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soulcandi · 29 days

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𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

synopsis: on your fifth day at the lennox house, blue jones called you his puppy. and to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole, it stuck. it stuck like glue.

warnings: written with afab!reader in mind, fluff, heavy petting, mentions of sex, no explicit smut (yet), pet-play-ish, puppy!girl vibes, mentions of human trafficking (blue literally owns you), mentions of drug use, you smoke a cigarette at some point.

a/n: i actually published this on ao3 like...a long time ago, but i feel bad not posting anything here and also I'm re-watching this movie (sucker punch 2011) and it slaps so hard and i need to pressure you ppl into watching it too. go go go.

word count: 2,932

blue playlist, anyone?

Blue loosened his tie and listened for his office door to click shut behind him. He could feel the black makeup melting underneath his tired eyes that were still swimming from the two whiskies he downed at dinner with his potential client; the very same client he ended up losing by the end of the night. To top off that great show of success, he also had to fire one of his best men for trying to tamper with one of the dancers. She was new enough not to understand one of the most obvious rules at Lennox:

No one fucks with the merchandise without paying for it.

He would even go as far as to say they might have been a cute couple. If only one of them wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere off the highway with a hole blasted through their skull.

While Lennox was just a front for his real business —the arms dealing, the coke smuggling, the gambling, all the fun stuff— taking care of his girls was often the most taxing part of Blue’s day. But he was sure that someone else could handle breaking up a few petty girl fights and settling disputes between dancers for a few hours. He was a promised man from now until sunrise.

He felt the weight of his day slip off of his shoulders as he slinked into the apartment. Being near you always had that effect on him. It was addictive.

Of all the girls that made up Lennox House, your name came the easiest to him. He nearly gave in when Sweet Pea started calling you Crybaby during your first week. And he had to give it to her, it was a fitting title at the time. But by the third day when you came to terms with your situation and those beautiful wet doe eyes finally dried up, you only ever pointed them at Blue.

You clung to him like he was your lifeline in an ocean of fierce eyeliner and suffocating hairspray fumes. And to make matters worse, he let you. He was the only one who didn’t glare as you walked through the dance studio, but he sure as hell wasn’t smiling either. Unassuming? Maybe. Bored? Absolutely. But bored was the closest thing you’d gotten in the way of kindness since you were booted through the front door. It didn’t occur to you that you should be afraid of the man who not only bought you from your family but who kept you hostage in that dark, lonely place for days on end.

It didn’t take long for boredom to melt into mild curiosity, which soon took the shape of vivid fascination. His thoughts were consumed by the girl desperately eager to earn her place amongst his best dancers, who didn’t know it but somehow got anything she wanted from the few girls who took pity on her.

His pride forbade him from immediately giving in to your gentle begging and pleading looks. He wanted to spoil you rotten from the very beginning. You had a natural talent for getting what you wanted and you would have done numbers on his clientele. It was a shame he could never bear to share you with his customers.

On your fifth day at Lennox, Blue Jones called you his puppy. And to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole of a prison, it stuck. Like glue.

“Puppy?” he called expectantly, a relaxed smile already making its way up to his lips as he loosened his tie an extra inch. The space was everything he could have ever needed —his office, bedroom, and living quarters— all without ever having to leave the building. He’d arranged for CJ to have you delivered there while he finished up his schmoozing, but you weren’t in your usual spot at the foot of the bed when he passed through the entryway.

Blue’s smile instantly tightened into a silent snarl, his eyes flickering around the small, warmly lit room. Evidence of your presence only lingered from the countless nights he had called you there for his own selfish reasons. Your perfume spun through the air in faded ribbons and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored the scent that seemed to follow you everywhere around this dirty place.

If you weren’t sitting there waiting for him, at least he knew you’d been there recently. There was at least some comfort in the image of you planted on your knees, pouting as you watched the clock mounted on the wall opposite of his desk, watching the minutes tick away into restless hours.

God, Blue knew he didn’t deserve you. He told himself that every time he came home like this just to sink against your warm, pliant body. He didn’t deserve you. But lord knew he needed you.

A soft noise drew his attention to the bathroom door, held slightly ajar by a mound of thin fabric that Blue immediately recognized as the costume you’d been wearing in the theater that night. He memorized the look on his potential client’s face when you bounced into the room with a tray of tequila shots balanced carefully in your hands.

“Close your mouth, hotshot,” he’d wanted to say, but there’s no fun in calling off the dogs before they start wagging their tails. “She’s spoken for.”

Blue pushed the bathroom door inwards with the back of his knuckle. The hot steam fanned his tired face and he bit back a desperate whine even before he ever saw you hidden there amongst a towering array of bubbles.

“Who said you could take a bath without me?”

