#Stealing Stories For The Devil | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andersonfilms · 2 months ago

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≛ THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

♪ ˚. THE BRAT CHALLENGE ♱ ⋆.˚

feat. drummer!abby x fem!reader x footballplayer!ellie

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: switch!abby (kinda), jealousy, cheating, abby’s pierced nipples, reader desc. feminine, fingering, munch activities, toxicity ensuing, voyerisum, strap sex.

THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE, ellie williams, sporting 88’ on the back of her jersey, the world renowned football player from the united states. the overly competitive blood runs through her veins, passed down from her father, just as well as an overpowering ego the size of texas. she has the girl of her dreams, the most important game of her life in sight, but what happens when one drummer threatens to wreck it all?

wc. 10k

It’s easy to feel safe and comfortable with her, slipping into a simple life. Traveling the world with your favorite soccer player, the auburn-haired five-foot-five of pure talent, as soon as her custom cleats step foot on the field.

When the crowd echoes chants of her name, the rumbling of the rowdy fans, aggressive shouts cursing the other team. With crushed beer cans, sunflower seeds are spat on the ground, and they are begging for a goal. The 88’ jersey was littered across the stands. Every fan in the arena went to see her, yet you aren’t here.

It was one of the biggest games of her career, and you would not be seen anywhere, especially after the past week. She doesn’t blame you; Ellie could only blame herself but needs her good luck charm. The events replaying in her mind, haunting her while she tries to get one wink of sleep, but the look of horror in your eyes, the shoulder check you left her with, green eyes pleading to reason with her, but you refused.

Let me know when you want to grow the fuck up and tell me what’s wrong with you.

The words running in her mind, haunting her as she sleeps at night, wondering if today is the day the stone will be unturned or if she’ll actually tell you everything bothering her. But she doesn’t. Never had she seen you like it; rage carries higher than the waves of a tsunami, and all of it, every drop of water, seems to be crashing over her.

Every drop of it suffocates her until there is no oxygen left to breathe.

When she gets home, she scours the apartment for a trace of you, yet half of your belongings are absent. Ellie starts to wonder if she’s pushed you too far this time. Always, she’s betted on you sticking around through thick and thin but maybe you finally had enough.

Has she pushed you too far? Are you too far out of reach? She has no choice but to let you drown with the devil itself, succumbing to your own needs for once, not hers.

The side of the closet holding your belongings was in disarray. Ellie could see that your favorite belongings were absent. All the sweaters, hoodies, hell, even the flannels you would steal from her were meticulously folded and placed in the corner.

Ellie thought you would give her the benefit of the doubt. She thought you would let her explain why she had taken the job offer without consoling you. Now, considering what she seems to be losing, there’s nothing she wishes for more than to take it all back.

Any success is so trivial if she has no one to celebrate it with, not without you.

From the very start, you’ve been right there by her side. From the very beginning, it wasn’t as picture-perfect as she imagined. The fairytale began with what she thought would be a never-ending love story.

Something so pure, it could never turn rotten.

—

Growing up on the outskirts of New York had its perks. The small town was busy, yet the countryside tucked an hour away gave you a sense of solitude. Entirely predictable suburbs, the cul-de-sac tucked in the back of the neighborhood reeks of disturbed suburbia.

Everyone knew everyone, and you knew Ellie.

You were ten the day the two of you became friends, and you’ll never forget it. Clumsily, you had just fallen off your bike, knees skidding by the concrete as the skin had been peeled, the wound viciously open.

“Did you fall—” the girl shakes her head at herself, curses flying into the wind. “Of course you did. God, so stupid.”

She continues talking to herself as you weep slightly in a pathetic manner. Affectionately, the mysterious girl who also happens to be riding her bike past the park in your neighborhood pats you gently on the shoulder.

“I'll be right back. Stay there. I'll be back. Promise.”

She disappears on her blue and red bike, red hair flying in any direction the wind takes, but returns just like she said — a girl of her word.

“Here, let me fix you.” She grabs the first-aid kid from the bucket on her bike. Ellie kneels on the ground. You notice her bright blue Converse with red laces, which match her bicycle perfectly.

“Yeah, okay—” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as the nice girl tends to your knee. “Thanks.”

She grabs the needed tools, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Well, I used to fix my dad all the time. He's a soccer player and gets hurt a lot.

You stay silent as she rambles on.

“One day, going to be just like him, but better. My old man got too old before he decided to be good. I'm going to be the best player ever.”

“I bet you will be.” your eyes find hers, the sun making them shine like an emerald diamond, just like the one your mom wears on her ring finger.

“My coach says I'm good already but tells me not to get my hopes up.”

You realize Ellie has already cleaned your wound; her small hand applies pressure with the gauze as he wraps it away. She's so concentrated but simultaneously rambles away about her dad, the last soccer game she played in, and jokes to get your mind off the pain.

“How does it feel?” Ellie asks, the corner of her lip upturns, a soft smile gracing her freckled, full cheeks.

“Better,” you thank her, smiling shyly. She observes you as you hop back on your bike, ensuring you aren't in pain. Curiously, her mind drifts to how cute you are, and she wonders why her stomach is in complete knots.

She confuses it for sickness.

“You’re welcome.” Ellie stretches the nape of her neck, and her short hair sticks to her skin from the heat. “I'm Ellie, by the way.”

“I know.” You offer your name as Ellie blushes, her cheeks tinted pink. The love you feel is etched right into her heart, and she feels it from the first moment your name is said.

In a cliche, obvious way, the rest was history.

The two of you were best friends until college, bringing out the best in you—platonic love blossoming into something sweet, a one-in-a-million love you can only hope to find in someone else.

The tricky thing? It works. The two of you fit better than you could have ever dreamed of. The incredible bliss of youth leaves your faith blinded, corrupted by the true love you have for Ellie. Oblivious to flaws, all you see is her. Assuring you follow her around like a lost puppy; anything she wants, she gets. The skeletons in the closet are no match for the two of you, each being dragged out one by one.

But not by either of you.

—

One Week earlier…

“Would you stop so we can talk about this?” Ellie nearly shouts at you, granting her another eye roll, she’s lost count on how many you’ve thrown at her since the two of you left the club. The longing looks, her wandering olive eyes on someone else all night, gawking at the muscles, making you feel envious of someone you couldn’t have.

Your girlfriend’s attention.

But this is all your fault, right?

“Talk about what? How you, Ellie, made a decision to make a life altering decision without me? Yeah, okay, let’s fucking talk.” You have a bite in your voice, one Ellie has rarely heard, the sweetness diluted with her consistent need to keep you in the dark. “Fucking talk, please. I’d love to hear the bullshit excuse you’re gonna give me.”

“Why are you making this a big deal? It’s my career, not yours.” You bite your tongue as the words leave your mouth. Instantly, you feel burned by the person who thought loved you more than anything. Even in the heat of the moment, you figured she would give you the benefit of the doubt, even when you’ve been blind sided by her teammates. All because she was too much of a coward to tell what she’s already done. “Right. Foolish of me to think we’re a team.”

