Protection or Possession?
Sunday Oneshot - Poll Win Mob Boss & Bartender AU - Agatha/Reader
Warnings: Mobster 1969 / Mobster and Biker Gangs / Drugs and Dirty Business / eating ass and taking names / Tattoos / Lower back Tats / Mob Boss Agatha Harkness / Bartender Reader / Rio Ex / Violence / Yearning / Proposals / Bartending and Blood / Suspends and Kisses / 18+
You had never intended to be in bed with the mob.
Now that was a funny turn of phrase, seeing as it worked both ways.
Now you were a criminal and mobwife, what did they call that? Moll? Or gun moll? No it was deeper than that, you’d never be a civilian again, or own your own business.
It was really dumb, you’d owned this bar for a decade, seen it change from a cute little spot into a pool hall, jukebox being traded for live music, paid musicians. The lounge area in the back going from a cozy spot to drink on a weekday - to the head of mob’s thrown.
You worked the bar six days a week, not because of the money - or the money laundering through your business.
But because when Agatha Harkness told you to jump, your only job was to ask how high.
All these gruff and tumble mother fuckers, coming in here for a good time, to gamle (even though you had never acquired a gambling license) to buy large quantities of cocaine, to pay for a lady to go to a booth with…or the back alley.
You hated that you’d fallen out of one shitty marriage with a biker, Rio. Into the lap of a killer twice as brutal.
Agatha hadn’t asked you on a date or nothing either.
In the year of 1969 you’d assumed that she would have! Fuck, you figured she’d had shown up in that blue suit, the one you still thought about after all this time….maybe brought you flowers.
But no, Agatha had moved her business into your bar without much discussion.
Men and women who had frequently tipped heavy and pinched your ass as you turned to get their drink either disappeared or never looked you in the eye again.
That’s how you’d first learned of the older woman's affections for you.
Not a love letter or an invite to the movies, but her overwhelmingly large reach of protection.
Which is what Agatha promised in exchange for her camping out at your bar.
Agatha Harkness had been running crime in this city for so long you figured she’d never heard of the word no.
But you’d been downright belligerent in your no. You were a god damn bartneder afterall. You had to be scrappy to survive.
Agatha waited, she manipulated, she churned your business in the direction that best fit.
Until there wasn’t really a choice.
You hated how powerful she was in this regard, because when Agatha after a long day pushed her glasses up her nose, took off her blazer and leaned back at the barstool to drink whiskey and talk to you - you could have sworn she was your soulmate.
But the next morning would come…and that mobster personality would fall back into place.
So now you run a whore house, a money laundering facility, a nighttime boxing ring, fixed card games, and you’d for sure seen two big guys two nights ago going into your kitchen to get black trash bags for ‘disposal.’
That’s how you became part of the family.
Well, that was how you became financially tied to Agatha Harkness, somehow your liquor license, your deed, your rent - all of it changed names and responsibilities. Your money was given to you in large bills, with the full expectation of nothing asked.
While you were making an order for burger meat and beer one day, one of Agatha’s beefy guys took the pad out from under your pen.
“No worries, we’ve got a guy.” He said as he downed his beer and put the glass in front of you.
That’s how it always was, you go to the gas station to fill up - you’re Harkness’s Honey, you didn’t pay.
It left you always feeling dirty.
Even before you first kissed Agatha.
But now understanding the extent of this life.
You really did try to hold out.
But Aggie played dirty, you realized that when you met her mother, her godmother, her grandmother, all those nieces and nephews.
Seeing Agatha on a Sunday in her turtleneck, helping her mother cook, as you were regaled with stories of their ancestors.
It was impossible to resist her then, that charm, that way her hand fell over yours as they taught you family recipes. The way her mother and grandmother stage-whispered for Agatha to keep you, to marry this one, saying what a nice girl you were.
Every Sundays evening family dinners would draw to a close, dessert wines passed around, kids asleep on their parents laps.
Candles burning down to the nub, Agatha would give you this dreamy gaze. Like she could see a whole life with you over the famly airloom tablecloth.
Slowly you’d feel her foot move to yours under the table, this little game of footsy.
Or she’d push her chair closer to yours and lean back, placing an arm gentlemanly around the back or your chair.
As people spoke around you two, her thumb would rub small circles at the back of your neck, such a small act.
But the more she’d touch you in these safe, warm, family settings, you’d just melt.
How stupid were you? To bend like this, to invite her above the bar. To open your thighs, to unzip her trousers, push off her jacket, unbutton her dress shirt.
God, you’d kissed the crease in her strong shoulders where the suspenders had dug in. The weight of her day, you’d kissed it all away.
Spending extra time to lick the lines from knife fights, where they’d failed to decrown Agatha Harkness.
The older woman gripped your jaw stopping your tender kisses.
You were confused until she spoke.
“You must be some kind of siren, you work at the bar all day as people give you their sob stories. These lips…” Agatha kisses your wet lips once, twice, then three times because she couldn’t help but indulge.