He didn’t mean to startle you, but he certainly wouldn’t apologize for that delicious panicked expression on your face either. You were a shy little thing. A little less than a month at Lennox still hadn’t beaten that out of you. Blue had seen all sorts of girls in all sorts of states of undress, but you did something special to him. He had yet to decide if this was something to be wary of.

Your back had been to the door when he first entered. Blood rushed to your face and you moved to cover yourself with a small pile of bubbles that you’d accumulated as Blue swaggered closer to the tub, eyes shamelessly drinking in every inch of you that he could see. You felt caught, avoiding his gaze like the black plague.

He played with you too much. One of these days you were going to bite back and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Setting his glass on the edge of the claw-footed tub, Blue kicked off his leather shoes and made a show of jutting his throat so his cigarette wouldn’t mar the red silk tie as he pulled it up over his head. “Just teasing, precious. Make room.”

The heat of embarrassment never left your face and you could only stare down at the iridescent bubbles as Blue undressed in front of you. You’ve only ever seen him bare from the waist down. Or rather — from button to fly.

Blue took it upon himself to teach you everything he thought a Lennox girl should know and he was generous enough to take the time out of his busy schedule to let you practice on him. You’ve memorized every pulsing vein and tender inch of his cock, just like he instructed you to, but it didn’t make you any more willing to unshield your eyes as your boss slipped underneath the veil of hot water beside you.

Was this your divine punishment for wandering out of the bedroom and drawing a bath without his permission? You could only lay upside down and count the ceiling tiles so many times before getting a headache.

Your hair was still pinned up from your time on the floor and Blue watched carefully as specks of glitter rivered down your bare collarbones. He was content in watching you manipulate the bubbles with your hands, stacking them in short towers and swirling your fingers through the water. He took a long drag from his cigarette. Those thick Cuban cigars were reserved for his highest-paying customers only. Besides, he never got used to the taste. Like aged paper and stale earth.

Blue watched you closely, his eyes trailing up and down the pale scars that littered your delicate fingers. He hated how eager you were to work alongside your friends in the kitchens. He made it very clear from the start that you didn’t have to do anything like that as long as he was around, but you persisted with those perfect little puppy eyes of yours.

One day he would have to say no to you. But that day was not today.

He found himself watching the security footage like a hawk whenever you had kitchen duty. After the cook’s little fuck-up with one of his girls a while back, he was hesitant to let something as dear to him as you anywhere near the backrooms.

But the pig seemed to have learned his lesson. If anything, he appeared to be under the same spell as he was. Poor little fucker. The only difference was that the cook never got to see you like this — stage makeup smeared from warm bathwater and perfumed steam.

Blue sunk lower into the tub, two fingers pinching his cigarette millimeters above the water’s surface. You were completely bare to him. The only thing decorating your body was a white leather band – just as wide as his thumb was long – secured around your neck. He studied the golden heart-shaped pendant nestled between your soapy breasts, tracing the letters with his half-lidded eyes.

PUPPY

A smug smile wrestled its way onto Blue’s lips, knowing that his name was printed just as bold on the opposite side, right after ‘property of.’ It was one of your first little treats after he became completely and utterly infatuated with you.

He made it a habit to bestow most of these treats upon you in the crowded dressing room or dance studio. He loved watching the lights in the other girl’s eyes flicker with raging jealousy as they studied your newest gift, knowing that while they shunned you for the next week or so, you would spend all of your time pouting in his bed while he worked from his desk. Once he got a taste of that view, it became impossible to focus on anything else.

“Can I try?”

Your voice rang out in the silent room like a bell. Your arms crossed over your concealed lap and the charm around your neck jingled from the movement. Your eyes were glued to the cigarette between Blue’s fingers and when he held it higher above the water to readjust his weight, you licked your lips hungrily.

You’ve seen the men on the club floor smoking them all the time as they watched the dancers perform. They smelled god awful and the smoke always clung to your hair even after you shower at the end of a shift, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

Blue chuckled, unable to hide his growing amusement. The water rippled as he reached across the tub. “Two fingers, there you go.” He instructed you on how to hold it properly, sitting back to watch the show with a snicker.

You wrapped your lips around the papery cylinder and breathed in deep, just like you’ve observed. The bitter smoke rapidly filled your lungs and you leaned forward to cough into your wet elbow, gingerly handing it back out to Blue who was barely containing an understanding chuckle.

“Nah, Nah, Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. C’mere.” He tapped his thigh underneath the water and you recognized it as one of his more casual commands, immediately abandoning your bubble creations to crawl across the floor of the tub until your back was resting up against his slippery bare chest. Your wet hair tickled his jaw as he took another inhale, worshipping the taste of you all along the mouth of his cigarette.

