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ceruleanchillin · 3 months

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141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all.

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you.

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft.

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct.

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms.

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time.

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you.

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart.

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey.

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.”

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge.

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle.

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual.

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more.

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats.

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him.

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back.

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you.

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him.

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him.

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members.

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again.

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy.

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break.

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs.

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn.

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes.

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that.

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.”

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment.

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there.

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him.

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back.

His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration.

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.”

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain.

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that.

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone.

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back.

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.”

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap.

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense.

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him.

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you.

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.”

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound.

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings.

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave.

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length.

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss.

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth.

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

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dracobrooklyn · 4 months

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Call of Duty Recommending Writing.

These are my recommendations on these amazing COD x Reader or Oc x Cannon Writing. These are the best of the best :D Light on by @peachesofteal

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

|| MDNI|| 18+

This anthology is just so damn beautiful, when I jumped into the COD x reader train this one was the first one, and I LOVE IT! the writing is so in character of Mister Simon Riley and by god, he still his grumpy self but still minds his manners towards the single mom reader with her baby <3. The relationship between Simon and the neighbor is a slow burn romance and by god it's so good, the way he is soft towards her. Fighting his feelings but letting them go. How he treats the little baby, as if he was father the whole time, god damn it, it's so sweet. There is very much Smut in this, the kinks are just fabulous. I will not spoil much but please read read!! Worth the love and the time spent onto this!!

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT by @kneelingshadowsalome || MDNI || 18+

{Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, violence, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}

König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

Man on Man... where do I start with this. This is a four Part Story so there is more slow burn romance to eat. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and Dessert. The writing in this is so good! It's the right amount of character development, the way they use the language barrier in this is so creative and fun! Konig in this is just a treat, brash but loving, he's a man, course he's not gonna be a total prince charming. His interactions with the reader is very spicy and also sweet. The detail into the interactions *chef kiss*. Give me more! The Kinks are real good in this, reading this while curled up in my burrito blanket oof. Please do give this a chance, well worth it!

mafia!John Price x fem!wife!Reader by @cordeliawhohung || MDNI || 18+

All you wanted was to be able to see your husband after a long week at work, but when he stands you up at dinner, that's the last straw. You hunt him down and find him at a club that he owns, where you very quickly learn why he told you to stay very far away from the place. - Or, mafia!Price defends his wife's honor then fucks her in the VIP room <3

you want a fun horny but sweet/steamy Price x Reader one shot. Here have this wonderful snack, it's a big one :3. Just the way the reader was concerned for good ol Mr. Price with being a mafia boss. But then then smut goes in, yis :3. It's dirty but a good dirty! you want a man like John to treat you like a gentleman, this is it! <3

Price x Young Reader by @luvit || MDNI || 18+

This is short but sweet! Just a fun headcannon that the reader who is in their mid/late 20's so this is an age gap headcannon. It's not off portions with the age gap. The description talking about the reader having more energy than him onto their second or third round and he is milked dry oof, and then the reader becomes bratty and he takes the reigns despite his low energy <3 it's good :D.

Fae!Price x Witch!reader by @ghouljams || MDNI || 18+

Hear me out hear me out... fae!price... cool? Cool! The writing in this is so good! Price teasing the reader when the fae try to give you a gift and you know better to. Not giving out their name, or even your name. The Fae know how to be tricksters. And the smut in this, oh it's so spicy! I love it! I'm a slut for magic based writing. especially AU's like these!! Please give them a shot! I know I LOVED.

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader by @yeyinde || MDNI || 18+

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

Ah Ha, you see if you know me (or don't) I LOVE dragons!! Dragons are my favorite creature! I love them, and what's better when you can romance a dragon! I mean come on! Good shit my guy! And I love and accept the headcannon that Price would be a dragon 100% not because of the smoking of a cigar that's the 5%, it's the personality, the vibe, and the voice fits so perfectly. The writing in this is so damn spicy!! How rough and hot it is (no pun intended). The way he teases the reader, ah. Very nice~ please give his a read!

woe to the deer who is courted by the wolf . . . by @toshidou Vampire!Konig x reader || MDNI || 18+

You want Vampire!Konig in your pallet, say no more. Here have this damn meal! The beginning is very silly in a good way! But when you finally come across the man himself, it get's good. I love it when Writers use his German language in the writing, it's adds the mystery where I have to look it up and I go "OH!?". It's so good! I love it! It got that size difference and the a little blood play cause of the vampire thing but please read this! indulge thyself!!

Faint Jingling Brass by @cowyolks || MDNI || 18+

Prompt: There was something about you, something that urged the beast to enter your cottage. It was intrigued, sniffing the anguish of your very soul- and it wanted you.

Krampus!Konig... yeah uh give me the eggnog with the cookies please, this was a joy to read. Totally wouldn't bang Krampus, I don't know what you are talking about. The fact that the reader was totally willing to get punished, you know it's good. Spanking? Predator/Prey dynamic? Yes Yes!! Please read this!!

Your Grace by @cowyolks Prompt: As a loyal soldier to your King, you follow orders without question. So when the King asks you to kneel— you do as told. || MDNI || 18+

Fun fact, if I am correct Konig means king in German. Why not have an AU where Knoig is the king and you are def his favorite. The writing is so damn hot oof! It is in two parts though! And the reading is so worth it. Made me blush and curl up in my blanket as well! Please please read!!

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sunnyswide · 6 days

Text

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

…

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

#konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost #ghost and konig #cod #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #konig fanfiction

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captain-mj · 11 months

Note

I don't know if anyone has asked yet, but I'd love a part 2 of the horangi/konig mafia AU.

I absolutely adore the characterisation and I am starving for Horangi finding out who Konig actually is!

This was a bit longer than I was expecting but here ya go (smut at the end)

Part 1

König brought Horangi slightly better food after his bath, smiling at him. He watched Horangi start to eat for a few minutes. Horangi looked up at him and swallowed. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Are you feeling better?”

“Much. It felt nice. Feels nice being clean.”

König nodded and smiled at him. “Rest now, ja?”

Horangi nodded before admitting. “Still exhausted from those pills.” He was visibly leaning over and as soon as König took the bowl, he slumped back into the bed. “Done nothing but sleep since I got here.”