You moan at the feeling of her plump bottom lilp.
“You kiss me, my aching aging body, with it’s grotesque scars, and you look at me with those big eyes, what’s a killer to do?” She asked you, holding your jaw with her calloused hands from years of abuse.
You further suprise her, as you open your mouth wider, tongue flat and long sticking out, gleaming with saliva.
Agatha actually shudders in her breathing before she lets her own tongue lick from the tip of yours back. Then curls up your top lip.
Like she might just delight herself in eating you whole.
“I can scare this whole town with threats, but here I am, ready to beg you. What kind of boss does that make me you think?”
You push her backwards until she’s ontop of your mess of a bed. With it’s tapestries, fabrics and blankets all piled over each other.
You delight in seeing her chest exposed you bend down to kiss open mouth between her breasts.
Hearing her heartbeat now that you’re so close. Her suspenders lose around her pants, socks and trousers the last to go.
“You’re beautiful.” You whisper against the freckle above her left breast.
Agatha hesitates, as though she doesn’t believe you, but something in her wants to.
You stop and straddle her thighs and sit down in her lap, making Agatha caress your back imagining all of what she would do to you.
“You wanted to protect me, then you wanted to possess me,” you say and Agatha pushes up to kiss you but you stay just out of reach making her growl in frustration.
“Maybe now you could find an in between.” You say and Agatha can’t take anymore foreplay, she flips you onto the bed and you have the nerve to giggle at her.
“And they call me trouble!” Agatha laughs with you before she kisses you, both of you smiling as you rolled around the bed.
In the silent light of the morning, you lay naked and bare.
You’re not ashamed to say when Agatha made love to you, her consuming hands bending you body, cherishing the way you trembled for her, you actually wept.
Agatha must have decided right there and then, that you were more than enough for her thirst.
Because she stopped allowing girls to sit on her lap, stopped having afternoon office visits with certain parties.
But with good comes the bad, and no one was badder than Agatha. Her softness didn’t come without a price. So when a gentleman lingered with a cigarette and a few bucks between their fingers for your tip jar.
Agatha would take them outside, personally, the brass knuckles would gleam in the light as she opened the door for the poor guys.
So many tippers who were curious about your breasts, those souls were gone before they ever slipped their dirty fingers in your jar.
But tonight was a Sunday, you’d finished your chores in your room above the bar. You’d always kept the front door open, because of the large number of people moving through the space even on your day off.
You were still recovering from a very late saturday night where you’d kicked out five people, someone had almost died on the dance floor, and one of your pool tables now had an overwhelming amount of blood stains to get off the green felt. That was Monday’s problem, not today, no.
Today, you’d been busy.
You had a closeline through your main area with your clothes all up drying, you’d gotten ready for Sunday dinner at Agatha’s family home. You’d meant to make a pie to bring over, but you’d been too busy and woken up too late from the late night. So instead, you would find a nice bottle of some fancy alcohol downstairs, and Agatha’s family would kiss your cheeks, and all would be forgotten.
Currently, the back of your dress was unzipped, your shoes were on, but you were running behind.
As you moved down the stairs, you tried to push your earrings in as your heel clicked down the steps.
But you heard a commotion below, then some glass breaking, and then Agatha’s booming voice.
You raced the rest of the way, dress still unzipped down your bare back.
But as you made it to the bottom of the steps, you saw Rio standing there with a broken pool stick and two other butch bitches ready to fight. Their switchblades out, big mistake.
While Agatha was already holding out her gun and pointing it at your ex-wife's head.
Rio, in her leather jacket and sunglasses, appears like a rockstar, but Agatha’s dressed for a far bigger occasion.
Her soft blue suit has her dashing, if it weren’t for the promise of dead at her fingertips.
“WHOAH! HEY - HEY!” You shout, putting both your hands up in either lovers direction.
Rio wasn’t backing down, which was stupid since she’d brought a wooden stick to a gunfight.
One of Agatha’s goons tried to grab you before you could move between the two.
But you elbowed him in the gut fast enough that you evaded him.
You ignored your ex to look at the real boss of the room.
The one who made decisions in every room.
She made sure to keep the tip of her gun away from you, eyes trained on Rio.
“You’re not welcome here, Vidal.” Agatha addressed her, but you reach out to her wait, and grab at her hip, moving to speak to her with the illusion of privacy.
“Don’t do this.” You whisper, but she’s not looking at you. You're shaking, though, even after all this time of dirty business.
You hated Rio for so long, loved her for longer, it’s not that you care what she’s been up to. You just don’t want to Agatha to be the one to end it.
“Heard a fucking scum gangster was shaking up with my wife, figured it was time to come back. Honey, I’m home.” Rio’s cocky attitude was not funny here, at the barrel of a gun.
You didn’t have it in you to yell at your ex.
Instead, you tried to plead for her soul.
Four of Harkness’s men pulled out their own guns, one of them had a shotgun, the other two machine, and one of them by the bar who had been eating lunch had his sidearm trained on Rio’s best friend.