“Here,” he grumbled, skipping the part where he handed it to you just to pin the off-yellow end between your lips. A hand traveled up your throat and his thumb stroked the underside of your jaw encouragingly. “Suck in. Deep.”

It’s a command and he growls it, watching your chest rise and fall with the glowing of the embers. When he wants you to stop, he taps your cheek with the back of his finger. “Hold it.” And obediently, you do.

With the fresh, mind-clouding smoke swirling around in your lungs, Blue leans down and slowly kisses up the column of your throat, beginning his journey right above your white leather collar. Such a good girl, letting him pet you like this. He marks you with his lips all the way up to your earlobe, ending your torment with a harsh nibble.

“Okay,” the word leaves him in a regretful breath and he clings to the lingering taste of your skin on his lips. It’s the first time you’ve bared yourself to him like this and he wasn’t going to let you get away without memorizing every curve and dip of your flesh. “Let go, puppy.”

The smoke fans from your parted lips without a single cough or wheeze of discomfort. As soon as the last of the vapors were expelled from your lungs, you turned around to project your proud beaming face at Blue, which he returned tenfold as he let his eyes roam your face freely. Look at you, doing just what he asked.

He took the opportunity to hike you up taller in his lap until your stomach was pressed flush against the underside of his hardening cock. He groaned at the way your thighs instinctively tightened around his torso. Your eyes grew wide as you smoothed your hands over his chest. Blue smirked, chin jutting upwards in a shallow nod. “Kiss me.”

Like you’d only just been waiting for spoken permission, you instantly captured his lips with yours, allowing his firm hands to rock your hips against his lap in painfully slow circles that made you whine softly into his open mouth.

He allowed his hands to travel freely over the landscape of your body, his hands gliding over your wet skin. Your soapy breasts felt like heaven under his fingers and you let out a desperate little pant as the rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your untouched nipples. The pleasure caught you off guard and you giggled into his kiss. Unbeknownst to you, Blue was memorizing the feeling of your smile and how it molded perfectly against his.

The drugs did nothing for him. But this — you — he could see himself easily becoming addicted to.

A heavy knock shook the door to Blue’s office. He hadn’t thought to close the bathroom door when he was still clothed and he could make out the silhouette of one of his henchmen behind one of the stained glass panels past the entryway.

“Mr. Jones?”

“Yeah! Just… One —One minute!”

He wasn’t quite done navigating your body, but you seemed put off by the presence at the door, already trying to sink deeper into the protective bubbles. He doesn’t like that—how you try to hide yourself from him.

You’ve turned yourself to face the door now, eyeing the silhouette although you knew whoever it was couldn’t see a thing past the pictured glass. Blue was the only man in Lennox House who didn’t look ready to eat you alive at a moment’s notice. Other than CJ, who always seemed like he would rather be someplace else as he trailed behind his boss and dutifully cleaned up his messes.

Blue accepted this new position and began assaulting your neck with hungry kisses that made you yelp and melt back into his arms. The knocking starts again, turning thunderous just as he decides to explore the territory that you’ve kept hidden underneath the canopy of soapy water.

His fingers traced your outer thighs, rolling his fingers in loose circles as he inched his way closer and closer to your core. Blue could nearly feel the tips of his fingers tremble with anticipation before another series of knocks broke his nearly religious concentration. He glared at the doorway as he pulled away, bringing both hands up to clutch your jaw and turn your face to the side so he could plant one last parting kiss against your cheek.

“Dry off,” he barked, a little peeved at himself for letting his workday anger seep into this one moment he had with you. His other hand came up and patted your cheek. “I want you on the bed when I get back.”

The fresh towel he haphazardly secured around his waist did very little to obscure his growing erection and he cussed under his breath. Gathering his clothes into a pile, he heard the water stir behind him and peered over his shoulder to see you leaning halfway out of the tub, looking up at him compliantly. “Okay, Blue,” you chirped, only sounding slightly dejected by his brief dismissal.

It was like hearing his name for the very first time every time you spoke it. Blue huffed, now glaring sharp daggers at the figure standing just on the other side of the door. Whatever required his attention so desperately better be worth it. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop another body into that ditch.

#sucker punch 2011 #sucker punch #blue jones #blue jones x reader #blue jones fanfiction #fanfiction #sucker punch fanfiction #candywrites #puppy #spicy content #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac hernandez estrada #x reader #reader insert #fem reader

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how-masterful · 2 years

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Devil in the Details

Blue Jones x reader

Summary: You belong to Blue. As everything in the Lennox does. But his ownership of you is incomparable to anything else in the club- a fact he’ll happily prove to you when you ask him for a personal favour. After all, the devil’s in the details...

