Latest Posts by myorestes - Page 3

I think I just had a heart attack-

The Vegan In A Steakhouse

Summary: Steven took you out for dinner but certainly didn't expect to be the main course.

Pairing: sub!Steven Grant x fem!Reader (brief mentions of Marc and Jake)

Word Count: ~ 2k

Content Warning: fluffy restaurant smut 18+!, very public teasing, pet names, Steve being the bottom that he is, soft FemDom reader, a pair of ruined pants, a lot of action under the table, a hint of degradation kink

A/N: There's no way I could write something about Steven Grant without slipping some Egyptian history talk in there

Please consider liking, reblogging and commenting! It means the world to me 🌸💞

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Tagging: @littlefreya (sorry for somewhat spamming you, but those Oscar Isaac characters are really doing it for me lately 🙈)

Carefully flipping the pages of the leather-wrapped menu the waiter had handed to Steven and you a couple of minutes ago, you heard the man sitting in front of you huff.

"What's a bloody vegan gonna eat in a steakhouse?" Steven mimicked the insensitive words his pain-in-the-ass boss Donna had thrown at him the other day.

The more Steven had told you about her, the more you disliked that woman for being a condescending twat. She clearly was very narrow-minded when she thought it was a silly idea to take you out to a steakhouse just because he preferred not to eat any animal related products.

"Stupid goose.", Steven mumbled, obviously still agitated by Donna's antics "Look, there's plenty of beautiful salads on the menu and who am I to say no to a very charming serving of chips? They even offer vegan mayonnaise!"

His little fuss elicited a small chuckle from you, because Steven took everything to heart... sometimes more than for his own good necessary.

"Steven..", you lowered the menu so you could peak over it's edge across the table "She's not worth your thoughts and besides, I'm really happy that you took me here."

To support your words, you threw him a warm smile and a small nod.

A sigh fell from his lips as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. He still had that sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if it was the first time he took you out on a date. Steven had this very special, unadulterated beam of affection whenever he looked at you and even after months of dating him it never failed to make you heart skip a beat.

"I'm glad to hear that, love." He responded, the frown on his forehead softening out.

"Let's just have a good night out. We both deserve that."

Steven nodded at that before he lowered his focus back onto the menu. You were sure to notice a faint flush of red on his cheeks and you bit your tongue to withhold a satisfied grin.

First and foremost he deserved this night out because he'd been such a good boy for you the past weeks.

After getting to know him it didn't take much to figure out that Steven Grant from the gift shop liked to be guided by a bit more of a firm hand and you gladly had taken that place. The both of you complemented each other in that way very well. So, to test your good boy's patience a bit you had proposed the idea of a little chastity to him. To that Steven had excitedly agreed, whereas Marc, let alone Jake weren't the biggest enthusiasts of this game to say the least. Eventually both of them had stopped their little frustration tantrum because, even though you also knew and got along well with Marc and Jake, it was mainly Steven you were dating and the other two came to terms with taking a step back.

After studying your own menu once more, you reached out to a waiter, letting them know you were ready to order. While Steven had decided on a large portion of thick-cut chips with a serving of said vegan mayonnaise in addition to a grilled veggie sandwich, you treated yourself to a rump steak with a salad on the side. You wrapped up your order with the waiter's recommendation for a bottle of red wine since neither of you were big in the wine game.

"Did you know...", It nearly bursted out of Steven as soon as the waiter had left "In ancient Egypt people mainly had only breakfast and dinner? They started their day with bread and beer."

"That doesn't sound all to bad, does it?" You snickered not only at the info given but also at seeing Steven taking the next best opportunity to talk about what he was passionate about. You enjoyed hearing about all that he had to tell. It reminded you of your childhood hyperfixation with ancient Egypt that sadly died along the way. Almost even more you loved seeing his face lighten up whenever he had the chance to just ramble without any judgment or fear of being annoying and that, for sure, he was not.

"And what about dinner?" You asked, reassuring him that you wanted to hear more about it.

A wide smile spread across Steven's clean shaven face and with an undeniable enthusiasm he continued: "Dinner was more of an opulent thing. Of course, more beer and bread but also different meats and vegetables. Preferably garlic, scallions, cucumbers and turnips. And...", He playfully rose one of his defined eyebrows "Back then it would've been quite a big no-no what we are doing here."

"Oh, how come?" You responded with a curious smile playing around your lips while leaning your face into the palm of one hand.

"Since we aren't married we would've gotten separated by gender for one of those fancy banquets." Steven reciprocated, his gaze slowly turning to the side from where a waiter was approaching, ready to pour two glasses of wine.

Both of you thanked the waiter after they elegantly filled both glasses with deep red liquid and left the bottle at the table.

"Appears a bit prude to me.", You stated while rasing your glass towards Steven "Cheers to being in the here and now then, hm?"

"Cheers to that and... cheers to us."

The filigree glasses clinked against each other.

"Cheers to us." You repeated, guiding the glass to your lips and taking a sip.

To your relief it didn't take too long for the food to arrive. As nice as sitting there and chatting with Steven was, your stomach had already been rumbling as you arrived at the restaurant. After taking a few bites out of your steak, you were sure to have ordered the right thing because it was without any doubt truly delicious. Now that you had stilled the most pressing needs of your stomach your attention shifted back to Steven, who was gleefully munching away on some chips.

Holding back a mischievous grin, you slowly slipped one foot out of the heels that you were wearing and stretched your leg towards Steven's. Your toes gently nudged his knee and upon that he coughed under his breath, almost getting a piece of fried potato stuck in his throat.

"How are the chips?" You asked, your voice laced with play-pretend innocence.

"They.. uh... they are great!" Steven mumbled, a faint rush of confusion washing over his features.

"How's the steak?" He asked in return, his eyes transfixed on his plate.

"Oh, it's really enjoyable." With your response your foot rose a bit higher towards the inside of his thigh.

In the span of seconds Steven's cheeks flushed red.

"Is everything alright, dear?"

"Sure, I- I'm aces." He already sounded close to tripping over his own words and you had to pull yourself together so hard as not to let a laugh slip over your tongue.

"I'm glad to hear that. I've put you through quite the hassle the last few weeks, hm?"

"Ah, no, it- it's, I've been... it's all good." Steven huffed, not yet daring to look up from his plate as you deliberately caressed his slacks-clad thigh underneath the luxurious eggshell-white table cloth.

Tonight he served quite a look in his button up shirt and a fancy burgundy tie. As per usual he really was trying his best when it came to you and you couldn't be more grateful for all the effort he put into pleasing you.

"I gotta say...", You stated with a carefully low voice after taking a good sip from your glass "You've really been such a good boy for me, Steven."

Now not only his cheeks were flushed, but his entire face got covered in a flustered red at which your heart started pounding faster.

"Have I... ma'am?" His ever so softly murmured words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh yes, you have." With that your self-control eventually crumbled into nothingness and you let your foot glide right towards his crotch.

A gasp fell from both of your mouths as you gently stroke across his slacks where his already painfully hard cock was straining against the soft fabric.

"And I think you finally deserve a reward for that." This time you didn't even try to withhold the mischievous excitement in your voice.

Apparently it hit Steven right where it should because as your words seeped into his mind, his silver fork fell out of his grip and hit the table with a muffled thud.

"Ts-ts..." , You clicked your tongue "Keep it together, Steven, c'mon."

His hand was visibility trembling as he picked up the cutlery again.

"That's right.... now please enjoy your meal before it's getting cold." You administered, while slowly rubbing against his hard on.

"I- I don't think I can..." The letters leaving his mouth were barely even more than a chocked back moan.

"Oh, I'm sure you can."

You recognised his heavy breathing as he tried his best to push the fork into a pile of chips, guiding the stacked food to the little bowl of mayonnaise.

The weeks of abstinence had surely left him desperate and aching for relief. You felt his need for it right underneath your foot as it stroke up and down his length.

"Please..." Steven's raspy voice pleaded.

"Please what?" You arched your eyebrows "You should look at me when you talk to me."

Yet again his face changed into an even deeper, more embarrassed shade of red. His lips pressed down onto one another before he slowly dragged his eyes from the delicate porcelain plate to meet your stern glare.

In that very moment you wouldn't have traded whatever riches for the sight right in front of you. Steven was but puddle in need for your loving touch, his pupils blown with lust.

"Please..", He started anew, "I- I can't take much more..."

"Oh, poor puppy.", You administered a tad more pressure to your foot "So worried about what everyone around will think, huh?"

He nodded, hardly able to keep his composure.

"Then you better behave yourself."

You didn't break from his eyes while you wouldn't stop torturing him underneath the table, rubbing over his throbbing cock again and again. Small droplets of sweat were forming on his forehead while his jaw clenched and flat breaths left through his nose.

"Oh lord..." Steven pressed through gritted teeth, his hands wrapping around the cutlery so hard that you thought he'd snap it right in half.