“You’re injured. It does that.” König pressed his hand to Horangi’s forehead, making sure there was no fever. The paranoia that Horangi might develop an infection was still high, but he seemed to be doing well. He gently helped Horangi to lay back down and put his blanket over him. Horangi’s eyes had started to glaze over and he was light enough that König could move him around.

König left him to sleep and stretched. He then rolled his shoulders before pulling his hood back on.

The person who bought Horangi, his dad’s previous right hand man, had the decency to at least look sheepish when he saw him.

“In my defense, I thought he’d be good for you!”

“I do not need… whatever he is.”

“He’s whatever you want him to be. He has no family. Came to this country after being kicked out of his last one. No friends, just gambling debt. An easy mark.”

König sighed and shook his head. “Declan, while I appreciate you looking out for me, I am just fine.”

“Leon. You’re socially anxious and useless when talking to people on your own. Whether you want him as a translator, boytoy, bodyguard, friend, I don’t care. I just thought he’d do you some good.”

“...Bodyguard huh?” König had been considering it. He liked Horangi honestly. Very cute. Small. Even with the new scarring, he was handsome. Once it healed, König had no doubts he’d be stunning. What little conversation they had managed to have proved he was intelligent. Spoke enough German to know what König meant, even if he clearly wasn’t fluent. He’d be a good bodyguard, even if that wasn’t something König really needed. It meant they’d be close and if he didn’t want to deal with a social situation, his bodyguard could do it.

“I’ll wait until he’s recovered.”

Declan nodded. “Glad you’re seeing my side. I just want what’s best for you, kid.”

König wrinkled his nose, but didn’t point out that he was 24 and Declan was only in his earlier thirties. Not the closest, but close enough for it to not make sense for Declan to try acting like his dad.

Plus, König’s dad was dead and he wasn’t looking for a replacement. He didn’t particularly like the one he had. The man started a criminal empire and then died during a crucial part of it. And now he was stuck dealing with this.

König sighed. “Alright, Declan.” He dealt with his normal duties, still constantly thinking of Horangi. This was going to be complicated.

It was the fourth day now and, after making sure his hood wasn’t on, König was bringing Horangi more food. He asked the chef to make him something special for him. They provided a soup made mostly of chicken and ginseng. It smelled fragrant. König would have to try it. Probably would taste good.

Horangi looked excited when he handed it to him. He clearly recognized it and immediately started eating. His face looked a bit red and König reached out, gently placing his fingers to his face. Warm, but not feverish. He’d keep an eye on it, but he was sure it would be fine.

Horangi sipped the soup and glanced up at him. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Most Korean parents make this for sick children. We’re in Austria. You’re clearly Austrian.”

König shrugged. “Just asked them to make something you like.”

“You’re not the one cooking?” Horangi tilted his head and König wondered if he had any idea who he was. He sat on the bed next to him and watched him curiously.

König realized he hadn’t responded and winced. “No. I’m not. I’m just… your caretaker.”

“Ah. Do you know who I’ll be working for?”

“KorTac.”

Horangi paused and looked up at him. He didn’t give much of a reaction besides that. Not even a flicker of emotion for König to interpret. “Ah. I owe them money.”

“Your debt has been cleared.”

“What could I possibly do that’s so useful they’d be willing to do this?”

König stared at him.

Horangi frowned. “You have to know something right?”

König must’ve reacted because Horangi was leaning forward. “Look, if they don’t give the job to me, that’s fine. But please, tell me what my job is if they give it to me.” He grabbed König’s hands. So confident. Tiger was fitting for him.

König grabbed his hand back, comparing them. They both had calluses on their trigger finger from guns. Little cuts from handling knives. Horangi had a line across one of his fingers like it had been purposefully cut. König had a line across his palm and little pale lines across his fingers from rings.

“The boss’s bodyguard.”

Horangi moved closer. “Why would he need a bodyguard?”

“He doesn’t. You’re just for show.” König pulled away from him and stood up. “Finish eating. You should be focused on your recovery.”

Horangi frowned and stared up at him. “Who’s your boss?”

König smiled brightly. “He’s nice. Don’t worry. Again, nothing for you to worry about.”

Horangi did not look sure but he clearly decided to accept it for now, not like he had much of a choice. He finished eating and let König rebandage him. König examined him, making sure everything looked okay.

“You’re healing well, Horangi.”

Horangi nodded slightly and rolled his shoulder. He winced. “Still hurts but not as bad.”

König nodded and lightly pressed his fingers to them. His fingers were cold against the cuts but Horangi didn’t move away.

“Yes. Healing very well.” He patted Horangi’s hip, completely missing how red that made his face. “I’ll find some shirts you can wear.”

Horangi nodded. “Not many people have seen me like this. Don’t tell anyone, yeah?” He looked up at him, mostly undressed with his hair rumpled. The only real covering a pair of boxers a size too big and bandages.

“I’d never tell a soul.”

König was pulled away on the fifth day and the sixth. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected to get to spend an entire week doting on his new toy. Even if Horangi was without a doubt the most fun thing he had had for a while.

König kept his hood on. It was the easiest way to make himself not anxious as he talked with Horangi again.

Someone else had been feeding him and he wondered briefly if someone else had bathed him. He hadn’t told them to, but he hadn’t told them not to. Horangi could probably do it on his own, König only did it that day because he was a little too drugged up. No better fucking have. The thought made König’s stomach churn.

He had someone else bring Horangi to him. He tried to look intimidating or at least mafia boss like. Something better than what he felt like he was.

Horangi knew immediately. The height gave it away and he blushed. He shrank down a bit, swallowing. “Ah…”

“I’ve decided you will be my bodyguard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sir?

König wasn’t sure if he liked that. He wasn’t sure if he liked that at all. “Horangi. No need to be like that. We’re friends, ja?”

Horangi nodded a little, looking more nervous than he had been when he was first at König’s mercy.

“No need for formalities.” König didn’t understand where this nervousness was coming from. Nor did he understand where his own confidence did. It felt unnatural.

“Why didn’t you wear the hood around me?”

“Did I need to?”

Horangi didn’t seem to understand the question, but he nodded nonetheless. “So, I really am just for show. Arm candy?”