Notes: Alas, i’m yet another soul who fell in love with Oscar Isaac in moon knight and started watching everything else he’s been in- at this point it was inevitable that i’d find sucker punch and get obsessed over blue. As ever, this fic is dedicated to the one and only, my absolute queen who i’m hoping will pretend she hasn't been rereading this for the last few days since I showed it to her early, @plethora-of-imagines

Being Blue's gave you advantages. Not that you saw them as such any more. Or ever. To you they were symbols, gestures even, of what you meant to the man. All the girls in the club were owned by Mr Blue Jones, owner and executive of the club, and one of the most notorious names in the seedy underworld of special favors. Ownership, control, power, it was his speciality. He owned every part of every girl that took a client, scrubbed a floor, thrust their hips or brought in cash within the walls of the Lennox. His club. His den of sin and debauchery.

But you were different... somehow you existed in the club under a different form of control. You were unique in that regard. You weren't always though, you'd often remind yourself, when you felt the haze of Blue’s cologne and the heat of his breath on your neck begin to cloud your memory. You'd done your time, same as all the other girls- dealing with cook, rehearsing with Madam Gorski, cleaning, dancing, fucking clients. But Blue had always had his eyes on you from the moment you'd stumbled into his dominion off of the sidewalk, begging for a purpose and a salvation from the empty gray streets. Servitude, soliciting, it was a sweeter fate than death to you. Blue had looked you up and down, circling around you as you trembled from the rain like a mouse in a viper pit.

His eyes had raked against your frozen skin, fingers walked over your shoulders and making you shiver, but not from the cold. He was in an all white suit, pristine and pressed. From a distance one could convince themselves he was an angel. His line of questioning proved, however, he was anything but.

Could you dance? You could learn.

Could you scrub a floor? Of course.

Could you submit yourself? Perfectly.

Could you fuck?... You hadn't answered, far too hesitant to admit the truth around so many eyes and ears.

Blue had smiled at your pause, a stamp of death, lifting your chin with his fingertips and whispering hotly in your ear.

"Oh sugar, you're quite the work in progress, aren't you? But what kind of man would I be to turn down such a promising project?"

There you'd been, doe eyed and dripping a trail of rain onto the carpet of the Lennox, begging for a bed and a purpose, now suddenly the brand new toy in Blue Jones' sandbox. His promising project. His personal project. Blue had watched over your progress, a puppet master watching you dance for all eyes, in his head dancing just for him. After all, he'd been privy to your first ever routine.

You distinctly remembered the night he'd asked you to accompany him to a meeting, stating he needed a pretty face and a fucked up mind to help pull a deal with a promising client. The pieces of his meticulous planning had fallen neatly together to create the ultimate painting of pleasure- instructing the dressmakers to make an outfit for you better than any other costume you'd worn, sitting you by his side, playing with your hair and pulling you into his lap with a possessive, strong grip. He'd teased you with kisses, ghosting his lips against your cheeks, eyes searing holes into your temples as his fingertips took healthy purchase in trailing themselves over your ass.

You'd done so well for him, playing his game, nibbling on his earlobe and running your fingers over his chest, slotting into his side like it was made for you. Like destiny. You'd spoken when spoken to, words sweet like honey but intentions cold as ice, and Blue had been mesmerized with every subliminal suggestion you'd sent to the man- who was oblivious to the drool running over his lip while he watched you push your nose against Blue's and dare him to kiss first through your giggles. Pouring drinks, batting your lashes, a walking sign of Blue’s criminal credibility.

By the end of the night you all knew it had been a success. Blue couldn't have asked for more in the deal, and you'd manage to squeeze a couple thousand more from the guy for good measure, and for being so easy on his eyes. He'd given the tight roll of hundred bills to you, directly, a personal tip to go in your cash pot, but the moment he'd left you'd pulled the wad from your cleavage and offered it Blue between your fingers. He tilted his head like an animal as you pushed it into the top pocket of his jacket, taking his chin in your fingers and whispering ever so sweetly:

"What's mine is yours, Mr Jones."

He'd done it. His project had worked. Blue had reached for the table, taking hold of the shot glass and taking it in his lips. He’d pulled you in for a kiss, the alcohol spreading across your tongue and setting your world ablaze. You’d moaned at the sensation, the heat of the moment carrying you until you were flat on your back in his very own bed, engulfed in the whirlwind of the evening's success. Blue had fucked you into the mattress, your body following his every decree, and you’d screamed his name like it was your god given purpose.

You'd been his from that moment forward.