Spitefully, you throw your belongings in your tote, ignoring when she tries to grab your wrist, dodging her quickly. She tries again but stops when you tell her to. The only boundary she leaves untouched it seems.

“We are a team.” Ellie tries to convince you, but you don’t budge. Not an inch of you believes the shit she’s spewing at you.

“Oh! Well, that’s a surprise to me. If we’re such a team, why don’t you tell me why you won’t have sex with me….for eight months?” You raise your eyebrows at her, giving her an opportunity to speak but she stays silent like she always does. “If we’re such a team, why did you accept a job offer on another continent without even giving me the respect to tell me about it before you accepted the offer?”

Ellie stays silent, finding the hardwood beneath her feet more interesting.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You change into something more comfortable, slamming the bathroom door shut as you do, gathering other toiletries, different necessities you would need for the next few weeks.

You find her sitting on the edge of the bed in tears, as much as you want to hug her and give her the comfort she probably needs, there’s no good will in your heart. As much as you love her, only the boiling anger can be found. Blistering frustration, the one someone has when their girlfriend won’t touch them, kiss them, or even warrant them the truth.

“I love you, okay? I just need to figure some things out.” Ellie pouts, eyebrows furrowed as she says enough to get you to look at her. She sees the tears threatening to spill over, but you won’t let them fall in front of her. Never have you liked crying in front of others. Just as if she was anyone else, you would wait until you were in private to lick your wounds. “I just need some time, I just don’t know what’s happening to me.”

But all sincerity is lost, all you see in front of you is lies and deceit. Someone backed in the corner with no way to manipulate their way out.

“Well…figure your shit out, Els. Right now? It doesn’t seem like you do.” You grab your bags, slipping your shoes on, “I’ve had enough for now. Let me know when you grow the fuck up and let me know what’s wrong with you.”

—

Still, your blood boiled from last week’s exchange, the venomous words crawling up your throat like bile, as if this wasn’t what she wanted, what she started. All of this had been her idea.

Time and time again, dismissive words found their way into your heart, making a home before you had enough time to catch them. Sure, committed and faithful, she says. Then, she does this, makes your decisions without consulting you, and scolds you for getting upset about it. You craved space, so you did what any rational person would.

Swiftly packed your bags and flew to the other side of the country.

The fresh feeling is still swarming through your head, and the lingering words are aimed at your heart with more impact than you could stand. When they were told, Ellie regretted them the second they left her heart-shaped lips. Yet she stands there as she analyzes your tense frame, avoiding her at all costs.

You leave her with a soft murmur: staying at a friend’s. What you neglect to mention is that your friend lives on the other side of the country, tucked away in the safety of New York. Luckily, the nightlife is an easy distraction and does its job.

Intentionally, the first few nights are spent drowning yourself in liquor, letting yourself be grinded on by other drunk girls until they buy you shots, walking up back in your hotel room alone — then the cycle repeats.

The tranquility of a life forgotten, the gift of Don Julio, so like anyone else, you chase it. The drinks are free, the girls flirting with you are prettier than you’d ever seen but maybe that’s just the loneliness eating you up from the inside out. Yet, you find yourself itching to venture beneath, allow yourself to drown in someone else. Was there black lace? Possibly white or navy green boxers underneath? But you couldn’t, and you won’t. The guilt would eat you alive.

You told yourself it was just a fight, but was it? It’s when the second thought seeped in, invading the pessimistic part of your brain and feeding into malicious tendencies. Maybe you do want this? Something new?

Someone who wasn’t Ellie.

The thought alone sends shivers down your spine; an agonizing dread fills you. Never had you ever been provoked to leave, but the longer the silence welcomes you with open arms, the more the affliction lingers.

No text. No calls. No voicemails. Nothing.

Part of you ached for resolution. Even if it meant a means to an end, you could somehow soothe the aching in your chest. On the seventh day, she reached out.

A lazy effort of a text — couldn’t even be bothered to call.

elsbaby: can we talk, baby? please.

Perhaps if it had been the day after, two, three, even four — you would have the compassion to empathize. When she comes crying a week later after she spewed the most severe insults you’ve ever heard come out of her mouth? Any need to reconnect has dissipated at the drop of a hat.

this is what you wanted.

It shouldn’t make you spiral, but it does. You end up at a show; a rock band takes center stage at The Wolfhouse, and upcoming musicians try to make a name for themselves. Sitting at the bar, letting the vibrations of the base and the thumping of the snare drum infiltrate

Solemnly tapping the beat of your healed boot to the beat of the drum, you take in the singer on the stage. Black raven-haired beauty with a prominent nose and beautiful lips. She made the stage her own as she worked every angle known to man.

A firm belief is settled in your heart and everyone in there. She was born to be up there. You were too entranced, enjoying the music too much along with the cocktail in your hand, and you didn’t even notice the blonde making her way up to you.

As soon as you felt someone next to you, the first thought in your mind was how hellbent you were to be left alone. Even if it physically put you in distress, fuck, you couldn’t even remember the last time Ellie and you went on a date. The last time she touched you, kissed you, fucked you within an inch of your life.

It’s a pathetic, good for nothing excuse.

The line of morality blurs whenever your eyes latch onto eyes so gray the blue almost fades into them. Gorgeous freckles scattered across her smooth cheeks like twinkling stars in the galaxy.

Slowly, she takes your figure in, examining you up and down before smirking. She says nothing to you as she orders a neat whiskey. She hands her silver credit card to the bartender, “and whatever she wants for the rest of the night.”

You think for a moment she’ll talk to you, but she winks before settling into a booth with four others who look oddly familiar. The rest of the night, you’re met with tranquility and the steady and skilled bump of the bass guitar. It reminded me of when you were young, ambitions were the only thing on your mind, and you were lost in the never-ending need to be someone. It’s when you still believe something is worth living for, more than beating your drum to someone else’s tune.

You sipped on three Mexican martinis throughout the night and got lost when you walked up to the bar. The beefy, muscular blonde was there to greet you. This time, you got a clear look at her. Her rugged and toned frame shows off her commitment to the gym.

Yet, her deep blue pools are more charming than you would like to admit. A delicate edge to her jawline pulls you in as you admire the septum ring decorating her freckled nose, the bump in her nose making you smile softly.

You’ve always loved a girl with an intense nose for many reasons.

Mouth-watering, luscious, bliss - are all the words coming into mind when you’re looking at her. She’s wearing as little clothing as you would expect someone who leans masculine to wear, but fuck does she know it works for her. Black leather vest worn in, eating you up from the inside out, the musky scent filled with mahogany and a dash of vanilla.

The mysterious blonde's lack of undershirt adorns her body and steals the show. Immediately, she commands attention in every conceivable way. As mesmerizing as the raven-haired beauty appears, you would pay a lot to see her front and center on that stage. The shape of her small breasts is the real show in your mind, and the broad and toned torso gives you much to gawk at.

