, or otherwise, the Handymen was amid your debut burlesque rendition. During that encounter, you barely had enough time to evade the wine bottle that soared toward your head as an altercation broke out in the cabaret that evening, the fermented beverage spattering the jeweled corset you had upcycled yourself and the matching garter stockings. Seated on your broken suitcase in the backroom while an EMT nursed your foot after you stepped on the broken glass attempting to make your retreat, you weren't sure who you had been infuriated with on your unsuccessful opening night. When you limped your way toward the exit, using the blood-soiled walls as leverage, blue lights pulsated across your face and he saw you before you could, he and Worick under fire for another vicious scolding from Inspector Chad Adkins. His cheeks were stained and the wideness in his eyes from the thrill of combat had vanished, ushering him back to reality, and yet some of that vigilance remained in the wake, lurking, snarling, and darting.

Your coat slunk down your shoulders when stiffness left them when you met his aloof gaze, the brisk air nipping at your melanin skin. You breathed, and the grip on the defective telescopic handle of your suitcase tightened. That night would have cost you working electricity and water had it not been for the senior caregiver work you did in the early mornings to mid-afternoons. Still, when you opened the door of your townhome, there was a redi-seal packet brimmed with crumpled cash and a scrawled message which stated, “For your performance and the dry cleaners.”

You swore you spotted a figure disappearing on the rooftops after you received the parcel.

Now, in present day, waitpersons cross your vision as they gather your tip envelopes with written amounts and your mind is back in Bastard once more, the applause battering the air reaching you. You fumble, sending a glance toward the framed portrait in memory of Sherry. You could almost hear her teasing as you make a rather gauche departure and strut down the polished, marble stairs backstage. Your stilettos clack against the floor and you shift your body to the side to bypass a group of entertainers waiting for Galahad to complete his introduction.

It shouldn't come to me as a surprise. Benriya had become the hot topic of Ergastulum, hired by everyone and anyone who desired their expertise whether that be to replace the old, dusty filters of a venting system in your home or to get rid of another sleazy jackass exploiting your claimed territories to get rich quick. Perhaps the pair were the hired guns for tonight's soirée as a fill-in.

You head to the restroom since the green rooms are crowded. As you study your reflection in the mirror, you relish in the fruits of your labor for a while, almost feeling remorseful when you have to remove the rhinestones and false lashes. You wash the tacky residue from your eyelids and cheeks and peel off the colored full lace wig, undoing the cornrows for tomorrow morning—or today since it's a quarter past midnight.

You eventually decide to acknowledge the shadow you caught in the mirror leaning by the restroom door as you wipe at your stubborn lipstick.

“Not allowed backstage,” you sing, pulling your suitcase from the out-of-order stall to find a coat to throw over your corseted frame. “Disrupts and puts the performers at risk.”

It happened a few years or so ago. Some deadbeat motherfucker beneath the guise of someone’s boyfriend helping performers with their luggage of costumes and makeup lured an exhausted woman to an abandoned greenroom under renovations at that time and attempted to assault her. It was you and a few others who heard her muffled cries and restrained him until security arrived and dealt out the rest with a strenuous beating while you all stayed to console the woman, offering some water and airing her with your Marabou fans. Since then, Mr. Cristiano prohibited anyone from backstage besides the entertainers and bouncers, doubling the safety tenfold and offering his apologies, and taking accountability.

The creases in between your brows soften at the faint memory of the mob boss. He’d always joked he’d only see you around Bastard when you were there to run his pocket dry for your burlesque performances. How could you ever forget the grin on his scarred lip and his eyes smiling along with him?

Nicolas signs curtly as he does, tugging you from your brief remembrance. “I’m working security.”

Guessed right. You hadn't seen Aldo all evening, an old churlish but giant teddy bear of a bouncer.

