⋆ 𝓐 ₊˚⊹

the first time you saw abby anderson, she was leaning against a blacked-out range rover in the valet lane of a club you couldn’t even pronounce the name of.

you were waiting for your ride—a friend of a friend who was already twenty minutes late and she was just standing there.

watching you like you were the only thing worth looking at in a city full of flashing lights.

she didn’t smile. she just tilted her head, took a slow drag from her cigarette, and let the smoke curl around her face like a veil.

her suit was charcoal gray, probably cost more than your rent, and the way she held herself said she owned every inch of concrete she was standing on.

“you waiting on someone who isn’t coming?” she asked, voice low and rough, like she’d been up for days running numbers or breaking kneecaps. you couldn’t tell which.

you shrugged, clutching your purse a little tighter. “guess so.”

she nodded, flicked the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it with the toe of her heel. “get in. i’ll take you home.”

you should’ve said no. any sane person would’ve said no. but there was something about the way she looked at you.

like she already knew you, like she’d already decided you were hers—that made your mouth go dry and your common sense take a backseat.

you got in. that was six months ago.

now you’re sitting in the passenger seat of her maybach, the leather so soft it feels like butter under your thighs.

watching the city blur past as she drives one-handed, the other resting on your knee like a brand.

she’s got a fresh pack of cigarettes in her jacket pocket and a duffel bag in the trunk that you know better than to ask about.

“you’re quiet tonight,” she says, not looking at you. “something on your mind, baby?”

you chew your lip. you’ve been thinking about it for weeks now—the way she gives you things.

the way she never lets you pay for anything.

the way she showed up at your apartment one day with a key she definitely shouldn’t have had and a box from cartier in her hand.

“abs,” you start, and her fingers tighten on your knee just a little, like she knows what’s coming. “i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

she doesn’t react. not at first.

the car hums beneath you, smooth and dangerous, and she takes a turn a little too fast, pressing you back into the seat.

“doing what, exactly?” her voice is calm. too calm.

“this.” you gesture vaguely at the car, at the city, at her. “all of it. the money, the gifts, the—the way you just show up. i didn’t sign up for this.”

the silence that follows is heavy enough to crush bone.

abby pulls the car over, not in a parking spot, just in the middle of a dark stretch of road where the streetlights are few and far between.

she kills the engine and turns to face you, and for the first time, you see something flicker in her eyes that makes your stomach drop.

it’s not anger. it’s amusement.

“you didn’t sign up for it?” she repeats, and a slow, cruel smile spreads across her lips. “baby, you signed up for it the second you got in my car that night. you just didn’t know it yet.”

you swallow hard. “that’s not fair.”

“fair?” she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “you think i got where i am by playing fair? i built an empire on dirty hands and designer taste, sweetheart. every dollar i spend on you came from a deal that would put me away for life if anyone found out. and you think you can just—what? walk away?”

her hand leaves your knee and comes up to cup your jaw, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. her touch is gentle, but the look in her eyes is anything but.

“you’re mine,” she says, soft as a promise, sharp as a blade. “and i don’t let go of what’s mine.”

you should be scared. you are scared.

but there’s something else too, something hot and shameful that curls in your belly when she looks at you like that.

she sees it. of course she sees it.

“that’s what i thought,” she murmurs, and then she’s kissing you, deep and possessive, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s staking a claim. her hand slides into your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and she swallows the sound like she’s drinking it.

when she pulls back, you’re breathless, and she’s already reaching into the glove compartment for a fresh cigarette.

“we’re going home,” she says, lighting it with a flick of her zippo. “and we’re going to talk about this. but let me make one thing clear.”

she blows smoke out the window and turns to look at you, her eyes glinting in the dim light.

“you don’t get to leave. not ever. and the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for both of us.”

you don’t say anything. what is there to say?

she puts the car in drive and pulls back onto the road, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to find yours. she laces her fingers through yours and squeezes, just once, like a reminder.

you squeeze back.

because the truth is, you don’t want to leave. that’s the sick, twisted part of it all. you don’t want to leave her.

and she knows it.

the penthouse is all floor-to-ceiling windows and cold marble floors, the kind of place that looks like it belongs in a magazine spread. you’ve never gotten used to it.

not really—the way the city lights glitter below like a thousand tiny diamonds, the way the air smells like expensive candles and something faintly metallic, like gunpowder and old money.

abby shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over a chair, moving through the space like she owns it. because she does. she owns everything. including you.

“drink?” she asks, already at the bar, pouring herself something amber and expensive.

“i’m fine.”

she glances at you over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “didn’t ask if you were fine. asked if you wanted a drink.”

you hesitate, then nod. “okay. yeah.”

she pours you one anyway, brings it over, and presses the glass into your hand.

her fingers linger against yours for a moment too long, and then she’s sinking onto the couch beside you, close enough that her thigh presses against yours.

“so,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “talk to me.”

you stare at the amber liquid in your glass, watching the light catch it. “i just... i don’t know who you are, abby. not really. you give me all this stuff, you take care of me, but you won’t tell me what you do. you disappear for days and come back with bruises and blood under your nails, and you expect me to just pretend i don’t notice?”

she’s quiet for a long moment. then she sets her drink down on the coffee table and turns to face you fully, her knee brushing yours.

“you want to know who i am?” she asks, and her voice is softer now, almost tender. “you want to know what i do?”

“yes.”

she reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch featherlight. “i’m the person people call when they need something done that no one else will do. i’m the person who makes problems disappear. i’m the person who keeps this city running from the shadows, and i’ve been doing it long enough that my name carries weight.”

she pauses, her eyes searching yours.

“and you? you’re the only good thing i’ve got. the only thing that’s mine that isn’t covered in blood or built on someone else’s ruin. so when you say you want to leave, it scares me.”

you blink. “you? scared?”

“terrified,” she says, and she says it like a confession. “because if you leave, i don’t know what i’d do. and that’s the scariest part—i don’t know if i’d let you go, or if i’d burn the whole world down to keep you.”

your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. “abby...”

“i’m not a good person,” she continues, cutting you off. “i’ve done things that would make you sick. i’ve ruined lives, ended them. but i’ve never lied to you. not once. and i’m not going to start now.”

she takes your hand, brings it to her lips, and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“so here’s the truth: you can stay, and i’ll give you everything i have. every dollar, every diamond, every piece of me that isn’t already destroyed. or you can go, and i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you regret it.”

the threat is soft, wrapped in velvet, but it’s there. unmistakable.

you should run. you should scream. you should do something other than sit here, frozen, with her lips against your skin and her eyes boring into your soul.

but you don’t.

“i don’t want to go,” you whisper, and the admission tastes like surrender.

abby’s smile is slow and dangerous, like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“good girl.”

she pulls you into her lap, and you go willingly, curling against her like you belong there. her arms wrap around you, solid and warm, and she presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“you’re mine,” she murmurs against your hair. “and i’m going to take care of you. forever.”

you close your eyes and let yourself believe it. because what else can you do?

the next morning, you wake up alone in a bed the size of a small country, tangled in sheets that probably cost more than your first car.

the sun is streaming through the windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow, and for a moment, you forget where you are.

then you see the note on the pillow beside you.

"had to handle something. be back tonight. there’s a car waiting for you downstairs if you want to go shopping. don’t forget your key. — a"

underneath it, there’s a black american express card and a key to the penthouse on a simple silver keychain.

you pick up the key, turning it over in your hands. it’s heavy. real. a symbol of everything you’ve gotten yourself into.

and despite every warning bell screaming in your head, you smile.

you get dressed, pick out a bag you don’t remember buying, and head downstairs. the car is waiting, just like she said.

a sleek black town car with tinted windows and a driver who nods at you like he knows exactly who you are.

“where to, miss?”

you think about it for a second. then you give him the name of the most expensive store you can think of.

if you’re going to be kept, you might as well look good doing it.

the shopping trip is a blur of silk and cashmere, of saleswomen who recognize the black card and treat you like royalty.

you buy things you don’t need, things you don’t even have space for, because you can. because the card never gets declined. because this is your life now.

by the time you get back to the penthouse, the sun is starting to set, and there are bags upon bags stacked in the entryway.

you’re exhausted, but it’s a good kind of exhausted. the kind that comes from hours of indulgence and the heady rush of spending money that isn’t yours.

you’re pouring yourself a glass of water when you hear the door open.

abby walks in looking like she’s been through a war. her suit is rumpled, there’s a smear of something dark on her collar, and her eyes are ringed with exhaustion. but when she sees you.

standing there in the kitchen with your new designer dress and your armful of shopping bags, her whole face softens.

“hey, baby,” she says, her voice rough.

“hey.”

she crosses the room in three long strides and pulls you into her arms, burying her face in your hair. she smells like smoke and metal and something sharp, but you don’t pull away.

“missed you,” she mutters against your neck.

“you were gone for like eight hours.”

“too long.”

you laugh, and it surprises you—the lightness of it, the ease. “you’re ridiculous.”

she pulls back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “ridiculous for you. always.”

and then she kisses you, slow and deep, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. when she pulls away, her thumb traces your bottom lip, and she smiles.

“come on. let me show you what else i got you.”

you raise an eyebrow. “more?”

“always more.”

she takes your hand and leads you into the bedroom, where a small velvet box is sitting on the pillow.

your heart stutters as she picks it up, opens it, and reveals a diamond necklace that catches the light like captured starlight.

“abby, this is too much.”

“nothing is too much for you,” she says, and she fastens it around your neck, her fingers brushing against your skin. “now you’re really mine.”

you look in the mirror, at the woman staring back at you.

dressed in silk, dripping in diamonds, with a criminal’s arms wrapped around your waist.

you don’t recognize her. but you’re starting to like her.

the weeks blur together after that. you fall into a rhythm that’s equal parts domestic bliss and quiet terror.

abby is attentive, almost obsessive in the way she cares for you. making sure you eat, making sure you sleep, making sure you want for nothing.

but she’s also possessive in a way that borders on suffocating.

she doesn’t like it when you go out without her. she doesn’t like it when you talk to strangers. she doesn’t like it when you look at anyone else for too long.

and she’s not subtle about it.

“who was that?” she asks one night, her voice deceptively casual, as you climb into bed beside her.

“who was who?”

“the barista. at the coffee shop. he smiled at you.”

you blink. “he was being polite, abs.”

“i don’t like the way he looked at you.”

“he was just doing his job—”

“i don’t care.”

her hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. her eyes are dark, intense, and there’s something in them that makes your breath catch.

“you’re mine,” she says, low and dangerous. “and i don’t share. not with anyone. so if i see another man look at you like that again, i’m going to make sure he never looks at anyone ever again.”

you should be horrified. you should be scared. instead, you feel a thrill race down your spine.

“okay,” you whisper.

she holds your gaze for a long moment, then releases your wrist and pulls you into her arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“good girl.”

you close your eyes and let yourself sink into her embrace, feeling the steady thrum of her heartbeat against your cheek.

this is your life now.

and you wouldn’t have it any other way. it happens on a tuesday.

you’re at a little café downtown, the one with the good pastries and the outdoor seating, because abby had a meeting and you needed to get out of the penthouse.

you’re scrolling through your phone, sipping an overpriced latte, when a shadow falls over your table.

you look up. he’s handsome, in a clean-cut kind of way. suit, tie, smile that’s a little too bright.

he’s holding a coffee cup and looking at you like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“you’re abby anderson’s girl, right?”

your blood runs cold. “who’s asking?”

he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down, uninvited. “name’s detroit. i work for a... competitor of hers. and i’ve been looking for a way to get to her for a while now.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“sure you don’t.” he smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “but here’s the thing—i know you’re not stupid. i know you know exactly what she does. and i know you’re sitting on a goldmine of information.”

he leans forward, lowering his voice.

“help me take her down, and i’ll make sure you walk away clean. new identity, new life, somewhere she’ll never find you. you’ll never have to look over your shoulder again.”

for a second—just a second—you consider it.

the idea of freedom. of being your own person again. of not being owned by anyone.

but then you think of abby. the way she holds you. the way she looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

the way she kissed your knuckles that night and told you she’d burn the world down for you. you think of the diamond necklace still warm against your skin.