Nearly, you salivate at the defined four-pack she’s sporting. A pretty enticing deep v disappears delectably into her black leather pants as if she’s a modern-day adonis but with divine feminine written all over her. Without one doubt in the world, she knows she’s the hottest piece of ass in this bar, and for some unknown reason, she’s made you her target for the night. Wined and dined you all night without saying more than a sentence to you, and it seems she’s here to collect.

In the forefront of your mind, you believe it’s to serve some self-serving action to get off from what’s between your thighs, the sweet treat every girl has chased in this long week, but your long-term commitment tying you down like handcuffs to the post of your bed Ellie has kept you in.

Petrifying you to your bones, you aren’t sure what to make of the thrill building up; you can’t deny the longer you look at her, the more your thighs rub together in sync with the other.

“So—” With her tall stature, decisively, she steps forward, lips pressing against your ear with her hot breath seeping under your skin, “Are you wet because you know who I am or because you can’t stop looking at my tits?”

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows quirked up, and you wondered why it was a factor. Was she someone you were supposed to know? Now that she said something, there was something familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “Why would I have any idea who you are?”

Though your pussy has a heartbeat and seems to have a mind of its own. You forget about everything else when the woman gives you a toothy grin, which is too perfect.

“That’s cute, but see, everyone knows who I am—” Abby takes matters into her own hands and begins to nibble on the side of your neck, harshly biting and sucking lightly, taking in the taste of your skin as if she’s trying to find the perfect vein to puncture with her pointy canines. If it were the case, you’d let her suck the life out of you if you got to keep her to yourself for the night. “Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll know by the end of the night.”

She’s passionately driven when her skilled lips and velvet tongue continue to make a mark on you as if you are hers to own, hers to please as she sees fit. You don’t even know her name, but the raging storm of lust isolates you within her honey trap. All of it feels too finite, everlasting, even if it’s just solid concrete to stand on for the night.

Then, you remember Ellie. The longing text sent to you, not even a call. The love of your life, or so you’d always hoped, couldn’t be bothered to call you this entire week. The fallout of an inconceivable aftermath only now did she try to reach out.

“Tell me why you’re soaking wet, baby girl.”

You try to push her back, but she doesn’t even move; her frame is too strong. Now, your warm, firm hand places itself on her defined abdomen, pressing against the clearly defined muscles.

You can’t deny how flushed you’ve become.

This time you are drooling; her thumb wipes away the liquid before she sucks it back into her mouth. Her grin is even more wicked, knowing she has you right where she wants to be.

It’s when you notice the mirrored scorpions, one on either side, her muscular biceps littered with tattoos, and the front of her neck — practically having fuck me written all over her.

You should leave.

You fucking should.

She has an appetite for something else, pulling you by the waistband of your pants, her finger securely wrapped around the belt buckle. Pelvis to pelvis, grinding against you swiftly to see how much you move, and the smile she’s wearing is satisfying enough.

She’s always liked them needy, messy, and so damn right horny they’re putty in her extensive and capable hands.

“I’m waiting.” Her hunger is evident in her tone. She is ready to relish her sudden craving, at least to you.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you confess, hoping it will steer her away from you, but it’s a pathetic attempt.

“Abby. What else is your concern, babygirl?” Her knee sneaks between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt.

“I—” Almost with a soft thrust of her knee, Abby pushes against your cunt, damping her leather with a fucking desirable slick she’s dying to taste. Although it’s clear you like the chase, she gives it.

Had you had sex in the past eight months, you might have pushed away the overly cocky specimen, but it has been that long. Only making the patch in your panties grow as she teases your pussy.

Abby’s frame blocks anyone from seeing what she’s doing to you, your skirt riding up so much she can see the rounded cheeks slipping out, the black fabric slightly exposed under the bar's dim light. The more she presses, the faster your hips move against her.

Without a care in the world, you slid so far back, and you’re on her thigh, strong arms wrapped around you, whispering filthy nothings in your ear as you get yourself off on the stranger’s muscular body. If the bartender notices, she doesn’t mind. Pretends like you’re not even there. You’re not sure which is more embarrassing.

“Fuck, move those hips. Just like that, yeah.”

The high, the one you’ve wanted from your girlfriend who doesn’t even want to touch you, is so close. There’s a burn in your throat infused by sheer guilt that someone else will bring you to head. Some stranger you don’t know, one handsome stranger, yet when she pushes your panties to the side and thumbs your clit it’s so challenging to care about anyone but yourself.

You moan her name as she touches you, a skilled touch as she lightly pinches and soothes the sensitive bud. She completely enraptured you with the light touch she had to offer. Terrifyingly so, it shouldn’t affect you the way it does.

The look in her eyes would have sent you reeling. Her musky scent is already doing enough for you. You find yourself tangled in the webs of honeydew, suckling until you’ve had enough of the sweet sensation.

You’re just not sure how long it’ll be until you do.

“God, acting like you haven’t been fucked, baby. Such a dirty slut letting me do….well, whatever I want.”

Abby uses her free, dominant hand to guide your hips at a pace she sees fit. A thrill shoots down her spine as your incessant need grows like a flower at the dawn of spring—a tiny seed that is useless unless it bears root flourishing from where it’s planted.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Abby questions. A glimmer of assurance fills her ocean eyes. She was playfully biting your exposed shoulder blade.

“I can get you off right here, or you can come home with me.” the incredible sensation of her pierced muscling punching your skin with a chill, the stainless-steel ball adds a new sensation you weren’t expecting. She suckles and bites, marking you the more bruises as if she’s decorative for her enjoyment. “Or both. I think someone is close. I bet you’re ready to spill on my thigh. Wanna give me every last drop like the whore you are.”

“Your home?” you manage to spit out, trying to ignore the filth she spits, but it only brings you closer to your much-needed euphoric bliss. Abby’s efforts double over as if she’s fucked you before, bouncing her leg as as you ride her thigh, knowing exactly what you need to cum all over her.

Typically, the thread of your orgasm wouldn’t have been so easy to pull, but it seems she’s the one who placed it there in the first place. Months of not being touched left you in the hands of this Greek god who could make you feel whatever you wished for.

She’s cocky, confident, and the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen. Yet, the answer is still hard to find.

“Yeah, angel, my place.” You nod, unable to make a verbal confirmation.

“Gotta hear you say it.” Just then, the feeling that was bubbling spills over and all over her hand as she cups your cunt, thumb continuing to rub at your puffy clit.

“Yes, Yes, Yes.” you curse, chants of ecstasy fumble from your loose lips. Carelessly, you’re focused on the intense heartbeat between your legs, your body convulsing against her.

“What's that? M’not sure if I can wear you over your weeping cunt.” Repeatedly, Abby slaps your cunt as punishment.

“I-I want to, fuck, shit. Oh god, yes. I want to go home with you.” Your body slumps against her as she holds up your weight, and your high fades. Still, you feel blissful against her touch. Any other worry plaguing your mind dissipates, and all you think is her and strong muscles keeping you upright.