"Be a good puppy for me. Just let go. We both know you need it."

Steven's gaze drilled into yours, a watery sheen spreading across his eyes. God, he was about to fall apart inbetween so many people who had no idea what was going on.

"Ma'am!" He exhaled in a low moan right before you felt him spilling his pent up seed onto himself.

The warm load soaked his boxers and through his slacks until you felt the wetness on the sole of your foot.

"What a good boy..." You exhaled, feeling the thrill of the situation ripple through your body.

"And now, eat up... you don't want to miss dessert, do you?"

Steve Harrington in Season 4 😍😍

More Pfps:

Top girl

Blue has taken a liking to you. Little did you know it would turn into an obsession.

Blue Jones x shy! reader smut.

Word count: 13k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with: heavy angst, heavy smut, rough smut, coercion, sexual assault, dark themes, mentions of prostitution, cockwarming, degrading, a bit of exhibition, spanking, language & explicit themes, abuse of power, thigh riding, doggy, hitting, talk of abuse, kinda fluffy, innocence kink, threats, unprotected sex, cuninglingus, praising, alcohol, stuff being broken, yelling, smoking, masochism, collars, clothed grinding, groping, masturbation, use of dildo, orgasm control, mutual masturbation.

A/n: I am 1000% not sorry for this filthy thing. My baby, easily my favorite fic of mine. You’re called mouse a lot in this fyi. Also Ezra from Prospect is in this. Can be an au?

   You watch them twirl and stretch in various ways. Girls in corsets, faux silk dance around you. Your beige skirt and worn shirt puts you to shame. You didn’t arrive with much of anything, just the clothes on your back. It’s only been half a day, but from what you’ve seen was enough. You were instantly walked into this orchestrated business and given orders to just watch. You didn’t speak and nodded when spoken to. Eyes glossed over with a hazy hue. You’ve grown familiar with the nicknames to keep their identity hidden. The Doctor and the doll were the only people who had shown you kindness. You’re new here, your head tilted to the wood floor.

Reluctant, even excited deep down. It’s new and the first day of the rest of your life. A melody booms from the make shift speaker. A routine you don’t know, but the girls do it with perfection. Observe and execute is the order you remember for verbatim. The Doctor’s words run through your head. The brief interview and briefing of rules, given with a flick of a hand. A sharp hit of her cane. Your position was to be a fly on the wall and nothing more. You’ve grown nauseous from knowing there was someone higher. The Doctor referred to him as Mr. Pleasant. The mention of a meeting with him ran your blood cold. Goosebumps rising on your flesh. God, you were in for it. Just the whisper of his name has you shivering. 

   Even through her rough demeanor, you can see that the Doctor truly cared about her performers. Sharp barks turn into a gradual push. Praises spew from her painted lips after the group finally gets the difficult quotidian. As you watch these masters perform, you almost hide. You’re cowering under the intimidating demonstration. You try to swallow but you get choked up. The small room almost shifts as you grow ‌disoriented. A gentle palm touching your back makes your head jerk.

The older girl that you now are fond of smiles at you. She knows how you feel, how tamed you are. She was in your place at one point. That time felt like decades ago. She grieved over finding someone like her, someone so innocent. She’s determined to console you, to preserve you. You know little, since you’ve only spent a few hours here. But you can get a decent idea of how this place works. Her hair is messy and damp with sweat. White strands carelessly thrown into the ties on the sides of her head. She looks rough, yet like an angel. She’s been working to her breaking point, but she’s still going. A couple of other girls, she has mentioned, have been worked to the bone. She points them out, and it’s only a shell of the person who they once were. A sickly feeling grows in your stomach. You admire her ambition. Most of the other girls have given up on the act. It’s sad, but the truth. She runs her long fingernails along the length of your arm. 

   “Are you okay?”

    Her heavenly voice calmly coos. You nod, never looking into her eyes. She frowns before casting a knowing look. The nervousness twists in your stomach and you want to cry. You’re scared of what’s to come. The men- beasts, who you’re going to serve, horrifies you. You’ve watched the way they eat the girls here. It’s only time before it’s your turn. How the hosts' dark eyes linger on you. The burn, all of it stabs at your gut, then blossoms into a desperate warmth. Your cheeks grow rosy. Baby pins it on the anxiety and she takes your hand in hers. 

     “Let’s get out of here.”

     She knows there are few places to go, but anywhere then here will suffice. She tugs on your hand and before you know it, you’re leaving out those enormous doors. With dirty glares thrown your way. She’s tugging you too hard for you to care. You feel heavy, your knees wobbly on thick heels and filled with adrenaline, curious about the beginning. 

~~~

Your hasty getaway has cut off. A staff member whisking you away and the pale girl giving you a sorrowful look. She’s spilled everything she knows to you. The deaths, the corruption and greed. It was the failure of the past. The renewal of the updated version. You feel like a criminal who just committed a scandal. The guilt plugs up your throat. A single look in your direction makes you feel immense ‌shame. Your mouth will open and you’ll speak on command. You don’t know how you’re going to last with this crucial idea. You don’t think you’ll last very long at all. You don’t need to list all the reasons you think you’ll fail. The biggest one was that you had a poker face in a window. It’s seen through ‌blatantly. Your heels make you cringe when you near a metal door. 

“Get the food then serve it to Boss. Wait until further demand.”

The man in white says lazily behind you before leaving. You lick your lips before picking up the courage to push the cold door open. You’re met with a barely sanitized kitchen. Leaks and hisses of gas are spewed throughout the room. A large man with a clever in hand, takes quick notice of the new meat entering his space. He likes the way your chin is jutted deep into your chest, how small you try to make yourself. He raises his hand and sticks the metal into the side of a cutting board. He pivots and grabs a dirty rag, wiping the grime off his fat fingers. Your eyes flick across, taking everything to memory. You have a funny feeling you’ll be in here more than you wish. You feel his beady eyes stare holes into your skin. It makes you shrink if that was possible. He leans on the back of the sink. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Like he cares, his voice is groggy filled with mucus. You ghost an expression. He carelessly takes it. You don’t respond and irritation runs up his red face. 

“I don’t think you’ll last long here.”

He rounds the corner to walk to you. The potent smell of meat and his body odor make you gag. Your cheeks puff and he reaches his hand out to touch you. The pudgy fingers come to your cheek. You feel tears brim your eyes, his breath fanning over your face. The putrid smell will haunt you. 

“Boss likes his girls feisty.”

His large hand cups your cheek. He jerks your head up to look at him. He tilts your face, examining you. Picking your features apart, making a note of the things he likes and doesn’t. The large man's face is only a few inches from yours. 

“But what do I know? He might like the change.”

His lips curl into a smile. He’s taunting you, seeing how he can shape you into being complacent. The cook isn’t a nice man, but he wasn’t as bad as the boss. If you’re getting scared of this, then you have another thing coming. Water boils in the distance with a high scream. He breaks from you; he goes back behind the make table. The standard food is being brought out by him. He slides it over to where you stand. Your head bowed. You hadn’t moved an inch during this entire encounter. 

“Better get going, little girl. Boss doesn’t have much patience.”

~~~

The plate weighs heavily on your small hands. The clicking sound of your heels hits your ears with every step. A ticking bomb setting off your destination. The establishment was large, yeah, but it was easily memorable. Everything was labeled with ‘staff’ or ‘restricted’ so you made your way past those. It’s eerily quiet. Not a sound is made other than your shoes. Not a single ounce of chitter chatter, just you. You supposed it was evening because of his dinner, so why was it so quiet? It made your skin crawl and your head dizzy.

The blood pours out of the slab of meat on the porcelain. If you stared at it long enough, you could feel the biles in your stomach form. You look side to side looking for any hint of where you should deliver this to. You nearly trip when you find the gold plaque reading ‘mr. pleasant.’ Your heart rate picks up and you suddenly can’t breathe. You swallow thickly, maneuvering the chilling plate between your ribs and wrist as you pull your hand to rap three consecutive knocks.

You nearly jump out of your body when the door swings open. The doctor revealed to you. She looks at you, rather through you than anything. Her eyes are laying heavy on your face. You can’t read her at all. She’s a mystery and you estimate she made it that way. Her grip on the top of her cane releases ever so slightly. A manicured hand pushes the door fully open. The dim yellow glow of the lamp sat in the room colors everything in that shade. Even the man lounging in an expensive chair.

His eyes take you in, trailing from your hairline, to your breasts and hips, to your heavy heels. He leans back, making himself known. Everything freezes in time. His dark eyes drink you like sweet wine. The doctor walks away with a dignified strut down the corridor. Leaving you with the beast. His white blouse is unbuttoned at the top, giving you a glimpse of dark skin. His sternum in view.