“Something like that.” This was better. Horangi got over whatever stumble he had there and went back to his cool, confident self. König liked it. Good quality to have. “First job is tonight. Meeting at a casino. You’re not going to be playing any games, understood?”

Horangi nodded. “Can I have a mask too?”

“Yeah. Sure.” König smiled. This was going so well.

Horangi was currently trying to fix this person, this tall and cruel looking person, with the shy caretaker he had. They were clearly the same person. The eyes gave it away and the height confirmed it. With the hood on, he looked different in a way that was hard to put into words. His posture more tense and his body held with a poise that normal König didn’t have.

König.

Name made sense now.

He got his mask and quickly covered up. The scarring was hideous. Still fresh. He was not looking forward to the period of time where they’d harden and turn red, but hopefully they’d fade to white soon. Maybe he’d get lucky and they wouldn’t actually scar, just heal. He doubted it with how deep they had been cut into his skin, but would could hope.

Horangi still didn’t get why he was chosen for a bodyguard. Besides a little street fighting in Korea to make extra cash or defending himself, he didn’t actually know that much about fighting. He had considered joining the military but hadn’t at the last minute. And again, König clearly didn’t need him. There was something else here. Some purpose he served that he just wasn’t getting.

Regardless, he accompanied König, feeling a little funny standing next to him now. Before, despite his height and build and how attractive he was, he was just a guy. Random employee. It felt different now. He shouldn’t just be standing next to him.

It didn’t help that König was wearing a suit. It looked stunning on him and Horangi knew he’d need to get sunglasses so he could stare next time.

König was not very good at cards. It translated to him making virtually no bets and barely paying attention to anything he did. Horangi tried not to correct him whenever he made a mistake. He was talking to someone in German and, seeing as he only knew what German he did from Duolingo, he couldn't really keep up.

Horangi tapped König’s shoulder and made a sign that he was going to step away. He needed both a drink and to use the bathroom.

A different man appeared as he was washing his hands. Horangi looked up at him, glad he had the mask on. Neither talked as they washed their hands.

He said something in German and Horangi had to stare blankly before he tried English. “You here alone?”

“No.”

“Ah, partner?”

“Nope. Boss.”

The man nodded and dried his hands. “Will business keep you busy all night?”

“Yes.” Horangi left. He followed. It made him a little irritated. “Listen, buddy. I appreciate the interest, but I can’t.”

“Who’s your boss? I’m a pretty important person around here. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I don’t want your attention.” Horangi said rather firmly.

His face changed before he grabbed Horangi’s shirt collar. “Listen up, you little…” He paused and looked up. “Ah. Leon.”

König growled. “Arthur.”

“Didn’t realize he was with you. My apologies. Though, if I’m allowed to borrow him…”

“You’re not allowed. Nor are you allowed to be touching him.”

Arthur’s hands dropped. “No hard feelings right? He’s pretty and new. You know I like to touch other people’s things.”

König stepped around Horangi rather politely before slamming his fist into him. Horangi expected that to be it but they were on the floor before he knew it. He just kept hitting him. Blood start to stain the ground and Horangi looked around, expecting panic or someone to grab him. Everyone just watched. Some of them looked almost amused, like König did this often. Maybe it did. Horangi put his hands on König to pull him away but as soon as he did, König stopped and got up. He yanked Horangi along.

Horangi sat in the car, trying to process what he just saw. König’s hands were still bloody and it had gotten on his hood. There was an overbearing silence. It wasn’t the violence that caught him off guard. It hadn’t been the worst thing he had seen. More the suddenness. There hadn’t really been a reason why.

His hands flexed and Horangi’s attention narrowed down to that point and only that point. He had a hard time breathing.

Horangi glanced at König and saw him staring back. The hood kept him from seeing anything but his eyes. Gorgeous blue that stared into him almost accusatory. A warmth twirled around his guts but he tried to ignore it.

“I would’ve gotten the guy. You didn’t have to defend me.” Horangi hissed, deciding to beat König to the punch on being angry.

König just continued to stare at him.

“It’s my job to protect you.” Horangi insisted.

König sighed. “Hong-jin.”

Hearing his actual name was like getting punched in the gut. He didn’t even know how König would know it.

“This is affecting you.”

“I watched you beat a man to death. Yeah, it’s gong to rattle me.”

König tilted his head. “No. That’s not what I mean. Your pupils dilated and you’re breathing faster. If I told you to spread your legs, I have a funny feeling there’s even more signs of how turned on you are.”

Horangi stared at him, trying to ignore that he was in fact hard. He bit his bottom lip, glad that his mask covered it up for him. Where had all of this confidence come from? Where was the anxiety riddled medic he had been dealing with?

Who the fuck was he?

König sighed softly. “Horangi. I’d never force you to do anything.”

Horangi’s breath got faster at the gentle tone and the words.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, sir.” Horangi answered a little too fast.

König clicked a button and the privacy screen came down to cover the partition. It meant the chauffeur wouldn’t be able to see whatever happened.

Horangi swallowed and wondered if he could tell König what he wanted and didn’t want. Should he tell him now? Would König care?

The man himself had moved closer while he had been distracted. He cupped his face gently and then pulled off Horangi’s mask. König traced the little tally marks with a weird amount of reverence. He followed along Horangi’s lips next and he felt like he was going to shake out of his skin.

Then, König moved to his throat, gently running his fingers along the column of it. His hand circled his throat and Horangi felt… small. König’s hands were rather big compared to him and he tried not to think about that too much, but they were huge. His other hand started to undo the buttons on his clothes to expose more skin to him.

Horangi let out an embarrassingly soft noise. He couldn’t help it. König smiled at him and Horangi pushed his mask down and his hood up just enough to kiss him. They laid against the seats and König bit Horangi’s lip hard.

His hands finally got Horangi’s clothes off and they ran down his sides, making him have goosebumps. His legs were pulled open and then König was finally touching him. He was so gentle as he stroked him but it felt… a little calculated.

Horangi didn’t care though, thrusting up into his hands and letting himself stay pinned. König twisted his hand slightly whenever he got close to the tip and he seemed to get a lot of enjoyment over watching Horangi get worked up.