“no,” you say, and your voice is steadier than you feel.

detroit’s smile falters. “excuse me?”

“i said no. i’m not helping you.”

he stares at you for a long moment, then laughs—a short, sharp sound. “you’re loyal. i respect that. but you’re making a mistake.”

“maybe.” you stand up, grabbing your purse. “but it’s my mistake to make.”

you walk away before he can say anything else, your heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you don’t look back.

you’re halfway to the car when your phone buzzes.

it’s abby.

“come home. now.”

no explanation. no context. just those two words, and the weight of them makes your stomach drop.

you get in the car and tell the driver to take you back to the penthouse.

when you walk through the door, abby is sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in her hand and an expression on her face that you can’t read.

“i heard you had an interesting conversation today,” she says, her voice flat.

your heart stops. “how did you—”

“i have eyes everywhere, baby. you know that.” she takes a sip of her whiskey, then sets the glass down and stands up, crossing the room to stand in front of you. “detroit. he approached you.”

“yes.”

“and you said no.”

“yes.”

she’s quiet for a moment, studying your face like she’s looking for a lie. then, slowly, she reaches out and cups your cheek.

“why?”

you swallow hard. “because i’m yours.”

the smile that spreads across her face is slow and devastating, like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

“that’s right,” she murmurs. “you are.”

and then she kisses you, hard and deep, and you melt into her like you always do.

when she pulls back, her eyes are bright, almost feverish.

“i’m going to take care of detroit,” she says, and there’s a promise in her voice that makes you shiver. “and then i’m going to take you to bed and remind you exactly who you belong to.”

you don’t argue. you never do.

the night is a blur of hands and mouths and whispered promises. abby is relentless, taking you apart piece by piece until you’re nothing but a trembling mess in her arms.

she marks you—bites and bruises and fingerprints that will take days to fade and you let her, because being marked by her is better than being forgotten.

afterward, you lie tangled together in the sheets, her head on your chest and your fingers in her hair.

the city lights glitter outside the window, and for a moment, everything is perfect.

“i meant what i said,” she murmurs against your skin. “i’d burn the world down for you.”

“i know.”

“and i’d do it again. a thousand times.”

you press a kiss to the top of her head. “i know, abs.”

she lifts her head to look at you, and in the dim light, her eyes are soft. vulnerable. human.“you’re not going to leave me, are you?”

it’s the first time you’ve ever heard her sound unsure. you cup her face in your hands and look her in the eyes.

“never.”

she exhales, long and slow, like she’s been holding her breath for years.

and then she’s kissing you again, soft and sweet, and you feel something shift between you—something deeper than possession, deeper than obsession.

something that might be love. or as close to it as two broken people can get.

the next morning, there’s a new bag on the kitchen counter. chanel. you don’t even bother asking how it got there.

abby is already gone, but there’s a note next to the bag. went to handle detroit. be back tonight. wear the red dress. — a

you smile, pick up the bag, and head to the bedroom to get ready.

because this is your life now. and you wouldn’t have it any other way. weeks turn into months. months turn into a year.

you’ve settled into the role of abby anderson’s girl like it was made for you. you know which restaurants to avoid, which questions not to ask, which smiles to save for her and her alone.

you’ve learned the rhythm of her world—the late nights, the sudden trips, the way she sometimes comes home with blood on her hands and a faraway look in her eyes.

you’ve learned to wash the blood away. you’ve learned to hold her when she shakes.

you’ve learned that love, for people like her, looks different than it does for everyone else.

it’s not flowers and candlelit dinners—well, it is, but it’s also bruises and threats and the kind of devotion that borders on madness.

and you’ve learned that you’re okay with that. more than okay. you love her. god help you, you love her.

it’s a rainy night when she comes home with a cut above her eyebrow and a split lip.

you don’t ask. you just lead her to the bathroom, sit her down on the edge of the tub, and gently clean the blood from her face.

she watches you the whole time, her eyes soft and unreadable.

“you’re too good for me,” she says, her voice rough.

“probably.”

“you should run.”

she catches your wrist as you reach for a bandage, pulling you closer until you’re standing between her thighs.

she looks up at you, and there’s something raw in her expression—something she usually keeps locked away.

“i don’t deserve you.”

you press the bandage to her brow, gentle and precise. “maybe not. but you have me anyway.”

she pulls you down into a kiss, soft and aching, and you taste copper and rain and something that might be desperation.

when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours.

“i love you,” she whispers.

it’s the first time she’s said it.

you feel your heart crack open, feel something warm and terrifying flood through your chest.

“i love you too,” you whisper back.

she holds you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

and you hold her back, just as tight.

later, when she’s asleep, you lie awake and watch her. the rise and fall of her chest.

the way her face relaxes in sleep, softening the hard edges. the diamond necklace you never take off, glinting in the dark.

you think about the girl you used to be—the one who waited for rides from friends of friends, who clutched her purse in bad neighborhoods, who had no idea what it meant to be truly seen.

you think about the woman you are now.

dirty hands. designer taste. and completely, irrevocably, hers.

you press a kiss to her shoulder and close your eyes.

outside, the rain keeps falling. inside, for the first time in your life, you feel safe.

and that’s all that matters. the penthouse lights blurred like smeared oil paint as abby guided you inside, her hand firm on the small of your back.

the confrontation with detroit still buzzed under your skin, a low hum of adrenaline mixed with the sickly-sweet aftertaste of fear.

abby moved with predatory grace, shedding her blood-spattered jacket onto the marble floor. the scent of iron clung to her.

"you did good today, sugar," she murmured, her voice rough velvet against your ear. her fingers traced the line of your jaw, possessive, assessing.

"real good. loyal." the praise warmed you, twisted tight in your belly alongside the lingering unease. "deserves a reward. somethin' special."

she steered you not towards the bedroom, but deeper into the penthouse, to a room you rarely entered – her private study. leather-bound books lined the walls, untouched.

the air smelled of expensive tobacco and something sharper, chemical.

abby unlocked a sleek, modern cabinet disguised as part of the shelving. inside wasn't liquor. nestled amidst velvet-lined compartments were vials.

tiny baggies filled with powders ranging from bone-white to greyish-white, a delicate glass pipe, syringes wrapped in sterile plastic. your breath hitched.

"abs…" you whispered, the protest dying before it fully formed. her gaze pinned you, dark and fathomless, promising oblivion.

"hush now, baby," she soothed, selecting a small vial of crystalline powder that caught the low light like crushed diamonds.

cocaine, your mind supplied, the word sharp and dangerous. "just gonna take the edge off. make everythin'… softer. brighter. just for us." her movements were practiced, ritualistic.

she tapped a generous mound onto the polished surface of her heavy oak desk, used the edge of a black amex card.

absurdly mundane, to shape it into perfect, gleaming lines. the snick of the card was obscenely loud.

"kneel," she commanded, not harshly, but with an expectation that brooked no argument.

the cool marble bit into your knees through the thin silk of your dress. she stood before you, the desk at your back, her silhouette blocking the dim light from the doorway.

she held out a short, hollowed tube cut from a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "deep breath, darlin’. show me how good you can take it."

the degradation was implicit, woven into the act itself. kneeling at her feet, accepting poison from her hand.

you leaned forward, the scent of the powder acrid and inviting. you sealed your lips around the makeshift straw, inhaled sharply.

the burn was instant, a searing comet tearing up your nasal passages, exploding behind your eyes. the world crackled. sound sharpened.

the distant wail of a siren, the frantic thud of your own heart. colors bled into hyper-saturation.

abby’s face swam above you, a beautiful, terrifying moon.

a giddy, weightless euphoria surged, obliterating detroit, obliterating fear, leaving only a buzzing, empty vessel waiting to be filled by her.

"that’s it," abby crooned, watching your pupils swallow the iris. "good little thing. takes it so pretty." her thumb brushed a stray tear or was it sweat? from your cheekbone. the tenderness felt like a brand. "want more?"

you nodded, mute, already craving the harsh clarity, the blessed numbness. she prepared another line, thicker this time.

you bent again, the submission heady, the drug scorching a path straight to your frantic brain. your limbs felt loose, liquid.

abby’s fingers tangled in your hair, not pulling, just holding, anchoring you as the room tilted.

"so pretty when you’re floatin’," she murmured, her voice thick with something darker than affection. "all mine. soft and open."

her free hand drifted down, skimming over your collarbone, the swell of your breast beneath the silk. the touch felt amplified, electric.

she hooked a finger into the neckline of your dress and ripped downward.

the delicate fabric tore like paper, baring you to the waist. the cool air hit your heated skin, making you gasp. "even prettier like this. bare for me."

her gaze raked over you, possessive, hungry. she traced the curve of your breast with a knuckle, then lower, over the frantic flutter of your belly, down to the damp silk clinging to your hips.

her fingers slipped beneath the waistband, pushing the ruined dress and your panties down your thighs in one rough motion.

you were exposed, kneeling naked on the cold floor before her, the cocaine singing in your veins, making you pliant, hyper-aware yet detached.

abby stepped back, surveying her handiwork. her eyes were pure obsidian. "look at you," she breathed, a low thrum of power vibrating in her voice. "drugged dumb and drippin’. just a desperate little cunt waitin’ for attention. ain’t that right, baby?"

the crude word, flung in the midst of the opulent study, amidst the lingering scent of her violence and the chemical tang of the coke, sent a jolt through you.

shame warred with a terrifying arousal, amplified tenfold by the drug buzzing in your system. you whimpered, a sound that wasn’t denial.

abby chuckled, a dark, honeyed sound. she closed the distance, her polished boot nudging your knees wider apart. "spread for me, sugar. let me see that needy little hole."

you obeyed, trembling, the marble unforgiving beneath your spread thighs. the vulnerability was absolute.

she traced your slick folds with the tip of one finger, the touch light, maddening. "soakin’ wet already. just from the powder and my voice? filthy thing."

then her hand moved. not a caress. a sharp, stinging crack as her open palm connected squarely with your exposed cunt.

the pain was bright, shocking, cutting through the cocaine haze like a lightning bolt.

you cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound, your body jerking forward.

the sting radiated outwards, hot and immediate, followed by a deeper, throbbing ache. tears sprang to your eyes.

"that’s one," abby stated, her voice devoid of mercy, thick with dark amusement.

she watched the heat bloom across your delicate skin, the way your body clenched instinctively.

"markin’ what’s mine." she didn’t wait for you to recover. her hand descended again.

crack! another brutal slap, landing slightly lower, the impact jarring your bones, sending fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

the sharp pain ignited something primal, a desperate throb deep inside you that had nothing to do with escape.

"two." the degradation was complete. drugged, naked, weeping, your most intimate flesh stinging under her punishing hand.

"please," you sobbed, the word mangled, unsure if you were begging her to stop or to continue.

abby leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "please what, baby? please mark you harder? please remind you who owns this sweet, stingin’ cunt?" her hand landed a third time, deliberate, measured. crack! the sound echoed off the leather-bound books.

the pain was a white-hot brand, the humiliation a suffocating blanket.

you slumped forward, forehead pressing against the cool leather of her boot, shuddering, tears dripping onto the polished toe.

the cocaine made the pain vibrate, made the submission feel inevitable, exquisite. you felt nothing but sensations.

the brutal slap echoing in your nerves, the cool leather against your skin, the chemical fire in your brain, and the overwhelming, terrifying presence of her ownership.

abby’s fingers, surprisingly gentle now, traced the heated, swollen flesh she’d just punished. you flinched, a fresh sob catching in your throat. "shhh," she soothed, the cruelty shifting seamlessly into dark possession.

"took it so well, my good, doped-up girl. marked you proper." her fingers slid through your slickness, finding your clit, swollen and hypersensitive.

she rubbed slow, firm circles, the touch agonizingly sweet against the raw sting.

