#blue jones x reader
a 1940s mob au blue jones x f!reader fic~
- word count:8k
- rating: m/e - for smut, canon typical violence for sucker punch and mob movies, some slight non con, themes of a abuse and a major character death - pls only read if you are 18+!
- summary: You’re hired by the mob to sing at a nightclub, and you fall in love with the devilishly handsome nightclub host~
a/n: this one has been in my drafts for a long time, i’ve worked so hard on it!! i hope you all enjoy it!! thank you to @sergeantkane for this header!!!
The nightclub Knockout Blues is lively tonight. You walk inside arm in arm with your boyfriend Sam Miller. You’re greeted with the smell of smoke and alcohol and strong perfume. There’s a bar along the back wall. The floor is full of round tables with chairs. The stage is on the far right of the entrance. Waitresses are buzzing about, men in fine suits sit at tables as they drink. Scantily clad women dance on the stage, fringe dangling from their breasts and hips, as large feather fans tease the audience.
It was much quieter when you came in earlier this week to audition.
You’re a singer, and the owner of this club expressed interest in hiring you.
You know this club is a front for the mob. Your boyfriend Sam is one of them. You don’t know what it is that he does, but it scares you. You want to end things with him, but you’re too scared to leave. You aren’t sure what would happen to you if you were left to fend for yourself.
You can’t worry about that tonight though. Tonight is your first show.
You part ways with Sam to head backstage. He gives you a sloppy kiss and a smack to your ass on his way to the bar. A nearby patron smirks at you. You can only scoff. Your dreams of being a famous singer will not be ruined. You are determined. You might have to suffer some bad gigs before you’re able to move up the chain.
Tiptoeing backstage, you see a whole other world. Costumes, make-up, wigs, props of all kinds are scattered about. Performers are getting ready, women powdering their noses. You can faintly hear the cheering from the small audience, the sound is drowned out from the bustle back here.
There’s a man in a silky white coat kissing one of the dancers, his hand is grasping her ass and stroking up her thigh. You try not to stare, though you’re not exactly shocked – just intrigued. This isn’t what you were anticipating.
Wandering around like a lost child, you freeze when you see a door with your name scrawled on a piece of paper taped to it. The door is slightly ajar, and you nudge it open. You turn on the light switch revealing a small vanity with a mirror surrounded by lightbulbs. There’s a rack of clothes with a single red sparkly dress on it. There’s also a schedule taped to the mirror with your name circled on each date you’re to perform for the rest of the month.
“You have twenty minutes,” someone with a clipboard pokes in your room and tells you. You’d only just realized you didn’t close the door behind you.
You lock it, and frantically begin to undress and change into this dress. It’s a perfect fit and flattering to your figure. But it’s a little more revealing than you’d prefer.
There’s a light switch on the wall by the mirror and this turns on the bulbs, you flick it on and get one last look at yourself before you are to go on stage.
The same person with the clipboard bangs on your door and tells you to follow them. The dancers who were on stage earlier brush past you on your way up front. You stand on the side now, looking on stage.
The same man who was kissing one of the dancers is speaking, he’s making the crowd laugh. Then you hear your name from his lips. He’s announcing your performance. Nerves shoot down to your toes, and you’re not so gently nudged onto the stage. The man walks with more swagger than you’ve ever seen past you, he gives you a little wink when you make eye contact. His slicked-back black hair, thin mustache and gorgeous smile have you dizzy for a moment before you realize there’s an audience staring at you.
Some men whistle as you step forward to the microphone. When you nod the band begins to play, and you begin to sing.
The spotlight on you is just a little too bright for you to see out in the audience, you can only make out shapes of patrons at tables. There’s a thick layer of smoke high in the air also hindering your view.
You let your voice carry and it’s a release. Release from the stressors and fears. All apprehensions about taking this job are forgotten in this moment.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
The setlist you’ve been given is short, with a promise of more songs the longer you’re here. You are content with this – a couple songs for your first night at this club isn’t bad at all. In fact, you’re quite proud.
There’s a spring in your step when you head back to your dressing room. You’re all smiles, proud of a good performance. The bustle backstage doesn’t bother you as you breeze into your room.
It’s there you’re met with a shock. The man from before, with the thin mustache and white silk coat. He’s sitting in the chair in front of the vanity, smoothing his eyebrow down as he looks in the mirror. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection. His eyes are dark, but then a genuine kind smile flashes across his face.
“Hey, sugar. That was a hell of a show!” He stands, spinning to face you. He straightens his tie and practically glides over to you. He’s quick to take your hand in his and he plants a kiss to the back of your hand. His eyes flick up to yours, and he grins devilishly at the shy look in your eyes.
“Thank you,” you manage to get out.