You turn to Nicolas, a hand stuffed in your coat, face damp and fresh, taking strides until you're only inches apart, the scent of ginger taffy, Paradise mints, Perrier lime, and copper overtaking you. He breathes you in too, chest caving into his sternum, never missing the way his eyes line the shape of yours. You roll them, scoffing with a caustic smile. It was so like him to dance around and to create hurdle after hurdle, denying himself. After all, what audacity did he have, he'd say. He was just some dog.

“You need to be careful,” Nicolas begins, tearing his orbs away and gazing into the crevices of the tiled walls.

You were a neutral employee yourself. You perform in most territories which include Corsican domains and, though you weren't particularly well-liked by other performers and the occasional club owner, you were undoubtedly well-received. You never were there to make nice with their intolerant faces, to make friends. The only thing that mattered to you was yourself. You were there to dance, to act, to display. To do what you adored, to be a tease, and to get paid—and believe it, you were worth every damn rack and no insufferable asshole could negate that.

It's funny though. The bigoted public of Corsicans hold themselves in such high regard and yet the most respect and human decency thereof you’ve gotten were in Twilight-safe zones. Remarks like “Twilight-fucker” or “Twilights favorite pussy” (while still being able to spur the crowds on, mind you) as you brushed past scowling groups after another performance, weren't exactly polite.

But, hell, Uranos Corsica— as much as he abhorred even the vaguest whisper of Twights— didn't bat an eye on your works in his territory. You did increase the popularity and revenue at his businesses he must confess and you were “a Normal”—you roll those eyes of yours hard— Thus, you continued your job.

Besides, Worick, who tells people that you belonged to the sword-wielding Twilight as he does with every woman he comes to appreciate, must’ve put the fear of God in people when he paraded this around at Big Mamas. And though his habit was originally intended to protect his work as a Gigolo, with that alarming piece of information, most people were talking out of their asses when they made their threats.

You are casual-spirited and pert, not stupid. Never that. You never walking late hours alone was standing proof you were prudent and conscious about the scorn carbonating in the abdomen of Ergastulum. That hatred was why you frequently found the small number of acquaintances and colleagues you had six feet under at funerals, rather than six hundred feet under the luminous explosions of fireworks in the night sky on New Year's Eve.

There's a honk coming from Bastard’s exterior and he blinks when you vanish after you eye him again, tilting your head slightly and cooing, “Oh, thank you, baby, but I can take care of myself.”

It's the way you sigh every syllable like it's a sweet, rich glaze— practiced. It’s only a force of habit, but the gouge is prevalent in his chest.

He’d become clientele.

He rushes after you and young Marco Adriano scrambles for the mop he places on the wall, you laugh incredulously, “Naughty lil boy, don't let me catch you doing that again,” as he attempts to look productive after eavesdropping. Nicolas sees the sleek, vintage ivory limousine and there's a titled, well-groomed man in his senior kissing the apple of your cheek as you sit in the backseat beside him with your hands on his chest while the chauffeur handles your luggage. The gouge widens, gushing in the air and onto the ground when a salt and pepper-haired face and head feathers you. You smile a smile so authentic with your hand draped over his chest, Nicolas nearly staggers from the significance and weight you carry behind it.

You’re chattering about your performance as the elderly man asks you about it exuberantly and if you’re supposed to notice Nicolas, you don’t. Not until “Dear, Old” Mogavero clashes his eyes against his. Brown doesn't move to hide, neither does he falter in his stance. And as he stares at one of the most influential men in Ergastulum, his eyes narrow.

“Benriya,” He smiles, eyes crinkling and Nico hopes to find a semblance of malice or dishonesty. “I'll have to place a request for work to be done at my place sometime.”

“Do you even want to keep that house?” You say. You hadn't experienced their exploits personally but Chad Adkins's complaints and the gossip of others in the city made you well aware of the collateral damages they’ve caused at times.

He throws his head back with crinkled hazel brown eyes, a gums-and-all laughter booming through the alleyways. Some passing heads turn to look at him like he's a madman, but he doesn't care and doesn't offer a sheepish little apology.