Horangi panted softly, trying his best to stay quiet as he realized that just because the driver couldn’t see them, it didn’t mean he couldn’t hear him. His toes curled and his back arched right as he ca-

König paused his movements and pinned Horangi’s hips so he couldn’t thrust up.

“What are you doing?? I was close.” Horangi wiggled as he tried to finish but he could barely move.

König waited a minute before spitting on his fingers. He gently pushed them into Horangi again. “There ya go, kitten.”

Horangi groaned and spread his legs more. He managed to hike one of his knees onto König’s shoulder to give him a better grip on him. Once again, he felt himself getting close but König kept messing it up. He’d pause or slow down or pull away and Horangi had to fight himself to stay still during the prep.

König stopped touching his cock all together, focusing on getting him stretched instead. Horangi groaned and panted softly. He was right there. Right on the fucking edge but it wasn’t quite enough.

König pressed into his prostate and Horangi saw stars. The world blurred around the edges and he felt König pull away and the sound of a cap. He slammed into him, holding him down so Horangi could do nothing but take it.

König was so rough. Horangi’s nails raked down his back. Pleasure sparked up his body and he arched, desperately pressing to König’s clothed chest. The feeling of his suit against his skin and pressed against his cock.

“You want to finish don’t you?” König purred into his ear and Horangi nodded frantically. “Swear yourself to me.”

“What?” Horangi was right there. One touch and he’d finish. His arms were pinned so he couldn’t do it himself.

“Swear to me that you’ll be mine. Forever.”

Horangi started to tear up, unable to take anymore without finishing. His entire stomach was in knots and he couldn’t take anymore. “Please. Please.”

“Swear.”

“I’m yours. Yours. Please, please, please.”

König grabbed him and stroked him in time with his movements.

White filled his vision and he relaxed before starting to squirm as overstimulation set in. König didn’t even pause, just continuing to fuck into him like a doll.

Horangi gasped and tried to turn away. König flipped them around and pressed right back into him. He fucked him hard but the new angle let him go even deeper. It felt like he was being rearranged and broken in, made just for König now. Horangi gripped the seats and tried to focus on breathing as he felt himself start to get hard again. Tears streamed down his face from how good it felt.

They were a perfect fit. König stretched him out perfectly and judging by how fucked out he already sounded, König agreed with him. It felt so good, pleasure clouding his thoughts.

Horangi started to get close and he clawed at König’s arm that was around his chest. He was yanked up and one of his legs were shoved to his chest, König still taking him from behind. His nails dug deeper into his skin when he came again. He let out a sob as König’s hips stuttered but went right back to moving.

“Fuck, I can’t… I don’t think…”

“I wasn’t asking. Either take it or tell me stop.” König growled at him.

Horangi didn’t ask him to stop. His legs were trembling as König continued to fuck into him. It was a few minutes later when König came in his fucked out body. He went to touch him to finish him off but Horangi shook his head. He dropped Horangi back onto the cushions.

Horangi trembled, gasping a little. Tears were still streaming down his face when König lifted his hood to kiss him. König redressed him and scooped him up.

“Let me take you inside.”

Horangi nodded and winced. “You don’t think they heard me did they?”

König also winced. “Uh…”

Horangi hid his face in the cushion, so embarrassed. “Oh no…”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod #cod mw2 #König #horangi mw2 #konig x horangi #horangi cod #könig call of duty #korangi #körangi

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

Note

core ypu don't understand. my fav dynamic is def mafia!gaz x mafia!reader. I LOVE THEM PLEASE. like. okay listen if I have to rank them by like plotwise it would be

mafia!gaz

mafia!simon

mafia!price

mafia!soap

BUT I LOVE THEM ALL EQUALLY YK JBDGRHFBGTJR IDBFHHFBF

LMAO no i totally get you!!!

writing for mafia!gaz and mafia!reader is so much fun because there's so much banter. like, the man has finally met his match when it comes to someone being as snarky as him. that and mafia!reader, though i haven't exposed too much of her story yet, is such a deeply complicated character i'm giving her so many forehead kisses guys you have no idea.

and i've also just been focusing on mafia!simon and shy!reader because i haven't really written all too much for a character like shy!reader! i tend to lean towards the more stronger, well spoken characters, sort of like Spook in Soft Spot, and so playing with someone who's a bit more closed off has been fun (:

and then of course wife!reader is me getting out my milf energy and possessiveness, and nurse!reader is... well me mostly venting about my job and my moodiness lmfao. but i'm so glad you like the whole mafia!gaz line! i felt bad for taking so long to come out with it because in the back of my mind i was like "you're just as bad as those people who do the 141 headcanons then replace konig with gaz" lmfao. but i just wanted it to be good, ya know?

anyway ily mwah <3

#core responds #mafia!141 #mafia!gaz

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gremlingottoosilly · 27 days

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Wifey!Reader who's always too tired for sex X Mafia!König

Konig wonders what the hell get you so tired all of the time. He is the head of the most famous mafia family in the city, he literally has daily executions of the enemies lined up as a bucket list, but he still gets home and has the energy to fuck his precious stay-at-home wife...only that the wife doesn't have energy for him. Now, we all know the jokes about mafia bosses and their wives fucking hot bodyguards and rookies from the gang, but Konig knows you're faithful - the cameras and tracking devices are prooving your loyalty, as you never have as much as a maid interacts with you throughout the day. You're just...tired. Exhausted. He got you the best doctors his money could buy, and his answer was to leave you to rest and hope that the lavish lifestyle of a stay-at-home mafia wife is going to somehow enhance your libido and ability to last under your husband. It's no secret that Konig is big - sometimes you want to initiate sex, but you get tired even thinking about all the prep you will need to have...you just go thank you, but no thank you - and you really, really want to be the best girl out here for him, but sometimes you fall asleep during the foreplay and he kinda has to respectfully lay you on the giant bed and go and blow the brains of one of the guys in a torture chamber. Konig won't hesitate to force you after some time, however. He wants you to make love to him, and soon enough, no excuses of you being too tired are going to work. He will have you spread your legs for his even if this is the last thing you're going to do - and no, you won't get to say in this, unfortunately. Konig is forceful and aggressive and you feel sore as he pounds into you, speaking of how much he missed the feeling of your cunt clinging to him...god, he fucking adores you. Too bad that a pretty thing like you thinks that you can just ignore his manly needs... He often makes you cockwarm him in case you're too tired for a regular sex - he likes the feeling of your pussy squeezing him and your body sitting lightly on his lap, so he would do his best to not fuck you too roughly while you're sitting on him, your head pressed on his chest like you're a small, precious little animal. God, you're fucking adorable - and even if some of his crooks are entering to ask whatever the hell boss was doing, Konig won't allow anyone to make you too embarrassed to cockwarm him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig

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honeypipin · 4 months

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Hello, I saw mafia könig and blacked out. The sound I made! IMMEDIATE FOLLOW! I don't need nothing else. Thank you for your good work. There's mot enough mafia könig out there

GIRL I SAW YOU FOLLOWING ME AND SCREAMED, HELLO?!