“Good girl,” she whispers before paying off the tab and putting the lace material pack in place. You feel the white liquid stick to you, filthy, resting against you—the once taintless fabric coated with the pleasures of your sin. Dizzy, unsteady, breathless — it’s everything you feel.

She thrives on knowing you need her. Even if it’s for tonight, the purpose will be served. Regardless of what she needs, this will be even more of a thrill, and the only thing she uses is her hand—not even her dominant one.

Abby moves your skirt down so your ass is covered again. “C’mon, pretty girl. let’s see how much of a slut you are." She leads you outside while she makes quick work of her phone, and suddenly, there’s a sleek black car, a Cadillac, you assume, with a driver in tow. The windows are tinted enough for you to wonder if it’s even legal. Silver rims, with a diamond emblem in the center shining so bright under the moonlight that it nearly takes your attention from the woman who has you in her grip.

“Last chance? I can have her drive you home.” She smirks, knowing you won’t take the out that’s being so generously given. Perfect, beautiful, she thinks, eyes still dilated from you getting off on her thing and the continuous swipe of the pad of her thumb.

It’s there. The smidge of penance you feel you’re obligated to ask for. Regardless of how amazing it feels, there’s something about the ending. This will be the end of all fuck ups; maybe, there’s still hope for the two of you if you go home. Call Ellie in the morning before the need to suppress the shame.

But don’t you deserve this one thing for yourself?

Everything under the sun has been for the auburn-haired beauty who has held your heart from the moment she patched up your bleeding knee. The moment a total stranger managed to win your heart, an adolescent love that knew nothing of the lesson of heartbreak or the years you chased after Ellie while she was chasing others.

How she let her feelings hover over the friendship of years with no consequence, especially after her long-term high school girlfriend, the one whose heart she broke into a tiny million pieces. Tragically, there still stood an existing fear for you. She was just a kid, but would she move on as quickly now as she did back then? It was as if they meant nothing to her, moving from the next one as if the time spent together had been insignificant, meaningless, just an ease to pass the misery of time.

You feared you would be the same.

Falling under the same umbrella, but you hope you are different. There were talks of marriage and settling into the countryside once she could retire. A shared dream, you thought. Perhaps it was a foolish sin to keep close to your heart.

Then there was Abby, a heavenly distraction from all the dread waiting for you. Everything you must pick back up eventually if you want to stay tucked into the nightlife of New York is just your dreams hanging up on the shelf, totting away with the relationship. An expiration date was labeled on the two of you, and an impending doom you could only fall through.

Everything was always for her.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

“What’s it going to be, princess?” She pulled you towards as she spun you around with ease, back pulled to her chest, her lips kissing your ear. All you could focus on was how strong she felt. Her strong hold bending you to her will wouldn��t be a challenge. If she wanted to, she could do whatever she liked. You are sure no isn’t a word she’s used to hearing.

But it went further than just how she looks.

It’s in the way she doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have you hooked on her. It entices you, thinking about how long she’d been staring at you all night. The curve of your ass in your tight, little skirt — was she staring at it? Did she think about all the ways she could fuck your perfect little hole if you would let her do everything she’d been thinking of? The way your hardened nipples poked through your mesh top. If she said anything, you could blame it on the draft, not just her sheer presence making them protrude through the fabric.

She did no work whatsoever to make you cum, letting you use her to get yourself off. There was an ease to it. One you hadn’t experienced before.

Here she is, using it against you again.

“Am I coming in the car with you, or will you rub your clit, alone, wishing you’d let me fuck you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming?” Her hands sneak under the lace, pinching your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your hips buck up, aching to be touched by her again.

“Just give in, baby. I know you want to.” Her dominant hand abandons your nipple, leaving the other to tease it. While she escapes underneath your skirt once again, “So wet for me already, huh?” Harshly, she grips your cunt, a finger sliding up your slit, but she’s intentional about not letting it slip in.

“I-I shouldn’t, shit, oh my g—” You try to think of an excuse, one good enough to convince yourself you should not go through with this. “I really shouldn’t.”

“And?” Abby’s canines dig into the side of your neck as she teasingly bites the flesh, soothing it with a velvet tongue, making more marks on the side she hadn’t touched tonight. “Are you taken?”

“That’s a complicated question.” Abby grins at your response with a sinister smirk.

“Well, if she’s not making you happy, let me do it for her.” Abby tilts your jaw, forcing you to gaze at her.

“Let me guess, no one has touched this perfect pussy in a long time. So, fucking neglected, huh?”

“I didn’t say I had a—”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Your pussy dripping with shame at her words.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You admit. Abby continues to torture you with the split of your slit, the two of you starting to draw attention, but you think it just excites her even more. “I haven’t felt—”

The moment you say the words, Abby spins you around. You whine at her touch leaving your pussy, but she makes up for it slightly when her hands palm your ass. “Tell me. Look me in my eyes, baby, and tell me what you need. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your hands weave themselves into her golden locks. You are intertwined with the waves that disguise themselves as shimmering waterfalls. But you look down as you try to think of some excuse to leave and make yourself leave with dignity.

Big mistake.

The happy trail, the blonde hair travels inside her pants, leaving you in awe underneath the moonlight. Abby’s leather vest pushed off slightly, her tits still covered with black pasties.

“Why don’t you take them off? Wanna see my pretty tits, baby?” You nod with too much eagerness. Abby chuckles.

She watches with a smirk as you take them off. The silver, shining barbell has you moan at the sight of them—the sight of her. Smudged black eyeliner makes her appear even more irresistible, hooded eyes gazing at you; a gentle hand finds your throat, applying pressure with her thumb, constraining your breathing slightly.

“Fuck, they are perfect.” You confess, your eyes gleaming at her pink nipples exposed before meeting with her eyes once again.

“Yeah, they are, but they would look even better with your pretty lips around them.”

She will not give up.

“This is such a bad idea.” Abby knows your mind is made up, and you’ll come home with her. Even if the guilt swarms like a bee to a honey hive, it’s all the same to her. “But, God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Your hands roam her toned, tattooed torso, the scorpions so delicious you want to outline every detail with your tongue. The thought of being strong has worn off—only the woman before you is on your mind.

“Well, to me, it seems you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Fingertips grazing her tits, her nipple hardening underneath you touch. “I’ll let you do whatever you want after I’m done with you. Well, if you still have the energy.”

A grumbling of frustration leaves your lips — you aren’t sure if it’s a desperate plea, a sigh of relief, or something else entirely.

“Like what?” You can’t stop touching her breasts, continuing to tease her pink nipple, but you meet her eyes. Abby’s positive you’ve never seen a smirk so wide.

“What do you like?” Abby pushes your hair back, fuck me eyes looking up at her. The ones that hadn’t left from the moment you laid eyes on her. She leans down just a little so her lips are pressed against your ear, “Do you wanna fuck my ass? Want me to sit on your gorgeous face while you eat me out? Fuck me in front of the mirror and watch my face when I cum?”