"see how much you needed it? drippin’ all over my floor. such a messy, owned little thing." the dual sensations.

the throbbing pain of the slaps and the insistent pressure on your clit, collided, amplified by the cocaine’s ruthless clarity.

pleasure, sharp and shocking, began to coil tight beneath the pain, inseparable from it.

you arched against her hand, a broken moan escaping your lips, lost in the haze of drugs, degradation, and the terrifying certainty that you belonged, utterly, to the hand that hurt you and the voice that named you hers.

the room dissolved into a blur of sensation, pain, and chemical surrender, anchored only by the relentless pressure of abby’s fingers and the echo of her ownership ringing in your drugged, stinging flesh.

the world narrowed to the rhythm of her fingers and the burn between your thighs.

the cocaine had peeled back every layer of hesitation, leaving only raw nerve endings and the desperate need to be shaped by her hands.

you were clay, molten and trembling, waiting for her to decide what you would become.

abby's fingers never stopped their maddening circles, even as she used her free hand to grip your jaw, tilting your face up to meet her eyes.

your vision swam, tears and drug-haze blurring her features into something almost mythic.

"look at you," she murmured, her thumb pressing against your lower lip, parting your mouth. "drippin' from both ends. pretty little thing, all opened up and beggin'."

you couldn't form words. your tongue darted out, tasting salt and her skin, and she rewarded you with a deeper press of her fingers into your mouth.

you sucked instinctively, hollowing your cheeks, and the groan that rumbled from her chest vibrated through the floorboards.

"that's it. suck on 'em like you mean it."

she pulled her fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, then dragged them down your chin, your throat, between the valley of your breasts.

she painted a glistening trail down your stomach, and when she reached the slick heat between your legs, she didn't hesitate.

two fingers slid inside you in one smooth, brutal thrust.

you screamed—a raw, broken sound that bounced off the leather-bound walls.

the stretch was too much, not enough, the cocaine amplifying every ridge and knuckle until you could feel the map of her hand inside you.

she curled her fingers, searching, and when she found that rough patch of flesh deep inside, you saw stars.

"there she is," abby breathed, her voice reverent. "there's my girl. right there, ain't ya?"

she pumped into you with a rhythm that was all business, all ownership.

her palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, the friction maddening against the still-stinging flesh of her earlier punishment.

pain and pleasure braided together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

you were babbling now—please, abby, please, i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours.

the words spilling out like a prayer, like a confession, like the only truth you'd ever known.

"i know, baby," she cooed, her voice dripping with dark honey. "i know you're mine. but i wanna hear you say it. wanna hear you scream it so loud the whole city knows."

she added a third finger, and the stretch burned so good you thought you might split open right there on her marble floor.

your nails scraped against the leather of her boots, leaving thin, desperate crescents.

"i'm yours!" you sobbed, the words torn from your throat. "abby, i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm—"

"again."

"i'm yours!"

"one more time, baby. let me hear it."

"i'm yours!"

the orgasm hit you like a freight train, like a gunshot, like the first time you saw her leaning against that range rover and knew.

deep in your bones, that your life was about to change forever.

it ripped through you, violent and consuming, leaving you shaking and sobbing in its wake.

abby didn't stop. she fucked you through it, her fingers relentless, pushing you past the peak into something raw and overstimulated and almost unbearable.

you tried to crawl away, but her free hand fisted iqn your hair, holding you in place.

"uh-uh," she murmured. "you don't get to run from this. you take it. all of it. every last drop."

another wave crashed over you, weaker but no less devastating, and you slumped forward, spent, your forehead resting against her shin. your breath came in ragged, hitching gasps.

finally, slowly, she withdrew her fingers. you watched through blurred vision as she brought them to her lips, licking them clean with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving yours.

"sweetest thing i ever tasted," she said, and the tenderness in her voice was almost more devastating than the cruelty had been.

she knelt down in front of you, her expensive suit trousers soaking up the mess on the floor without a second thought.

her hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears and the smeared mascara.

"you did so good, baby," she whispered. "so good for me. i'm so proud of you."

you leaned into her touch, boneless and trembling, the cocaine still fizzing in your veins but muted now, softened by the aftershocks of pleasure.

she pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, then the tip of your nose.

"come on," she said, her voice gentler than you'd ever heard it. "let's get you cleaned up. got a big, soft bed upstairs with your name on it."

she scooped you up like you weighed nothing, cradling you against her chest.

you let your head fall against her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her—smoke and metal and something floral from the expensive soap in her bathroom.

"abby?" you mumbled, your voice thick and sleepy.

"yeah, baby?"

"i love you."

she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you felt her smile against your hair.

"i love you too, sweet girl. more than anything in this whole fucked-up world."

she carried you up the stairs, past the bloodstain she hadn't bothered to clean from the hallway carpet, past the chanel bag still sitting on the kitchen counter, past all the evidence of the life she lived when you weren't looking.

and when she laid you down on the cool silk sheets and climbed in beside you, pulling you close like you were something precious, something worth protecting, you let yourself believe it.

you let yourself believe you were safe. you let yourself believe you were loved. you let yourself believe that this. all of it—was exactly where you were meant to be. and maybe, in some twisted, beautiful, terrifying way, it was.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes

⟢ bodyguard!abby who doesn't talk much. sometimes she's so quiet, you forget she's there, and then her shadow will shift in your periphery: she is so still, so tense, a predator just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

⟢ and then, as she becomes part of your everyday, you'll start feeling her touch: when you're getting into cars, when you're trapped in crowds, sometimes even just when she senses that you're anxious and need the extra support. the two of you have barely exchanged three words, but her hands are forever hovering near your spine, and you feel them like electricity. sometimes, her arm will wrap around your stomach, holding you back so that she can check everything's secure first. "think you can work on your patience for me?"

⟢ you ask about her past, about how she became a bodyguard. she'll give you some vague, non-answer about how she used to be in the military, but she'll never say why she left, or what her job was. there is violence brimming under her surface, though, and both of you know it.

⟢ at night, she'll have nightmares of losing you the way she lost so many other things, and they'll haunt her into the day, making her eyes hollow and dark. she withdraws more on those days, until you think you imagined the bond the two of you share.

⟢ she'll check every room you enter for threat so thoroughly that it takes eons to go anywhere. peeling back curtains to gauge whether anybody in nearby buildings can get access to you, stopping any guests and patting them down — she does not trust the world to take care of you, and you don't know if it's a sign of her care, or just her traumatic past.

⟢ either way, you have never felt safer in somebody's presence. she proves herself a rock you can fall against, physically and otherwise. when you are shoved around in a crowd, she's a barricade. when it gets too much and your nervous system collapses, she stands outside your door and refuses anybody entry. she yells when people try to push you, one hand always hovering over her holstered gun. she doesn't have to ask what you need: she just knows.

⟢ she takes her job so seriously that she refuses to cross the line. except she thinks about you all the time, and that in itself feels like a transgression. with your life threatened, you'd never ask for more, but there are sparks whenever your pinkies touch, and you think constantly of her pursed lips and narrowed eyes, her squared shoulders. you've memorised the slabs of muscle in her back, because it's always turned to you as she scopes your surroundings. she is a weight, an anchor, a haven.

⟢ there will be these moments with just you and her, in the car, or in your hotel room, and it will be so quiet, so peaceful, and even though you barely talk, you will feel like you know her. occasionally, she will make you coffee, and she'll come out with a dry comment to one of your questions. it will surprise you enough that, despite your fears, has you laughing. it becomes her new favourite sound.

⟢ you'll try to get her attention, slowly. undressing in front of her, asking her to triple check the door. one night, you'll have a nightmare and you'll ask her to stay close, so she'll lie on the floor next to you, thinking of all the ways she wishes she could touch you — to comfort you, and to make you forget.

⟢ she hears you moaning sometimes through the bedroom wall, using your vibrator, and she'll be so pent up, so desperate to touch herself — but she won't compromise your safety. she'll wait until she's off-duty, in the shower or under the covers, and whisper your name as she makes herself come.

⟢ one day, after another threat comes in, you'll admit how scared you are, and it will kill her to see you so vulnerable. she'll inch closer than is appropriate, forgetting who she is, who you are, as she reaches out to trace your jawline. "I'd never let anything happen to you. ever. it's my job to protect you."

⟢ and then you kiss, hungry and hurried, and she knows it's wrong, but she can't stop. her thigh slides between your legs, brushing against her core, and she's so strong and all-encompassing that you truly believe you'll never be afraid again. she presses you against the wall, cages you in with her arms, before her kisses trail down your neck. "you have no idea what you do to me."

⟢ her firm hands squeeze your tits roughly, thumbs brushing over your nipples and making your back arch. only then does she realise the lines she's crossed, so she peels away all at once, shutting down. "this is wrong," she whispers, and it breaks your heart. "I can't afford to be distracted. not like this. you're... you're my client."

⟢ "I don't care, abby," you'll say, trying to pull her back.

⟢ she'll rip away, thinking only of all she's lost. "well I do. this can't happen. not ever."

⟢ secretly, she'll wonder if you only sought her out because she made you feel safe at a time when you are anything but. is it her you want, or just somebody strong and capable?

⟢ then the unthinkable happens. somebody takes you in the night, and she enters the next morning to find you gone. everything inside of her will turn to ice. she'll blame herself, even though she's never, not once, stopped thinking about your safety. but she knows that her feelings for you have distracted her, and that was why she should never have let herself feel them. she's been unprofessional. she's failed you.

⟢ she becomes distant and unknowable as she manoeuvres the threat, gun poised with precision, eyes narrowed. to the rest of the team, she'll only come across as determined to get you back, but inside, her heart will be pounding, the sound of gunfire — and worse, the thought of you caught in it — enough to turn her knuckles white.

⟢ she'll find you trembling, afraid, hurt, and she'll whisper soft words as she rescues you. "I'm here now, sweetheart. I got you."

⟢ you'll mumble her name, over and over, so relieved. "abby."

⟢ they've stripped you of clothes, and she covers you with her jacket. "I'm right here. I'm so fucking sorry."

⟢ the blood and bruises make her snarl with primitive protectiveness as she tilts your chin to examine the damage. "I'll fucking kill them."

⟢ and then her voice will suddenly be soft again. "can you walk for me?"

⟢ "good girl. stay close, yeah? I got you."

⟢ you'll grip onto her belt hoop, crouched and trying to stay hidden.

⟢ she'll shoot your attackers without mercy. it will shock you so much that, when you see the blood, the bodies scattered around you, your vision will blur and your ears will ring, and though she's talking to you, telling you it's okay now, you won't hear her. you're in shock.

⟢ she ends up having to carry you out to the car, your tears dampening her shirt. it's a wonder she can even drive you to the hospital for how wrought her nerves are, and how often her gaze slides to you slumped in the backseat.

⟢ she'll disappear when the doctors take care of you, sitting in a chair in the waiting room with her elbows digging into her thighs until she knows you're okay, and then she'll drive until she no longer recognises her surroundings. you almost died today. she failed you. she thought she'd lost you, and it made her sick.

⟢ later, she'll come back. she can't stay away from you, not until she knows every last threat has been wiped from this earth.

⟢ you'll ask to see her. she'll come in pale, withdrawn, unwilling to let those feelings show because all they ever did was endanger you.

⟢ "abby," you beg. "please talk to me. I... I need you. I need you to be here with me. you're the only one who..."

⟢ her throat bobs, and she shakes her head. "I'm the reason you're here. I had one job. I fucking promised. I never should have let it go this far. I let myself get distracted, and it almost cost your life."

⟢ you will insist over and over that it isn't her fault, but she won't believe you. not until you break down, and then she knows she can't leave you, can't make you hurt any more than you already have.

⟢ she'll perch on your hospital bed, face curling with self-loathing as she looks at your bruises and the IV wires. she still won't cry. you don't think you'll ever see her cry.

⟢ "I don't know if I can work for you anymore," she'll whisper.

⟢ "please don't say that."

⟢ "I'm trying to do what's right."

⟢ "no, you're trying to punish yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

⟢ she hates how easily you see through her. her chin trembles as she brushes your hair from your face. "thinking I'd lost you... it was hell."

⟢ "so don't lose me, abby. stay."

⟢ with anyone else, she'd be strong enough to walk away. but not you. so she'll stay, and you'll fall asleep clinging onto her, and she'll figure out how to protect the woman she loves no matter how you distract her, because she refuses to ever let you go again.

