Sock’s Dirty 30: #20 Overtime
Requested by: @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - Could you do a smutty visit at hubby Will's office? 👉👈
Pairing: Will Shaw (Cold Light of Day) x Female Reader
Warnings: implied sort of exhibitionism, a little fear of being caught, edging, slight orgasm control, use of a remote control vibrator - i think that’s everything?
A/N: A smutty visit to Will’s office is what you got my dear! Hope it’s what you wanted 😘 I reallllllly suck at sticking to 200 words LOL
Dirty 30 Masterlist
Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Will through the glass wall of his office. His brow furrowed in concentration, a pen dangling from his lip as he stared at the computer screen. He tapped a button or two, placing the pen down on the desk and rubbed his chin.
His gaze locked onto yours through the glass and you felt a familiar tingle in your gut but tried not to squirm and give the game away. You walked as casually as you could into his office, shutting the glass door behind you gently.
The phone rang at that exact moment. Will picked up the phone, mouthing a ‘sorry’ as he listened at the other end. You sat on the low sofa near his desk to wait, Will raising an eyebrow at the strange sound that came from your direction. Thankfully he was quickly distracted by the conversation. As the minutes passed you started to get desperate, boredom making it harder to concentrate.
You glanced over your shoulder, noting that no-one could see you on the sofa in the corner of his office. You smiled to yourself, before resting one of your legs over the arm of the sofa. Your work appropriate heel falling off your foot as you did so.
Will’s attention was brought to a standstill as he looked over at you, knocking a pot of pens off his desk in the process.
Today you were wearing a dress. And nothing else. Well maybe one other thing.
You seized the pink silicon peeking out from between your pussy lips, feeling the vibrations against your fingertip as you tugged on the string. You’d been wearing it all morning, turning the vibrations on just before you walked to Will’s office. And now you were desperate to come, having edged yourself to utter distraction.
You heard the clatter of Will’s phone hitting the desk and the sound of louder conversation as the person on the other end was put on speaker phone. You looked into Will’s eyes as he placed a finger on his lips, telling you to be quiet.
Oh. You’d forgotten he could control it too.
Your hand clamped around your mouth as his thumb rubbed up and down the phone screen, the vibrations increasing and dying away in rapid succession.
Fuck. You were so close.
Whimpers trickled from between your fingers and Will bit his lip, head tilting back, clearly just as affected as you. He finished the phone conversation and turned to his desk to type on the keyboard once more, thumb still idly drawing shapes on the phone screen.
“Will…” you couldn’t help but whine as the moments ticked past, desperation making it difficult to be anything but needy.
He smiled at you then, thumb sliding all the way up to the max. You couldn’t contain the loud expletives that echoed through the office as you came hard around the toy, hands clutching at the sofa cushions.
Will impatiently pulled you to your feet, tugging your dress back into place.
“Let’s go home honey. I’ve done more than enough overtime to earn an afternoon off.”
You yelped as the vibrations started once more, fixing Will with a stare.
“What? I didn’t say I’d make it easy.” Will smirked, holding the office door open for you to make a quick exit.
83 notes · View notes
Stinky Rat Bastard Man || RDR2 One-Shot
Lemme know if there's anything spelled wrong or smth, idk. It's just a first draft lol, and the first writing piece I've ever listed here! :)
"Hey there, blacklung." Micah calls out to Arthur, who was sitting beside you. "Still livin' on borrowed time?"
You watch Arthur's fists on the table, they clench but he let's the tension go as he looks up at the greasy man. "Why don't you just get outta here, Micah? We was havin' a nice time."
Micah let's out a guttural laugh and puts a hand on the picnic table to lean against. "Oh, c'mon, blacklung. Don't be like that. Don't want that cough to get the better of ya now..." His voice was lowered to a growl.
You slam your hands on the splintering wood of the table and bring yourself to your feet. "That's enough, Micah, get the hell outta here!" Arthur glances up at you, slightly surprised at your sudden outburst. Guarma seemed to bring out a whole new side of you, changing you from the timid and quiet person you once were.
Another slimy laugh echoes from the man. "What're you gonna do, kid? Huh? Give me the ol' one-two?"
"No," you draw your revolver and aim for the man's forehead. "But I'll shoot you right here, right now." You pull back the hammer and harden your gaze. "Step away."
He brings his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, point taken." He mutters. "Didn't know the cowboy needed a guard dog." He begins walking away but you push yourself from the table and walk in front of him.
"This isn't about Arthur anymore, this is between you and me." The look you were giving him could tear through steel as you holster your revolver. "You're a snake, and a coward. You hide behind your words and act like you do everything you can for this gang, when all you do is drop a couple bucks by the month." Your voice carries venom and he scoffs. But you weren't done.