“Just need a hand with the water heater.” He says and nudges his head toward Brown. “Can't have this little lady and the others hauling ass to heat some water for a bath, eh? What do you say? Wouldn't be too much trouble for you boys, right?”

“None, Mr. Mogavero,” Nicolas replies, his voice rumbles when he does. “But I’ll have to take it up with my contractor.”

There's a nippy silence and he sees the way your jaw clenches at the word, the way you swallow. You hadn't heard that in a while, but he hadn't forgotten the way it made you twitch.

“Ah, no, that's okay.” The elderly man clears his throat with a cough. “I'll call you when I don't have company, yeah?”

He nods in understanding and you gaze at him over your shoulder before the chauffeur closes the door. The vehicle spurs away from the cobblestone forefront of Bastard with fumes, the lights of the club radiating his shoulders and casting shadows over his dark eyes. His hand instinctively grips the red thread draped across his sword at his hips. He lets the thread slide through his fingers until it softly caresses the sides of his thighs and when he looks, the rear lights of the limousine flash when it stops at the end of the road before fading into the night at the next street.

Nicolas turns and enters Bastard once more, eyeing Worick who makes himself, leaning against the entrance with crossed arms.

Nothing but a dog, Nicolas looks away and thinks, feeling content. It's no use for any of it. Don't try to act human—

—monster.

#nicolas brown x reader #gangsta nicolas brown #gangsta nicolas #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo #gangsta anime #gangsta #gangsta worick #gangsta x reader #kohske

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temaridono · 10 months

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Just remembering my kids. This was a very cute love story for the context...

I feel like reading the manga for the tenth time.

#Gangsta.#kohske #marco adriano #gangsta manga #Constance Raveau #connie Gangsta #miss them #sad hours #gangsta worick #nicolas gangsta #alex benedetto #worick arcangelo #nicolas brown

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qweaenr · 1 year

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rindoushousewife69 · 10 months

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backwzzds · 9 months

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ೃ⁀➷ gangsta masterlist

any titles without a link has not been posted yet.

HEADCANONS

coming soon.

DRABBLES

coming soon.

arcangelo WORICK

coming soon.

brown NICOLAS

coming soon.

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xxelfmamaxx · 1 year

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Okay hear me out-

MY KNEES ARE WEAK FOR THIS MAN-💳💳💳💳💳 SIDBZUAKWBDISKWBWOSSJ

Also I started watching Gangsta, I recommend it 100%(also, I'm gonna soon start reading manga)

@gigikoala @l-tora-l @southside-otaku @silverbladexyz @simpywhore @simpfully-heartbroken @thisbitchreallyneedsleep @thedancefloorsilly @that-one-pretty-bitch @mercyboluthecrazychicken @mikulmaoo @mrsdostoevsky @manicmagic1 @dreamtaletwins1 @draken-s-bitch @darkdevasofdestruction @drawing-assassin

#gangsta anime #gangsta #Nicolas Brown #gangsta nicolas #alex benedetto #gangsta worick

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flatmatttresss · 1 year

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a smile plastered on your face as you say at the table with doctor theo, grinning absently over a cup of coffee. the sun beamed brightly through the window; a rarity around here, you quickly noted, for things to feel so at peace. nina shuffled behind you at the sink, watering her plants dutifully as she always does.

she suddenly stops what she's doing, the water being shut up with a quick slam, and suddenly nina is out the door with doctor theo trailing her quickly. you stand quickly, the table shifting forward with your quick change.

the scene outside the clinic's front door is... red. that's the only word that comes to mind. it's red, sticky, and frightening. worick is holding into nicolas's shoulder tightly, a sad attempt at keeping him upright. worick seems dizzy, his one good eye is closed tightly and he's clearly gritting his teeth.

doctor theo breaks the tense silence, grabbing worick beside his daughter, pulling the large man to his feet so nicolas could be attended to, "he must be crashing from an overdose."

you snap into action, sitting nicolas up against the wall of the clinic until theo gets back from putting worick in a bed, "what happened?" you quietly imply, brushing your thumb over his brow to stop the flow of some blood.