Caitlyn Kiramman, the CEO of the highest-selling company of all of Piltover. She was known for her knowledge and skills in business and trading, her expertise is what led her to be successful and at the top.

To most eyes, she was seen as a kind and caring woman who wanted nothing more to help the public with her wealth. But to your eyes, and every other employee she's ever had, she was the complete opposite of that.

Instead of being an angel, she was a devil. She had a ‘perfectionist’ mindset which meant everything had to be flawless or you'd be out of the door as soon as you made one tiny mistake. Her employees acted as mere pawns in her game, easy to hire and definitely easy to get rid of.

Yes, it was difficult working under her name as an employee. But, it was harder working as her assistant. Caitlyn Kiramman had a long list of assistants in only a year, and it was known that they've never lasted a week with her — more so, the longest one she's ever had was a month.

Unfortunately for you, you were the next one on that long list. You had just been hired, and you were really happy to know that you achieved such a high role on your first try. Well, that is, until you heard the rumours of dealing with her wrath in the front seat.

There's a reason why all of her assistants quit. Most of them deemed her as too ‘demanding’ and receiving many, many and many commands from their CEO.

Apparently, you were basically a slave under her command. Her commands were so ridiculous, that you've heard rumours of one assistant being forced to give Caitlyn a full body massage one time — that must've been fake, right?

It was terrifying even thinking about it, working as her new assistant. Honestly, you were probably going to deal with the same fate as all of them. To suffer, to be taken advantage of and to be discarded as easily as every assistant she's ever had.

It was her hellhole.

But you had to endure it. You were in debt and the job paid surprisingly well, one paycheck would pay for three months of your rent! The job was simple, anyways. Listen. Or you'd be out in the streets begging for scraps, you needed this job really bad even if it was embarrassing and exhausting.

“I don't assume that I need to inform you about how this job goes, hm?” Caitlyn sat on her office chair, tapping a pen on her temples as she stared at you down. “Yes, Ms. Kiramman.” You bowed slightly, trying to look as composed as you could.

The rumours turned out to be true, she had a glare that looked intimidating as ever — it made your knees go weak and you wanted to apologize for existing. You were quivering in your shoes while you stood directly in front of her, not daring to speak a word until she told you so.

Caitlyn sat still on her chair, working on some files. The rumours all said she was a terrifying, mean woman so you expected someone old and raggy — not a woman in her 20’s.

Even with such a rude personality, you couldn't admit that she was attractive. Navy-blue hair that swayed through the breeze of the aircon, glasses that rested perfectly on her nose, a uniform that clung onto the curves of her body paired with a miniskirt and stockings. She was the definition of Piltovan elegance, you were starstruck and couldn't stop staring at her face.

“I have an appointment today,” She hummed, finally acknowledging your presence with her eyes. “Carry those papers for me, will you?” Her figure stood up, walking to the exit of the huge office before slamming the door shut without waiting for you.

A scoff went past your lips while your gaze drifted to the pile of papers she was talking about, a tall stack of them that you had to carry all by yourself. You sighed, before picking it up one by one and balancing it carefully.

You walked outside of her office, trying your best not to drop any of the important documents. Suddenly, you realized that you didn't even know where Caitlyn was having her meeting! She just… left and assumed that you knew, how rude.

The tower of papers rested on your hands as you saw another employee beside you, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Excuse me, do you know where Ms. Kiramman is having her appointment?” You asked him, one of the papers falling down. Your hands reached for it, bending down and placing it back on the stack clumsily. “In the meeting room, on the left side.” He responded, a cheeky smile on his face.

You thanked him, balancing the papers as you followed his directions. Suddenly, his hand patted your shoulder. "Good luck new assistant, you'll need it!” He winked, snickering while he walked away.

A sigh escaped your lips at his words. Great, you were already being teased on your first day. “Whatever.” You muttered, walking to the meeting room. You couldn't let his words get to you, after all, you were going to survive as Caitlyn Kiramman's assistant — you’ll be the first one to actually make it within a year, well hopefully.

Knock! Knock! You knocked on the door of the meeting room, spotting multiple silhouettes of people through the vague window. “Come in!” A voice shouted out, cheery.

You opened the door to the office, still carrying the stack of papers in your hands, poorly balancing it. “Wonderful timing!” Caitlyn chirped, urging you to place the papers on the table with… politeness?

Her previous intimidating stare was now replaced with a completely different one, a kind and inviting smile. More so, she was very polite to you unlike earlier this morning where she barely acknowledged your presence.

You now realize that this is definitely the reason why many people see Caitlyn as an angelic woman, rather than the terrifying one behind closed doors. It was annoying you at how good she was in playing the ‘good cop’ role, already capturing the group of businessmen’s hearts as they laughed at her jokes.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She grinned, patting your back. “You're dismissed for today.” Her voice was gentle, smiling before drifting her attention back to the group of businessmen.

For the next few days, she's been like this. From being an absolute demanding woman in the office to acting like an angel in meetings. You didn't mind it, it wasn't that bad — you just had to survive a few hours doing her chores before she turned all Ms. Nice Guy on you.

Well, that is until she got comfortable with you. Instead of dismissing you as usual during her meeting, she called you to sit beside her, giving you a towel. “It’s burning up in here.” She declared, staring directly at you.

At that statement, you knew exactly what she was implying. Your gaze averted to the drop of sweat rolling down her forehead, Caitlyn looked over back at you with an expectant expression.

You suppressed a groan about to leave your mouth, before your hands grabbed the towel and started to wipe softly at the sweat formed on her face. She continued talking about business stuff you didn't understand as you gently wiped every inch of her face — even going far enough to wipe the back of her neck.

Then, when you were satisfied, you grabbed a nearby book that wasn't being used and started fanning her. The corners of her mouth perked up ever so slightly, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention as she darted her eyes to your DIY fan and returned it back to the group of business.

The rest of the meeting, you were restless. Your hands never stopped moving and occasionally you would wipe more sweat off her face, like she was royalty. You were growing tired, considering the fact that you haven't taken a break.

Annoyance tugged at your heart but then your gaze drifted to her lips, forming a divine smile. You knew it was fake, only forcing it onto her face for the business deals and how she was only playing a role to convince the businessmen. But, somehow, she's managed to lure you into her stupid trap.

A faint blush crept up your neck as you were suddenly aware of the actions you were doing, you were really close to her face while you wiped more sweat — taking in how her smile-lines showed when she put on that fake smile, that stupid charming smile that made you flustered. You were basically wiping the sweat off of a Goddess. It was frustrating, everything about her!

From how demanding and petty she can get from how your anger dissolves as soon as she smiles in the meeting room, you were supposed to be pissed at her for treating you so poorly! But.. a part of you liked being commanded, especially if it was Caitlyn doing it.

You were falling exactly into her trap.

For the next few days, she's grown bolder. You've established a routine of immediately clocking in and brewing Caitlyn’s jasmine tea.

Then, you would go to her office to help her in whatever she needed for the morning. Whether it was massaging her shoulders or fixing the wrinkles on her uniform — you swallowed your pride and followed.

It wasn't like last time where you had to survive the morning. No, you were by her side the whole day. Every second she would call you and ask you to do something in front of all the co-workers, it was embarrassing but you needed the money.

More so, since her demands have grown to be bolder, that requires you to be physically closer with her. It drove you mad, whenever you massaged her shoulders as she worked — she intrigued you, huffing in frustration while you soothed her muscles.

Sure, it was tiring doing this. But, you've adapted somehow even if it was really, really humiliating and most of your dignity is probably already gone.

Today, you were starting your ritual of brewing Caitlyn's jasmine tea in the break room, making sure everything was perfect for her taste.

You cut across through the crowd of co-workers, receiving nods of appreciation. Unlike last time where you were being teased, it felt good knowing that you've made it longer than others and that every one sorta’ respected your hustle.

“Ms. Kiramman, may I come in?” You knocked at the intimidating office door that wasn't so intimidating to you anymore. She replied with a faint hum, before you entered the office — taking in her usual position.

The jasmine tea was still hot in the teacup while you strode to stand in front of her working form. Your voice was quiet, trying your best not to distract her while you said, “Good morning, here's your tea Ms. Kiramman.” She nodded in response, a wrinkle seen on her forehead while she focused on her work, not even bothering to glance up at you like usual.

“Make sure it's the right temperature.” She ordered. You did as she said, blowing a soft gust of wind onto the steaming tea — making sure it's just right for her.

After a few seconds of pathetic blowing, you were satisfied. “It’s ready for you, Ms. Kiramman.” You muttered, about to place it on her desk until—

Splash!

Oh no.

Your hand slipped, forcing the tea cup to be tilted and fall onto the floor. Your gaze drifted down, praying that it didn't stain anything until you saw her luxurious boots were stained with a mud of coffee on top — leaking onto the quartz floor.

“I'm so sorry!” You gasped out, your hand coming to cover your mouth in fear. Those boots were probably more expensive than your life time, you were so, so dead and there's no way you're going to get out of debt — only further into debt because you had to pay for her boots! Unless…?

Her expression was filled with anger as a scoff went past her lips, a huge crease formed onto her forehead while her eyes widened, glaring at you with nothing but frustration. She opened her mouth to scold you, until... you knelt down.

You were quick to wipe the coffee stain with your clean, white uniform. It transferred the brown liquid onto yours instead. “You—!” Her protest was cut off when she saw what you were doing, using your own shirt as a tissue. For the first time, Caitlyn Kiramman couldn't form a sentence to save her life, she was astonished at how eager you were to clean your mess.

She scoffed again, before her frown turned into a smirk. Caitlyn made herself comfortable, leaning back on her chair and resting her head on her hand while she smirked at you — observing you like a wealthy person taking advantage of a peasant.

Well, that was basically what was happening right now.

You continued to wipe, and wipe while you were knelt down onto the floor. Your hand rubbed your shirt onto the stain in a circular motion, trying your best to remove the brownish puddle of coffee and if it was even possible, save your job.

It was almost gone, only a faint mud rested on the boots, barely noticeable but you still had to wipe it off — Caitlyn wanted perfection, you were determined to stay all night trying to wipe away the evidence of your clumsiness if you had to with your shirt.

While you continued doing your work, your knees aching from staying knelt down for so long, you felt her fingers tilting your chin up. “Enough.” Caitlyn commanded, her Posh accent compelling.

You were forced to look directly up at her, your neck hurting from arching so much because of her grip. But the view was… something else. One of her legs was crossed over another, the slightly stained boot in the air. Other than that, your position made it so that you could see every curve of her body — your mouth thirsted at the sight. She looked so powerful, especially with you knelt down at her mercy.

“I—I apologize Ms. Kiramman—” Your voice faltered, trying to defend yourself until her grip on your chin tightened. Her fingers squeezing your cheeks, forcing you to stop talking.

“You know your place, don't you?” She smirked, tilting her head while she continued to stare you down like you were a chew toy — her eyes darkening with lust. “I..” You trailed off, trying to speak but her gaze only weakened you.

Caitlyn let go of your chin, crossing her arms and leaning against her office chair but her eyes still remained fixated on yours, forcing you to stay in bound even if she didn't have a hold on you any more.

“You’re the only assistant I've ever had that's been so… obedient.” She raised her eyebrow, humming before she stood up and pushed her office chair away from you, the sound of its wheels rolling filling the tensioned silence.

Her figure crouched down, while you remained knelt down beneath her — Caitlyn still towering over you. Her long, ashen fingers caressed your cheek gently. “You’d do anything I'd ask you, wouldn't you? My little assistant.” She spat, taking a hold of your chin once again, this time it was tighter and filled with possessiveness.

She laughed at you, amusingly tainting her lips. You stuttered, not knowing what to say. Was she angry? Was she cocky? Or was she… turned on at your boot-polishing? Maybe it was all three of those options, you couldn't quite tell as she stood up again — waving her fingers lazily, gesturing for you to get up.

You followed out of instinctiveness, legs immediately getting up at her command. “Get on the desk.” Caitlyn pointed, her voice firm, making her intentions clear. This time, you hesitated — this was wrong, very wrong. Instead of sitting down on her desk, you cleared your throat, receiving a glare of unapproval from her.