Grabbing your hair, she yanks it. Exposing the expanse of your neck. She’s grown so fond of marking. The slick between her thighs continued to blossom as you let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Like a whimpering bitch in heat, you took everything she had to offer.

Fuck it.

You cradle her face with her palms, smashing her lips to yours. It’s all tongue and teeth. Rough palms squeezing your ass, making you grind into her again. Your force casually lets her stumble into the car but you don’t let up. Whimpering and moaning into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, as if this moment will slip right through your fingers.

Her breath smells of fresh mint, her tongue casually dominates yours, staking claim to what she already believes to be hers. It’s then you realize your forever doomed because you feel the fluttering in your stomach as she growls in your mouth, animalistic — your pelvis grinding against her much more defined one.

You pull apart for one moment, unable to take one more moment away from her.

If you don’t get it, her tongue, her cunt, those pretty fingers decorated in silver jewelry, hell, you would settle for her pierced nipples rubbing against your clit.

“Abby?” She stops, opening her eyes to see you. You’re even more fucked out than she is. “Yes, baby?” She hums into your mouth, the sweet sensation vibrating your entire body.

“Let’s stop giving everyone a show and give me one.” Abby nods, the first sign of her eagerness as she opens the door for you, unable to keep her hands off you.

“We better go before you soak my car then, hm?” She slaps your ass as she leads you in.

—

As she has you in tow, hand in yours leading you towards the elevator in her building, the most luxurious one you’ve seen, one so high you’re sure it’s the highest in the skyline of New York City.

It isn’t surprising she has her own driver, or she lives in the penthouse of the building, even the plaques decorating the wall — a shrine to her evident success. Everything just…makes sense. Yet there’s a pit in your stomach, crawling and feasting. It's swarming within you, a nagging incessant fly buzzing around warning you to run. You don’t have much time to think about how horrible of an idea this is.

Alone with someone who could easily overpower you, at the mercy of a complete stranger yet when she puts her arms around your waist, all of it seems to melt away. She’s given you no reason not to trust her. You’re just thinking too much.

That’s all it is.

The little voice chants in your head, trying to make excuses for yourself as to not go through with this but they dissipate when her calloused palms find home on your waist. Soothing over your delicate skin, enticing you into her impenetrable web. Everything about her intoxicates you. Making every thought vacant your head, even more so when she starts playing with the hem of your skirt.

“Let me get you a drink.” She kisses your temple before going behind the makeshift bar in the dining room. An assortment of every liquor component known behind her. Part of you thinks she’s doing it for show, the way her biceps flex as she shakes the drink in the silver canister, pointingly making the drink you’d been ordering all night long.

So, she had been watching you all night. You knew if she wasn’t as hot as she is, you’d be creeped out. But it’s hard to be creeped out when she’s still shirtless, the black leather vest doing very little to cover her. Any time she moves you see her pink pierced nipples, nearly making you salivate.

With the Mexican martini in her grip, with her own in the other, you’re stuck. You didn’t think she’d actually want to have a conversation with you. Leading you out to the balcony, almost the entire view of the city before your very eyes, practically causing you to freeze in your footsteps.

“Wow.” Unable to conceal it, you voice your immediate awe. Abby chuckles, the first sign of sincerity you’ve seen all night. Everything else only seemed as a woman trying to get a needed fuck but right now but she hasn’t even tried to even so much as kiss you. Taking small sips of her whiskey, hip touching yours as the moonlight reflects from the water to her blue eyes, nearly as vivid as the moon itself.

“Yeah, it’s quite a view, think it’s the only thing keeping me coming back here. I’m on the road so much, it’s nice to have some stability.” Abby smiles softly, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can catch it. ”A pretty penny for me to keep it but it’s worth it.”

“Is this your move then?” You know the martini is doing the talking for you, if not you’d be a mumbling mess unable to form one sentence that even sounds remotely coherent. Abby quirks one of her blonde eyebrows upwards but keeps her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what you do with everyone?”

Abby takes a step closer to you, giving you all her attention. She plays with the chain on your neck, pulling it lightly to bring you closer to her. Carefully eyeing you up and down, smirking as she does, “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie like I do with everyone else?”

It’s more than you expected her to offer. A careless lie would have suited her more. If there is one thing you know for sure, Abby could get anyone she wants and she wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t want you to be here.

“Are you capable of the truth? M’not sure you are.” For once, Abby is a bit silent. Carefully, she contemplates on what to say next. She isn’t sure what she should say. Usually she’s the one laying the honey traps for the swarming bees but right now? Abby feels like the control is slipping from her grip.

She can’t have that.

“Which one is going to make that guilt easier on your conscience?” Abby smirks as the shame fills your eyes. “It’s a girlfriend, isn’t it? It always is.” Anyone else would take two steps back, maybe even see themselves out but you want to prove a point.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The immediate rejection of your very real girlfriend fills you with even more shame than you know what to do with. Abby chuckles at the omission, the way your voice shrieks out the statement with a sense of urgency. A desperate action to cover the truth. “Sure you don’t.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Your voice raises as you lean into Abby, her firm hands on your waist as you both face each other. Abby nods, tongue poking through her cheek, pulling at your necklace once again. Admiring the curve in the E, the gold chain shining. It’s a pretty necklace, probably one your girlfriend gave you but Abby makes no comment of it.

“Yeah, okay, and I hate pussy.” Abby giggles. You think it’s so cute, it shouldn’t even be funny, but it is. Just like earlier in the night, you’re so close to her, nothing as slim as a sheet of paper could fit in between the two of you. Without even thinking about it, you rest your hand on her abdomen again, her strength tangible as you feel her up once again. Truly, you’re unable to stop touching her. Every part of you wants this to happen, even if it comes back to bite you in the ass, the curiosity and your fluttering cunt can’t really think of anything else.

“You can still walk out that door. Just say the word and my driver will take you home.” Abby whispers into the busy street beneath you, it’s so faint from the distance but the two of you can hear it. “Or you can let me slide your pretty little skirt up and let me make a slut of you, babygirl.”

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s your throbbing clit, maybe it’s the lack of contact in months, most of all maybe it’s the fact Ellie took so long to reach out, but you give in. Throwing your arms around her neck, pulling her lips to yours, regardless of the possible consequence looming after you, threatening to tear apart the picture perfect life you thought you’re living.

All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Abby’s tongue staking claim, dominating in ways you didn’t know were possible before she’s pushing your front against the balcony, placing your hand on the railing. With ease, she maneuvers your body in just the way she wants. “Gotta tell me yes pretty girl, that’s the only way this is going to start.”

Facing the view, the buzzing city filled with nightlife and wonder, endless possibilities on your fingertips but you’re thinking about her hands. How much you want them inside you, fucking you full, or the strap in her pants you’d be rubbing against earlier. The thoughts of her slipping her cock inside you, claiming you in a way no one has in awhile. Making you feel wanted, needed, even if it was a fleeting feeling just for the night. You deserve it. Just one, stupid, decision — you were owed at least one.