The arrival of your ‘advantages’ was slow, gradual, taken in steps, the opposite to how he liked to fuck. First he’d stripped you from cleaning duties, then he pulled you from chores in the kitchen. Your rate had gone up considerably, putting you into a higher bracket of exclusivity than most of the more experienced girls in the roster. He'd instructed Madam to pull you from the background in the dances, only allowing you to be a feature, eventually pulling your routines all together. You were given a room all your own, closest to his office and quarters, and your personal allowance had increased- he'd tried to keep it appearing fair, simply just business, but in the end it was no secret. You weren't one of the girls anymore. You were the personal pride and pearl for the one and only Blue jones.

Not to say you didn't work, you absolutely did. But now your role extended beyond taking clients. You joined Blue for nearly all business, he took pride in having you by his side in the club as he entertained, and if Blue wasn't busy or not in the mood, you'd finish the night in his bed. You still took the occasional client, but you weren't one to be bought- the chance to have your attention was only offered by Blue himself, under his watch, and if he was feeling generous. He’d watch with a sharp gaze as you kissed and caressed and flattered, nothing more. Only he got to fuck you, only he was allowed to make you cum.

It was favouritism, plain and simple, but Blue didn't care one bit. It was his club, his rules, and his girl. Life was never truly fair.

Wearing his crisp white shirt, and nothing else, you sat on the edge of the bed as you pulled your black garters and fishnet stockings back up your legs, as you did the night before. He was looking at you from the bathroom mirror, smiling at his girl as he inspected his reflection, slicking back his hair and tidying his moustache. God, you were positively ethereal, littered with kisses and bite marks, smelling of both your cum and his expensive cologne. How he treasured knowing you'd be feeling the soothing, warm ache of his cock between your legs all morning. Morning sex was becoming the new breakfast to him. Certainly better than most of the shit Cook produced. Especially when you gave it so willingly and with such passion.

"Blue, baby?"

You called, clasping your stockings to the garters and looking towards the bathroom door.

"Is there business today?"

Blue smirked, leaning against the wall and adjusting his cufflinks and tie.

"There's always business, doll. You know what they say, the grind never stops."

You smiled up at the man.

"I've got aching thighs that say otherwise."

The man offered a small laugh, eyes briefly glancing down at your legs.

"And luscious ones at that. But if you're asking Sugar, no, no meetings. You can relax and play with our guests tonight all you'd like."

You rose from the bed, walking over to his side of the room. His gaze was heavy, filled with want as you brushed down the front of his shirt.

"In that case, please can I get my cash key?"

Despite your position, you still played by Blue's rules. That was half of the fun, engaging in the dynamic of Blue owning each and every part of you. Every girl had a key that opened a small letterbox in Blue's office that contained their allowance, and any small tips they'd managed to convince Blue to let them keep. If anybody needed anything, a new makeup product, anything personal, they'd have to ask him directly. Of course, since the girls were barely allowed out of the club, someone else would be sent to get the items. It was part of Blues game- absolute control under the guise of care.

"Kitty wants her cash key, huh? Tell me baby, what's my girl got her pretty little eye on?"

Blue lifted your chin with his finger, exposing your throat and humming as you tilted your chin, almost brandishing the marks he'd given you. His touch trailed over the curve of your lip, watching them instantly part.

"A new lipstick to leave around my cock? A new short, short skirt to end up on this floor, my floor, right here?"

You shook your head with a smile, your tongue teasing the tip of his finger and making him hum.

"Madam Gorski said she'd help with my hair, I need to touch up the roots with dye and she said she'd give it a trim. Plus, I need new fake nails, these ones have all fallen off at least twice and are starting to chip."

As you spoke, Blue twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, almost inspecting your claim. He peered at the ends of your hair, his fingers yearning to wrap the hair around his fist and yank, watching you squeal with glee. He took hold of your hand as you fixed his tie- you flexed your nails like a cat's claws between his interlocked fingers, showing him the seeping glue around the edges, the missing patches of polish. He made a dramatic pout, before pulling your knuckles to his lips and kissing each in turn.

"Aww, would you look at that. It's amazing, you girls have to think of so much. Sometimes I think you all fuss too much over the little details."

You tutted at the man. His eyebrow instantly raised. Was this a critique incoming? A correction? A rebuttal?

"But I'm not just any girl, Blue. I'm yours."

Ah. That he liked to hear. You hiked your knee up against his thigh, his hand taking hold of it like clockwork. You leant in, Blue allowing his lip to creep up into half a grin as he took a sudden, deep breath, fingers pushing against soft flesh.

"I'm your girl, sir. When they look at me, they think of you. That's the responsibility I have. What does it say about Mr Jones if his girl has split ends, or ratty nails?"

You began to nip at his neck, licking over the small bites you made against his warm skin, each whisper punctuated by a kiss to his throat.

"It says... He doesn't take care of his things...he doesn't have high standards for his personal girl... and they might dare to think you don't care about those little details, or the other girls, or your business."