“I’m Blue. Blue Jones.”
“You’re the owner?” The double meaning of the word owner is not lost on him, but he shakes his head no with a smile.
“No, no, that’s not me. Demetrius Fontana is the owner, I’m what you’d call a ‘figurehead.’ They call me ‘Blue’ because I’m the host of the show here at Knockout Blues,” he said as if he’s said this speech a thousand times.
“Have you met him? Mr. Fontana?”
“Boss? Course I have. He’s the one who hired me, sugar. He hired you too.”
“Did he?” You don’t remember meeting any mob bosses at your audition.
“Tall guy? Quiet? Scar under his eye? He wouldn’t have spoken. Only smoked a cigar at one of the tables.”
You nod, you remember seeing this man. It fills you with a nauseous feeling.
“Don’t worry,” Blue smiles, reaching to touch your arm, seeing your obvious discomfort. “He must have liked ya or else he wouldn’t’ have hired you.”
You don’t know if that’s better or worse. Somehow you get the feeling it’s too late. You can’t back out now. Dating Sam is one thing, you don’t want to anymore. But this? One of New York’s most powerful and feared men knows your name.
“Should I be scared?” you whisper. You don’t know why you’re asking him this, but he seems to know all the ins and outs of this place.
“Nah. Just don’t piss ‘em off,” he winks. “You’ll probably owe him a favor though.”
“Favor?”
“Yeah. A favor.” He says it so casually, but you don’t like the sound of it. “You didn’t think you got this job just because of your talent, did you? I mean you are damn good and gorgeous. But sugar, when these people do something for you, they expect a little something back.”
If you weren’t filled with dread already, now you really feel sick. You can only imagine what your favor would be.
“So, do I need to take you home or call you a cab?” Blue keeps on talking, as if nothing he’s said is worth fearing.
“Oh, my boyfriend is going to take me home.”
Blue nods, “well it was nice to meet you sugar. I look forward to working with you.” Another little wink.
A tune is on his lips, he whistles as he leaves your dressing room. Then he’s gone.
It’s not long before Sam comes to pick you up. You’ve had time to change into your regular clothes. He comes in drunk and lipstick smudged on his mouth and shirt collar. Another woman’s perfume is heavy in the air.
“Did you even see my show?” you ask.
He must think about it as if he can’t remember. He pushes you out the door and into the hallway. You hit the wall with a grunt. Down the hallway you see Blue with another dancer. The last one was a red head; this one was brunette. But he stops kissing her when he hears you.
“There a problem?” he calls down to you and Sam. The woman is kissing his neck while his hands rub up and down her back. His eyes are checking to see you’re ok.
“No,” Sam snarls, angry that Blue is interfering. “Come on,” he yanks your arm and pulls you down the hall past Blue and the brunette dancer. She’s still kissing his neck, and her knee is sliding up Blue’s inner thigh. Blue looks at you over this girl and gives you yet another wink.
It makes your face warm. His charm and charisma are enough that you’re already looking forward to coming in again despite any apprehensions you might have about favors from the mob.
When Sam fucks you that night, you wish it were Blue. You think about those hands and his eyes. Maybe it’s a foolish fantasy. But fantasy or not – you’re already developing a very real crush on Blue Jones of Knockout Blues.
Weeks pass and your crush on Blue is growing. It’s become quite the infatuation. He’s always pleasant when he sees you, and his touch gives you a thrill. Maybe it’s the idea that you shouldn’t, or that he’s nicer to you than your actual boyfriend.
So, your Blue crush keeps you eager to come back. You come early to the shows now to catch him sing. He’s always the opening act.
And the more time you spend at the club, the less scary it feels.
You’ve even met the…owner. Briefly. He was at the bar one evening. You’d just finished a performance and you stuck around to get a drink. He gave you a nod and bought your drink before he left. You’ll take that as a compliment.
You spend more time here at the club than you thought. Your evenings are busy with performances, but even after you’re done you hang around. In the afternoons you stop by for the occasional rehearsal.
You’re always on the look out for Blue, and he’s always around. Always with perfect hair and an easy smile. You’ve become friends of sorts, he’s always friendly. But you can’t help but want more. You can only assume he doesn’t flirt with you because of who your boyfriend is, which makes you want to break things off with him even more.
At least you have some interactions with Blue.
Tonight, he pops into your dressing room while you’re finishing your makeup.
“You ready for tonight?” He asks picking up your tube of lipstick. He pops the cap and rotates the stick in and out.
“Blue,” you smile at him. “I need that.”
“May I?” he grins.
“Okay,” you shrug casually, but inside your heart is pounding.