“Yes, s’what I want. You.” That’s all it takes before Abby pushes your skirt to your waist, sliding off your panties as she allows you to step out of them.

“Are you sure?” Abby questions you. She pushes off from you, you hear her zipper being brought down as you look back at her, her vest being chucked to the lawn chair by the pool.

Fuck.

If she’s even half as good as she’s claiming to be, you are so fucked.

“I’m sure.”

Abby wraps her hands around your waist again, hands dipping under your shirt as she squeezes your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with her fingers. You sigh instantly, loving the stimulation she’s providing. You feel the barrel of her tongue piercing as she lightly sucks behind the sweet spot behind your ear, as if Abby's the one to place it there in the first place.

“Good.” Abby teases your entrance with her cock, your body shuddering as it slides over your folds, using your slick as lubricant. Already, you’re grinding against her, just like before as she guides your hips in the pace she likes. “Do you like getting off on my cock, baby?”

“Mhm, yeah, I do.” It’s all but a whisper. Abby still hears you speak, slapping your ass playfully, blunt fingers digging into the skin. She can’t believe anyone not wanting to touch you, not wanting to make you feel good. You’re the hottest person she’s ever fucking seen. Your ass, your tits, the moans spilling from your mouth, it’s been in her filthiest dreams.

“What about now?” Abby lets her cock slip inside you, stretching out your walls as you take everything she has to offer. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled like this, your cunt greedily taking every inch has she slides in further and further. With a tight grip, you hold onto the railing as she thrust with her strong hips forward, your back arching so deep as she places her hand on your lower back, forcing the bend.

“Oh…” Abby grins at your desperate moans, “You really do know how to be a good girl and take it.” Her name falls from your lips like a stuttering prayer, as if she’s the god you’re praising at the altar. With each thrust, Abby back more of her strength into, packing a powerful punch to your cunt. Pulling at the strings, already making you see stars as you take from the angle.

“Fuck!” With no warning, Abby pulls at your hair, your body conforming to her will. She could do as she pleased and you would let her. You wonder if you even had a chance or if this is what was meant to be. Her speed grows rapidly, your stomach doing flips as she penetrates you, fucking you until you’re irrevocably spent.

“See? You’re just a whore. My whore. Got you cock drunk for me. Don’t I?” Abby thumbs with your clit, making you see stars. Lost in the effortlessness of her actions, calloused fingers playing you like her drums set. With ease, from memory she pulled out a performance, just like she did at every show, aiming to please her audience.

“Do you—” Abby draws circles on your puffy clit, your growl as you attempt to push through your words. “Shit, I’m—”

“Hm?” You hear it, the sound of your cunt being fucked blending into the busy street, her hands pulling you on her cock over and over. “Didn’t think I’d take it easy on you now, did you?”

“I just didn’t think you’d actually feel this good.” With one particular hard thrust, Abby has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body begins to shake at her ministrations.

“We’re just getting started but I wanna see that gorgeous face.” She pulls out of you as she sits on the nearest lawn chair, “Hop back on, babygirl, s’all yours to use.” You remove the rest of your clothes, the E chain the only thing adorning your body.

Messily, Abby spits on her large palm, mixing your slick coating her cock making sure she’d be nice and ready for you to slide right back on. You grip her soft, freckled shoulders as she helps guide you, her blue eyes darkening as she sees the bliss written all over your face. Sinking on her cock is a sight Abby wants to replay in her mind, the high pitched moan that releases from your body is food for her soul.

“Fuck yourself on me, babygirl. Mhm, show me how much you need it.” You lean her forehead against yours, look in her beautiful blues, feeling a strange sense of intimacy as she fucks hours brains out. Abby likes the fact you have no idea who she is but you’re riding her like no tomorrow.

When you start bouncing on her cock, Abby loses all coherent thought. Your not so subtle bounce of your tits, she loves them so much she cranes her neck to suck on your nipples, her tongue piercing adding a new sensation, unable to stop your pussy from gushing around her.

“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this? Mhm, I don’t think so. My sweet babygirl, so frustrated, and all you need is some good fucking cock, huh?”

“All I need is you.” Abby thrusts her hips into you, her heavily ring hand slips her pinky ring off, the shimmering gold is placed on your clit, your body jerking from someone so cold on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Since you can’t feel the little ball on my tongue right now, I suppose this will have to do.”

“Is that so, baby? Need me?” Abby glances over your shoulder before looking back at you, before she continuously meets the roll of your hips with her thrusts. “Dirty fucking slut, so horny for your cunt to be fucked properly. It’s why you came out tonight, why you got off on my thigh at the bar, why you couldn’t stop looking at me, s’why your hands have been over me all fucking night.”

“Abby, shit, keep talking like that.”

“Hm, you like when I call you my dirty slut? When I tell you how needy you are for me? Bet you would have let me bend you over the bar and fucked you right there.” You’re groaning, you scream her name so loudly, Abby can’t help but grin with a sinister smirk.

“Yes, would let you do anything.” Abby hums approvingly, the cool sensation of her diamond encrusted ring doing wonders to bring you over the edge, “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever—”

One particular hard thrust has Abby wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you up as your body nearly becomes deadweight, her head making home on your shoulder. It’s when she steps into the light, met with Abby’s darkness. The night she had perfectly curated to fully benefit her, the strategic planning of a rotten apple, split right down the middle when push came to shove.

—

Three Months Prior…

“You said you would tell her.” The frustration written all over Abby’s face, her voice only raising an octave higher. Abby has never been so disgusted with herself, stopping so low, thinking she would get chosen over the long term girlfriend.

Stupid.

“I know what I said. I’m telling you, I can’t.” Ellie pinches the bridge of her button nose, trying to concentrate as Abby makes no move to do anything else but continue to fuck Ellie’s cunt.

“Oh no?” Abby slips a third finger in her pussy as she shoves her face between her slender thighs. “You don’t wanna tell her why you won’t fuck her anymore? All the light night calls with your manager are flights to come to my penthouse and get your pussy fucked out?”

Her tongue dips into Ellie’s pussy, she flattens her pierced tongue, the cool golden ball adding stimulation to the weeping woman’s clit, her body jerking at the action. “She’s too fucking good for you.” The speed of the bigger girl’s fingers send Ellie into godspeed, flirting with another dimension as she allows Abby to play tricks on her pussy.

The reason she comes back, no one makes her cum like she does, not even you. Abby wants more but Ellie refuses to give it, not willing to leave you even if you know what she’s been doing, all the lies she’s told in order to fuck Abby, you’d never look her way again. “She can't do this though? It’s why you keep coming back, you need my fingers stuffed in your pussy.” Abby’s fingers are reaching so deep, kissing Ellie’s cervix as she grips onto her wrist, bucking her hips up into the rockstar’s fingers.