“Ms. Kiramman, this is inappropriate…” Your voice was barely above a whisper while you whispered, trying to look not as needy as possible but the pool forming in your panties only continued to drip more at how she looked. “Do you want this or not?” She hissed, crossing her arms while she looked up at your body up and down.

Hesitation tugged at your heart, you wanted to scream 'No' at her because this was vulgar! If people found out that you were hooking up with Caitlyn Kiramman, there'd be horrible consequences, from her side and your side. But… her glare was making it harder to resist, you wanted this, so bad. She’s been nothing but a menace with her charm, indirectly teasing you every time she asks you to do something.

Suddenly, a nod came out of you. At that, you climbed on her desk and sat on the wooden surface — slightly groaning at how cold it was. Caitlyn smirked at that, her hands reaching back for the office chair she dismissed earlier and sitting down on it, hovering near your legs.

Without warning, she found the side of your hips, fingers unzipping your skirt. She dragged your skirt down, tossing it on the floor and her eyes took in your soaked panties — your arousal dripping onto her desk. “So wet for me and I haven't even touched you, pathetic.” Her warm breath ghosted over the fabric of your undergarments, fingers tracing your wetness.

She teased you, touching directly onto your clit through your panties but it wasn't enough to get you off. “Please, Ms. Kiramman.” You groaned out, looking down at her cheeky smirk. “Please what?” She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows.

It was cruel, how she was teasing you like this. “Please.. I need your touch, ma’am.” You cried out, before she hummed at your begging and removed your panties, tossing it onto the wooden desk with your glistening cunt all exposed and on display for her eyes. “Look at you.” She murmured, her breath hitting your slickness.

Now, your legs were sprawled out on the wooden desk, your bottom exposed as your top still remained on — Caitlyn not bothering to remove it as she licked her lips at your spread pussy.

Caitlyn licked your pussy, a moan escaping your lips as you gripped the edges of the desk for leverage. “Fuck.” You sighed while her eyes looked up at you from below, smirking at your reaction. Then, without permission, she shoved her tongue inside your vagina — lapping like a dog, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the room paired with your cries. “Oh!” You moaned out, your eyes shutting closed.

She started at a slow pace, licking while your walls took in her long tongue. This continued, soft moans coming out of your lips until she sucked your clit, the sensation turning your moans into a scream. “Ms. Kiramman!” You shouted out until her hand met your ass sharply, a red hand-print forming onto there.

Tears swelled up in your eyes at her slap, not expecting the harsh action. “Keep it down if you want to keep your job.” A growl vibrated through the inside of her throat, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows until she caressed the area she slapped — soothing the sting there before she continued her sucking.

Caitlyn varied between sucking and licking. inserting her fingers at some point, stretching you a part as she put another finger and thrusted it in and out while her tongue did her work. “Ah.. Ms. Kiramman…” Your breath was uneven, barely keeping up with how overwhelming her fingers and tongue were.

Then, her fingers curled, hitting that spot at the new angle. “Mmgh, ngh! Ms. Kiramman! Oh, yes yes… please…” Her head bobbed up and down, meeting the pace of her fingers as she abused your g-spot — inserting another finger, stretching you wide open while you were getting closer, and closer to the edge with the dual sensation. “Oh, oh my god! Ms. Kiramman!”

Your walls clenched around her as your moans grew louder, she placed her free hand on your mouth in an attempt to keep you quiet. You bit it lightly, your saliva melting onto her hand while she smirked at how your teeth nipped on her hand — trying your best to keep your moans quiet as you were nearing your peak. “Getting feral are we?” She hummed against your pussy as you continued to use her hand as a gag.

Caitlyn noticed you were close, groaning while she was latched onto your pussy — the vibration humming through your vagina, the pleasure creeping through your spine as you bit down on your hand, muffling a scream. “I'm gonna… can I.. please?” You moaned in between each word, back arching off the table.

“No.” She ordered. “Hold it, until I say so.” Then, her pace increased rapidly — she didn't lick your clit anymore, only sucking it like she was a tornado hauling everything in. Other than that, she put her whole fist inside of you, filling your throbbing pussy as she continued to pound her fingers harder.

“Please, I can't… mmph.. hold it…” You whined, looking down at her with pleading eyes. “You're going to listen like the obedient employee you are..” She barked. It was all too much, you couldn't hold it… the knot building up inside you, your legs shivered at how much she was abusing your hole — you bit her harder this time, closing your eyes as you tried to focus.

“Go.” At her words, you cried out, “Oh my, fuck!” Your moan echoed through the empty room and probably heard through the whole office building but you didn't care, your orgasm crashed down as you rode out the aftershocks, thrusting softly into Caitlyn's face.

She pulled her fingers and mouth away from you, her chin soaked with your slickness. “Clean yourself up, I have a meeting.” At her words, you grabbed a tissue and wiped the evidence of your sex on her face and fixed her disheveled navy-blue hair before she gave a hum of approval — trying to suppress a smirk but the corners of her mouth perked up, betraying her while she fixed her glasses.

You finished cleaning her up, your ass still resting on the wet, wooden desk as you wore your clothes again. The sounds of Caitlyn's heels walking through the exit echoed through the room as you did what she said, cleaning her desk.

She paused her movements.

“This isn't finished.” She declared, her hand resting on the doorknob. “I haven't seen all of you yet.” A smirk formed on her lips before she opened the door, the sound of it slamming echoing through the room. You were left alone, with the faint scent of sex still lingering and a soaked mess to clean up.

a/n: alright so i've been obsessed with office aus and srry if this is rlly bad, i quite literally wrote this while i was on a plane so... i had to hide my screen from the people beside me LOL. but, i will definitely write an epilogue or continuation of this — just something short that shows the aftermath cuz office au caitlyn is soooooo hot bro.

the dust of the trail settled around your boots as you tugged on the reins, bringing your mare to a halt beside abby's larger frame.

the sun was a brutal, unrelenting eye in the sky, baking the dirt and sagebrush until the whole world smelled like heat and dry grass.

you fanned your face with the brim of your hat, letting out a little sigh.

"abby, honey, i'm meltin'," you whined, your voice carrying that sweet, drawling lilt that always seemed to make her jaw tighten.

you batted your lashes at her from under the shadow of your hat. "can't we find a creek or somethin'? my skin's gonna turn to leather."

abigail anderson, the sheriff of silver creek, sat ramrod straight in her saddle.

her shirt was stretched tight over her broad shoulders, a silver star pinned to her chest, and her expression was carved from the same stone as the mountains in the distance.

she cut you a sideways glance, her blue eyes sharp.

"we ain't on a picnic, sweetheart," she said, her voice a low rumble. "we're trackin' a ghost."

you pouted, nudging your horse closer to hers. "i know. but we've been out here for hours. my thighs are chafin'."

a flicker of something—amusement, maybe—softened the hard line of her mouth for half a second. "should've worn your ridin' pants instead of the ones with the fringe."

"but these are pretty," you protested, looking down at the soft, suede-like material decorated with intricate beadwork and swaying fringe. "and they make my ass look good. you said so yourself."

abby just shook her head, but you saw the tips of her ears turn a little pink.

you were about to push further, maybe offer her a sip from your canteen in exchange for a kiss, when she pulled her horse to a dead stop.

her hand went to the rifle holstered on her saddle.

"shh," she breathed, her entire body going still and alert.

you followed her gaze. down in the gully, a lone figure was leading a horse, favoring one leg. the horse was a beautiful, stolen-looking black stallion, and the person… the person had a shock of auburn hair that was unmistakable even under the grime of a long ride.

your breath hitched. "is that…?"

"ellie williams," abby finished, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. she swung off her horse with a practiced grace that belied her size, landing silently in the dust. "stay here."

"like hell i will," you whispered back, scrambling down from your own horse. you weren't as graceful as abby.

you stumbled a little, your boots scuffing against a rock—but you were fast.

you pulled your own pistol, a pearl-handled revolver that matched the shiny buttons on your blouse.

abby shot you a look that could curdle milk, but she didn't argue.

she didn't have time. ellie had heard the scuffle. she was turning, her hand flying to the gun at her hip.

"sheriff anderson," ellie drawled, a cocky, insolent grin spreading across her dirt-smudged face.

she was younger than you, maybe a year or two, with sharp eyes the color of a summer storm and a mouth that looked like it was born to talk back. "fancy meetin' you out here. you lost?"

"you're under arrest, williams," abby said, her voice flat and cold as she leveled her rifle. "for the bank in red rock. for the stagecoach job near fort smith. for bein' a general pain in my ass."

ellie laughed, a bright, reckless sound. "you'll have to catch me first." she moved, a blur of motion, but she was limping. her ankle twisted on a loose stone and she went down hard, her gun skittering out of reach.

in a second, abby was on her. she flipped ellie onto her stomach, one knee planted in the small of her back, and yanked her wrists together. ellie struggled, bucking and swearing.

"get off me, you big ox!" ellie snarled, her face pressed into the dirt.

abby cuffed her, the metal clicking shut with a satisfying finality. "that's 'sheriff ox' to you."

you holstered your pistol, a giddy thrill running through you. "we got her! we actually got her! abby, we're gonna be heroes!"

you bounced over to them, crouching down to get a good look at the infamous outlaw. she was even prettier up close, in a feral, dangerous sort of way. her hair was a tangled mess, and there was a fresh cut on her cheekbone.

"well, hello there, darlin'," you cooed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. ellie flinched away from your touch, glaring up at you with pure venom.

"who's the doll?" ellie spat, looking at abby. "your wife? you bring your wife to work, sheriff?"

"she's my deputy," abby said, hauling ellie to her feet. ellie stumbled, her injured ankle giving out, and she ended up leaning heavily against abby's solid frame.

the outlaw was flushed, embarrassed by her own weakness.

"a deputy?" ellie scoffed, her eyes raking over you from head to toe. "what's she deputize you to do? look pretty and slow me down?"

you just smiled, a slow, sweet smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

you stepped closer, close enough to smell the sweat and dust and leather on her. "oh, i can do a lot more than look pretty, bunny."

ellie's eyes widened slightly at the pet name. "don't call me that."

"why not?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. "you're caught. all tied up. just a little bunny in a trap."

abby watched the exchange, her jaw tight. "enough. we're takin' her back to town. now."

the journey back was tense. ellie was silent for a long while, just glaring at the back of abby's head.

you rode beside her, keeping a loose hold on the lead rope attached to her cuffs.

the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

"you're gonna hang me?" ellie finally asked, her voice quiet, losing some of its bravado.

abby didn't look back. "that's the judge's call. but i'd say the odds ain't in your favor."

ellie was quiet again. you saw her shoulders slump slightly. she was just a kid, you thought. a mean, ornery kid who'd made a lot of bad choices.

we made camp by a narrow, sluggish river when the stars came out. abby built a fire while you tended to the horses.

ellie sat with her back against a tree, her hands still cuffed in front of her. you brought her a tin cup of coffee and a piece of hardtack.

she looked at the offering with suspicion. "what's the catch?"

"no catch," you said, sitting down across from her. "you gotta eat."

she took the cup, her fingers brushing yours. they were rough, calloused. she took a sip and grimaced. "this is shit."

"abby makes it shit," you agreed with a little laugh. "i tried to teach her, but she likes it strong enough to walk on its own."

a ghost of a smile flickered on ellie's lips before she suppressed it. she looked at you, her head tilted. "why are you bein' nice to me?"

you shrugged. "don't see the point in bein' mean. you're caught. it's over."

"it ain't over," she muttered, looking into the fire. "it's never over."

later, after abby had checked the bindings and grunted a goodnight, you found you couldn't sleep. the fire had died down to embers.

you got up to add another log and saw that ellie was awake, staring at the stars through the canopy of leaves.

you walked over and sat beside her, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. she stiffened but didn't pull away.

"can't sleep?" you asked softly.