With his thumb and forefinger pressing on your jaw, he tilts your head back and opens your mouth in one movement. With his other hand, he sweeps the red lipstick across your lips. Then he reaches in his silk coat and pulls out a handkerchief. He cleans the residue of the lipstick from the corners of your mouth. He folds the small piece of fabric and tucks it back in his pocket.
“It’ll stain!” You gasp, still flustered from how close he was to you just moments ago.
“It’s a souvenir,” he clicks his tongue with a wink. He stops then and his eyes linger on your lips.
“What is it?” you turn with a furrowed brow to look in the mirror.
“I’d love to kiss those lips sugar.” He stays, standing behind you. He’s looking at your lips now in the mirror, then he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I know you want me too.”
“Blue, I can’t!” You stand up to move away from him. “Sam…”
“What about him? He doesn’t treat you right. Let me take care of you.”
“I can’t. He- won’t let me.”
“Let you?”
“I have to finish getting ready Blue. Did you need something?” You sniffle, trying not to smudge your fresh makeup.
“I wanted to ask you; would you sing a duet with me tonight? I know we haven’t practiced but I’d love to sing with you sugar. I’ll pick a song you know.”
“Really?” you look at him, your sad eyes turning bright. “I’d love to!”
“I’ll see you on stage in a few then?” His hand cups your elbow gently, his fingers leaving a heat on your skin.
Then quick as a wink, he’s out of the room whistling cheerfully. He’s always in a good mood, and it’s infectious.
Can this be happening? Are you about to sing with him? You fell deeper in love when you heard him sing. Now to be on stage with him? Seeing his stage presence up close? Your tongue feels numb.
Buzzing, you finish getting ready and dart down the hall to wait your turn. When Blue announces your name, it feels more personal this time. He’s looking right at you when he says it. The way he’s looking at you right now sends a shiver down your spine, it’s carnal.
He offers his hand, and you walk on stage happily, your game face on. Your eyes and small are bright, and the spectators cheer when they see you, you’re a new favorite.
The song begins, and thankfully it is one you know well. You’ve not even practiced with him, but the rawness that comes from it works. He holds you close and twirls you around. It’s an intimate dance, your bodies and voices intertwine as if you’d be lovers for years.
His smile is devilish, and he holds you so close you shiver. There’s a heat of excitement blooming between your legs, especially when his hand rounds your ass for a squeeze.
The song ends too quickly for your liking – but before you can even turn to exit the stage, Blue pulls you to him. He dips you down low and plants a searing kiss on your lips. His tongue delves between your lips, and his mustache tickles your upper lip. Those watching seem to cheer even louder, and when he straightens you back upright, you feel dizzy. The lights and sounds are all a blur. You can only see Blue and that wicked grin.
He lingers on stage to announce the next part of the show, while you float back to your room. You don’t even remember walking in there. Your heart feels like it could pound right out of your chest. You dance, you dance in circles around the room. You wish you could bottle up this happiness.
A knock on the door pulls you from your daydream, and with a grin you turn. Expecting to see Blue. Only you don’t see Blue – it’s your boyfriend Sam. You can smell the alcohol on him from where you stand.
“Sam, I-“
“Nice show tonight. You been practicing that?”
“No. Sam-“ he takes a step closer to you and you back away, there’s an anger in his eyes. The anger burns, and with a backhanded swing his hand hits your cheek. The skin stings and you feel blood trickle down, a small cut left behind from his ring.
He leans back to punch you this time, but you duck out of the way. His fist crashes into the mirror, breaking it, the shards fall with a loud crash.
The sound brings unwanted attention, and in moments you see Blue. Fontana is behind him. When Sam sees who is standing in the doorway, he backs off. He ducks out of the room without an apology, but you’re glad he’s gone.
Blue is at your side in an instant. Fontana is quiet, he gives you another nod when he sees Blue is with you.
“Are you alright?” Blue looks over your face, shushing you when you fall into his arms.
“Get me out of here,” you sob into his shoulder.
Blue wraps his arms around you, shielding you from prying eyes as you exit the backstage door. You leave in such a hurry that you forget your change of clothes. There’s a chill in the alley, and your sparkly red show dress does nothing to keep you warm. Blue shrugs his silk coat and wraps it around your shoulders.
“Come on, sugar. I know where we can go.”
You don’t walk far before you’re at the large hotel near the nightclub. You never even dreamed of staying here it’s too expensive. But Blue walks right in. Several people say hi to him, and it’s the first time you realize how popular his performances are – and how many connections to the mob there are.
He doesn’t even stop at the front desk; he guides you over to an elevator and presses a button. He presses the button to the top floor as if it’s nothing, but he’s puffing out his chest a little – he’s proud.
“The top floor?”
“Fontana suggested it,” Blue shrugs.
“What kind of favor did you do to get this?” you ask with wide eyes.