And you are so right, mafia!König has so much potential, how is there not more out there?? I will be DILLIGENTLY writing for him 🫶🫶

#könig mw2 #könig cod #konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #könig #mafia!könig #mafiakonigneedsmorelove #absolutefacts

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cod-dump · 10 months

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Ship Idea: Hutch/Horangi

Hutch is straight. Has always dated women and has never been interested in men before. Then he joins KorTac and meets one of the permanent residents at base and his whole world is turned upside down. Horangi makes him rethink his sexuality because he's attracted to him.

But only him.

Hutch has yet to meet another man that makes him feel the way Horangi makes him feel. Apparently the attraction is mutual when Horangi starts to flirt with him. Hutch falls so fast and Horangi was already at the bottom waiting for him. They keep their relationship a secret from everyone else. KorTac was a business, a private military that doesn't fuck around. Though they're private about their relationship, others do notice their closeness.

Horangi is gay but because of his culture and how Koreans view homosexuality, he hid that part of himself. When he's forced to leave his home country because of his debt to the mafia that his gambling addiction got him into, he finds himself able to date men and not force himself to be with someone he's not interested in because of his family's expectations.

They already disowned him the moment he got entwined with the mafia, might as well embrace who he really is. He dates around, even messes with Colonel Konig but that doesn't go anywhere. Then he meets Hutch and is immediately attracted to him.

#i have no idea where this came from but it WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE #i can't keep it to myself anymore #have my crack ship #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #kim horangi hong jin #darnell hutch hutchinson #ship idea #crack ship

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soaps-hoe-141 · 9 months

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Oh, oh! Can we get some uhhhh... 10, 20, & 24 with the boys? (I am pathetically shaking my little jar of Wade lore as well 🥺 pls, it can fit so much more in it)

Finally answering you, sorry it took a few days. I've been exhausted, but here ya go. Also this is in regards to this post

Watcher

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? College AU or a Fantasy AU

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Hmmm I don't think so honestly. Watcher knows he's the shit I think so even if he does see someone trying to get Konig's attention he just shrugs it off. He knows he's the main character.

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? Definitely a streamer. He's just a gaymer at heart. Different though, I don't think it would be much different. Except for the fact he never would have met Konig, he might have stayed a little more shy than he is now. I think working with the 141 gave him a lot of confidence, made him feel a lot more comfortable with himself.

Speck

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? Cowboy AU definitely

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Yes. Terribly jealous. It usually manifests as self-loathing in some way though cause he doesn't actually think he deserves to be with anyone (my poor man has no self-confidence at all)

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? Definitely would have been a professional rodeo guy. On the road 24/7. His life would have been drastically different. No kids, probably not as much trauma in terms of relationships, and even just in general honestly. Definitely would have been a happier man in the long run I think.

Wade

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? Medieval AU or maybe Mafia AU

Does you OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Oh yeah, definitely. He gets very angry about it, will throw hands and get petty.

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? I think even Wade wonders what he could have done differently in terms of his life path. There will be Wade lore when the new chapter of Back Together comes out, but Wade actually went to college got a degree and everything but had no idea what he wanted to do when he got out. He was lost af when he finally got out which is why he's not higher ranking, it took him quite a while to get to that point. If he hadn't gone into the army the only thing I can see him doing otherwise is maybe accounting of some kind? Maybe?

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simpforfic · 1 year

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some random ideas about cod mafia au but idk who should i write first

Go rampant on the votes

#cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare ii #ghost cod #horangi #captain price #cod x reader #gaz x you #cod mw2

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goldenheartgirl1 · 4 months

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Ch.9-The Pride Alliance TWST Mafia AU

Vil Schoenheit was a man of many qualities, a model, businessman, and informant. He had many hobbies such as yoga, jogging, kickboxing, ballet, lock picking, and creating new cosmetic products. Although, very few people knew of his informant business which made it easier to sneak into fancy parties like the one he was in now. One of his business partners in the cosmetic industry was having a party at the Royal Rose Casino, and his partner had rumored that one of their rivals was there for a proposition to one of the higher ups. As usual, the place was busy and sudden cheers of delight outshined the clinking of chips and money, despite Riddle not being a fan of Vil he never stopped the model from entering. Most likely for publicities sake. Their rival has been a big pain as of late because they have been putting out a new fragrance that was addicting to whoever smelled it, the man was from the Afterglow District which was cause for surprise since such a small business could not have exploded into this much popularity so quickly. Vil had smelled the perfume himself, it was intoxicating but it brought a strange sensation of muscle relaxant as well, which made Vil believe there was an unethical ingredient in it. As a way to pursue this theory he unfortunately had to get close to the man, a rather crude man by the name of Samuel Konig, an average man with dark sandy colored hair and sharp blue eyes that wore an expensive suit to make him stand out.

That night Vil informed his informant community not to accompany him and that he would be back the next day, much to his distaste. He sported black slacks that held tightly to his legs and hips, paired with red four inch high-heels, wearing a royal purple long sleeved satin blouse, and his hair was done up in a crown braid to show off his supple neck and ruby stud earrings. Around his eyes were a dark purple and black eyeshadow design and his lips a beautiful cherry red to complete his work. The man’s lissom form was beautiful and Vil used that to his advantage, convincing Mr. Konig to take him back to Afterglow for a business venture. They sat in the back seats of the car while the driver took them from the Rose district to Afterglow, the two engaging in casual talk about their business and how they got into their respective industries. Mr. Konig had tried to make a couple passes at Vil, creeping his hand closer and making implied remarks, but the blonde model just smiled and rebuffed his advances.