“Maybe I should give them to her instead. I’m sure she would be more grateful.” Abby spits sloppily on Ellie’s pussy, kitten licking her clit until she sucks it in her mouth, tongue rapidly flicking over her bundle of nerves. Abby tsks, “Selfish slut, cum on daddy’s tongue like you fucking mean it.”

Like the greedy whore she is, Ellie squirts into Abby’s mouth and the blonde doesn’t waste a single moment, she slurps obnoxiously on Ellie’s cunt. “Fucking whore.” Her tongue flattens as he licks from her puckered hole to her clit, every drop dispersing into mouth.

Ellie’s entire body shakes, barely registering when Ellie throws on a robe, leaving it open and she lights up a cigarette on the balcony of her bedroom. Ellie whines for Abby.

“This was the last time.” With a flip of a switch, Abby’s tone changes, her cunt with her blonde pubes making her pussy appear even more irresistible, all she wanted was to get on her knees for Abby, repay the favor but the stoic look on her face tells her she won’t be getting anywhere near her tonight.

She exhales a puff of smoke, her sun kissed skin reflecting off the moonlight, every defined line of muscle making her even more beautiful. “But why? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?”

“No but I’m not interested in being someone’s side piece. I’m the main fucking show.” Abby shrugs her shoulders matter of factly, “Show yourself out, Williams.”

—

The memory flashes before Abby’s eyes, she’s sure it’s crossing Ellie’s mind, her worst nightmare playing in front of her. Her girlfriend, screaming her mistress’s name, as she clings onto Abby like a second life line. The look of horror in her emerald eyes, she would know your body everywhere, it’s you.

“All mine, my pretty pussy baby, m’babygirl gonna cum soon? yeah? can you do that for me?” Every word spoken was salt in the wound, smearing in as Ellie stood frozen still. The text was deliberately sent tonight for her own demise. Using Ellie’s needy nature against her, but it seems someone else was quite needy, but fuck was she prettier.

Ellie is a fucking idiot, Abby thought.

Knowing how much she loved it, Abby brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the digit, then she teases your puckered hole and you’re begging to convulse. Letting yourself be held by Abby, but your hips don’t stop moving.

No.

You’re fucking yourself even harder on her.

“Mommy, please? Make me cum, fuck, need to cum all over your cock. Gonna dump her for you, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” With her finger only slightly slipping into your ass, you see pull on her golden waves, allowing yourself to slip into the hold of rotten intentions. Ellie has seen enough as she slams the door on her way out but you’re too fucked out to even clock it.

“Good girl. Let it go. Mommy’s got you. Mhm, give it all to me, baby.” When she’s don’t fucking you into another dimension, Abby lays back on the chair, feeling quite satisfied with her successful plot of revenge.

Even better, she has you.

You fall on top of her, still stuffed full, when she finds sucking on her nipples. Your tongue toying with the barbell, pushing and pulling as Abby takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night.” You giggle lightly, Abby drawing random patterns on your exposed back. She doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt as she lets you suck on her tits, marking her porcelain skin. You’re already more of a giver than Ellie, she smiles at the thought.

“Don’t have to apologize. Never going to say no to a beautiful girl sucking my tits.”

She’s entirely mesmerized by you, in ways she hasn’t been before. Truthfully, she almost came from seeing you cum. Never in her life has someone brought her so close without having her pussy in their mouth. “Do you want the driver to take you home or do you want to go for round two? I’d like to fuck you on my bed, feel your dripping cunt on mine, make you forget about that pathetic girlfriend of yours.”

You forget she’s still inside you because you sit up fully and you’re moaning, again.

“I’d like that but let me give you another ride, yeah?”

Unbeknownst to you, the rotten apple lays beneath you, the same E chain hidden beneath the countless chains adorning her neck but sometimes they can taste just as divine as the sweet one. Sour or sweet? That’s for you to decide.

Bloody, intentional, reckless — Abby Anderson has brought it all.

Showing Ellie just how sweet something rotten could really be if preserved for someone else.

reblogs and extra thots are appreciated! hope you enjoyed ♡

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#tumblr put my stuff in the tags challenge!#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams smut #ellabs smut #ellabs x reader

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skzdarlings · 9 months ago

Text

lady-like ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: ❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜ W CHAN I BEG OF YOU + original ask: requested by anonymous: “You want gentle? Wrong fucking address”+ Chan <3

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: enemies to lovers, established lovers. criminal!chan, masked!chan. dom!chan, sub!reader (background mentions of switching). choking, floor sex, rough sex, dirty talk. brief mention of some sexism in the workplace. word count: 2050 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

It is the middle of the night and you are patrolling the art gallery yourself. You do not trust your colleagues or the security team tonight. No one believes there is any way to track the SKZ gang but you have found an undoubted pattern. That motley band of thieves have struck this gallery more than once, making off with paintings and artifacts alike, but tonight you will catch them.

Tonight you will catch him.

Your thought conjures him like a devil. You turn a corner and a gloved hand escapes the shadows, covering your mouth. You are yanked backwards, right into his chest, your back to his front.

You feel a moment of satisfaction because ha, you were right. No one believed you but you knew SKZ would strike tonight.

Then you are furious because those rotten thugs are probably making off with a priceless artifact while their leader holds you hostage.

“Hey there,” Bang Chan says in that too-friendly drawl. “How’s my favourite girl tonight?”

You try biting his hand but the leather of his glove is quite thick. Probably on purpose. You have left more than one bite mark on him in past encounters.

“Ah-nah-nah,” he says, steadying you when you wriggle. “Stop that. We both know how this ends. Let’s play nice this time instead, yeah?”

You answer by stomping on his foot and throwing your head back. The smack surprises him and he stumbles, giving you an opportunity to turn and brace yourself in a more defensible stance. You face him, hands up, adrenaline thundering through your body.

Chan is wearing all black, including a beanie and mask. He removes the hat, revealing hair just as black, but keeps the mask while rubbing his jaw. The half-hidden face somehow makes the dark intensity of his eyes look even more severe.

You and Chan have a played a long game of cat-and-mouse. You are so used to his teasing that you almost forget he is dangerously competent man. A criminal. A criminal you despise. A criminal who is undoubtedly grinning at you under that mask, given the way his eyes crinkle with mirth. It should not make your heart race.

“Ouch,” he says. He takes a step towards you, inching out of the shadows. “You’ve been training. Impressive.”

“Not like I had a choice,” you snap. “Some no good criminal keeps attacking my art gallery.”

“Criminal, yeah,” Chan says. “But no good? Really?” He flicks a hand your way, not so much striking as testing your reflexes. You bat it successfully and his eyebrows lift, showing he is moderately impressed.

“You’re a dirty thief,” you say, taking a swing of your own. Yours is much more deliberate, swinging at his head, but he dodges just as easily.

You scamper backwards, his booted steps following swiftly. You keep your hands up in defense. He is still smirking under that mask.

“Thief, yeah,” he continues to tease. “But dirty? Well… I suppose you’d know…”

Heat pulses under your skin.