“I hope you’re not afraid of me,” he looks at you, his eyes softening. You know he must have done something big to get a suite on the top floor, but you do trust him.
“I’m not,” you tell him.
“Good,” he reaches for your hand and squeezes. “This life isn’t what you think it is.” He sounds almost sad, and it tugs at your heart. “I don’t want you to see me as someone in the business.”
You shake your head. No, of course you don’t. He’s been nothing but kind to you and honest.
The elevator bell dings finally, and his hand is on your lower back guiding you to his room. He fishes for his keys in his pockets and smiles at you when he slides the key into the lock.
You gasp when you step inside the room. It’s big and beautiful. So much space! It’s bigger than your apartment.
“Feel free to make yourself at home,” he says warmly.
“You’re not staying?”
“I thought you would want to be alone,” he offers, taking a step towards you.
“I want you to stay.”
Trembling, you reach for his hand guiding his warm palm to rest on your cheek. His touch is soft, a whisper over the growing bruise on your face. Tears well up in your eyes, the gravity of the situation finally catching up with you.
“I won’t let him hurt you again,” he says smoothing his thumb over the bruise.
Feeling bold, you place your hand on his chest. His eyes flick down and he reaches up to hold your hand.
“What is it sugar?”
“I want you Blue, I need you.”
His eyebrow raises in question, you know what he’s asking. If you do this if you fall into bed with him there’s no going back. An affair of this magnitude will have consequences. But you’re ready to be rid of Sam, you want Blue.
When you close the gap further and trace your knee up his thigh, Blue pulls you in for a searing kiss. The flames lick at your body, his tongue a fierce passionate intrusion into your mouth. His hands are already working on the zipper of your dress, and he hums in delight when he feels the bare skin of your back.
He pushes your dress down then, exposing your breasts to him. You’re truly a sight. He pulls you back in for a kiss and his hand cradles the back of your head – leaning you down on the bed. Fingers dance along your body, his thumbs brush over your nipples as they pass by. He’s quick to slide off the rest of your undergarments, now leaving you naked in front of him.
He’s quick to undress himself, and you gawk as each part of his suit drops to the floor. His cock is aching with need, and he pumps himself lazily – his pinky ring catches the light, and you groan.
Blue crawls over you, kissing his way up to your mouth. His hands are everywhere. One hand cups a breast, the other teases your slick folds. His mouth is all over your neck and jaw and face. He nibbles your ear. His fingers bring you to pleasure embarrassingly quick.
“Sugar,” he bites your neck, “you did need me, didn’t you?” he purrs.
When he finally pushes himself inside after all the teasing, he whines in your ear.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck!”
Your hands slip into his perfectly gelled hair and pull. You kiss at his neck. He growls and thrusts harshly. His rich cologne is in your nose, mixed with a hint of smoke and sweat. His body moves on top of yours in strong fluid motions. You’re coming again quickly, just as he spills into you.
You groan together, the sweet music of you pleasure intertwining.
Blue makes love to you all night. Heated and rough. Slow and sweet. Passionate and electrifying.
You’re overly sensitive and have tear stained cheeks before the night is over.
It’s close to 5 am when you’re finally still and tangled in the sheets with your new lover.
“I want to run away with you.” You tell him. Your fingers tracing shapes on his chest while he holds you.
“I’d love that too sugar. But we can’t.”
“Why couldn’t we though?” you sit up. “Why couldn’t we just run away right now?”
“Too many obligations,” he smooths his hair back. “You know it and I know it.
“What? As a performer?”
“I can at least help you get away from Sam.”
You flop back down on the bed. You know he’s right. You can’t just leave, even though it’s what you want. But you’d never be able to rest, you know they have people everywhere who would find you.
So, you begin to plan. It won’t be easy to end things with Sam. It makes you nervous, and after such a good night with Blue, you can hardly stand to think about it. You fall asleep in Blue’s arms making plans for your future together.
When you wake, you’re alone.
The curtains are closed but you can see the sunlight trying to peek in. The clock on the wall tells you it’s close to noon. With a groan you sit up and stretch. There’s a note on the bed where Blue slept. The ink is dark blue and in perfect smooth cursive.
‘Meet me tonight, sugar. After your show. xx Blue.’
You hold the note to your chest and sigh happily. You collect your things to get dressed, but you pause when you see the giant bathtub in the bathroom. You draw yourself a bath and sink into the tub. You’re sore from last night, not just sex with Blue – but Sam hurting you. But you try not to think about that part.
Hunger and the water cooling pull you from the bath. You take a good long look at yourself in the mirror. There are hickeys and slight scrapes from a certain mustache all over your skin. But Blue was careful to only mark you up in places that would be hidden by your dress. Your bruise and slight cut on your cheek are healing, but still hurt. They can be covered with makeup, but your face is still a little swollen.