'job went bad,' he signs, brows furrowing, he's gritting his teeth too.

"jesus christ nic..." you sigh softly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and standing. blood streaks onto your side from his stained clothes, and you start to worry how doctor theo is going to be able to pull nic through on this one.

nicolas grunts the entire way to his bed. nina has already prepped herself with her apron and gloves, following her dads orders diligently. the two get worick and nic patched up quickly and leave to clean themselves thoroughly.

you clean up the dried blood on worick carefully, pulling the sheet up over him so he can rest. moving on to nicolas, who is lying with his eyes closed and chest somewhat heaving. you dip a sponge into a bucket of soapy water and start to gently scrub at the dried blood on his side. there's stitches now, thank god.

"you do a lot," nicolas brokenly mumbles, eyes still closed tightly in pain and small grunts coming from his chest, "thanks." he doesn't look you in the eye when he says that.

"it's my job. as the oldest ya know?" you smile softly and continue to scrub, "im not into it the way nina is, but i try to help dad where i can," you sigh and squeeze the sponge out into the bucket, "i look out for both of them. kinda like you look out for worick."

"that's different," he says it tiredly like he's ready for the conversation to be over. maybe it's because it hurts your feelings, or maybe you understood that it WAS different, but you kept your mouth shut, "maybe it is."

he opens one eye, the one not caked in blood, and grabs your wrist where you're cleaning his side, and signs slowly, 'different.'

you nod softly. it never dawned on you unstick now that you don't really understand the entire natures of his relationship with worick. it just seemed from the outside that nic was some sort of bodyguard, or maybe a very concerned friend. either way, you never asked. it seemed like something you weren't allowed to pry about. years of helping your dad treat worick and nic's wounds had taught you that silence was sometimes the key. the two of them were so secretive as is, so it didn't seem to be your place to ask questions. nic always seemed more stand off-ish than worick, though, with his quiet nature and curious eyes following every movement you made.

you sighed and gave up getting all the blow off of his side, moving to his eye with a tiny dish rag, "this ... this is probably gonna burn. it's caked in your eyebrow, so i gotta use some pressure," you tilted your head down so he could read your lips, "okay?"

he nodded quietly and closed his eyes tightly, grunting when you grazed the deep cut shiver his eyebrow, "sorry... i told you it would hurt,"

'it's fine,' he signed.

"... sorry i... compared myself to you."

'im not someone you want to be compared to,' he signed, turning a bit to look out the window.

"well... i could pick worse people to compare myself to," you shrug, gripping his chin gently to turn him back so he could see what you were saying, "let me finish cleaning you."

you moved closer to him. the rag in your hand had turned brown and red in places and it smelled like dirt. you cast it aside and grabbed ointment, squirting some onto his brow scar and applying it generously.

nicolas gripped your wrist gently with one hand, pulling it away from his face and looking up at your gently. he sat that way for a second, searching your expression for something, before he turned your hand and kissed the back of it.

your cheeks warmed gently and you sat there for a moment, wrist hovering in the air, "oh... thank you nic," you smiled brightly at him, noting the tint on his cheeks but his expression stayed the same. he seemed very sure of what he'd done, and you made peace with that.

"okay, you're all clean now. feel any better?" he shook his head and huffed in pain, trying to say 'no. im still in pain' without signing. you grinned softly and breathed out a small chuckle, "aside from that." he nodded then, sighing sleepily and turning into his good side.

you smiled gently and grabbed his hand before he'd fully settled into his side, kissing the back of it very gently, and leaving quickly before you thought what you'd done through.

#gangsta worick #gangsta nicolas #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo #nicolas brown x reader #nicolas/reader

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