The sleeves rolled to his elbows, his forearms long and filled with expansive veins. The jacket to match his formal attire is thrown behind him. On a table behind his desk. The map of the industry sitting high behind his head. His desk has things strewn across it messily. Your eyes trail down the bridge of his hooked nose to his full lips. Sunken cheeks with a sharp jaw. His neck, sitting on broad shoulders. Tied around it a flimsy chain with a key that fit perfectly down his chest.

Thick brows, a deep side part. Combined to a lustful bite straight on your clit. Ants sting at your lower back. He was older than you, but you weren’t expecting someone like him to run a business like this. Someone so exotic. Remind yourself exactly why you were in his presence. Your feet take you to stand before him before your brain does. You push the food onto his desk, the cutlery clang against the dish. He rests his hand on his jaw, a big ring on his pinky. He props his head up. You turn to leave not wanting to over last you stay out of fear of doing something stupid. But he stops you. 

“I didn’t tell you that you were dismissed.”

Of course, his voice is deep and laced with ecstasy. The melodic sound sends tingles down your spine. You stand, your back facing him. He leans forward and shrinks in size because of him. He reaches out lithe fingers grasping the plate. He drags it in front of him. He pushes a fork into the fat of the steak served to him. The meat specifically catered to his taste. He digs a healthy amount and brings it to his lips. The spices he requested makes a deep sound, similar to a moan rising in his chest. His eyes shut and his head rolls back. His strong jaw chews. He swallows with a gulp, savoring his meal. The filthy sounds of his smacking lips and groans. It tears you entirely into pieces. You wonder if he eats a wetter meal similarly. He dabs the back of his hand to his mouth, swiping the fallen grease. 

“I understand that I run this empire. What I don’t understand is why all you girls are afraid of me.”

He runs his hands over his thighs. Shaking his head. He disapproves of insecurity and fear. It’s a weak thing to have, and he’s going to weed it out of the root. It’s best to start fresh, better to not let it spread. Your shoulders are humped downwards. He simply won’t tolerate it. He sits fully backwards, his large back against the cotton of the chair. He has power and control over everything; it encompasses anything that a man wants. For some strange reason, you don’t feel afraid of the powerful man. It’s playing with fire and you're going to get toasted in the end, but it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun. He begins to dig another hole into the slice of meat. His eyes fall to the plate. He talks to it as well. 

“Hell, you won’t even look at me.”

It’s not fear but rather intimidation. The reason out in the open is why you won’t look at him. He wants to embarrass you, make you admit your tribulations. Suddenly, you turn back around. Your head is still downwards. He tilts his head to the side. Maybe he was wrong about you, you’re testing the waters to see his reaction. He knows better than to give you one. 

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

He pushes another forkful into his mouth. He quirks an expressive brow your way. Your hair falls over your face, a natural veil to cover you. This is going to be a lot of work getting you to come out of your shell. He’s had his fair share of tiresome girls. The shy ones were always a task. The rowdy ones you just slap a collar on and tell them to obey and they thrive. The quiet ones won’t admit to their desires.

He’ll get you to break. He just needs time. Your hair sways as you shake your head no as a reply. He huffed a soft laugh. He’s read you through and through. His hand comes to scratch at his jaw, the stubble scratches against his nails. He was going to have to shave soon. He can’t be bothered to maintain such unruly hair. The stache he barely thinks is adequate. The makeup around his eyes darken the pigment in his brown ones. It adds to the image of him being the big wicked man he claims to be. He didn’t have a record on you yet, it was the off chance you were admitted into his playpen. He’s just going to work you into becoming his perfect girl. The way Vera had introduced him to you, you’re not that far off from it. You have a talent, he just needs to exploit it. 

“The doctor says that you’re not horrible.”

He runs his fingers over his gelled hair. 

“With all due respect is shocking.”

You don’t know if it’s a compliment or an insult, but you take it with pride. 

“T-thank you, sir.”

Your voice is meek, squeaky even. Your stutter does something awful to his stomach. The way your lips form the three letter word of sir has his cock filling with an absurd amount of blood. He’s never this easy. Some girls have called him the dirtiest things, and he hasn’t gotten this hard from it. What the fuck are you doing to him? He feels sweat pools on his tawny skin and rolls in heaps.

In the dim light you can see the man's facade drop. He regains it in an instant, however, a smirk pulling the side of his perfect lips upward. Pointed pearls of teeth poking behind. He smiles. It’s uncommon for girls to have manners here. He usually has to instill them into their thick skulls. His brain corrects to business, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know your name; he accumulates all the attributes you’ve given. His smile widens and his gums shine. Your skin prickles when you realize the wolffish grin doesn’t meet his dark eyes. 

“Your name is Mouse. Only respond to it.”

He pauses, his eyes fall to your stomach. The way your waist slightly juts out. His cock twitches. He’s selfish, and the question isn’t in your favor at all, only for his morbid curiosity. His smile drops. He chews on his bottom lip. 

“Have you ever given a man a lap dance?”

Your chest doesn’t move, and his teeth dig into his lip. He wonders what his cum would look like between your breasts. Would you dip a finger and lick it up? He doesn’t know he can only guess. He’ll know soon enough. A blush creeps onto your soft skin. He wishes that you’ll say yes, give him a few ideas to play with later. You shake your head no and he sighs. His fingers wrap around the fork, instantly becoming disinterested in you. Such a shame that a gorgeous girl like you has to be taught so much. He chews on the thick portion he stuck in his mouth. He runs his eyes over your form once more. All he can think is how much work he’s going to have to put into you. 

~~~

It's been three days. Each day, twelve hours of practice. Twelve hours of inputting a system that you have to go through step by step. It was rough the first few hours of learning, but soon you’ve picked it up. After you weren’t the absolute worst, he would come. The man you now know as Blue, the name only given to the doctor and his colleagues, you’ve had it. Like a dirty little secret only you and a few other people shared. The name danced inside your head, the way it sat heavy on your tongue when your fingers made their way into you.

He doesn’t talk when he comes into the practice room. Only watches and comes alone. You’ve visited him each night to give him his meal. He doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t bat an eye in your direction. You set the tray down and he flicks a hand, telling you to leave. You miss the talk you had with him. The way it makes you feel. It’s clockwork. He knows what hours you dance, and he shoves everything to the side to come and enjoy you. He likes to believe you put on a show for him.

He’s greedy, and he wants you all to himself. It is his right to indulge in you, even though he knows that will be the downfall. He’s provided you with this perfect life, so why can’t he be obsessed? He can’t think straight anymore, do business as proficiently. He’s losing his goddamn mind. All because of you. He doesn’t talk to you; he wants to say he doesn’t give a fuck to you but it’s not true. He wants to lock you up and only give you him. Make you want him, need him.

His blood pressure has risen significantly since your stay. The promise of Ezra visiting contributes to the paranoia. His best colleague is coming to pursue his business. Ezra was picky to say the least, and the drought of girls has him sweating. Your performance is coming together, but he needs it perfect and it’s far from it. It’s bittersweet, the sway of your hips to the dampness on the side of his leg.

He knows you’re not the shy little girl you once were when you first arrived. The shyness reserved with a primal seduction. He’s curious to know what sparked the change, but it suits you, so he doesn’t question it. He can sell sex with his eyes closed. It’s the innocence that he can’t come across and, from the looks of it, you’ve given it away. Blue is not a religious man, but he prays to God that you snap out of this before Ezra comes. Your eyes catch his and he’s almost sprinting out of the room. His shoes are loud on the tile as he turns down long halls.

With every step he takes his cock grows. He opens his door quickly, almost tearing the damned thing off its hinges. He shrugs his jacket off, tossing it onto one of the wooden chairs. Long legs take him to his chair, he plops into it with a heavy groan. He guesses he should act like he’s doing something productive. He reaches into a drawer, opening it to find the stack of records on every girl in the industry.

It’s alphabetical a-z from the legal names their mother’s gave them. He considers his nicknames gifts for his girls, an initiation. His fingers run over the material of the beige folder. The ring on his pinky glimmers, the rhinestones shining up at him. He sets the file on his desk, reaching in his breast pocket for his glasses. He absolutely seethed while wearing them. Some of the girls told him that they liked the look but he can only think that he looks like a dork. He flips the folder open, ah yes this fine work of art he used to know. His brown eyes flick across the paper documenting her entire identity to date. He traces over her face, a black and white photograph postered in the top corner.

Her face is flat and she looks like a ghost. He always hates when his girls turn into phantoms of who they once were. It’s just what happens when they can’t take the heat of this corporation. He tries to distance himself, not to get too attached but it’s..hard. Playing with the thin rope between business and pleasure, they’re so intertwined that there’s no line at all. Suddenly your face replaces hers. Your lips, your structure. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, he doesn’t bother to push them up. They stand on the bulbous dip of the curve. The legs hook around his ears, the only thing to keep them in place. His thumb sweeps over your colorless cheek. He can think of a few poetic things to comment on your appearance, most of it was vulgar. He traces over the bow of your lip.

His cock twitches as he continues his mapping. His hand unbuttons the clasp of his pants. The faint whisper of his zipper coming to the middle is brief. He forbids the article of underwear. He doesn’t understand the purpose of wearing something if he’s going to take off almost hourly. If he could walk around bare, presented to the world in all his glory he would. He thinks simply that if you have it then you should flaunt it, there’s no reason to hide. The base of his cock is hidden in the pant leg. He taunts himself. Taking his index and running it over the prominent vein in his shaft. Sac to the tip of his ruddy head. It pulses with fresh blood. He hisses, his hips almost coming off his seat. He’s so sensitive, the absence of a good pussy made him drunk off the thought. He shuffles the fabric down his hairy thighs. Just enough to reach the aching part of him.

His balls sit heavy between his spread legs filled to the brim with his release. He knows he’s close, only should take five minutes if less. If he concentrates he can see your face move in the rectangle. Your eyes glancing straight up at him. He’s cut in half, bent over at the waist as he fists his cock. It’s rough, the tugging he allows himself. Harsh pulling to get him spilling. The smearing of cum on the wide head of his has him moaning. His grip is tight, staving off whatever he can. His lips parted, his eyes wide. Breathy growls and torn whimpers rip through him. He’s loud, too loud. His brows knit on his sculpted face. He’s panting, his chest falling hard. His toes curl in his expensive shoes.

Those filthy things he’s muttering is going to get him caught. You’re going to get him caught. His calloused hand moves the skin brutally. Up and down irregularly. He can’t think, so he reacts. He pushes the bitter tasting thing between his teeth. The chain hanging loosely from his lips. He bites down hard. It's a miracle that his teeth don’t shatter. Your hips, the way you sway, your vacant belly has him sweating. Everything turns white and he has to blink away the darkness. His hand is sticky and white, there’s a damp spot on his blouse now. He thinks that this might be the hardest he's come. It might be his foggy brain clouded over. But he swears he sees you wink before the picture returns to the girl that’s not you. He leans back in his seat, content and sated. How long is this going to last for? Him having to scurry away before he embarrasses himself.

He won’t have it, the cat and mouse game shared between the two of you. He smiles thinking to himself that he’ll have you soon enough. His little mouse he’s going to sink his teeth into. He’s daydreaming, forgetting all about the business he runs. A man's gruff voice along with heavy pounds on the other side of the door makes him jump. He pulls on his pants, throwing his glasses on the folder. His nimble fingers working himself out of his tainted blouse. He pulls on his jacket. He hopes the Orderly won’t comment on his chest being presented. He buttons what he can, but the jacket only has a few around his midsection. What a mess you’ve made him. With his brain on fire he opens the door. 