Tears well up in your eyes, you try to think about Blue’s tender touch instead.
You get ready as best you can, realizing you need to go back to the club to get your clothes. You’re sure it would be alright if you grabbed a meal then too.
It seems so different now to go down the elevator alone, and to walk alone in the daylight to the club. You make your way in the alley to the backstage doors. Two stagehands are having a smoke break, and the door is propped open. They don’t seem to notice or care that you trot up the stairs and disappear inside.
Returning to your dressing room after last night sends a sick feeling to your stomach. All your make-up is on the floor. The mirror is broken. It’s a complete mess. But you wipe your tears away and change out of your dress into your regular clothes from the night before. Carefully, you pick up the make-up from among the glass.
That’s when you hear two voices. They’re hushed, speaking right outside in the hallway. One of them is Sam. You feel sick. You quiet yourself so he won’t know you’re in here.
The other voice you don’t recognize. But what he says scares you.
“You have to do it tonight Miller. You have to kill him.”
“I know,” Sam hisses back. “I fuckin’ know.”
You can’t catch anymore because their voices fade as they walk down the hall farther from your room. You sigh to yourself, but bristle at the thought of who they are planning to kill. You need to tell Blue.
You forget to stop by the bar to get food, instead you ask around if Blue is in the building. No one has seen him, and you take no comfort in that. The thought of Sam seeing you here fills you with dread, so you make a hasty exit back to your apartment.
You’ll go back to the club early tonight. Warning Blue is all that matters. Even the promise of another night tangled in the sheets is pushed from your mind from the fear.
But you’re exhausted. Your entire night last night was full of emotions and physical moments. Even if your night had not been filled with Blue, you wonder if you would have slept after such a fight in the dressing room.
You sit down on your bed for a moment, and the next thing you know, you wake with a gasp.
It’s after dark.
Panicking, you grab your purse sprinting out the door.
You make it to the club, but you’re late. You gasp a little louder than you intended when you see Blue is alive and well onstage.
You make your way backstage and look for him when he’s done with his act. You see him entering your dressing room before you can catch up with him. You run, scared there might be a trap waiting for him.
“Blue!” you gasp running into the room only to see him standing in front of a new mirror smoothing down his hair. The room is completely clean, it looks nicer than it was before. There’s no evidence of what happened last night.
“Yeah sugar?” he turns with a smile. “Something wrong?”
“It’s Sam,” you run to him, hugging him tight. “He’s going to kill someone. I heard him talking.”
“Where is he?” Blue looks angry. He moves like a man on a mission out of your dressing room. You follow behind him as he makes his way out onto the main floor looking for Sam.
He’s at the bar having a drink. It’s all a blur after Blue grabs Sam’s shoulder. Punches are thrown left and right. You watch in horror as Sam gets his punches in. You don’t know if he’s supposed to kill Blue, or if he’s angry Blue has taken you away from him.
A few men pull Blue and Sam apart, and Blue tells you to go.
“Go to our hotel, wait for me. It’ll be alright.” He slips the room key into your hand, and tears well up in your eyes. “Go.”
As you’re leaving, Sam breaks away and goes at Blue again. A brawl is breaking out in the club. You leave with tears pouring down your cheeks. You’re scared for Blue’s life.
For the second time today you’re alone in that hotel. The walk there is a blur as you’re crying and shaken with fear.
Your hands are trembling when you unlock the door, you can barely get the key in. Being in this room after last night has you feeling comforted and frightened all at once. There’s so much Blue in the room, it feels like him. But what if he gets hurt? What if you don’t see him ever again? About a million thoughts race through your mind for the next few hours.
You grow sick with worry.
Where is he?
It’s late into the night when you finally hear a knock on the door. You jump out of your skin. You look through the peephole and your gasp hurt your chest. Opening the door, you see Blue- standing there with his hands covered in blood.
His white silky jacket is gone, and his shirt has bloodstains on it. His hair is a mess, and blood is splattered on his face. His hands are the worst though, completely red. The blood has long dried and he seems visibly shaken.
“What happened?” you gasp pulling him in the room. “Are you hurt?”
“Your boyfriend, Sam, I-“ he looks down at his hands, “I killed him.”
All the air is knocked out of you. Sam is dead? As in? D-e-a-d? And Blue is the one that did it? What could have happened?? What are you supposed to be feeling right now?
“I’m sorry,” Blue cups your face with his bloodstained hands. You feel the sticky drying blood on your cheeks, a reminder of the life that used to flow in Sam’s veins.