"never can," she admitted. "too many ghosts."

you were quiet for a moment, listening to the crickets and the crackle of the fire. "what's it like?" you asked. "runnin' all the time?"

she let out a humorless laugh. "lonely. you get tired of lookin' over your shoulder. tired of never trustin' anyone." she turned her head to look at you. the firelight danced in her eyes. "you ever been lonely, deputy?"

your breath caught. the question hit a little too close to home. you looked down at your hands, at the fringe on your sleeves. "sometimes," you whispered. "even when i'm with people."

something shifted in the air between you. it was charged, heavy. ellie's gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes.

"you're real pretty," she said, the words tumbling out like she hadn't meant to say them. "it's annoyin'."

you felt a blush creep up your neck. "you're not so bad yourself, outlaw."

a slow, dangerous grin spread across her face. "careful, deputy. you keep lookin' at me like that, and i might think you want somethin' more than just small talk."

you leaned in, your voice a whisper. "and what if i do?"

the next morning, abby woke to find you sitting cross-legged by the fire, braiding a piece of leather, and ellie leaning against the same tree, looking more rested than she had in days.

but the air was different. there was a new tension, a secret shared between you.

abby noticed it immediately. her eyes narrowed as she looked between the two of you. "what's goin' on?"

"nothin', sheriff," ellie said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "just gettin' to know your deputy."

abby's gaze settled on you. "you. a word."

you followed her a little ways from the camp, into the cover of the trees. she turned on you, her expression hard.

"what are you doin'?" she demanded.

"nothin'," you said, but you couldn't meet her eyes.

"don't lie to me," she said, her voice dropping. she stepped closer, caging you against a thick oak. her body was a wall of heat and muscle. "i saw the way you were lookin' at her. the way she was lookin' at you."

your heart hammered. "abby…"

"she's a criminal, y/n. a killer. she's dangerous." abby's hand came up to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at her. "i won't let her hurt you."

"she won't," you whispered. "she's just… lost."

abby's thumb traced your lower lip. "and you think you can save her? is that it?"

you didn't answer. you couldn't. because maybe, a little bit, you did.

abby's eyes searched yours, and then she sighed, a long, weary sound. "you're too soft for this world, sweetheart."

"maybe," you said, leaning into her touch. "but i got you to keep me safe."

she kissed you then, a hard, possessive kiss that stole your breath. when she pulled back, her eyes were dark. "i'm keepin' an eye on you. both of you."

the rest of the journey was a silent, simmering standoff. abby was more watchful than ever, her hand never straying far from her gun.

ellie was quieter, too, but her eyes followed you constantly, a silent promise in their depths.

by the time you reached the outskirts of silver creek, the tension was a living thing, coiled and ready to strike. the town was quiet, the streets empty as the sun began to set.

"we'll lock her in the holding cell overnight," abby said, her voice businesslike. "judge comes through tomorrow."

you looked at ellie. she looked small and dirty and tired, but her chin was lifted, her eyes defiant. she caught your gaze and held it.

"can i have a moment alone with her?" you asked abby. "to… search her properly."

abby's eyes narrowed. "i already searched her."

"i know, but… i wanna be thorough," you said, your voice dropping to a purr. "make sure she ain't hidin' anything… dangerous."

a muscle feathered in abby's jaw. she looked from you to ellie, and a slow, knowing look dawned in her eyes. she let out a low chuckle.

"fine," she said, her voice rough. she unlocked the door to the empty sheriff's office. "make it quick. and thorough."

she pushed ellie inside, and you followed. the door clicked shut behind you, leaving you in the dim, dusty space with the most wanted outlaw in three territories.

ellie turned to face you, her cuffed hands held out in front of her. "so, deputy. gonna search me?"

you smiled, a slow, wicked thing. "turn around. hands on the desk."

ellie's breath hitched, but she complied, bending over the heavy oak desk.

the position made her jeans pull tight across her ass. you walked up behind her, close enough that your chest brushed her back.

"you've been a very bad girl, ellie," you whispered, your lips near her ear.

"i know," she breathed, a shiver running through her.

your hands ran down her sides, over her ribs, her hips. it wasn't a search. it was a caress. you felt her muscles jump under your touch.

"i think you need to be taught a lesson," you murmured.

the door creaked open. you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. you felt the heat of abby's presence fill the room.

"need a hand, deputy?" abby asked, her voice a low growl.

"i think i do, sheriff," you said, not taking your eyes off ellie's trembling form. "this one's a handful."

abby walked over, her boots heavy on the wooden floor. she stopped beside you, looking down at ellie. the outlaw's eyes were wide, a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"you heard her," abby said, her voice hard. "time for your lesson."

abby's hands went to her own belt buckle. the sound of metal jingling was loud in the quiet room.

you watched as she unbuckled her belt and pulled it free from the loops of her trousers. she doubled it over, slapping it against her palm with a sharp crack.

ellie flinched.

"count," abby ordered.

the first strike landed across ellie's backside with a sound like a gunshot. ellie gasped, her fingers curling against the wood of the desk.

"one," she choked out.

again. harder.

"two."

by the time it was over, ellie was shaking, tears streaming down her face, leaving clean tracks through the grime.

her lip was bloody from where she'd bitten it. abby tossed the belt aside and grabbed ellie by the hair, yanking her head back.

"you wanna thank your deputy for her kindness?" abby snarled. "or do you need another round?"

"thank you," ellie whispered, her voice raw, her eyes fixed on you. "thank you, deputy."

you stepped forward, cupping her tear-stained face in your hands. you wiped the blood from her lip with your thumb. "good girl."

abby moved behind you, her hands coming to rest on your hips. she pressed her body against your back, her lips finding your neck. "now," she murmured against your skin, her voice a dark promise. "let's really have some fun."

abby's hands left your hips, and you heard the telltale jingle of her belt buckle again, but this time it was different.

it was the sound of leather and metal being undone, of a duty belt being set aside.

you looked over your shoulder and saw her reaching for the saddlebag she'd dropped by the door. she pulled out a harness, the leather worn and supple, fitted with a thick, curved length of silicone.

your breath caught. you'd seen it before, of course. you'd felt it before. but never like this. never with an audience.

ellie's eyes went wide as she watched abby strap the harness around her hips, adjusting it with practiced ease. the outlaw's face was a mess of confusion, fear, and a desperate, undeniable curiosity.

"what… what are you doin'?" ellie asked, her voice cracking.

abby didn't answer. she just finished buckling the harness and walked over to you, her boots heavy on the floorboards.

she turned you gently, her hands sliding up your arms to your shoulders. her eyes were dark, hungry.

"your turn, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "you got yours in your bag?"

you nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. you fumbled with your own saddlebag, pulling out a similar harness, this one fitted with a polished rose quartz colour, smooth and cool to the touch. it was smaller than abby's, more delicate, but no less potent.

ellie watched, transfixed, as you strapped it on over your trousers. her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. she looked like a deer caught in a thicket, frozen and trembling.

"please," ellie whispered, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"please, what?" abby asked, stepping closer to her. she ran a finger along ellie's jaw, tilting her face up. "use your words, outlaw."

ellie swallowed hard. "please… don't stop."

a slow, cruel smile spread across abby's face. "oh, we ain't gonna stop, darlin'. we're just gettin' started."

abby guided ellie to the cot in the corner of the cell, pushing her down onto the thin mattress.

the metal frame creaked under the sudden weight. ellie looked up at both of you, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light.

"you ever been with a woman before, ellie?" you asked, your voice soft as you knelt beside the cot.

she shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "no."

"then we're gonna take real good care of you," you promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "ain't we, abby?"

"the best care," abby agreed, her voice a low rumble. she knelt on the other side of the cot, her large frame casting a shadow over ellie. "but you gotta be good for us. you gotta listen. can you do that?"

ellie nodded frantically. "yes. yes, i'll be good. i promise."

abby's hand went to the buttons of ellie's shirt, working them open one by one. the fabric parted to reveal a thin undershirt, stained with sweat and dirt. she pushed it aside, baring ellie's chest. the outlaw's skin was pale, scattered with freckles and a few old scars.

"pretty," you breathed, your fingers tracing a path down her sternum. ellie shivered, her back arching slightly into your touch.

abby's hands went to ellie's belt, unbuckling it with a sharp, efficient motion. she pulled the leather free and tossed it aside. then she unfastened her trousers and pulled them down, along with her underthings, baring her completely.

ellie lay there, exposed and vulnerable, her hands still cuffed in front of her. she looked small, fragile, nothing like the notorious outlaw who had terrorized the territory for two years.

"please," she whispered again, the word a prayer.

"please, what, bunny?" you asked, your lips brushing her ear.

"please… touch me."

you didn't need to be asked twice. your hand slid down her stomach, fingers splaying over her hip before dipping lower.

she was already wet, slick and ready.

you circled her clit with your thumb, pressing lightly, and she gasped, her hips bucking into your hand.

abby watched, her eyes dark and focused. she leaned down and captured ellie's mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans. ellie kissed her back desperately, her cuffed hands coming up to grip abby's shoulders.

you worked her slowly, building the tension, drawing it out until ellie was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath you. her thighs were shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"please," she begged, her voice breaking. "please, i need… i need more."

abby pulled back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their lips. she looked at you, a silent question in her eyes. you nodded.

abby positioned herself between ellie's legs, the polished silicone of her strap catching the faint light. she ran the tip through ellie's wetness, coating it, teasing her.

"you ready, outlaw?" abby asked, her voice rough.

"yes," ellie sobbed. "yes, please, i'm ready."

abby pushed in, slow and steady. ellie cried out, her back arching off the cot, her fingers digging into abby's shoulders.

abby didn't stop until she was fully seated, her hips flush against ellie's.

"breathe, bunny," you whispered, stroking her hair back from her face. "just breathe."

ellie's chest heaved as she tried to obey, her eyes screwed shut. abby stayed still, giving her time to adjust. when ellie's breathing evened out, she opened her eyes and looked up at abby.

"move," she said, her voice hoarse but steady. "please."

abby began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that had ellie moaning with every thrust. you watched, your own arousal a dull ache between your legs.

you leaned down and captured one of ellie's nipples in your mouth, sucking gently, rolling the peak with your tongue.

ellie's hands flew to your head, tangling in your hair, holding you there. "oh, god," she gasped. "oh, fuck."

abby's pace increased, her thrusts becoming harder, more urgent.

the cot creaked in protest, the sound mingling with ellie's cries and the wet, obscene sound of their bodies meeting.

"you like that, don't you?" abby grunted, her voice strained. "you like bein' filled up, bein' taken care of?"

"yes," ellie sobbed. "yes, yes, yes…"

you pulled away from her chest and looked up at abby. "switch with me," you said, your voice breathy.

abby pulled out with a wet sound, and ellie whimpered at the loss.

you quickly took her place, the cool rose quartz pressing against ellie's entrance. you looked down at her, at her flushed face and glazed eyes.

"look at me," you commanded softly.

ellie's eyes found yours. you pushed in, and she gasped, her eyes widening. you were smaller than abby, but the quartz was smooth and unyielding, filling her in a different way.

"that's it," you cooed, beginning to move. "you're doin' so good, bunny. so good for us."

abby moved behind you, her hands gripping your hips. she pressed against you, the wood of her strap sliding against the curve of your ass.

"you're next, sweetheart," she murmured in your ear. "soon as we're done with her, i'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't remember your own name."

you moaned, your rhythm faltering for a second. the thought of it, of abby taking you after watching you take ellie, sent a jolt of pure heat through your core.

you focused back on ellie, driving into her with renewed urgency. her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper. her hands were on your cheeks, pulling you down for a kiss. it was messy, all teeth and tongue, but it was perfect.

"i'm close," ellie gasped against your lips. "i'm so close."

"cum for us, bunny," you whispered. "cum for your deputies."

that was all it took. ellie's back bowed off the cot, a cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her.

her inner walls clenched around you, pulsing, and you rode her through it, slowing your movements until she collapsed against the mattress, boneless and panting.

you pulled out gently, the rose quartz coloured silicone slick with her release. you looked down at her, at the beautiful, broken outlaw lying in a heap on the cot. she looked up at you, a dazed, satisfied smile on her lips.

"that was…" she started, but words failed her.