~~~

The three days have turned into a week. A week of nonstop training. To say you were polished to perfection was an understatement. The lights are low, and the doctor's hands work quickly around you. Your costume weighs heavily but is elegant. It’s sculpted to your form, not a stitch out of place. It’s a deep brown, glistening with blinding sequins. A corset with a tennis skirt sewn into it. Your legs are covered with a nude pantyhose. Even with the little clothes you have on, you feel naked. It’s degrading to be put on a shelf just to be picked and poked. The only thing you can hear is her shuffling around your body. Pulling details to the front. You can’t cry, or the makeup will run. The collar around your neck chokes you.

A snug fit, you can breathe, but you can feel it press against your throat. As a careful reminder of ‘know your place.’ The leather sticks to your skin and the circular pendant engraved with your name dangle above your warm skin. You feel an anxious bubble form inside your stomach, waiting to burst. You wonder if Blue is going to be there to watch you. You shiver. What if he wears the emerald suit? The one that resembles old money and smells like cigars. You can feel wetness form in the folds of your cunt. The panties you wore covered nothing, so you just hoped your thighs would stay dry. What if this Ezra you’ve heard him speak of is unattractive? God, what a show you were going to have to put on if he was. The doctor tugs at your skirt, making the small thing stretch to hide more of you. She stands in front of you. This time she looks at you. She’s admiring your progress. You’ve worked harder than she’s expected. Worry buries itself in her heart. Her hand, which is strangely smooth, cups your cheek. The abnormal side of affection makes you almost break into tears. Her thumb sweeps across the bone. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

Her accent dilutes the words, but you hear them. Loud and clear, your heart grows too big for your chest and a warm tingle runs across your cheeks. You smile, head-turning downwards. It’s weird having someone actually appreciate the work you’ve given. You feel surreal from the acknowledgment. Her hand falls, and she grabs your wrist. Leading you out of the dressing room and to where the feral beasts lay. 

Blue is sweating big, heavy bullets. His green jacket soaks them in. He shakes Ezra’s enormous hand with vigor. You thought Blue was big and bad. Ezra sat on top of the pyramid of evil. He only came into this puny place because it was cheap and had no liabilities. It’s not the worst whore house he’s been in, but it is just a favor he dishes out. His eyes sink into the small man, who clutches his hand too tight. Pleasantries are spat and Ezra doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want the appetizers; he wants the feast he came for. It’s private. The show is only for him and Blue, who accompany him. His henchmen waited outside the doors, listening intently for any incriminating noise. Blue chatters off facts and other things that made him have some intellect. It mostly made Ezra pity him. They walk to the booth situated closest to the stage. Ezra sighs, spreading his legs out. He scratches the scruff on his face. His big hand wrapped around the beer bottle he nurses. Small talk consumes the air, and he realizes Blue is one of those people who fills the air out of nervousness. Like a gnat, you can’t kill but buzzes freely around. He sits there listening to Blue’s babble. 

“Where’s the newest addition?”

Ezra speaks sternly. Blue freezes, not expecting Ezra to have spoken. He runs his hands to flatten his coat. Ezra smiles behind the lip of the bottle. Pointed teeth poking out behind his lips. He’s toying with Blue, enjoying the way he squirms. Blue knew this question would arise. 

“She’s not ready.”

Blue lies. He’s not a good one. He lies through his teeth to his girls, but it’s keeping them safe. However, those who weren’t his girls saw straight through him. Ezra’s brown eyes narrow. An inconspicuous look spread across his face. Blue assures the bear that you’re simply too raw to perform, that you will not be good. He’s flustered, and his jaw is gaining strength from how long he’s stammering. The man before him takes up even more space. His head dips back and his Adam's apple bobs as he drinks from the bottle. 

“Think I can break her in.”

Blue nearly chokes as Ezra continues to push the subject. He brushes the side of his index finger to his lips. He chews on the skin. He doesn’t know what to do. You answer for him. The double doors open and you are ushered inside. The doctor follows shortly behind, only to stand in the corner. Both of the men’s bulky heads whip at you. Hungry eyes take you in. Ezra suddenly is disinterested in alcohol. He sits it down on the table in front of him. His hands roam his thighs.

Blue is utterly floored. The costume made blood intensely pump to his cock. He feels himself grow on the side of his leg insanely fast. His throat closes up. He can’t breathe. He can’t look away from you, your hair, the collar. Oh, fuck. That was enough to put his wet dreams to shame. It was a new thing he was testing out. A regulation for girls to remember who they were. It just so happened that you were patient zero, and the idea seemed to him like the greatest innovation. The man you presume is, Ezra smirks. Wrinkles form on his tan skin. A tuft of white in his chocolate hair. You’ve never seen something quite like it. Blue’s key glimmers in the soft light of the theater. 

“She looks ready to me.”

Ezra gruffs out, casting a sour look at Blue. Your heels click against the floor as you walk to them. Walking to your demise. You walk with your head bowed. Your hands tied behind your back, your chest, however, was jutted out. When you arrive, the smell of you enters their nose. Blue’s mouth parts as he heaves. He almost doesn’t want to look at you. The image is too good for him. Blue is a greedy man, so he gawked at you. The saliva on his index cools, the dark makeup around his eyes makes him look delirious. The dark shadow is painted with the utmost care. No doubt he made the doctor do it. You stare at the table, silent as ever. 

“A shy one? That’s rare.”

Ezra speaks like you’re not even there. His large fingers wrap around your forearm, pulling you into his lap. He’s bold, scarily so. If he’s this bold with you, then what other things has he done. The taboo makes your pussy throb with eagerness. You shouldn’t like this villain, but he’s charming. Blue’s eyes stare daggers. Your hands fall on the lapels of his wool jacket. His eyes never leave Blues. He’s desecrating his possession. He ignites a flare of rage into the small man. Blue grits his teeth and hands into tight fists. Ezra’s beard scratches against your cheek. Your breath falls on his jaw. He wants to know what your pretty whimpers sound like. Ezra’s extensive nose pokes at your jaw. His hands grope your waist.