Blue's fingers were sinking into the back of your hair, and you found your head suddenly yanked backwards, Blue's lips barely ghosting against your jaw. His fingers were digging deeper into your thigh, breathing shallow and desperate.

"But you do care, you take such good care of the girls, of me, you care so much for the club and what you do. And I need to show them that. The devil's in the details, after all."

Blue's chest was rising and falling at growing speed, your words sinking and penetrating deep into his vile mind and perfectly stroking his ego. Oh, how you caressed it so perfectly and genuinely. You were working him up now, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to calm down. He could tell when people were buttering him up, their words hollow and desperate as they fought to get on his good side. His benevolent side. It was the ultimate goal of any wannabe, to have Blue as anything but their enemy, but having him as a ‘friend’ brought so much more. Fools would sing their praising lies through crossed fingers behind backs, and he saw through their facades each time. But you... Oh you... You meant it all, every word. You were twisted enough to love him with absolute sincerity. It made you perfect in his eyes.

"I need to look good for you, want you to think I'm beautiful. I want to be beautiful for you, Blue."

Blue jones sighed in ultimate satisfaction.

"Oh, princess, you know how happy it makes daddy to hear that. You just get it. You get it perfectly. Look at you, just perfect."

You moaned softly, the sound living at the back of your throat. Blue was smiling, breathless and rock hard against your thigh. He pushed the hair from the side of your face, watching your eyes flutter shut.

"I've been saving my tips, if CJ could just get-"

"Shh, shhh..."

Blue pushed his finger against your lips, plumping your bottom lip and softly shaking his head. He pulled you across the room from the bathroom doorway, guiding you towards the wall. Your eyes shot open, letting him manipulate you however he liked.

"No, baby girl no, fuck it, CJ isn't buying you that drugstore shit. You ain't touching that cash key. You're better than the rest of them."

Blue was getting horny and passionate. Business as usual. Yet now it was laced with purpose. You wrapped your legs around his waist, body yearning to pull him closer, Blue taking pride in grabbing hold of your ass to support the movement. With his spare hand he pulled his cock from his undone trousers, sliding you suddenly down onto his hard on, your back rubbing against the dark wallpaper. You were so good, still nice and stretched from earlier, his fingers having done the hard work for his cock. And now your pussy was wet once more, making for wonderfully easy traction as he established a flow of slow, full thrusts.

"Blue-"

"You're mine, say it."

"I'm yours."

"Louder."

"Yours!"

"Who's?"

"I'm yours, Blue Jones! Forever!"

"That's it, atta girl."

His forehead pressed against yours, his hips pushing in and out against you in a rhythm that made you gasp in delight. You two slotted together so perfectly, each thrust making him hungrier for your touch, your hips bucking against his own and marking him snarl like an animal. You purred at the noise, teeth baring as you began to make small nips towards the end of his nose. You needed to consume him, or watch him consume you. It was feral, instinctual, the way you felt yourself pushing down greedily onto his cock, the burn against your pussy a welcome warmth like the morning sun. You were holding the sides of his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, trying hard not to ruin his fresh, beige suit as you pushed against his chest. He needed to be presentable while you came undone. His hands under your ass helped the motion, your own core working its hardest as you aided in the continuing rise and fall of your hips.

"Here's what we're gonna do,” Blue’s voice was hoarse, ravaged by his guttural calls. The sound made you quiver, thighs tightening around his hips as you clenched around his cock.

“Gorski isn't doing shit to that pretty little head of yours, I'm gonna be honest, she needs to work on her technique. And those stick on whatever's, not gonna cut it. That's for them. You're better. Say it."

So this was the game he was playing. A power trip for the both of you.

"I'm... Fuck, Blue, thats... I'm better!"

"Why is that, c'mon baby tell daddy, tell him-"

"I'm YOURS!"

His hair was still setting, the gel fresh and pristine. Holding his cheeks or neck would have to do for your clutching hands.

"I'm gonna get Danforth, I'm gonna tell him, he's gonna book you in-"

"I can't, I... No clients, sir-"

"No, shh kitty listen-"

Blue thrusted harder, your hips swirling on his cock and making his mouth water. He found you utterly irresistible at his mercy. Your own wetness was dripping down your thigh, and between your whimpers of delight you prayed it wasn't getting on his pants. Hopefully he'd keep going until you couldn't even think.

"You listen to me, he's gonna get you an appointment, get your hair done, out there. Nails too, everything, you need it they'll do it because- oh, fuck- you belong to me, i'm spoiling my girl."