"i know," you said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "rest now."

abby's hands found your waist, pulling you away from the cot. she spun you around and pushed you against the cell bars, the cold metal pressing into your back.

her body was a furnace against you, the silicone of her strap pressing insistently against your stomach.

"my turn," she growled, her lips finding your neck.

you moaned, your head falling back against the bars. you could feel ellie's eyes on you, watching as abby's hands worked the buttons of your trousers, pushing them down your hips.

the cool air hit your skin, and then abby's fingers were there, sliding through your slickness, gathering your wetness.

"you're so ready for me," abby murmured, her voice full of dark satisfaction. "so wet. you liked that, didn't you? watchin' her fall apart?"

"yes," you breathed. "yes, abby, please…"

she lined herself up and pushed in, and you cried out, the sensation overwhelming.

she filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

she began to move, a hard, punishing rhythm that had the bars rattling behind you.

you looked over at ellie. she was propped up on her elbows, watching you with wide, hungry eyes.

her hand was between her own legs, touching herself lazily, a mirror of your own pleasure.

"look at her, ellie," abby grunted, her hand coming up to grip your jaw, turning your face toward the cot. "look at what you did to her. you made her this messy, this needy."

ellie's eyes were fixed on you, her hand moving faster. "she's beautiful," ellie whispered.

"she is," abby agreed, her pace increasing. "she's mine. and now she's yours, too."

the words sent a shockwave through you. you came with a scream, your body convulsing around abby's strap.

she followed a moment later, a guttural groan escaping her lips as she buried herself deep and stilled.

for a long moment, the only sound was the three of you breathing, ragged and uneven.

abby pulled out gently, and you slumped against her, your legs weak. she caught you, holding you up, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"easy, sweetheart," she murmured. "i got you."

ellie lay on the cot, her eyes closed, a peaceful look on her face that you hadn't seen since you'd captured her.

her cuffed hands were resting on her stomach, her chest rising and falling steadily.

you and abby cleaned up in silence, pulling your clothes back on, stowing the harnesses away.

when you were both decent, abby walked over to the cell door and looked in at ellie.

"sleep," she said, her voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "we'll figure out the rest in the mornin'."

ellie opened her eyes and looked at abby, then at you. a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. "i ain't gonna run," she said. "i got nowhere to go that's better than this."

abby snorted, but there was no malice in it. she locked the cell door and turned to you, pulling you into her arms.

"you're a bad influence, deputy," she murmured into your hair.

you smiled, snuggling into her chest. "i know. but you love it."

"i do," she admitted. "god help me, i do."

over ellie's soft, even breathing, you listened to abby's heartbeat, steady and strong.

the wanted posters could wait. the judge could wait. the whole damn world could wait.

for now, in the dusty, dim light of the sheriff's office, you had everything you needed.

─── 🏹 CONFIDENTIAL ENDING MEMORANDUM: hello my angels. i hope you enjoyed. if you would like to see more like this, turn on your notifications and join the taglist. stay safe and get more gay. xoxo, the sacrificial lamb.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes

the dust of the trail settled around your boots as you tugged on the reins, bringing your mare to a halt beside abby's larger frame.

the sun was a brutal, unrelenting eye in the sky, baking the dirt and sagebrush until the whole world smelled like heat and dry grass.

you fanned your face with the brim of your hat, letting out a little sigh.

"abby, honey, i'm meltin'," you whined, your voice carrying that sweet, drawling lilt that always seemed to make her jaw tighten.

you batted your lashes at her from under the shadow of your hat. "can't we find a creek or somethin'? my skin's gonna turn to leather."

abigail anderson, the sheriff of silver creek, sat ramrod straight in her saddle.

her shirt was stretched tight over her broad shoulders, a silver star pinned to her chest, and her expression was carved from the same stone as the mountains in the distance.

she cut you a sideways glance, her blue eyes sharp.

"we ain't on a picnic, sweetheart," she said, her voice a low rumble. "we're trackin' a ghost."

you pouted, nudging your horse closer to hers. "i know. but we've been out here for hours. my thighs are chafin'."

a flicker of something—amusement, maybe—softened the hard line of her mouth for half a second. "should've worn your ridin' pants instead of the ones with the fringe."

"but these are pretty," you protested, looking down at the soft, suede-like material decorated with intricate beadwork and swaying fringe. "and they make my ass look good. you said so yourself."

abby just shook her head, but you saw the tips of her ears turn a little pink.

you were about to push further, maybe offer her a sip from your canteen in exchange for a kiss, when she pulled her horse to a dead stop.

her hand went to the rifle holstered on her saddle.

"shh," she breathed, her entire body going still and alert.

you followed her gaze. down in the gully, a lone figure was leading a horse, favoring one leg. the horse was a beautiful, stolen-looking black stallion, and the person… the person had a shock of auburn hair that was unmistakable even under the grime of a long ride.

your breath hitched. "is that…?"

"ellie williams," abby finished, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. she swung off her horse with a practiced grace that belied her size, landing silently in the dust. "stay here."

"like hell i will," you whispered back, scrambling down from your own horse. you weren't as graceful as abby.

you stumbled a little, your boots scuffing against a rock—but you were fast.

you pulled your own pistol, a pearl-handled revolver that matched the shiny buttons on your blouse.

abby shot you a look that could curdle milk, but she didn't argue.

she didn't have time. ellie had heard the scuffle. she was turning, her hand flying to the gun at her hip.

"sheriff anderson," ellie drawled, a cocky, insolent grin spreading across her dirt-smudged face.

she was younger than you, maybe a year or two, with sharp eyes the color of a summer storm and a mouth that looked like it was born to talk back. "fancy meetin' you out here. you lost?"

"you're under arrest, williams," abby said, her voice flat and cold as she leveled her rifle. "for the bank in red rock. for the stagecoach job near fort smith. for bein' a general pain in my ass."

ellie laughed, a bright, reckless sound. "you'll have to catch me first." she moved, a blur of motion, but she was limping. her ankle twisted on a loose stone and she went down hard, her gun skittering out of reach.

in a second, abby was on her. she flipped ellie onto her stomach, one knee planted in the small of her back, and yanked her wrists together. ellie struggled, bucking and swearing.

"get off me, you big ox!" ellie snarled, her face pressed into the dirt.

abby cuffed her, the metal clicking shut with a satisfying finality. "that's 'sheriff ox' to you."

you holstered your pistol, a giddy thrill running through you. "we got her! we actually got her! abby, we're gonna be heroes!"

you bounced over to them, crouching down to get a good look at the infamous outlaw. she was even prettier up close, in a feral, dangerous sort of way. her hair was a tangled mess, and there was a fresh cut on her cheekbone.

"well, hello there, darlin'," you cooed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. ellie flinched away from your touch, glaring up at you with pure venom.

"who's the doll?" ellie spat, looking at abby. "your wife? you bring your wife to work, sheriff?"

"she's my deputy," abby said, hauling ellie to her feet. ellie stumbled, her injured ankle giving out, and she ended up leaning heavily against abby's solid frame.

the outlaw was flushed, embarrassed by her own weakness.

"a deputy?" ellie scoffed, her eyes raking over you from head to toe. "what's she deputize you to do? look pretty and slow me down?"

you just smiled, a slow, sweet smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

you stepped closer, close enough to smell the sweat and dust and leather on her. "oh, i can do a lot more than look pretty, bunny."

ellie's eyes widened slightly at the pet name. "don't call me that."

"why not?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. "you're caught. all tied up. just a little bunny in a trap."

abby watched the exchange, her jaw tight. "enough. we're takin' her back to town. now."

the journey back was tense. ellie was silent for a long while, just glaring at the back of abby's head.

you rode beside her, keeping a loose hold on the lead rope attached to her cuffs.

the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

"you're gonna hang me?" ellie finally asked, her voice quiet, losing some of its bravado.

abby didn't look back. "that's the judge's call. but i'd say the odds ain't in your favor."

ellie was quiet again. you saw her shoulders slump slightly. she was just a kid, you thought. a mean, ornery kid who'd made a lot of bad choices.

we made camp by a narrow, sluggish river when the stars came out. abby built a fire while you tended to the horses.

ellie sat with her back against a tree, her hands still cuffed in front of her. you brought her a tin cup of coffee and a piece of hardtack.

she looked at the offering with suspicion. "what's the catch?"

"no catch," you said, sitting down across from her. "you gotta eat."

she took the cup, her fingers brushing yours. they were rough, calloused. she took a sip and grimaced. "this is shit."

"abby makes it shit," you agreed with a little laugh. "i tried to teach her, but she likes it strong enough to walk on its own."

a ghost of a smile flickered on ellie's lips before she suppressed it. she looked at you, her head tilted. "why are you bein' nice to me?"

you shrugged. "don't see the point in bein' mean. you're caught. it's over."

"it ain't over," she muttered, looking into the fire. "it's never over."

later, after abby had checked the bindings and grunted a goodnight, you found you couldn't sleep. the fire had died down to embers.

you got up to add another log and saw that ellie was awake, staring at the stars through the canopy of leaves.

you walked over and sat beside her, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. she stiffened but didn't pull away.

"can't sleep?" you asked softly.

"never can," she admitted. "too many ghosts."

you were quiet for a moment, listening to the crickets and the crackle of the fire. "what's it like?" you asked. "runnin' all the time?"

she let out a humorless laugh. "lonely. you get tired of lookin' over your shoulder. tired of never trustin' anyone." she turned her head to look at you. the firelight danced in her eyes. "you ever been lonely, deputy?"

your breath caught. the question hit a little too close to home. you looked down at your hands, at the fringe on your sleeves. "sometimes," you whispered. "even when i'm with people."

something shifted in the air between you. it was charged, heavy. ellie's gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes.

"you're real pretty," she said, the words tumbling out like she hadn't meant to say them. "it's annoyin'."

you felt a blush creep up your neck. "you're not so bad yourself, outlaw."

a slow, dangerous grin spread across her face. "careful, deputy. you keep lookin' at me like that, and i might think you want somethin' more than just small talk."

you leaned in, your voice a whisper. "and what if i do?"

the next morning, abby woke to find you sitting cross-legged by the fire, braiding a piece of leather, and ellie leaning against the same tree, looking more rested than she had in days.

but the air was different. there was a new tension, a secret shared between you.

abby noticed it immediately. her eyes narrowed as she looked between the two of you. "what's goin' on?"

"nothin', sheriff," ellie said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "just gettin' to know your deputy."

abby's gaze settled on you. "you. a word."

you followed her a little ways from the camp, into the cover of the trees. she turned on you, her expression hard.

"what are you doin'?" she demanded.

"nothin'," you said, but you couldn't meet her eyes.

"don't lie to me," she said, her voice dropping. she stepped closer, caging you against a thick oak. her body was a wall of heat and muscle. "i saw the way you were lookin' at her. the way she was lookin' at you."

your heart hammered. "abby…"

"she's a criminal, y/n. a killer. she's dangerous." abby's hand came up to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at her. "i won't let her hurt you."

"she won't," you whispered. "she's just… lost."

abby's thumb traced your lower lip. "and you think you can save her? is that it?"

you didn't answer. you couldn't. because maybe, a little bit, you did.

abby's eyes searched yours, and then she sighed, a long, weary sound. "you're too soft for this world, sweetheart."

"maybe," you said, leaning into her touch. "but i got you to keep me safe."

she kissed you then, a hard, possessive kiss that stole your breath. when she pulled back, her eyes were dark. "i'm keepin' an eye on you. both of you."

the rest of the journey was a silent, simmering standoff. abby was more watchful than ever, her hand never straying far from her gun.

ellie was quieter, too, but her eyes followed you constantly, a silent promise in their depths.

by the time you reached the outskirts of silver creek, the tension was a living thing, coiled and ready to strike. the town was quiet, the streets empty as the sun began to set.

"we'll lock her in the holding cell overnight," abby said, her voice businesslike. "judge comes through tomorrow."

you looked at ellie. she looked small and dirty and tired, but her chin was lifted, her eyes defiant. she caught your gaze and held it.

"can i have a moment alone with her?" you asked abby. "to… search her properly."

abby's eyes narrowed. "i already searched her."