“What happened?” you grab Blue’s wrists, securing his hands to your face. You want to know. You did love Sam long ago, you think. But there’s been so much fear and pain, you’ve grown to despise him. You decide his death now means your freedom, and a future with Blue. You want to know what happened, every gory detail.
So, he tells you.
Blue tells you how he was mingling in the crowd after his performance, trying to act casual. Someone threw a punch at someone, then it was a big blur. That’s when Sam made his move for Blue.
“He was after you this whole time?” you gasp. “Why?”
“Sam was a fuckin’ mole this whole time. He was rattin’ on us, giving up secrets to rival mobs.”
Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.
“Why was he after you?” your lip trembles.
“Hey, shh,” he traces his thumb over your trembling lip. “Don’t tremble, sugar. I’m safe. See?” he spins around showing you that he’s fine.
He continues his story, painting an awful picture of Sam charging for Blue. He had a knife out, ready to stab Blue.
“And he almost did, nicked the sleeve on my shoulder. But I got to him first.”
“How?”
Blue pats his breast pocket, “I keep a small knife in here, you never know.”
Your rational mind tells you this is dangerous, that you should leave. But killing Sam wasn’t murder, just self-defense.
“Then what happened?”
Blue stabbed Sam. Then the mob does what they do, swept the whole thing under the rug.
“Is this our chance? Blue are we free?”
Blue sighs heavily. He turns from you, pacing back and forth in the hotel room. Now you notice the ripped sleeve on his shoulder, and just how much blood is on his white silk suit jacket. His arms and hands are deep red. You feel a little dizzy.
“Boss gave me a bigger job, they’re proud of me.”
That’s the last thing you hear Blue say before you pass out.
When you come to, you’re lying on the bed. Strong, rich cologne wafts into your nose, and you slowly sit up to see Blue. He’s sitting next to you on the bed, wearing a white robe with black trim. His hair is wet and slicked back. His hands are squeaky clean.
“There she is,” Blue whispers and leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead. “You alright?”
You nod, feeling a little dizzy.
“You’re in shock,” he tells you standing up. “Let me draw you a bath? Would you like that sugar?”
“We’re still stuck Blue. Stuck in this life!” You feel like you’re going to be sick.
“Sugar, hey woah, deep breaths for me. I’m in good with them right now, we don’t have to worry.”
“But what if you screw something up?” you gasp at your own words. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw ticks and he looks angry, but then you see a soft smile.
“I understand, I do. But right now, there’s nothing we can do. Let me draw you a bath.”
You know he’s right, so you let him. The bathtub is huge, and the water is the perfect temperature. He sits on the edge of the tub and you let him wash the blood off your face.
“Blue?” you blink up at him. “What if you kill the boss?” You’re too scared to even say his name, as if he could hear you in this room. With the mob, who knows. There could be bugs in here.
“How would that help?” Blue crosses his arms and leans back a little.
“I don’t know,” you shrug and look down. “I just thought, you’ve killed before why not do it again.” You whisper.
“Wait, wait sugar you might be onto something.” He sits up. “If I kill him then I could take over! Damn, sugar. How would you like to be a mob boss’s wife hmm? Oh baby,” he pushes up his sleeve and sticks his hand down in the water between your legs. “I would spoil you rotten,” he grits his teeth on the last word to emphasize, all while his fingers tease your sex.
He brings you closer to orgasm with his fingers while he fills your mind with promises of your future together.
“I’d kill for you, sugar. I’d burn the world down if I could give you what you want. Tell me, what do you want?” His fingers circle your bundle of nerves harder, and then he thrusts his fingers inside.
“You, Blue. I want you,” you moan as you reach your high. You whine, and he smirks. His eyes raking over your body in the tub.
When you’re done with your bath, Blue helps you out. He chuckles mischievously in your ear when he wraps a plush robe around your body. You surprise him then and nudge him back into the bedroom.
You untie his robe and shove him back on the bed. You shrug your robe and drop to your knees.
“Sugar- “
“Blue, let me. Let me suck the cock of the future boss.”
He lulls his head back at your words, and he groans even louder when you put your lips on him.
“The power you’d have,” you moan and kiss his thighs. “We could do anything we want,” you lick a stripe up to his tip and he jerks his hips. You mingle your praises with the actions of your mouth, teasing him.
He’s loud, desperate. The hunger for power and the hunger for his release have him writhing against your touch. He’s hungry, and he’ll take what he wants. He thrusts up into your mouth and comes with a loud moan.
When he sits up, his hair is disheveled, a wicked grin is on his face. You know the look; he’s got an idea.
“I know how I can become the boss.”
Blue is balls deep in your heat when he goes over the plan one last time. His thrusts are hard, erratic. You’ve come twice already and he’s nearing his end. Your thighs burn and your lungs struggle to catch a breath. This time it’s different, you both know.