“Really Mr. Konig, if we are looking forward to a prosperous partnership you need to tell me about your product. Perhaps show me the production line.”

“I shall, but let's not waste the night. It is already extremely late and we would not want to ruin your beauty with no sleep.”

“Oh, well I can always purchase a hotel room.” Vil brushed off simply but his right hand was taken by the man, he tried to resist pulling his hand away as the overly lotioned hands held his.

“No, I couldn’t let you waste money on a hotel that is nowhere near your standards.”

“Mr. Konig-”

The car suddenly screeched to a stop and slid on the road, thankfully they had no cars behind them but it caused the two in the back to lurch in their seats. Mr. Konig looked at his driver and exclaimed. “What happened?!”

“S-someone ran out in front of us!” The driver said and put his hand over his heart to try and calm down.

Vil looked out into the darkness and his wisteria eyes narrowed before he unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car to examine their surroundings, despite Mr. Konig calling him to sit back down. There was no one on the road and off the road itself there was only some dried shrubbery and a few trees in the distance, it was a chilly night but not unbearable. He was about to get back in the car when a loud thunk came from behind him, he turned and a man stood on the roof of the car while making a grab at Vil, quickly the model grabbed the opposing hand and threw the stranger to the ground with enough force to make the man cry out in pain. However, a startled yell from the driver caused Vil to turn around again to see another person at the driver's side door. Another quick motion and a red shoe swung into the man’s face, sending him skidding onto the asphalt. The other intruder was suddenly behind Vil and grabbed at his arms but was quickly greeted with a stab of the heel to his foot and a strong elbow to his cheek. Mr. Konig, being the coward he was, informed the driver to take off and Vil cursed as the car sped down the road. After making sure the two men were down, Vil sighed and took out his phone to call for someone, but his wrists were suddenly grabbed which made him seeth in anger.

“This is the final straw!” Vil hissed out and made a move to slam his heel into the man’s foot but he moved too fast for the heel to make contact, Vil then knocked his head back to try and hit his assailant in the jaw, to which actually worked and the man behind him grunted and leaned back a bit.

After feeling the movement, Vil was able to turn and jab his knee into the man’s stomach and followed up with punching the man in the cheek. A growl sounded out from the man and Vil was struck with a blow to his stomach, it was a strong enough punch that he felt spit fly from his mouth and his body curled forward. Vil was fast enough that when a hand grabbed his shoulder he took hold of their wrist and twisted around to face the man, continuing to twist his arm he heard the same growl and a curse following as he attempted to shake Vil off. This time the red heel made contact to the back of the man’s knee, making him kneel forward but the man only managed to use his strength to yank Vil to the ground and proceed to get over him. The informant was not one for giving in and gave a good punch to his attacker’s throat, the man gagged briefly but managed to keep steady over Vil and finally leaned down. Vil felt teeth graze his jugular, he panicked and tried to shift his weight to knock the man off to no avail, then strong hands captured his forearms and the teeth closed down forcefully but not enough to draw blood.

Vil’s eyes were wide and his body petrified, not daring to move in a way that would risk his throat being damaged. They were quiet with the exception of the two men Vil already beat down, who were groaning in pain, and their chests inflating and deflating for air. Soon, the blonde felt the man on him move his teeth away slowly and let out an aggravated groan. “Fucking finally you crazy bitch, we weren’t trying to capture you. Damnit, my fucking jaw..”

The model snapped out of his trance and he glared at the silhouette, his eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to make out the long dark locks of the man and the few necklaces hanging from his neck, and he could see the emerald green eyes glaring at him. “And you have no right to attack me as you and your men did. If you left any marks on my neck I swear I will break your nose!”

The man stopped and let out an arrogant chuckle. “That’s a bold thing to say princess, but I don’t listen to whores of that worthless slave driver.”

“Whore?!” Vil shouted, slamming his knee into the groin of the man, making him fall off with a pained yowl. The blonde was able to get up and quickly backed away from the stranger as he staggered to get up. “Not that it is any of your concern, I was simply trying to get to know him! So, be a good boy and go back to your flea-bitten den.”

“flea-bit-” He hissed, looking over at Vil which made the model uncomfortable, many men have looked at Vil before with lust but these eyes were trying to find something else. “Well in that case, I can tell you all about that guy..if you’re willing to pay us.”

“Of course.” Vil fumed, moving to fix his hair but never taking his eyes off the shadow. “What kind of information could you give me?”

“I know where he lives, where his fucking busness is, hell I know where his damn mother is.”

Vil suddenly perked up in attention, he thought about this man before him before asking politely. “If I may ask, who are you?”

The man quirked a brow and spoke with a tone of reluctance to Vil’s question, crossing his arms and scoffing. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Well, I figured you would be interested in a deal. I will pay you for information and for a chance to get into his factory. He is a devious man and I need to figure out how to shut him out of business.”

Another chuckle sounded from the man before he snapped at the two henchmen who finally got up. “Hey! Put some lights on! Let me see this guy.”

A grumble left one of them as a light shined from the flashlight, the second goon took out a second light and Vil was finally able to see them a bit more clearly. The brunet man who was their leader had a cocky grin as he looked at Vil, all three of them sported a rope necklace with a claw on it and all were dressed in filthy clothes as if they rolled in the dirt. Leona had a bruise forming on his left cheek and despite only wearing a dark yellow sleeveless shirt with a black leather vest over it. His pants were worn out and shoes scuffed out, but Vil was intrigued by the simple yet antique necklaces around his neck and the scar down the man’s left eye. The tattoo and braids along with his clothing all put together made the man look like a thug. The two men beside him were just as poorly dressed and filthy, but seemed much younger and more terrified of Vil, he imagined that if they had tails they would be tucked between their legs. Many times Vil had been introduced to men all over Nirvana’s Steel, all would immediately compliment Vil’s beauty and grace, but this man in front of him just stared with an unreadable expression. There was no lust, surprise, not even a wavering confusion, those emerald eyes just kept examining Vil’s form.

To cut the calculating staring contest, Vil hummed in amusement as he teased. “Have you boys ever heard of a bath?”