He can feel you exhale and inhale sharply. The feel of him on you boggles your mind. He closes his eyes, inhaling far longer than needed. He breathes the sweet smell of you in. It goes straight to his cock nestled under you. As his big eyes flutter open, he leans back to look at you fully. He pushes you down in his lap, your hips becoming flush with his. His eyes dilated from the liquor or lust you didn’t know but they gaze at you. The smell of the beer fans across your face. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

His voice is groggy and rumbles against your chest. His eyes flick across your face, then fall to your neck. He smiles, lopsidedly. His hand leaves your waist to cup the pendant. His thumb sweeps over the letters. 

“Hm.”

It’s another grumble. He tilts his head, looking behind you over at the other man. Who’s quickly losing his composure. 

“This a new decree?”

Through Blue’s indignation, he nods briefly. Ezra frowns, but then shrugs. Each to their own, he supposed. His hand falls to mirror the other, then they roam. His broad hands run up and down your back, simply feeling you. Grabbing your plush skin here and there. You can feel his hardened length under your clothed clit. You try to maintain yourself but, fuck; it was hard. His nose juts against the side of your cheek, his full lips ghosting over the surface. 

“You ever been touched by a real man?”

You don’t answer, and his hands fall to your hips. He bucks his up to roll into yours. You whimper at the stimulation. He grins, moving your hips on his lap. 

“Mousey?”

His plush lips curl the title in a degrading way. Ridiculing you to the highest degree. His lips latch onto your collarbone, right above your cleavage. The tops of your breasts hitting his chin and his tongue mitigate over the bone. To say that Blue was pissed was a joke. He’s never been this jealous, watching his prized possession be played with before he can. Murder runs through his mind. Torturing his guest until he pleads for forgiveness. He’ll punish you for doing such a good job in other ways. He knows it’s against the rules he set in place for him to not want you. But it’s human nature, and he’s never been denied something he wants. He owns you. You're his, by right. Ezra grinds his hips into yours. A slow roll after another. Blue’s jaw ticks, his nose snarled up. Ezra groans into your chest, the line that disconnects your breasts becomes his new fascination. You whine as he stills his cock right on your clit. He decides right then that he has to have you. His face leaves your chest, and he rests his boney chin on your shoulder. 

“How much?”

His hands grope your ass. Kneading the flesh in his big palms. His short nails dig slightly in, leaving crescent moons. Blue doesn’t answer him, just stares. His eyes pits of fire. You could see the steam come out of his ears. His cheeks a light rose from the intense emotion. 

“She’s not for sale.”

He grits out low in his chest. His lip is quivering, he speaks through his teeth. You knew just from the sound you were in trouble, so why did it make you wet? Ezra rolls his eyes, spreading your ass. The skirt is halfway up the fatty skin. 

“Fifty.”

Blue’s eyes bulge out of his head. You’re not even one of his top girls and he’s offering that much? He thinks he’s going to have a heart attack. He can’t even fathom what he’d do with that much money. He considers the deal momentarily. Would his infatuation get in front of his money? Would he allow that? 

“I said she’s not for sale.”

One of his eyebrows raises, his nails tearing into his palms. Ezra’s hands dip under the skirt and you gasp. His warm hands cradle you onto him. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. He knows Blue is minutes away from tearing his heart out, but he can’t help it. It was so easy to get him riled up. 

“A hundred. I can’t go any higher without writing a check, but I’m willing to.”

Ezra’s grinding becomes heavier. He feels his cum smear on his thigh. He’s going to burst. Blue was just going to have to get over it. Ezra would not take no for an answer. Not with the way you’re begging for him to dick you down. Blue leans on his forearms on the table, near to Ezra’s face. 

“I said. No.”

Ezra shoves his face into your neck, sighing. What a fucking tease. His hands leave from your ass and you almost plead for him to just fuck you then and there. To disobey Blue. One of his hands comes to cup your cheek, the other to pet your hair. His brown eyes almost look sad. He purses his lips together, trying to put your face to memory. Such a pretty broad. He drops his hands, looking away from you. 

“Goodbye, sweet girl.”

He pulls you off him reluctantly. When you turn to walk off, he gives you a swift spank to your ass, making you jolt. He’s mesmerized by the ripple your skin gives him. He goes back to sipping on the half empty bottle. Trying to start at a steady pace to forget you. You glimpse at Blue and fuck. It sends you shaking. Your thighs are damp from his glare alone. One of his fingers hooked under his chain, he extorts at the key tugging it. A nervous habit. His eyes turn to stone, giving you a look that says you’re in deep shit. Resentment stirs in your stomach. Did you not do good? Performed how he wanted. You thought you did, but the evil eye he’s giving you tell you something different. You shrug it off and walk over to the doctor, who gives you an unsure smile. She walks you out. Ezra takes a long swig before putting the bottle down with a clink. He smiles at Blue, scratching his beard. 

