Pretty Little Thing (Otayuri)

Prologue

"Be safe out there Yurio!!!" The sliver haired man called. 

"Yeah Yeah,  I will." The blonde replied in a monotone voice.

"Look Yuri," The older one pulled him out of the doorway. "Me and your father are wanted by every gang in Moscow,  so I mean it.  Be careful.  Especially for that Otabek fellow.  He's bad news."

You see,  they weren't actually family at all,  but rather a close group of friends with assigned roles and dynamics.  The two older ones (Yuuri and Viktor) were the fathers, and Yuri was their son.  He could pass off as their son if he tried though,  and that really annoyed him.

"I will," the blonde nodded. "I'm a drug lord too you know.  I can handle myself." For once,  the salty 15 year old smiled sincerely at his friend.  He knew that they cared about him,  he just didn't like to show it, because in his words "The Russian Punk doesn't have friends".  Yurio was feared in the city,  since he was one of the most powerful and notorious drug kingpins in Russia,  behind Viktor and Otabek that is. He only managed to climb so high up the chain due to his closeness with Viktor (and also amazing skills). No one would have given him a second glance before,  for all they thought they saw was a pre pubescent fairy child.  In actuality,  they were seeing a 15 year old so agile and skilled he could take them down without a second thought.

The delicate blonde was walking down the alleyways when he began to feel eyes burn into the back of his head.  He tightened his grip on his handgun as he walled forward,  slightly picking up his pace. Though as expected,  the stranger following him did too.  Yuri smiled slightly at this.  He knew the game his assailant was playing off by heart,  he'd seen ally and serial romantic Giacometti play the same game, make the girl feel nervous and make your move. This wasn't Giacometti though...  He was probably out recruiting more women for his company.  Yuri knew that being a pimp was hard work,  but that man made it look so easy,  with his wide array of women he collected over the years,  soliciting them out to the highest bidder and collecting half the profit in return.  His assailant was someone else,  which honestly didn't surprise him.  He knew he looked like a girl from behind, that's why he sauntered down the street like one.  If he had the body and hair,  why not milk the act for aslong as possible?

He still remained vigilant as he turned the corner, still trying to look out of the corner of his eye to see the face of his assailant.  Eventually he came to a stop,  and turned to see his stalker leaning up against the wall casually.

"Hey babe...(HOLY FUCK WHY DOES OTABEK SOUND LIKE JJ WHENEVER I FIRST INTRODUCE HIM) " The man had a thick accent,  whilst not as thick as his own, and had a very distinct look about him.  Kazakh.  Easy guess.  No one who was born and bred in Russia could be like that.

"I am a boy,  you know that right," Yuri responded, scoffing a bit. "And if you have any idea who I am,  I'd advise you keep your distance mate."

"Oh I know you very well Plisetsky,  and while it would be rational to keep my distance,  common sense isn't exactly what I'm known for." he smirked,  edging ever closer to the blonde.

"And you're known for what? Being the King of terrible fashion?" the blonde retorted sarcastically.

"Surely you,  the Russian Punk,  leader of Russia's most powerful and skilled hit men and assassins would know me," he pretended to be offended. "Well,  if you must know...  I'm known for taking whatever I want." he leaned closer and growled into Yuri's ear.

"NOW BOYS!"

Before the small boy could react,  a cloth was put over his mouth and nose.

Chlorophyll...

The world went dark...

So... That's the dynamic of this thing. It's going to be very smutty,  very sexual and very...  X rated.

If you are at all offended by dd/lb, pet play, bdsm,  anything like that,  please leave.

I'll try and update every Sunday,  Wednesday and every other Friday.  I have Bloom to update too so this one may not be updated as much.

~Arrow