You were riding the tidal wave of his touch, sure you were destined to drown in the warm waters of his attention and find yourself marooned on the beach of his command. He groaned as he spared a glance downward, the way your breasts pushed against his own chest, the gap between your bodies non existent as he gazed lustfully at your cleavage. The golden key to the club around his neck was pressing into your skin, indenting and leaving a reddening shadow of itself against the damp surface, and he swore he adored the sight. Blue had ultimate power over you, over most things, the power in his hips sending you back against the wall with force despite your back arching against him. He craved it all, how he knew he could break you and put you back together whichever way he liked. He was like the boy in the sandbox, playing with his favorite toy. His favorite girl.

"But, sir, cash-"

"MY GIRL!"

You yelped as he gave a full thrust, the sensation bubbling like a fire in your gut. He was using your body, commanding it, fucking your pussy like his favorite plaything.

"My treat, fuck, baby you don't have to think about a thing. You're mine, all mine, i decide, FUCK, i decide what you get. You get the best."

You whined, rather pitifully, and Blue devoured the sound. You decided the time for talking was over, not wanting to embarrass yourself in the eyes of the man who was giving into your every whim. Blue deepened the kiss, his tongue attacking your mouth as he picked up the speed of his thrusts. He was pounding into you, your back destined to be bruised by the wall, your sense of composure coming apart in his hands. You were a sweating, leaking mess under his guiding hands, your climax charging forwards as you circled and moved around his symphony. It was sinful, dirty, yet submissive and perfectly harmonized. Just how Blue liked you.

"Fuck, Blue, I need-"

"That's Sugar, hold it, I want you to beg."

"Please Blue, let me cum-"

"Dirty girl, so desperate."

"Please, daddy I need, please-"

Blue was always consistent throughout and you fought to keep up with his unshakable composure, but now you were a blubbering mess. Your hips were sloppily working around his cock, all routine lost to reckless abandon, pussy aching from the current fuck and the echo of your morning sex- but fighting to hold back the floodgates of release. It was like sex was the fuel Blue survived on, the drug that kept his system in motion. He seemingly had a sixth sense when it came to exactly what his needy little girl craved to make her cum as hard as she needed, all the while satisfying himself for providing such a service- perhaps the one moment he and the girls of the Lennox shared something in common. He'd often remark he wouldn't be able to get through the day without getting his hands on you, be it a smack of your ass or a finger on your clit, or even a kiss of ownership when somebody had tested him more than they should've. Blue Jones, the man, was an enigma behind the surface of a sleeze, and the way his fingers knew every inch of your body told you he saw you equally as a puzzle only he could solve.

After all, he was the one that took your virginity. Had asked to do it, almost begged, he'd yearned to take your innocence and let you taste him, the forbidden fruit. None of the other girls could say the same. His ownership of you was of a pedigree breed.

"So close, almost time, kitty"

"Blue... Blue..."

It was all you could say. The only word your mouth desired was his name. He loved the state of you, the way the world had crumbled around and you existed in a tunnel vision of his touch. Nothing else mattered. The whole world was Blue.

"That's it, good girl, who do you belong to?"

"Hnn... Blue!"

"And who's the only man who can stick his dick in you, fuck this precious pussy of yours until its raw?"

There was no question.

"Blue!"

"What's the only name you'll ever scream again?"

This was ownership. A claim.

"Blue!"

"Say it baby, say my name, tell the world who owns you and cum, cum for me."

You felt yourself falling beneath the waves, all rhyme and reason disappearing as you submerged in the ocean of Blue's pleasure. You were desperate for release, he knew that well, your body tired and wracked and tied so tightly to Blue's command that he could snap you in half with a single order. Your mouth only knew one word, THE word, and it squoze itself from your throat and fell from your lips like it was chasing the man down.

There was only one way it all could end.

The same way it started.

Him.

"Blue!"

You screamed, back arching against the dark wallpaper, body sinking into his embrace as you finally found your release. Blue had finished in tandem, the rush of his seed inside of you sending your brain into hysteria. It was warm, filthy, your hips rearing against him so hard his feet dared to consider losing footing, all the while the soundtrack of his moan sang like the voice of a God. You were spent, exhausted, desperate for a shower. A mix of your own release and Blue's cum trailed and dripped over the inside of your thigh, your eyes glossy and wet like you were about to weep. Blue had treated you like a goddess from the moment you’d arrived. What had you done to deserve his kindness?

Blue was panting, stunned for breath as he supported you against the wall. You took in his expression, like a starved man fed for the first time in a long time, always hungry for more with an appetite that could never truly be satiated. Like he said, his business was pleasure. Others, his, and yours. He was sweating, light beads running down his temples, top lip damp from your kiss as you pulled away from his face, etching every element into your memory. Every curve, every pore, every heavy gaze behind even heavier lashes. You sought to remember every single element of Blue in the moment. The calm after the storm.