Tonight’s the night.
Tonight, is the night Blue takes over the club and becomes the boss.
You’re nervous though. There are too many parts of this plan that could go wrong. But this is the only way that you and Blue will get your freedom – is if he’s in charge.
“No one,” he grunts, grabbing your hips, “Will hurt you again-“ He moans spilling deep inside you. Your walls flutter and you come a third time around him. The rush of knowing you’re going to be part of a murder scheme floods your veins. It feels so wrong, but Blue feels so good.
Blue lets himself collapse onto you, his mouth already seeking yours for a searing kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth and he moans, he twitches inside of you.
“Blue?” you purr and rake your fingers through his hair. “You getting hard again?”
“You’re all mine,” he growls and kisses all over your face and neck. “Don’t forget what I said. Be in the office right after the show ends.”
You want to stay with him, but he pulls out. There’s something on his mind. You wonder if he’s nervous about tonight.
“Stick to the plan,” he says.
The plan.
The plan is to do the show like normal. The boss will be there tonight. After the show, go in his office for a private meeting. Blue will follow behind and while he’s staring at your figure, Blue goes for the kill.
Should be simple enough right?
Wrong.
You’re trying to get dressed in the bathroom but your hands tremble. You just know you’re going to get something wrong tonight.
“I’m scared Blue,” you call to him. You’re looking at your reflection, waiting to hear his reply.
“C’mere sugar,” you hear him. He’s quick to greet you with a smile. His hands reach for your hips and he pulls down your hose. “You were right,” he growls. “I was getting hard again.” You look down between your bodies to see him stroking himself. Loose strands of hair are in his face, the veins in his neck pop from exertion as he jerks himself off over. His cum splatters all over your stomach and your bra.
“That’s my only one!” you gasp but moan, feeling yourself grow slick.
“Guess you’ll have to go without,” he smirks and buries his face between your thighs. His voice comes out in a gravelly whisper, “you’re going to be perfect, sugar. There’s nothing to mess up. You sing, and you look gorgeous.”
Blue’s mouth on your heat distracts you from the nerves. But only for a moment.
Even when you peel off your bra and clean off yourself your hand has a tremble. You can’t even apply your lipstick properly.
“Here, let me,” Blue sweeps in, swiping the red stick across you lips. “Remember this?” he grins affectionately. How could you forget? Though it seems like a lifetime ago.
Blue gives you a wink, an unspoken reminder that it’ll be alright. You want to believe him, you truly do. And you think on this on the short walk over to the club.
It wasn’t too long ago it was your dream to be a famous singer. Now you’re dating a man planning to kill and then become a mob boss. Your dream of fame seems meaningless now.
You remember that singing always calms your nerves, you hope it does tonight.
Your fingers tremble as you get dressed in your dressing room. These clasps have never been easy due to the tight nature of your outfit, but tonight it seems more difficult. Murder. You’ll helping to assist a man with a murder plot. This isn’t you. Or it wasn’t you. You look at yourself in the mirror and see the guilt and shame.
You picture Blue here. What would he say if he were with you? That Fontana is a bad man. He’s killed people. Hurt people. You’re doing the world a favor right?
Then you think about the promises Blue made to you. Being a mob wife, being spoiled with riches and affection from your doting husband.
Your face warms thinking about marrying Blue. You can picture what your wedding would be like. Him taking you somewhere fancy for your honeymoon.
Yes.
This is what you want. You’re going to help Blue with this. Besides, you’re not the one doing the actual killing. Blue has killed before, and he can again.
It’s almost showtime and you’re ready. As ready as you’ll ever be.
The backstage tech comes to get you, telling you it’s your cue. You give them a smile. This show is going to be killer.
You don’t make it a habit to look out in the audience when you perform, but you do tonight. Just to make sure the boss Fontana is there. And he is, sitting quietly near the middle.
You give it your all in this performance, it might be your last one for a while. You’ve not talked to Blue about it, but you wonder if that would be a bad idea.
You sing your heart out, and when the show is over you feel a rush of adrenaline as you head backstage. Blue is waiting for you in your dressing room with a big smile.
“You were fantastic, sugar,” he strokes your arm and gives you a deep kiss. “You ready for the second act? I’ll be right behind you, don’t be afraid.”
It’s hard not to be when you walk towards Fontana’s door. You’ve never been in here before. You take a moment to gather yourself. You smooth down the lines of your outfit and breathe. You knock on the door, and before you can even put your hand down – one of his guards is opening it.
The room is dimly lit and it’s hard to make out Fontana. There’s a window behind him. The shades are drawn but on the other side of the window you can tell is the bar.
You stand frozen, unsure of what to do when a guard puts his hand on your shoulder, pushing you back a little.