“Why you-” One man snarled but the leader held him back and stepped forward.

“We give up the “good life” to help those in need, we make a family of our own and try to stop miserable bastards like Mr. Konig. People that like to kick out the poor to replace the pride of Afterglow with cheap shopping centers and take away the business of good working people.”

“Well, it sounds like we are after the same thing.” Vil commented before stepping closer, he knew his hair was a mess along with his clothes but he knew they wouldn’t care. “I am Vil Schoenheit, and you are?”

“Leona Kingscholar.” Leona replied and held out his hand. “So, we have a deal? We get paid for helping you?”

“Yes,” Vil replied and took Leona’s hand, holding a groan at the dirty palm as he shook his hand. “Now, do you have a car to get there?”

“A car?” Leona laughed a bit and looked at the two men. “Get the bikes.”

“Bikes?” Vil asked in confusion as the two men ran off and retrieved three motorized dirt bikes from the slope off the road, all three being black with a spray painting of a lion's head on the side. “Oh no, I’m already a mess and I don’t have-”

“I have a spare helmet, come on princess you’re worried about getting messy?” Leona joked, gaining a chuckle from the two men next to him. He held out a helmet to Vil and sat on the main bike, Vil glared and snatched the black helmet before putting it on and sitting behind Leona.

“Do not call me that.” Vil replied and moved his hands to Leona’s shoulders.

The small group sped towards the rural city of Afterglow, the night was quiet and Vil felt at peace from the lack of traffic and the usual city bustle he was used to. Afterglow city was more like a town, the main street was rows of small businesses that slowly converted to small homes and open fields. Lights were old and covered the city in a bronze glow, it was a very vintage vibe that was soon broken when they drove closer to the east border that connects to Pyroxene district. The developed area was covered in larger businesses and upgraded lights, fewer plants and more pavement, fancier cars and upgraded houses that clearly belonged to those with the money to spare. They continued driving until they stopped at a large factory that had recently been renovated, Leona glared at the building before ordering to his two men.

“One of you will keep an eye on that perfume manager and the other will get some people together to keep the police from this area.”

Vil watched as the two left, their bikes revving loudly as he removed the helmet and got off the bike. Wisteria eyes gazed at Leona as he spoke calmly. “You should stay out here, I’ll have better luck getting in and out on my own.”

“You think you can break into this place without being caught? You’re funny princess. Even if the bastard is vain enough not to have guards, there are still cameras.”

“Vil.” The blonde replied sharply before turning on his heels and storming up the factory, Leona only smirked and followed after Vil. The model examined the property before taking out a small dark device with two antennas on top, turning on the device with a small red light turning on he slipped it back into his pocket and casually walked up to the large set of metal doors. The gang leader said nothing but followed the blonde while Vil noticed the magnetic lock, he took a moment to peer around before turning to Leona, who was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. “Do you happen to have something thin like paper?”

“No, why?”

“Because this door has a magnetic lock, if I slip a paper in and activate the sensor then I can open the door. Now, we need to do this quickly.”

“I might have an idea..” Leona mumbled and walked over to a nearby trash bin beside the factory, he lifted the lid and felt around for a moment before pulling out a smelly manila envelope and bringing it over to Vil. “Here, does this work?”

Resisting the urge to gag, Vil nodded and motioned to the door. “You know, you should have the honor. Just slide the paper through the side of the door above the lock and wave it around. Don’t drop it.”

“Don’t order me around.”

Leona rolled his eyes but did as Vil said, waving the envelope in the limited space between the metal door and the frame. As Leona did this, the informant jiggled the handle until the latch finally unlocked and the heavy door opened. Both men slipped in and Vil took care to examine the cameras in the room, having to grab at Leona’s arm tightly to keep him from walking into the line of sight of the cameras. Security cameras in the factory were older models, meaning that they would have poor visibility but still could enhance a dark image, and although the scrambler Rook made for him was good it only was effective at specific ranges, Leona scoffed as he watched the model creep around. “What kind of shady company are you from?”

“I assure you I am not here on behalf of a rival company, I am doing this to ruin a despicable man.”

“Is that so? What did he do to you princess?”

“He touched my hand without permission and implied disgusting activities, kitty.”

“Kitty?” Leona seethed, only getting a smirk from Vil. “Oh hell no princess, you are not calling me that.”

“If you do not want me to call you kitty then you shouldn’t call me princess.”

Wisteria and emerald eyes were filled with steadfast challenge, neither breaking eye contact until a growl left Leona and he walked ahead. “Come on, I think the office is this way.”

The two walked together to a locked wooden door, Vil tried the handle but Leona was far from patient and moved Vil aside to deliver a swift kick into the wooden door’s lock, the heel of his foot hitting hard enough to break it. Vil glared at the gang leader as he hissed out. “Are you kidding? I can’t leave evidence!”

“Ah, I knew it.” Leona said in an eerily calm and collected manner before striving up to Vil, which made the model stand his ground but still backed up against the wall when Leona leaned his head down a bit. “Who are you? Detective? Company agent?”

“You give me far too much credit.”

“You said it yourself, we’re after the same thing. What if I were to propose an arrangement?”

Vil stared at Leona with curiosity and placed his hands on his own hips. “Go on?”

“If you are up for attacking rich assholes that are trying to uproot Afterglow’s good people, maybe you can give us a hand. We can give you protection and information, in turn you pay us for both actions.”

“Hm, I suppose it’s not a bad thing but, I will require complete cooperation.” Vil replied with a smug smile, moving his fingers along Leona’s jaw. “That means you and your other kitties will listen to me and obey me when I need something done.”

Leona’s growl rumbled in his throat as he spat out. “They only obey my commands. They are not some disposable rags that you can use once then throw away.”

“I will not treat them in that way. But if you feel that strongly about it, we can schedule meetings with each other to make proper plans prior to a hunt. How does that sound?”

Green eyes scanned over Vil’s features to see if there were any lies or underhanded purpose in those bright purple eyes of his, after seeing nothing he sighed and moved away from the man. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll need your number.”

“Certainly, here.” Vil said, handing his phone to Leona after unlocking it and then started searching through the desks and drawers in the office. “So, why is it you were after Mr.Konig?”