You gazed over the man's face, his hair still as pristine as when he'd first gelled it. You pulled down the sleeve of the dress shirt you'd been wearing, taking purchase of the cuff to dab at the sweat that had built on his forehead. In your haze you leant forward, pecking at his lips and practically licking them clean of the spit from your moans. You pulled away, shaking thumbs caressing his face as he gave you a pleased grin. As your breath returned you adjusted his collar, smoothing down the corners before allowing yourself to fall against his chest. He looked untouched, like he hadn't just fucked you to the brink of muteness. Just as you knew he wanted. Just like he knew you could provide.

"Small details, baby"

You whispered, voice rough and stripped bare from your screams. You knew anybody in the back labyrinth of the Lennox corridors would have heard you. Good.

"Oh, princess.."

Blue purred against your skin, pushing the sweat laced hair from the sides of your face. His tanned skin shone with a glorious post sex glow, a shine that would pep his step and send him through the day with ease. It was your special skill, making the day for Blue jones... Not so Blue.

"I'm going to treat you like a queen. Yeah... I like that. You filthy little girl, being my queen. You like that too, don't you?"

You nodded weakly, a lazy smile on your lips, reddened and glossed.

"Good girl. You did so well, two in a row. Yeah, baby girl needs spoiling, doesn't she? Especially when she's proved her loyalty so well."

A happy, satiated noise escaped your throat. Blue enjoyed the sound, rolling it on his tongue. In a moment, a sudden look of seriousness graced across his face.

"Now, kitty-"

His hands worked to untangle your legs from his waist, lifting you up carefully from his softening cock. You glanced down briefly- his pants were cum free. You hadn't left a single mark.

"You've got a busy day, haven't you? No rest for the wicked, huh?"

He allowed you to set your feet on the floor, thighs squeezing together as you felt the result of your passion running down the inside of your leg. Blue noticed instantly, lowering his gaze and growling softly. Your fingers wound themselves into the belt loops of his trousers, pulling his hips towards you as you pulled up his boxers and buttoned up his pants. He sighed with absolute pride.

"Go get yourself cleaned up and be ready by 9. Danforth will call, CJ will take you out."

Blue pulled your face into his hands and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. His tongue was silver, sharp as a knife, but his kiss was so warm and inviting. No wonder you always lost when you fought for dominance in your mouth, the man was a living weapon of pleasure.

"I've got things to do, the girls need a little reminder of what's expected from them."

You dared to whine. Another shush came from his lips, tender yet to the point.

"Don't fret, doll, just a verbal warning, nothing more. I won't have lazy girls on my stage, especially when somebody's set the bar so high for a performance."

He lifted your chin with a finger, smiling sweetly, laced with fire.

"What a show, sugar." He purred.

"I'll see you tonight."

Blue pulled away from the wall, away from you, freeing you from the cage his shoulders and hips had held you within. You suddenly grabbed hold of his tie as he turned, lightly tugging him back to your chest. Before he could breathe a word, or consider a thought, you placed a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth, teasing him with the promise of more. You knew for a fact teasing him was futile. There was always, always more

"Thank you, Blue." You said gently.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Blue smiled down at you. God, everything about you was coursing through his veins. Some days he questioned if you were real, an angel sent to taunt the devil with everything he ever desired. He was the devil, plain and simple, yet you had just praised his mercy like it was biblical, his name was your scripture. Blue Jones was a very bad man, a malicious villain who took everything he wanted in a world where he wanted everything. Greedy, cruel, egotistical, evil. He knew that, deep down. He wasn't an idiot, after all. But you, oh you, his precious pearl, his beautiful angel, his dirty little whore. You were everything a man like Blue Jones could want but never deserve. It would be poetic to say you were the one thing his hungry fingers could never reach, a sad story of the price of sin- if it weren't for the way his name spilled from your lips like a prayer, his hot cum still leaking down your leg. Blue Jones was a man who gambled with God. And the devil always won.

"Anything for you, beautiful."

You preened at his words, a blush spreading over your cheeks. He truly saw you as beautiful. He plucked his jacket from the back of the vanity chair, throwing it over his shoulder with two fingers as he headed for the door. You leant against the wall for support, for a solid hold on the spinning world, as Blue turned to you and sent you a heat inducing wink.

"Like you said, angel. The devil's in the details."

He blew a kiss into the air, before disappearing with the shut of the door. You held a hand to your chest, your heart racing within your boiling chest under your perspiring palm. Blue jones was many things- a mobster, a pimp, a gang banger, a crook. A violent bastard, a slave to lust, a gruesome creature that thrived on the exploitation of women in the cruel, wide world. But you didn't care. The warmth in your cheeks, the heat in your chest, the fire in your belly, all of them burned away every sin Satan loved to commit.

Blue jones may have been the closest thing on earth to the devil.

But Blue Jones was undeniably yours.

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