“Baby doll, still around?”

~~~

You’re not entirely sure why the doctor sat you in Blue’s office. Your fingers tug at the hem of the skirt, becoming cold. Your mind is constantly thinking of the man. He was infuriated. Beyond furious. At you or Ezra, you didn’t know, but you felt like it was your fault. All you wanted was to do a good job and make him proud. From the looks of it, you didn’t do either. The glitter on your cheek blinks off from your teary eyes. You didn’t want to cry in the vacant room, but all the different mixtures of a variety of feelings had you whipped. You blink rapidly, taking a deep breath in. The collar is still wrapped around your little neck, squeezing.

You feel your chest push in from the corset and nothing feels right or wrong. The ringing in your ears hurts your head, and the room is blurry from alligator tears. Your clogged ears hear shouting. Fighting even. Their voices are loud and booming.

It makes you jolt in the wooden chair. Your body goes rigid. The door flies open, and Blue doesn’t even look at you as he walks in. Instead, he slams the door closed and goes behind his desk. Unbuttoning the emerald jacket and shrugging it off. He rolls up his sleeves. Then he sits. If you weren’t so nervous, you would think this was a normal night for him. Undressing and relaxing. But his chest and shoulders. Fuck, they’re so broad and they’re heaving. The makeup that was once pristine is now smeared around the edges.

Thick black lines run down the sides of his cheekbone, some into those dark brows. He disappears under his desk, pulling drawers out. He doesn’t bother closing them. He pulls out a whiskey bottle and a cigar. The cigar is between his lips. There’s a band wrapped around the middle that you can vaguely read as El Jefe. The boss, it suits him like nothing else. He shifts it to one side of his mouth before grabbing a lighter. It’s gold, and a design on the side holds what you guess is a dragon. The flame emits and the scent wafts into the air. It’s thick and putrid but strangely nostalgic. He cups his hand around the flame to elicit a better smoke. He tosses the lighter on his desk. It falls with a click. He leans back in his lavish chair, his head rolled back. Face to the ceiling.

He holds the long cigar in between his middle and index fingers. For a moment, he holds the smoke in his lungs. He lets it live in his chest, then it billows out of his parted lips. All throughout, you watch him in astonishment. How can he make the simplest things so attractive? The key was dangling under the cuff of his dress shirt. He recalls the night as a bad dream. One he wishes to forget. He places the butt of the cigar in his mouth, holding it with his teeth. His fingers pluck the cap off the bourbon. Twisting before flicking. He leans back in his chair, his lips puffing around the stick. You burn at the sight.

Him sprawled out carelessly, smoking that stogy. His eyes glossed over, his jaw grinding. He looks so undone? Ruffles in his shirt, his pinstriped pants creasing around his thighs and hips. The soft skin of his stomach pressing behind the material. It’s all wrapped into a perfect big bow. He blinks slowly, before removing the roll of tobacco. It rests between his big fingers. He blows and a gust of white rises from his throat. This is the only time in the span of ten minutes he’s looked at you. Those dark brown eyes that are so dangerous are looking straight at you. His elbow pushed up on the rest. 

“I just lost a hundred thousand dollars.”

He smiles, shaking his head at how insane this all was. Losing such substantial money over a girl. Over you. Your breath is caught in your chest. You knew it was a lot of money, but not that much. Guilt pricks at your skin. He leans forward, long fingers wrap around the base of the bottle. His head tilts back and the brown swirls down his mouth. Settling into his belly. Fuck, it hurts, but he’s chugging. The ball in his neck moving quickly. He sets it down with force. The liquid swooshing. He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. His breaths heavy, the buzz slowly eating away at him. When they open, they look at you again. He points the cigar at you. His eyebrows knit together. His cheeks flushed on his dark skin. 

“Because of you.”

His voice drops an octave lower and your spine erupts into shivers. He grits the words out with a snarl. There you have your definite answer. He was, in fact, pissed at you. Your stomach drops along with your eyes. Your gaze falls onto your heels. Feeling all too insecure about yourself, you can’t look at him. You’ll break into tears if you do. You just wanted to make him happy and you’ve failed miserably. His breaths are calculated and even. Ashes fall off the cigar onto the floor.

Lines of white gust into the ceiling. His eyes narrow at you, cutting into your face. He takes another deep swig of whiskey. His face snapped into a wince right after. He stands on unsure legs. He takes a few brisk strides, standing a couple feet in front of you. The lip of the bottle hanging from his two fingers. The cigar is still in his mouth. He teeters to a side. You’re almost shaking from the fear he’s giving you.

Cat and mouse, he thinks. This is all your fault. The reason he’s losing what’s left of his sanity. Maybe he dreads losing you, not being able to have you makes him feel empty. He replaces the weak feeling with something stronger. With exasperation. Before he can think, he throws. The bottle flies near your face, thousands of intricate glass breaking into twins. The liquor stains the floor instantly. Tearing of tension and the break of silence makes a fat tear slip. It slides down your cheek, a merge of glitter joint with it. Blue takes the cigar from his lips, dropping it to the ground. His polished shoe comes to rub it into the floor.

Ashes stick to the bottom of the shoe. You’re so out of it that the feel of his large hand wrapped around your neck doesn’t compute. He pushes the cold circle into the base of your throat. His fingers press to the sides. He squeezes ever so slightly. Enough for you to know he can do a lot more damage than he’s letting on. He lifts your face up to his. Only a few inches. Only a few inches you can press your lips onto his.

Taste the bitter taste of liquor and tobacco with something else so uniquely mixed with him. You feel the metal of his pinky press into the leather. He just stares with empty eyes. They flick over your face. He remembers every divot and crease in the stretch of skin, scared to forget. The key dangles over your chest, if you wanted you could touch it. Rip it from his meaty neck. But you don’t. Your hands lay in the middle of your lap, unmoving. You can smell him. Breathe him in, the smell of his expensive cologne along with something saccharine. It’s intoxicating and makes your head dizzy. His eyes find yours and even if they’re contaminated, they’re prepossessing. You can get lost in the darkness and never find the light again. It scares you that you’re okay with it. His tongue snakes out to wet his bottom lip. His mouth is dry, almost dehydrating. 

“Are you scared of me?”

His eyes shift. He sounds so distraught. Almost cracking as he asks the question. Was he already drunk? His hand moves to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along the dampness of the tear. You close your eyes, shaking your head no. He tears himself from you. He laughs darkly. 

“Tell me why I don’t believe you.”

In all truthfulness, he wanted to. A part of him so desperately wanted to. Blue just thought he didn’t deserve you. To have someone want him who wasn’t scared of him. He was a monster and always will be. But with the way your gigantic eyes blink dumbly up at him has him thinking maybe he was wrong. His fingers trail over his desk as he rounds to sit. He falls with a huff, his hand rubs over his face. Smoothing out his stache. He was just defeated. Torn, wanting, and needing completely different things. He gives up. He’s tired of fighting, so he lays his cards out of the table. No matter how shitty they are. 

“You put me through hell. All the girls do. You, though, are something else.”

He runs his fingers along the ridge of his thighs. Smoothing out the texture of his pants. He knows you feel like shit. He’s trying to make it better. His eyes take you in. However, Blue isn’t a lover. He’s your boss, and you embarrassed him out there tonight. Punishment needs to be put in place. Needs to remind you who you belong to because the collar doesn’t seem to work. Humiliation is the trick up his sleeve. He leans back in his chair. Legs spread, shoulders broad. He looks bored. Uninterested in you and your issues. Then he speaks. 

“Take your clothes off.”

You freeze, and your mind goes from zero to a hundred in a minute flat. Strip for him? Your heart bursts out of your chest and you’re sweating. Blue is going to see you naked. He’s seen thousands of girls like that, and now he’s going to see you. Your lips part as you can’t breathe through your nose. 

“W-what?”

Blue almost forgot that you weren’t a mute. Your voice resembles your name, which he pats his back on how perfect it is. You’re beyond confused, but fuck, the burn between your thighs makes you crazy. He props his head up with his hand, his elbow on his desk. His face is flat with no emotion. 

“I said. Take your clothes off.”

He says it sternly, barking out a smile order that you’re not getting. He pauses to lick his lips. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, so I suggest that you start before you piss me off.”

He talks down to you like he would a puppy. In his defense, you are his pet, so it would only make sense. You stand, trying to correlate your mind to movement. The blood rushes to sensitive places as you try to ease your pumping heart. You bend your cleavage presented to him. His cock stirs awake. You unclasp the tie around your ankles and step out of the heels. Your bare feet pressed on the flat surface make the ache apparent. You’re almost relieved by the loss of pain before your hands are still at your sides. Closing your eyes, you untie the corset.

The top falls and so does the skirt in a swift motion. The fabric pools at your feet. Your nipples peak at the sudden cold. You stand in your panties and the hose around your legs. His eyes stare intently at your stomach. Would you be able to feel him there? Fuck up into your gut to where you can’t breathe and beg him to stop. His hand falls from his face and digs into his thigh. Your arms wrap around your breasts in an attempt to preserve your decency. It backfires from the touch of your sensitive nubs coming in contact and makes goosebumps rise. He clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He shakes his head, disagreeing with your actions. 

“All of it.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. His trick has worked and you feel paralyzed. You bend, your tits hang, and god it sends him into a frenzy. 

“Don’t get why you’re shy. With a body like that, you can easily be a top girl.”

He speaks as if he’s talking about business. Not about you. Your fingers hook into the material, trailing them down your thighs and around your ankles. The warm air of the room hits against your damp cunt. You suck in a breath and he hears it. He watches you like a hawk. If you weren’t so fixated on him, you would miss the mutter under his breath. 

“Such a pretty whore.”

You smile into your chest. The feeling of uneasiness leaving you. He thinks you're pretty, and it twists your stomach. Butterflies swarm inside your gut and you feel excited even. You stand fully and head to the ceiling. He runs his eyes over every crevice and dip. Every scar and mole it kills him. He likes this side of you. The side that embraces what you are. His thighs tingle with a gentle caress of excitement. He moved his hand to the waist of his pants to play with the fabric. His thumb pushes behind. His nail digs slightly into his stomach. 