This cat-and-mouse game has crossed many lines. You cannot even remember how it first happened. It feels like Bang Chan has always been in the shadows, stealing paintings and kisses alike. One moment you were snarking at the infuriating cat burglar, then your hands were in his hair and his mouth was on yours.

Sometimes he wins, distracting you or holding you, giving his team time to make off with something. Sometimes you win, trapping him or his men and only letting them go if they relinquish their prize. Weirdly, Chan seems to like it when you outsmart him. It quite literally puts him on his knees.

Flustered, your next swing is more emotional than strategic. He catches your arm and spins you again, trapping you against his body. You grunt and struggle in his arms.

“That’s not very polite, you know,” he says. “I thought you said you were a lady.”

Yes, you have made such an insistence in the past, reminding him you are a lady of class, an educated woman, an intelligent academic. He did not argue. He did pin you to the wall and choke you in that infuriatingly delicious way, the way that gets you coming all over his hand in a second. That’s it, he said, with a hand around your throat and another under your skirt. Tell me what a lady you are. Letting a criminal like me make you come. Tsk, what would your co-workers say?

You stamp the memory down because it is getting you hot. He is holding you differently than before, so you cannot swing your head back again. You writhe uselessly.

“I didn’t just say I was a lady,” you snap. “I am a lady. I am a respected professional, unlike you—”

“I’m respected and professional, thank you,” he says, his tone still bright like he is having fun.

It is fun. You hate to admit it, but it is. Before he started breaking into your galleries, every day was the same. Your life was such a monotony and you dread returning to it. There is a reason you never call the authorities on him. There would be no triumph in that demise. You would lament his absence and forever feel like business went unfinished.

You are satisfied when you can face this dangerous man and win, when you can push him on his back and put him in his place, when all that danger and power and skill surrenders to you and you alone. Because Bang Chan has a notorious reputation for a lot of things, but fraternizing with civilians is not one of them.

Except you.

Except right now.

“You know what I say, little miss lady?” he asks.

He gives you no time to answer. Your breath catches when he circles that gloved hand around your throat and squeezes. It softens every part of you immediately, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, instinctively and animalistically submissive in the claws of something powerful.

You whimper, your knees going weak. You know you are wet. You know he knows.

He pulls you against him. You can feel every hard plane of his body, his bulky body armour, his weapons. You feel either a buckle or his bulge against your body, but either way it is irrevocably suggestive. When you wriggle, he squeezes your throat, and you go pliant again.

“I’d say,” he whispers, “you need someone to put you in your place.”

Oh, he has talked about your place many times before. It’s with me, he will insist, fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come again and again, putting you on your knees and bringing out all the hidden dark and dirty parts of yourself. Come on, he will say, we’re perfect for each other, yeah? You know it. Join my team. Come with me.

You do admit, he respects your keen eye and talent, and he acknowledges your expertise far more than the other people at your gallery. It took a year to even be allowed to do substantial tasks, relegated to fetching everyone’s coffee, getting spoken down to because you were a woman whose ambition was considered a nuisance.

That is not enough to resort to a criminal life. Surely?

But for a moment, you can imagine giving into the darkness permanently. Tonight, it is you that surrenders as he drags you both into the shadows and onto the floor. He takes off his jacket and lays it out, pushing you down face-first onto it. You take a dizzying gulp of air while his hands are occupied, removing his gloves, unbuckling his utility belt.

You wait for the moment he lifts your skirt. His breath catches when he realizes you are not wearing anything underneath.

You yelp because he smacks your ass. You look back at him with as much fury as you can muster in your haze of lust.

“A lady,” he says, grabbing your hips and tugging you back. “Sure.”

“I am,” you say, but your voice is rough, your breathing heavy just from his bare fingers gliding down your wet pussy, the evidence of your desire betraying your claims of propriety.

“Sure, baby girl,” he says, because he knows it annoys you even while it makes you clench. He can see the evidence of that too, swearing as he looks at you, making you feel even more exposed and flustered. “You’re made for me, you know that, sweetheart? Always feel so good on my dick. God.”

“You’re taking your time tonight,” you say dryly. “Getting sentimental? Turning into the slow and gentle type?”

He laughs. Then he grabs you by the neck, pinning you to the floor as he sidles up behind you. The head of his cock presses at your entrance, wet with anticipation.

“You want gentle?” he asks. He is inside you with one deep thrust. “Wrong fucking address.”

The truth is, even when rough, he is careful. Your face never leaves his jacket and he knows where to squeeze and hit and press properly. Bizarrely, ridiculously, you are safe in this criminal’s dangerous hands. The biggest threat they pose are just how skilled and deft they are, making you forget about all of those details as he manhandles you and fucks your worries away.

He wraps a hand around your throat and lifts you. He is still in his mask, still almost entirely clothed except his undone fly. Your skirt is up, your shirt in disarray, your chest and throat exposed to his hands. You can hear him panting into his mask, your own breath as wild until he steals it. You clench around him, making a weak, ragged sound as he chokes you and pounds into you.

“You’re not gonna come like this, are ya?” he taunts, because he knows your body well, can feel you are the on verge just from his angles and rhythm. “Tsk,” he says. “That’s not very lady-like.”

You would tell him to shut up, but you can only manage a weepy moan as he drives you over the edge of a mind-numbing orgasm. You feel drenched, dripping down your thighs, and he still doesn’t relent, pushing you back down and holding your hips as he drills through every sensitive nerve.

“Fuck,” you say, twisting your fingers around his jacket. Your knees will probably be bruised after this. No short skirts or everyone will know something happened. Would they guess you let the most notorious burglar in the country arch your back and fuck you on the floor? Probably not. You have always been a stickler for rules.

Until this. Until him.

“Chan,” you say, breathless, rasping. “Chan.”

“Fuck,” he says. Then the weight of him is on your back, his hips grinding into yours. His masked face brushes your ear and he speaks in a low voice, “Guess where I’m coming tonight, baby girl.”

Your walls are still fluttering with aftershocks, pulling him deeper at his words. It is not the first time, no. God only knows how long ago that conversation first happened, telling him it was safe, how much you wanted it. Letting him do things you never let anyone else do. Breaking all your rules for him.

“Fuck, Chan,” you say.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps. “That’s who’s fucking you. No one fucks you like I do. God. You can take it. So good.”

You can feel when he comes, his chest vibrating with his groan, the warmth inside you. You slump in his arms, ravaged and sore and not the least bit sorry for it.

You should be. He won this round. You should be furious at him. You should be threatening him. Your usual rapport.

His mask comes off. You hear it hit the floor. Then he is grabbing your jaw and turning your face and kissing you deeply. He holds your throat, not threateningly but possessively. He is kissing you for so long, you almost forget who you are. Then you surface. You look at each other.

“Come with me,” he says.

The haze of lust has vanished. You should be thinking clearly. You fear, for the first time, you are.

You suppose he has stolen everything else, why not you too?

You put your hand in his.

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