“You’ll find no ring, no paperwork on that, and absolutely no love loss here. Vidal if you think you can walk into my place of business and spare so much as a glance at my girl I’ll have you dismembered before the sunsets. My lady and I have dinner plans, and it’ would be a crying shame to get this suit dirty - but if I need to put your carcass through a meat grinder, then I will.” Agatha pulls the hammer back to arm her gun.
“She ain’t yours, not yet. This bar is mine too- no matter what you’ve done to it! No matter what you’ve done to her,” Rio lifted her lip, and Agatha moved forward, only for you to press your body against hers.
Your stopping her, like holding a raging animal by the collar, it wouldn’t stop her for long.
“I’ve killed for less than what you just uttered. You walk in here after all this time, in your leather and chaps. You don’t deserve to wipe down her barstools. Last chance, you leave here now, or I’ll have my dogs eat you for breakfast, your choice.” Agatha threatens one last time, her disposition nothing but icy.
You don’t even look at Rio, but you hear the creaking of your old floor.
“We’ll come back later,” Rio states and begins to leave.
Agatha moves her arm to the right and fires.
One of Rio’s biker gang friends falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Causing you to twist to see girls corpse, on your floor, the bullet leaving a perfectly round hole in her forehead, and a dribble of blood running down her eyebrow.
Dead.
“You fuck-” Rio moves forward with the broken stick, and Agatha pulls the hammer back to point the next bullet in her direction.
“Offers changed. You keep cursing like a moron, those patches are from my old friend Alice’s biker gang.” Agatha smirks devilishly waiving the gun at Rio’s shoulder.
“She gets her pot from me, and I let her sell it on the westside, for a fee. You think she’ll like you coming in here with this disrespect?”
Agatha’s voice isn’t loud, isn’t anything, she’s telling them she owns their flesh.
She owns Rio Vidal.
You put your face in her neck and close your eyes.
You hold on tight as you smell the distinct scent of gunpowder and the spray of blood.
Rio’s silence isn’t enough.
Agatha’s holding everyone in her grip.
But your fingers move into her blue suit to hold onto her suspenders for dear life.
“Aggie, just let her go, she’s a dumb drunk. She’s doesn’t know this life. She’s not worth it.” You whisper in her ear, trying your best to dethorn this situation.
The biker gang versus the mobsters is such a stark contrast.
Agatha’s got all the bullets, all the muscle, the cars, the drugs, the power.
But in truth, the thing she’d burn the whole world down for, was shaking in her heels pressed against her.
Your bareback on display, something she’d rectify very soon, just not yet - not until she saw it.
Agatha loved you from the moment she’d set foot in this bar, seeing you smash a beer bottle against the bar and slit a man from ear to chin for trying to steal.
There was her great-grandmother's ring in her coat pocket, only a few inches from where you were grabbing her suspenders.
Tonight Agatha was going to propose in front of her whole family to you. Her mother had the good champagne on ice, Aggie was in her best suit.
This wasn’t how her night was going to go.
Harkness knew everything that happened in this town. She’d had feelers out for Rio Vidal. But she thought the biker wouldn’t be foolish enough to stalk back in here.
Agatha’s hand didn’t shake in the slightest for taking the young woman's life, she wanted Rio to move forward.
She’d gladly clean out the trash.
A bit of booze and a few motorcycles sent to Alice would surely smooth over the dead members. Once she understood why.
You hover your lips over Agatha’s ear, something that always drove her arousal right up. You being so gentle and speaking low, it made the mobboss ready cum.
“She’s nothing to me, just let her go.” You try to persuade, not aware of how you were affecting your partner.
Agatha doesn’t speak to you, she’s high off of the sensation of you pressed against her as she ends the only other love you’d ever had.
“Is that-” Rio stops speaking, but she’s finally spotted it, the tattoo on your back…the one with Agatha’s name in long letters down your lower back.
A ‘tramp stamp’ that Aggie would lick and kiss before eating your ass.
A reminder to anyone who tried to look or god forbid touch.
Your shirt would ride up as a sign, but Aggie also loved to see it as you lay naked in her arms. Or sat on her lap in front of everyone in those crop tops…
Or when you were on your hands and knees and she was railing you from behind, pulling your hair back.
Her name big and bold, permanent.
Agatha smirks before speaking;
“You're in front of a lady, hold your tongue, or I’ll take it from you. One soul for you speaking to my love, that’s your price paid. Now, if you come back here, I won’t be as kind. Rio Vidal…I’ll burn the very heart out of you. You don’t think of her…” Agatha dropped her arm down, wrapping it around your shoulder.
All of the rest of the men are still holding steady, ready to fire if your ex took another step forward.
Agatha stayed gazing at Rio as she held you close. Rio was afraid to look away, caught in the stare of a rabid beast.
You kissed Aggies cheek, a silent communication of thanks.
The older woman kept staring at the biker, grinning victoriously as she pulled the zipper of your dress up.
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