“Come to me.”

His voice is groggy. You step a foot out to take a step before he snaps. He leans on his desk with his finger out of his pants. His eyes narrow. His head tilts downwards along with his index pointing to the ground. 

“Crawl.”

He drawls out the syllables with a slur. Your breath stutters, and you tremble with a harsh shiver. You nod, slowly dropping to your knees. The pendant hits your throat. Your knees ache from the hard floor, but it only sends waves of arousal to your core. When you crawl, you can feel the dampness between your thighs grow.

The rubbing only makes it worse. When you round the corner of his desk, he pivots in his chair. Looking down at you. His long lashes spread across the smeared makeup on his cheeks. His eyes are half-closed. He’s in a daze, one of his wet dreams. He’s so huge from this angle, with wide thighs and an enormous chest. You crawl between his knees. He’s completely in charge. Caging you in, giving you no wiggle room. You stay there, ass jutting out. Head lifted to look at him. He peers at you with nothing but drunken lust. 

“Sit.”

You obey quicker than you can react. Your ankles are on top of one another, your hands are flat on your thighs. Back straight and shoulders back. Two things pop into Blue’s head, one that you’re a superb fucking toy or two, you’re not as innocent as you let on. Something nasty turns in his stomach, and the crown of his cock turns painfully with the rush of blood. Big dumb eyes staring up at him, the swell of your breasts on a pedestal. If he wanted to crane his head, he could see how much you desired him. He doesn’t have to; he already knows. His hand curls around your chin, making your neck sore from the position. 

“You did a good job out there, mouse. A little too good.”

He voices the suspicion of his previous thoughts. His black eyes squint down at you. He tilts his head. 

“Makes me think about the other things you’ve lied to me about.” 

He doesn’t make it sound like an assumption, but a fact. And he’s right, you have. You are scared of him, about the plan your baby told you about. Your eyes widen, and he’s got you. Hook, line, and sinker. Blue knew about a quarter of what you hadn’t told him, but liars always have plenty of them. He knows because he is one. The phrase ‘takes one to know one’ is very poignant here. His large thumb comes to your bottom lip. He brushes it along the smooth surface.

He leans forward, his other hand ghosting the curve of your breast. His fingers almost danced around your nipple. He’s teasing you, getting you to crumble under his touch. But two can play in this game. You open your mouth, taking the pad of his digit into the warmth of your tongue. He pants. The feel of the swirl around his dry thumb has him going. His hand finally gropes your breast fully into his hand. The fit is almost like a glove, his hand a little bigger. His actions fall almost as quickly as you moan when he plucks your nipple. He rips himself away from you like he was burned. You pout. There’s a thin line of drool still connecting you both. He wipes the saliva on his pant leg. 

“You know, I don’t really appreciate being lied to.”

His voice is slow, but he talks down to you like a child. He knows if he stayed touching you, he wouldn’t be able to refrain from it. He grips the edge of the chair, steadying himself. Back to business, but how can he go back from this? You were sitting bare between his legs. This was far from business. What scared him was how comfortable he was toying with you. It’s a seesaw that he’s bound to bounce fully on one side. Bribery for information runs through his mind. The logic was leaking apace from his ears. 

“If you tell me what’s going on, I won’t hurt you as badly.”

It is his last chance to get on the inside, and he resorts to threats. He's already failed once; he’s just now recovering from the disaster. He won’t let it happen again. His composure is falling by the second, as he is desperate. He just hopes you don’t see through it. You don’t say a word; you don’t so much as blink and it irritates him. One particular fat veins in his neck bulges. He smirks. You want to play, so will he. 

He’ll get you crying for him to stop. He tried to give you an easy way out, but all you girls always want it hard. 

“I like you, sweetheart, I do. It kills me to do this.”

His hands wrap around your arm, and he pulls. He lifts your body from the cold ground and over his knees. Your stomach pressed to his thighs, breasts stroking the other. Your legs dangle off the side. You can’t even fathom what’s happening. Utterly brain dead, willing to do whatever he wants as long as you get the littlest fraction of it. He doesn’t touch you for the most deafening minute. He just watches you squirm on his thighs. You can almost touch his cock with your wiggles. His throat pinches close as he finally grabs fistfuls of your ass. His ring is so cold on your heated body. The angle is peculiar, but he’s pulling and stretching.

Everything seems hot and thick. The air, him, your weeping cunt on his leg. He molds you into his touch. His finger tantalizingly close to your other hole. He wouldn’t. Surely not. Your cheeks grow red. It wasn’t unlike him. Your ass tingles with his calloused hands. Each group is harder than the last. Where his nails shine on your skin. 

“I thought my girls were smart. Maybe I shouldn’t be as lenient.”

His hand raises and comes barreling down on one of your cheeks. His pinky ring digging into you. From the strike, you jump upwards. You hate to admit that the sharp sting travels up to your cunt. You’re dripping. You can feel the pool on his pants. Pussy clenching around nothing. You close your eyes shut, your hands grasp onto nothing. A pathetic moan leaves your mouth. He scoffs. 

“You like this?”

His tone is condescending, harsh but velvet. A furry eyebrow raises. The pitiful sound of you has a shock wave sent to his plump cock. His sac drawing up. God, what a fucking slut. The reddening print of his hand soothes the abraded skin. His hand stretches the globe, your puckered hole flutters. A sharp intake of air he sucks in. His fingers trail over the tight ring. He avoids where you want him. To your inner thighs. The pads swirl around the dampness of them. He laughs, a bitter one. 

“Dirty whore, look at you fuckin’ soaking my thigh.”

He bounces his leg and there you go. Bouncing with it. Your hands scramble to latch on his calf. Eyes wide with anticipation. What was he going to do next? How was he going to torture you more? A pit of despair mixed with unruly desire fills your heart. He teases the lips of your wet pussy, never touching your delicious folds. Finally, you’ve had it. A deep rage in your stomach speaks. 

“I need it, please!”

It’s filled with eagerness and desperation. A cry for him to fill you, fuck you dumb. A needy thing you are. He’s going to have to replace your nickname. He rolls his eyes. Of course you had to speak back to him. Both of his hands flee from your body. You bite your cheek to not whine. Your lips quiver. 

“My fingers are a reward, and you haven’t been good enough.”

He mutters under his breath. His hands go between your thighs, spreading your legs out on his lap. They go as far as he allows. You can feel the wetness pour out of yourself. You can’t take it, his teasing. His fingers dance across your upper thigh, a knuckle brushes along your folds and you lose it. You fall apart. 

“Please, daddy!”

His actions freeze. His brain can’t process it. Lines of cum dribble down the head of his cock. Another damp spot in his pants begins. He almost came from that filthy little name you’ve given him. The dirtiest fucking smirk comes to his lips. He pulls you up onto his lap. Face to face. Graced with the slack of his face. Your legs fall to either side of his thigh. His knee presses against your ass. The fabric touching your sensitive clit makes you grind down onto his leg. His eyes burn into yours. He moved his hands to the sides of your face. His demeanor ultimately dissolves. 

“I never thought I would hear you’d say that. Fuck baby.”

It’s true, never in a million years would he have guessed you’d call him that. A few other girls jokingly have and he’s brushed it off as nothing. But you. You, it was a whole other story. He leans forward, pulling you closer to him. His head tilts, his lips brushes against yours. The tip of his nose slightly presses into your cheek. His eyes are closed. Lifting your hands, you lay them on his chest. You can feel how warm he is, how fast his heart is beating. The electricity shocking the both of you. You squirm slightly, the softness of his lips capturing yours. He pulls a breadth of a centimeter away. 

“I’ll take care of you. Get yourself off on me.”

He whispers the promise. He presses his lips to yours. They’re so pillowy. One of his hands leaves to guide yours to his shoulders. His arms wrap around your waist. He slots himself to where you’re touching chests. Breathing in his air, the oxygen thief. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you. The strong bitterness of whiskey and cigar floods into you. You don’t fight the invasion of his tongue probing into your mouth. His stache itches your face. His hands creep your hips along the length of his thigh. Hip to knee. Your heat embezzles the thickness. A trail from your cunt follows you. Your clit catches the bone in his knee and you’re seeing stars. He releases your lips. Pulling his dazed face back. His eyes are still closed as he speaks. His brows pinch together. 

“Show me what you gave, Ezra.”

You put the pieces together. So this is what his torment is about. His jealousy, the possession. His hand dips to hitch your thigh over his other one. Your hips push on his. Your mound pressed against his bulge. His hands duck to grab under your thighs, sitting on top of his length. His face goes to your neck, breathing you in. His warm mouth fans over your neck. He sighs, his shoulders lifting down. 

“You made me awfully jealous out there, pretty girl.”

You smile at the name. An intense feeling rushed forward. You made him jealous. You made Blue jealous. Was it pride, that curious feeling? Very likely. He turns his head, his lips kisses your jaw. Long and slow. 

“Made me wonder how much of it was for him and actually for me.”

He bucks his hips, enjoys watching you bounce. The jiggle of your breasts coming down has him riled up. Your clit comes down on the clasp of his zipper and you moan. His teeth nip at your neck below your collar. Your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. His head leaves you and rolls back and his eyes flutter closed. You move your hips on the base of him. You’re in control now. Have him wrapped around your finger. He swallows thickly as his cock throbs. 

“I’m still-ngh-mad at you.”

You smile. Pushing your face into the side of his neck. Pressing soft kisses to his hot skin. Your hips are still dragging and pulling. His grip tightens on your ass, helping you grind just right. Hitting that sweet spot of his. 

“I know, daddy.”

You murmur quietly. He moans, high and loud. It startled you with the change in control. It’s shortly forgotten when his hands grab the backs of your thighs. You wrap your legs around his torso, your grip on his shoulders deadly. One hand shoots out, swiping everything on his desk off. He slams your back into the wood; the wind gets knocked out of you. He stands, his hips still connected to yours. Your hands fall to your sides. He just stares at you. Admiring you from afar. His hands hover over your breasts, almost shaking. Now or never, he thinks. He’s already gone this far, might as well have at it. His hands cup your chest. His mouth shortly followed. Nipping, biting, lapping. Your fingers pull on the short strands of his hair. The gel is sticky. His facial hair scratches and bruises.