After Leona was done he set the phone on the desk and began his explanation. “The guy moved in with promises of new job opportunities at great pay and a safe environment. Sounded like a dream come true. One of my men came to me a week ago though and explained that the perfumes they were making had an ingredient that was highly addictive.”

“I see. Ah! Here it is!” Vil spoke with pride as he found a small safe in one of the cabinets behind a pile of files.

Leona watched in surprise as the model pressed his ear to the safe and slowly twisted the circular lock, and after a few minutes the safe was opened and he searched the files inside it. “Phone please Kitty.”

“Sure Princess.” Vil held out his hand expectantly as Leona placed the phone on top of his head instead, earning a glare from the wisteria eyes. Turning the phone onto its camera settings, Vil quickly took pictures of everything before putting the file back and locking the safe. “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

The two quickly left the factory, hopping onto the motorcycle and racing off to the base that Leona spoke of. The Afterglow district was an interesting place, almost a mix of steppe grassland and savanna biomes, where parts would receive heavy rain and others would just be hot and dry, it really did a number on Vil’s skin. It was off-putting to arrive at an old house that was dark inside, at the door a few gang members waited and Leona gave them all orders as soon as he got off the bike. Vil carefully dismounted from the bike and covered his mouth as he yawned. “Well, thank you for your assistance, but I need to find a place to sleep.”

“Just stay here, hotels are nice but there’s no point giving your money to them since you still have to pay me.”

Vil rolled his eyes and tugged out his wallet from his pocket, fetching out some thaumarks and handing them to Leona. “Here’s 2,000 thaumarks. I hope that is sufficient.”

“Holy shit, yeah that will be alright.” Leona smirked and took the money, then offered his arm and motioned his head to the house. “Ready to go in, Vil?”

Leona’s action actually surprised Vil, he smiled and took the arm that was offered before playfully remarking. “I guess I will be making a gentleman out of you yet, Leona.”

“Don’t push it, or you’ll sleep outside. This house is on the outskirts so there are wild animals out here too.”

Vil appreciated how Leona growled at a few of his men to stop leering at him, then ordered them to get shower supplies for him before leaving Vil’s side to let a young man named Ruggie take over. Ruggie quickly and merrily led Vil to the showers and explained how Leona became the leader years ago in his teen years after construction had first started. Much to Vil’s curiosity, he found himself asking while looking at the old mirror and removing his makeup. “Where does Leona come from? Is he..does he not have a family?”

Ruggie looked outside of the bathroom before leaning on the door frame and speaking quietly. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Leona is actually related to a wealthy man around here. Their family, the Kingscholars, conduct business in the Ernte farmlands and own most of the farmlands themselves. Along with that they own the best use of alternative energy and help keep power grids active all across Nirvana’s Steel.”

“Really? Then why is he a gang leader?” Vil asked in surprise as he turned to Ruggie.

“I don’t know much other than the fact it has something to do with family issues-” Ruggie began before a hand reached out and grabbed at his throat. “Uncle! Uncle!”

Leona snarled at Ruggie before moving him away from the door. “Leave the princess alone, you and I need to have a word.”

Vil watched for a moment before closing the door and commenced with his shower, deciding to call Rook in the morning to be picked up from this place. After he had finished and dried off, he found the cleanest room he could, the room was plain but held the necessities and a tidy bed. Crawling into bed, Vil grimaced at the idea that he would be wearing the same clothes and that he had no makeup to make himself look presentable. Because of the lack of pajamas, Vil had no other alternative choice but to sleep nude, pulling the covers up and close to his chest and staring at the plain dark honey walls. He was ready to blow out the single candle on the nightstand when the sound of the door knob twisting open had Vil on alert, he quickly grabbed his small dagger from the pile of clothes on the nightstand and prepared to throw it until he noticed it was just Leona.

“Leona, have you ever knocked before?”

“Calm down, I was heading to bed..I didn’t expect you to be in it.” Leona replied with a cheeky grin as Vil’s face morphed to shock before he sat up and looked around.

“Y-your bed?”

“Yeah, my bed. Jeez princess, I didn’t realize you were that in need of a good lay.”

“How absurd! I did not know this was your room!” Vil snapped but took a breath and reasoned, trying to conceal his embarrassment. “I can leave-”

“Nah don’t bother, I can sleep just about anywhere. I’ll just take the floor.”

“The floor? But you’ll hurt your back.”

“I won’t trust me.” Leona shrugged and grabbed one of the pillows that Vil was not using, but when his eyes scanned Vil’s face he commented. “You look better without all that shit on you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your makeup, sure it makes you look bold but it’s not needed or practical. Now sleep, I want my bed back by nine AM tomorrow.”

Vil didn’t know what to make of Leona, the man was certainly full of surprises, but he smiled softly and layed back down while closing his eyes to sleep. Before sleep could take him he spoke softly. “I promise, I won’t say anything.”

Although Leona did not respond, Vil could feel Leona’s eyes on him and the clear but quiet grunt made it clear that the gang leader acknowledged his words. By the next morning, Vil was up by eight to get dressed, trying to get ready for the day before Leona could see his naked form. Vil made a quick call to Rook to come pick him up, then walked to Leona’s sleepy form and lightly nudged his side with the red heel. “Leona? I need to get going.”

“Mmhm?” Leona groaned and slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the man above him and yawning. “Alright, then scram. I’ll contact you when we have information..”

“And I’ll contact you when I need some loyal kitties.” Vil teased back before walking to the door. “I pray they can handle whatever tasks I give them.”

“You bet your ass they can..And don’t feel bad if you need to put them in their place. I always do.” Leona replied, closing his eyes again and not even moving from his spot.

Vil hummed in amusement as he left, thinking to himself about his new partnership and calling to make an appointment with the man that left him on the road in the middle of the night. It was later that day that Mr. Konig suddenly disappeared and a few days later his company was shut down as well. From the day they met, Leona and Vil supported each other before claiming their group as “The Pride,” a group of activists that believed in protecting the rural districts and helping people recognize their full potential. Vil had properly trained Leona’s people to follow orders while Leona kept recruiting people to grow their gang, providing protection through Afterglow and Pyroxene districts. While they did annoy each other, they also respected their individual strengths and watched each other’s backs in times of need.

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar #part of a series

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