“Let her in,” you hear a voice.
It sounded like….
Blue?
As your eyes fully adjust to the light, you can see Blue sitting at the desk. He must have done it! He didn’t need you as a distraction after all!
“Blue?” You take a step forward. “Are you alright? Did you do it?”
“Do what sugar?” He chuckles softly and looks to the man standing to his right. It’s only then that you notice this man is Fontana. You gulp, you feel your blood run cold. Something’s not right.
“I thought-“
“You thought what?”
“Blue! Answer me!” You cross your arms over your chest. He’s not usually one for games with you like this.
“Sweetheart, no one tells me what to do.” He tuts with a frown that turns to a malicious smile. “But I suppose…I should explain to you what’s going on.”
A guard closes the door behind you with a click, and you hear the lock turn. You’re scared.
“You see, sugar-“ his voice sounds poisonous, not the one full of smooth honey and sensuality that you’d come to love. “We knew that Sam was the mole. We needed to get to him see? So I knew pulling you away from him would expose him.”
“You used me?”
He nods with another wicked smile.
“Oh, and I’m the boss. If you haven’t guessed that one yet. Always was. Did you really think they’d name a club after a random nightclub singer?” He laughs and so do his men. “Fontana here was my figurehead. And you fell right into my little trap sweet thing.”
“I-“ you feel betrayed. You were betrayed. You turn to leave, but a guard grabs your arm.
“I did NOT say you could leave. Sugar.” Blue yells and slams his hand on his desk. The action causes his perfectly gelled hair to flip down onto his forehead.
“What use do you have for me?” you feel hot tears pouring down your cheeks.
Blue looks up to Fontana with another wicked grin. “Well,” Blue starts and gets up, walking around the desk to face you. Two of his guards have their hands on you, keeping you still. Blue comes over to the front of his desk and leans on the edge looking at you. “You have two options.”
“Which are?” you sniffle and your lip begins to quiver.
“Aww, look at that lip,” he chuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he claps his hands together and you jump. “You want your two options.” He sighs heavily and his thumb smooths over the edge of the desk repeatedly. “You can either marry me, be a mob wife. I’ll give you anything you want. Remember? When you were sucking my cock?” he chuckles and palms his dick through his pants. “You moaned sugar, you wanted to be my little mob wife. Well, now you have that chance!”
Tears are pouring down your cheeks, your face is hot with embarrassment and you feel like you could throw up all over the floor.
“But the second option…well, that’s not as fun. Since you’ve seen too much….well. I think you can guess your second choice.”
“I don’t-“ you sniffle again. You certainly don’t want to die, but what kind of life will you live if you’re Blue’s wife? Did he ever really love you?
“C’mere, sugar,” he beckons you over and the guards release their grip. You step over to him, he’s fully seated on the edge of his desk now. He reaches for you and smooths his hands up and down your arms like he has so many times. “You’re scared. I know. But you want to marry me right?”
“Did you ever?”
“Love you? No. But I did love fucking you,” he smirks. “It’d be a shame to give that up.” He pulls you forward and hovers over your lips with his own. “And remember, you owe me.”
“Owe you?” You pull back.
He hops up and goes to sit back in his chair. He looks through files on top of his desk and hands you a piece of paper. It’s the paper saying that you were hired by the club.
“I hired you. Yeah, your voice is good, but see we needed you. And hey! You got the gig!” he sits up and pulls you around to him. “But you OWE me.” He says pulling you down on his lap. You can feel him hard between your legs. “Feel that sugar? Do you wanna give this up?” He rubs himself against you and you want to pull away.
“So you’ve made your choice then?” he asks, grabbing your face to look at him.
“Blue, no-“
“You have.” He tsks and frowns. “Such a waste of good pussy. Ah, well. I can find another.” He reaches then in his breast pocket for the knife you know he keeps in there. He’s fast, you see it for a split second before he plunges it into your chest.
“Such a waste. She really was a knockout,” he strokes your cheek gently before you fall limp onto his desk. Your blood trickling over the fallen paper in your hand.
Blue stands and he motions towards his men. He snaps his fingers, “take care of this.” He turns looking out the window and he spots a waitress he’s had his eye on for some time. “Bring her to me, I have an itch I need to scratch,” he chuckles palming his hard dick.
Blue repeats looking at your lifeless body as the men carry you off, “she really was a knockout.”
ps….don’t spoil the ending for those who haven’t read it yet!!
tagging:@punkpascal, @sergeantkane,@pascalz,@wasicskosgirl,@tintinwrites,@velvetmel0n,@huliabitch,@mandoplease,@mylifeliterally,@shadow-assassin-blix,@bisexual-space-slut,@writefightandflightclub