From your sternum over a peak, to a nipple. His tongue twists and turns. His mouth is taking your areola. He strokes what he can’t fit. The warm heat of his mouth has you shivering under his grasp. He pulls between index and thumb on the other. You have to physically pull his hair to lift him from your abused nipple. He groped your chest as he pulled away. His drools pools down the valley of your chest. He leaves your chest and in your clogged mind you don’t register the sound of him pulling open a drawer. You close your eyes, living in complete bliss of feeling him seated over your core. Then he leaves. You open your eyes, the feeling of something heavy. Makes you pant. One hand by your waist, the other tied around an object. It slowly pushes through your tight walls. You feel full; the toy filling you up to your heart's extent. Halfway in, he pushes the suction cup on his desk. His hands leave the toy to go underneath your back. He drags you, careful to not push you over the edge. When you sit on your knees, the toy’s tip kisses your cervix. His nose brushes yours. His breath fanning out on your face. He’s so close, but so far away. 

“Show me how sorry you are.”

He purrs before plopping down in his chair. He’s sprawled out, so comfortably. Ready for his private show. On unsteady knees, your hands pressed on your thighs to give you some leverage. Like earlier when you say before, but with something inside you. You lift your hips and it easily slicked the dildo with your arousal. Your entrance is caught on the bulbous tip. Blue’s tongue comes to lick over his lips. He can taste you. Smell you. His hands run up and down his thighs. His obsidian eyes never leave your cunt. The way you’re squeezing the fake dick, your chest out. Kneeled on his desk, he’s shit faced. 

“What are you waiting for?”

And with that, you sink. You work your hips on the length, coating it. Your hole expands as you work yourself open. You can feel the distinct veins and divots. A long prominent vein lays in the middle from sac to crown. The thickness is the most difficult thing to adjust to. You’ve never fucked yourself with a dildo, so lifelike. Your fingers can’t compare to how this fills you. You dig your nails into your thighs, a pained expression paints your face. High whimpers leaving you. You vaguely feel the balls hit your ass. He fakes being concerned. 

“It’s not too big, is it?”

You shake your head quickly. Too focused on the feeling of the cock spreading you open. He smirks a shit-eating grin. 

“It’s good to know, because it’s molded off the real thing.”

The smug bastard. You still your pace, processing the words he spoke to you. Blush creeps from your breasts to your ears. Slowly rocking back and forth in the fake- his dick. Your clit brushing the tip of the cock has you moaning. Your pace speeds up. His hands roam up the expanse of his chest. One of his hands unclasping his zipper. It ducks to scoop his balls out with his cock. He’s already spewing down on himself like an inexperienced teenager. He pulls his palm up to his mouth, flattening his tongue over the surface. Lubricating it as best he can. It drops to grab the underside of his cock. The dampness doing nothing to hide the roughness of his palm. It’s nothing what he thinks your sweet cunt would feel like. He can feel himself rapidly approaching his climax. The fast thump of his heart. He’s never been worked up over a girl. You just bring it out of him. He groans pathetically. His hand tugging thick ropes out of him. He can see that you’re as close as him. Choosing to rid yourself of the high. His eyebrows pinch as he grinds his hips up into his hand. Making a note, to not touch the weeping crown so he can last. 

“Touch yourself for your daddy.”

He growls out. A deep rumble. You shut your eyes. Breathing heavy through your mouth. Your hands run up the inside of your thighs. Then to your clit. Your fingers rubbing relentless circles on the nub. You bounce on the cock. A strip of lightning cracking down on you. Seeing black as your body releases your pent up orgasm. The skin of touching wet skin on skin is heard. He matches your abrupt pace. Thick veins in his throat and the one on his forehead protrude. He grunts words of praise and other meaningless things. A dark thought emerges. Someone could walk past his office and listen in. The walls weren’t thick at all here. Blue suddenly doesn’t care, if they want to listen, let them. Let them know how he can make you cum without even touching you. A sick, twisted side of him spurs in his stomach. He holds his cock tightly at the base. Staving off his descent. His eyes were brooding. 

“I want another.”

You pant. 

“What?”

Your answer is straightforward. You’re too far gone to comprehend anything. You can’t even think straight and he wants you to do it again? Let alone bounce on the fat cock again, you can't even move. 

“I said. I want another.”

His voice is condescending like the way he told Ezra no at the theater. Chills run up your spine. You like seeing him angry. It’s fun to taunt. You know you will never recover, but you say it, anyway. 

“No.”

Blue’s eyes bulge out his head. He fists his cock slowly. Playing with himself. Who were you to disobey him? You’re the one who’s sprawled out on his desk, taking his cock. He huffs. Rage seething into his veins. 

“What do you mean, no?”

You blink up at him through a clouded gaze. 

“I said no. I won’t do it again.”

You can’t even blink before he’s out of his chair. Big hands grab your waist, pulling you off the wet dildo. He lifts you off the desk, throwing the dildo into an open drawer. He flips you over so you’re laying on your stomach. Your cheek pressed against the wood.

“You girls don’t listen for shit.”

Your feet dangle a few inches from the floor. He grabs your ass. Stretching the skin apart. 

“I don't know what to do anymore to reinforce your behaviors.”

He shakes his head. He’s astonished at the fact that measly girls can treat him like this. Maybe he reveled in being scary and mean, as long as it meant his toys stayed complacent. One of his hands runs up your spine, pushing your back farther down. Your hips slanted. You can feel him rub against the crevice between your cheeks. He wasn’t lying about the dildo being molded after him, but failed to mention he was girthier. Even if you just came, you want him. Need to feel him in you. 

“F-fuck it out of me.”

He chuckles, and everything is so ridiculous. Little mouse is finally growing into her skin. His hand replaces the one that leaves your ass. Wrapping around his length. He runs the head of his cock through your folds. He slaps it on your clit. The heaviness makes you grit your teeth tightly. He groans, getting lost in your pussy. Forgetting entirely why he was mad. 

“Mm, good idea.”

He knows he shouldn’t, but he lowers his hips. Angling his cock up and into your hole in one thrust. He enters you at a vicious pace, not leaving you to adjust to him. You claw at the burgundy. Tearing moans from you. His thighs hit yours. His stomach ghosting your ass. He’s pounding. His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling you to him. His balls smack your cunt with a wet smack. Your hips pinned between his relentless thrusts and the desk. You can’t escape, he won’t let you. You’re positive you won’t be walking straight anytime soon. His hand smacks your ass. 

“Don’t think you’re not in trouble, pretty girl.”

You whine high and loud. The rough wood digs into your breasts. The abrasion and his restless jab at your g-spot are pooling into your stomach. 

“I-I know.”

You feel your second orgasm round quickly. 

“I don’t think you do.”

He grits through his teeth. His hand leaves your ass to your front. His fingers touch your clit and you’re a whimpering mess. Tears prick at your eyes. 

“Fucking beg for it.”

You can’t even rack your mind about what’s happening. The train wreck of his hips pistoning in and out of you with a clap has you so close. Whatever gibberish your mind thinks of spew out of your mouth. 

“Please daddy, I need you, wan’ you.”

You can’t think straight. He rolls his eyes. He knows if he keeps you talking this way to him, he’ll be pushed over that hill he’s barreling over. 

“I know you can do better than that.”

His hips stop and you cry out. You push your ass back to relive the friction, but he’s not having it. He doesn’t budge at all. You give up, pushing your feverish forehead into the wood. Your brain short circuits and the most vile shit is sounded. 

“Put your hands around my neck, your fingers down my throat. Please, just do anything!”

You nearly scream it at the top of your lungs. And he’s shocked. Taken aback even. He can feel your walls flutter around him. You hug his length, trying to urge him to move. 

“Atta girl.”

He angles his hips, hitting into that spongy spot deep inside you. You feel drool leave your mouth as you take him. His fingers pinch your clit. An ugly sob spills out of you. His cock pulses in you, swelling full of cum. His fingers leave your clit, cupping your jaw and chin. They wrap around your cheeks, puffing them. You push your tongue out and three fingers are shoved inside your mouth. They’re salty and taste like you. They plunge down your throat and automatically you gag. He cums. The feel of your throat flexing around his bitter fingers spills him over. He puts his hips flush to your ass. His fingers drop from your mouth as drool pools around them. His cum drizzles down your thighs.

Your cunt milking him. He wraps his arms around your stomach, pulling you back to his chest. He shuffles back, his softening cock still inside you. He sits back in his seat with you in his lap. Your body is limp and tired. His fingers trace, drawing over your stomach. He can feel the head of his cock ever so slightly. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder. When you come to sanity, you’ve realized you just fucked Blue. Your boss, your owner. That you’ve betrayed your friends, but opened a much bigger and expansive door to something extraordinary. He kisses your shoulder. Hugging you tighter. His nose nudges against your collar. You feel his cock harden inside you. The cause of it all. 

“Should get you a leash to match that pretty necklace.”

He says it more as a reminder to himself than anything. Blue decides then, he doesn’t know how long or short his time with you is. But he perceives one thing: you belong to him and him alone. You’re his top girl. 

▬❝ crush? ❞

summary: one moment he was just some pilot and the next he was your Poe, ⟶ {Poe Dameron x f!reader}

warnings: minor alcohol consumption, injury mention

ONESHOT. 5782 WORDS

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You weren’t quite sure when exactly it had happened but you did know that Poe Dameron was paying you more attention than ever before. One day you’d barely interacted with him and the next you seemed to be seeing him everywhere. 

As one of the resistance’s assistant strategists you didn’t officially have that much to do with Poe. The two of you had been in meetings together, you’d run a few errands for your superiors that had involved delivering something to him, once he’d come directly to you to ask your opinion on a plan he had, but aside from that your paths didn’t cross. And then they did. 

All of a sudden he was greeting you as he passed your office - somewhere so far away from anywhere he’d need to be it was ridiculous. Then he was bumping into you in the hallways with an ‘extra’ cup of coffee that just happened to be exactly how you liked it. And soon you were one of his friends. A feat you had nothing to do with and yet still managed to make a few of your peers jealous. It wasn’t as if you’d done anything, or at least nothing you could remember.

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