"i know, but… i wanna be thorough," you said, your voice dropping to a purr. "make sure she ain't hidin' anything… dangerous."

a muscle feathered in abby's jaw. she looked from you to ellie, and a slow, knowing look dawned in her eyes. she let out a low chuckle.

"fine," she said, her voice rough. she unlocked the door to the empty sheriff's office. "make it quick. and thorough."

she pushed ellie inside, and you followed. the door clicked shut behind you, leaving you in the dim, dusty space with the most wanted outlaw in three territories.

ellie turned to face you, her cuffed hands held out in front of her. "so, deputy. gonna search me?"

you smiled, a slow, wicked thing. "turn around. hands on the desk."

ellie's breath hitched, but she complied, bending over the heavy oak desk.

the position made her jeans pull tight across her ass. you walked up behind her, close enough that your chest brushed her back.

"you've been a very bad girl, ellie," you whispered, your lips near her ear.

"i know," she breathed, a shiver running through her.

your hands ran down her sides, over her ribs, her hips. it wasn't a search. it was a caress. you felt her muscles jump under your touch.

"i think you need to be taught a lesson," you murmured.

the door creaked open. you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. you felt the heat of abby's presence fill the room.

"need a hand, deputy?" abby asked, her voice a low growl.

"i think i do, sheriff," you said, not taking your eyes off ellie's trembling form. "this one's a handful."

abby walked over, her boots heavy on the wooden floor. she stopped beside you, looking down at ellie. the outlaw's eyes were wide, a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"you heard her," abby said, her voice hard. "time for your lesson."

abby's hands went to her own belt buckle. the sound of metal jingling was loud in the quiet room.

you watched as she unbuckled her belt and pulled it free from the loops of her trousers. she doubled it over, slapping it against her palm with a sharp crack.

ellie flinched.

"count," abby ordered.

the first strike landed across ellie's backside with a sound like a gunshot. ellie gasped, her fingers curling against the wood of the desk.

"one," she choked out.

again. harder.

"two."

by the time it was over, ellie was shaking, tears streaming down her face, leaving clean tracks through the grime.

her lip was bloody from where she'd bitten it. abby tossed the belt aside and grabbed ellie by the hair, yanking her head back.

"you wanna thank your deputy for her kindness?" abby snarled. "or do you need another round?"

"thank you," ellie whispered, her voice raw, her eyes fixed on you. "thank you, deputy."

you stepped forward, cupping her tear-stained face in your hands. you wiped the blood from her lip with your thumb. "good girl."

abby moved behind you, her hands coming to rest on your hips. she pressed her body against your back, her lips finding your neck. "now," she murmured against your skin, her voice a dark promise. "let's really have some fun."

abby's hands left your hips, and you heard the telltale jingle of her belt buckle again, but this time it was different.

it was the sound of leather and metal being undone, of a duty belt being set aside.

you looked over your shoulder and saw her reaching for the saddlebag she'd dropped by the door. she pulled out a harness, the leather worn and supple, fitted with a thick, curved length of silicone.

your breath caught. you'd seen it before, of course. you'd felt it before. but never like this. never with an audience.

ellie's eyes went wide as she watched abby strap the harness around her hips, adjusting it with practiced ease. the outlaw's face was a mess of confusion, fear, and a desperate, undeniable curiosity.

"what… what are you doin'?" ellie asked, her voice cracking.

abby didn't answer. she just finished buckling the harness and walked over to you, her boots heavy on the floorboards.

she turned you gently, her hands sliding up your arms to your shoulders. her eyes were dark, hungry.

"your turn, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "you got yours in your bag?"

you nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. you fumbled with your own saddlebag, pulling out a similar harness, this one fitted with a polished rose quartz colour, smooth and cool to the touch. it was smaller than abby's, more delicate, but no less potent.

ellie watched, transfixed, as you strapped it on over your trousers. her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. she looked like a deer caught in a thicket, frozen and trembling.

"please," ellie whispered, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"please, what?" abby asked, stepping closer to her. she ran a finger along ellie's jaw, tilting her face up. "use your words, outlaw."

ellie swallowed hard. "please… don't stop."

a slow, cruel smile spread across abby's face. "oh, we ain't gonna stop, darlin'. we're just gettin' started."

abby guided ellie to the cot in the corner of the cell, pushing her down onto the thin mattress.

the metal frame creaked under the sudden weight. ellie looked up at both of you, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light.

"you ever been with a woman before, ellie?" you asked, your voice soft as you knelt beside the cot.

she shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "no."

"then we're gonna take real good care of you," you promised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "ain't we, abby?"

"the best care," abby agreed, her voice a low rumble. she knelt on the other side of the cot, her large frame casting a shadow over ellie. "but you gotta be good for us. you gotta listen. can you do that?"

ellie nodded frantically. "yes. yes, i'll be good. i promise."

abby's hand went to the buttons of ellie's shirt, working them open one by one. the fabric parted to reveal a thin undershirt, stained with sweat and dirt. she pushed it aside, baring ellie's chest. the outlaw's skin was pale, scattered with freckles and a few old scars.

"pretty," you breathed, your fingers tracing a path down her sternum. ellie shivered, her back arching slightly into your touch.

abby's hands went to ellie's belt, unbuckling it with a sharp, efficient motion. she pulled the leather free and tossed it aside. then she unfastened her trousers and pulled them down, along with her underthings, baring her completely.

ellie lay there, exposed and vulnerable, her hands still cuffed in front of her. she looked small, fragile, nothing like the notorious outlaw who had terrorized the territory for two years.

"please," she whispered again, the word a prayer.

"please, what, bunny?" you asked, your lips brushing her ear.

"please… touch me."

you didn't need to be asked twice. your hand slid down her stomach, fingers splaying over her hip before dipping lower.

she was already wet, slick and ready.

you circled her clit with your thumb, pressing lightly, and she gasped, her hips bucking into your hand.

abby watched, her eyes dark and focused. she leaned down and captured ellie's mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans. ellie kissed her back desperately, her cuffed hands coming up to grip abby's shoulders.

you worked her slowly, building the tension, drawing it out until ellie was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath you. her thighs were shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"please," she begged, her voice breaking. "please, i need… i need more."

abby pulled back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their lips. she looked at you, a silent question in her eyes. you nodded.

abby positioned herself between ellie's legs, the polished silicone of her strap catching the faint light. she ran the tip through ellie's wetness, coating it, teasing her.

"you ready, outlaw?" abby asked, her voice rough.

"yes," ellie sobbed. "yes, please, i'm ready."

abby pushed in, slow and steady. ellie cried out, her back arching off the cot, her fingers digging into abby's shoulders.

abby didn't stop until she was fully seated, her hips flush against ellie's.

"breathe, bunny," you whispered, stroking her hair back from her face. "just breathe."

ellie's chest heaved as she tried to obey, her eyes screwed shut. abby stayed still, giving her time to adjust. when ellie's breathing evened out, she opened her eyes and looked up at abby.

"move," she said, her voice hoarse but steady. "please."

abby began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that had ellie moaning with every thrust. you watched, your own arousal a dull ache between your legs.

you leaned down and captured one of ellie's nipples in your mouth, sucking gently, rolling the peak with your tongue.

ellie's hands flew to your head, tangling in your hair, holding you there. "oh, god," she gasped. "oh, fuck."

abby's pace increased, her thrusts becoming harder, more urgent.

the cot creaked in protest, the sound mingling with ellie's cries and the wet, obscene sound of their bodies meeting.

"you like that, don't you?" abby grunted, her voice strained. "you like bein' filled up, bein' taken care of?"

"yes," ellie sobbed. "yes, yes, yes…"

you pulled away from her chest and looked up at abby. "switch with me," you said, your voice breathy.

abby pulled out with a wet sound, and ellie whimpered at the loss.

you quickly took her place, the cool rose quartz pressing against ellie's entrance. you looked down at her, at her flushed face and glazed eyes.

"look at me," you commanded softly.

ellie's eyes found yours. you pushed in, and she gasped, her eyes widening. you were smaller than abby, but the quartz was smooth and unyielding, filling her in a different way.

"that's it," you cooed, beginning to move. "you're doin' so good, bunny. so good for us."

abby moved behind you, her hands gripping your hips. she pressed against you, the wood of her strap sliding against the curve of your ass.

"you're next, sweetheart," she murmured in your ear. "soon as we're done with her, i'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't remember your own name."

you moaned, your rhythm faltering for a second. the thought of it, of abby taking you after watching you take ellie, sent a jolt of pure heat through your core.

you focused back on ellie, driving into her with renewed urgency. her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper. her hands were on your cheeks, pulling you down for a kiss. it was messy, all teeth and tongue, but it was perfect.

"i'm close," ellie gasped against your lips. "i'm so close."

"cum for us, bunny," you whispered. "cum for your deputies."

that was all it took. ellie's back bowed off the cot, a cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her.

her inner walls clenched around you, pulsing, and you rode her through it, slowing your movements until she collapsed against the mattress, boneless and panting.

you pulled out gently, the rose quartz coloured silicone slick with her release. you looked down at her, at the beautiful, broken outlaw lying in a heap on the cot. she looked up at you, a dazed, satisfied smile on her lips.

"that was…" she started, but words failed her.

"i know," you said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "rest now."

abby's hands found your waist, pulling you away from the cot. she spun you around and pushed you against the cell bars, the cold metal pressing into your back.

her body was a furnace against you, the silicone of her strap pressing insistently against your stomach.

"my turn," she growled, her lips finding your neck.

you moaned, your head falling back against the bars. you could feel ellie's eyes on you, watching as abby's hands worked the buttons of your trousers, pushing them down your hips.

the cool air hit your skin, and then abby's fingers were there, sliding through your slickness, gathering your wetness.

"you're so ready for me," abby murmured, her voice full of dark satisfaction. "so wet. you liked that, didn't you? watchin' her fall apart?"

"yes," you breathed. "yes, abby, please…"

she lined herself up and pushed in, and you cried out, the sensation overwhelming.

she filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

she began to move, a hard, punishing rhythm that had the bars rattling behind you.

you looked over at ellie. she was propped up on her elbows, watching you with wide, hungry eyes.

her hand was between her own legs, touching herself lazily, a mirror of your own pleasure.

"look at her, ellie," abby grunted, her hand coming up to grip your jaw, turning your face toward the cot. "look at what you did to her. you made her this messy, this needy."

ellie's eyes were fixed on you, her hand moving faster. "she's beautiful," ellie whispered.

"she is," abby agreed, her pace increasing. "she's mine. and now she's yours, too."

the words sent a shockwave through you. you came with a scream, your body convulsing around abby's strap.

she followed a moment later, a guttural groan escaping her lips as she buried herself deep and stilled.

for a long moment, the only sound was the three of you breathing, ragged and uneven.

abby pulled out gently, and you slumped against her, your legs weak. she caught you, holding you up, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"easy, sweetheart," she murmured. "i got you."

ellie lay on the cot, her eyes closed, a peaceful look on her face that you hadn't seen since you'd captured her.

her cuffed hands were resting on her stomach, her chest rising and falling steadily.

you and abby cleaned up in silence, pulling your clothes back on, stowing the harnesses away.

when you were both decent, abby walked over to the cell door and looked in at ellie.

"sleep," she said, her voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "we'll figure out the rest in the mornin'."

ellie opened her eyes and looked at abby, then at you. a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. "i ain't gonna run," she said. "i got nowhere to go that's better than this."

abby snorted, but there was no malice in it. she locked the cell door and turned to you, pulling you into her arms.

"you're a bad influence, deputy," she murmured into your hair.

you smiled, snuggling into her chest. "i know. but you love it."

"i do," she admitted. "god help me, i do."

over ellie's soft, even breathing, you listened to abby's heartbeat, steady and strong.

the wanted posters could wait. the judge could wait. the whole damn world could wait.

for now, in the dusty, dim light of the sheriff's office, you had everything you needed.

─── 🏹 CONFIDENTIAL ENDING MEMORANDUM: hello my angels. i hope you enjoyed. if you would like to see more like this, turn on your notifications and join the taglist. stay safe and get more gay. xoxo, the sacrificial lamb.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes