Male Reader X

Reader x Balalaika (Black Lagoon)

Balalaika.

Daring to utter the name was rumoured to bring bad luck. A black mark against you, poison in your mouth. Balalaika is a lot of things. A Russian instrument, a Soviet sniper rifle, a scarred mafioso with a penchant for cruelty.

Although you know her as Sofiya.

But in front of others, it is Balalaika. Only Balalaika. As much as her fondness for you permits you to know that much, it does not protect you from pissing her off. She'd sooner shoot you in the gut than let other people perceive her as being weak, or swayed by others. That's what you like about her. You never know what you're going to get.

You're snapped out of your musings by a gruff Russian voice, "I do not know why the Boss puts up with you, outsider."

"Are you going to let me in or not?"

It's a rainy night on the dark streets. And you have come to the home building of the Russian mafia to meet with her. Unfortunately, none of the men in her gang seem to accept that you have a free pass to come and go as you please. The man rolls his eyes and pulls open the heavy oak doors, ushering you inside. The entire place stinks of cigarette smoke and gunpowder. You slip through another door and ascend a set of stairs until you reach the top floor.

Two heavily armed men stand at either side of the final barrier. Unlike the doorman downstairs, they do not ask questions. You give them a thankful nod and cross the threshold into Sofiya's room. The woman of the hour is staring out of her rain streaked window, a lit cigar in one hand and the other held flush against her back. You say nothing and take a seat in front of her desk.

Sofiya's private office is not just that. On the left side is a large, queen sized bed and her own bathroom. There's also a large wardrobe, although Balalaika is rarely seen wearing anything other than her usual military jacket and red suit.

"I never expected to find myself entangled with a man like you," she exhales, releasing a heavy puff of smoke into the congested room.

You shrug, "You aren't the most approachable woman yourself."

You know that Sofiya takes great pains to keep things secret. This room is completely soundproofed, this is a woman who likes her privacy. She turns to face you, eye's narrowed. Her scarred face cuts a striking figure amongst all of the other criminals and thugs who live here. Those are war wounds, she earned them, although she takes a dim view on living through the fight in Afghanistan.

"I swore off enjoying myself a long time ago."

You shake your head, "Is that why you're always burning those cigars end to end?"

You worry for a moment that you've taken a step too far, as she marches towards you and discards the titular cigar into the trash can next to her desk. You grunt as she plants her butt on your lap and cups your face with her scar covered hands. "If your mind was as fast as your tongue, you could be something."

"Unfortunately, it's not."

She sighs, "Even I am not resistant to the desire, to being treated like a lady every now and then."

"Ah, you're a lady now, are you?"

Sofiya is beautiful. You get angry when people call her "Fry Face" when her back is turned. But for the sake of keeping your relationship a secret you stay your tongue. The scars are brutal, and cover her from head to toe, but even a blemish like that can't eclipse her natural beauty. You feel privileged to have the chance to be this close to her. You place your hand on top of her thigh and pull her into a kiss.

After several minutes of romantic foreplay, she pulls you to the bed and strips away both of your clothes. Nude, covered in sweat, you both slip under the covers and waste the night away in each other's embrace. Even though you're so close to her, you still feel isolated, alone. You awaken to her bare back a few hours later. You can see the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets. You stare at her, content to enjoy the sight for just a little longer.

She stirs sometime later, turn back to face you with a tired look on her face, "Still here?"

"I don't just come by for a quick fuck, Sofiya."

"I don't know what else you'd want from a woman like me."

"I don't know, is it wrong for me to enjoy your company?"

"What would you think of a man who enjoys the company of a bloodthirsty shark?"

"You're bloodthirsty, but you're no shark." She rolls her eyes at you. Every time you've tried to chip away at the cold outer shell, she rebuffs you just like this. "You just don't want me cramping your style."

"No."

"Or maybe you're afraid I'll get capped by some guy on the street?"

She shakes her head. She reaches over to the nightstand and pulls another cigar from the box she keeps there, lighting it with a match. There's an awkward silence that stretches on and on, until Sofiya has nearly finished it.

"You know I care about you, right?"

She pauses, "I am not one who needs to be cared for."

"I know, you could probably break every bone in my body without much effort. I mean – I want to stick around. You didn't just decide to start sleeping with me as a bit of pity."

"And if I did?"

"Then I'll have to retract all of that fun we've had over the past year."

"People like me don't deserve a normal life."

"There's nothing normal about either of us."

"I'm looking for a place to die," Sofiya insists with a scowl, "Do you want to come to hell with me?"

"...If that's what you want."

She looks you dead in the eye. You don't waver. She turns away and tuts at you, "Do as you please."

"I will."