"You don't even fuckin' hunt. You do nothing but whisper in Dutch's ear about that goddamm money in Blackwater. You know that'd get everyone killed, you... you horrible, horrible man."
"It's none of your business the conversations I have with Dutch. Now, get outta here, kid, 'fore you get yourself hurt." He pushes past you and begins walking towards the small cliff's edge. "Why do you care about ol' blacklung anyway? Fancy 'im? Shame he won't be around much longer."
Anger boils the blood in your veins and you feel your hand going to your gun before you can think to stop yourself. Time seems to slow as you push the gun against the base of his skull and growl in anger.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your fucking brains out, you rat!" You shout, tears forming in your eyes. The tears weren't from sadness, but pure fucking ire. You shove the barrel into the soft bit of scalp, past his greasy blonde hair and pull back the hammer. "Go on!"
His hands raise once more, but this time, you can see the shake in them. He was scared. Of course he was, the snake. Your hand shakes as you hold the gun against his head. "C'mon now, kid. Murder for some jokes?"
"It's not just jokes anymore, Micah. I know you went to the Pinkertons. I know it. I followed you one night, found you in the saloon with one of them. You tell them where we were holed up? Huh? Rat?!" Your finger trembles on the trigger.
"You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about, kid. Put the gun down."
You huff out a harsh laugh. "You make me sick, you know that? I've never trusted you, even from the start. You're a rat, a snitch. You're a worm."
"Dutch, I need some help here!" Micah calls for help, but you chuckle.
"I wouldn't do that, Micah... Wouldn't want him to know you're a traitor. Poor Daddy Dutch would be so disappointed."
"You don't have proof, you shit." He spits.
"Oh, but don't I?" You ask. "Asked Arthur for his camera, said I was going out for a walk to get some good shots of the scenery around Valentine. He was heading out with Jack anyway..."
You see Micah gulp and you chuckle. "You're cornered, rat. Nowhere to go, no one to save you. Now, you've got one chance to get the hell out of here-"
"Kid! What the hell are you doing?!" You hear Arthur's rough voice ring out from behind you and Micah chuckles.
"Here comes the night in shining armor. Go on, run to daddy." You scowl and lower your weapon, turning away from him.
"Arthur, you don't know what you're doing, he's a rat."
"'Course he's a rat, but you don't gotta kill him for it!" He says as he makes his way over.
"No, Arthur, he talked. Took the money." You say, raising your gun again, this time to Micah's forehead. "Found him in the saloon, I've got pictures in my bag." You toss him the satchel.
He searches through the pockets and soon finds the small stack of photos. He goes through them and you see the fear in Micah's eyes as the realization Dawn's on him.
"You talked?!" Arthur roars.
"Aw, c'mon, blacklung. I did what I had to."
"So, you just had to betray your family for a few measly dollars?" Arthur was getting angrier by the second. "You two-faced piece of-" He goes to attack Micah, but you stop him.
"Go get Dutch. Tell him, I'll keep an eye on the shit." You say, glaring at the blonde outlaw.
You keep your gun pointed to Micah's brain and smirk. "You're fucked."
"Not for long, kid."
Time again slows as you see him reach for his gun. In a rush of panic, your grip on the revolver tightens and a gunshot rings out for the whole camp to hear. Blood and brain matter explode out of the back of Micah's head before he can even bring the gun from his holster. A look of shock spreads across the leftover bits of his face as he falls to the ground, finally dead.
"Oh my G-" You heave out your guts, vomiting out your breakfast into the grass. You watch as your bile mixes with the pink and red mess of the inside of Micah's head. You continue to throw up as Dutch and Arthur appear from the brush.
"Kid!" Arthur rushes to your side and takes your shaking frame into his arms.
"I wasn't- I..." You stutter, clinging to the fabric of Arthur's shirt. "I wasn't gonna- but he- he reached for his gun and-"
"Sh, it's okay." He puts a hand on the side of your head and coaxes you to lean on his shoulder. "I got ya, kid."
"I'm... I'm sorry." You whisper, your gaze locked on Micah's corpse.
Dutch kneels in front of you, blocking your view of the body. "Now, now, someone had to do it. I'm just sorry the honor came to you." He mutters, putting a hand on your shoulder.
You leave him there, leaning on Arthur to travel back to your tent. Dutch begins shouting orders to pack up your belongings. You weren't getting caught this time, no matter how hard Micah tried.
Lenny was the one to loot Micah's stash. All of his belongings went to the camp donations, except for his gun, which was given to you. Looking down at the gun in your hands, it was kept in pristine condition and treated with respect, unlike how Micah did to actual humans. Your hands shake as you remember the day that you ended him and you close your eyes to try to force the thoughts away. Arthur walks up and notices your pain. He sits beside you on the log and puts an arm over your shoulder.
"You gonna get rid of that thing?" He asks, looking into the flames. You do the same and shrug.
"I don't fucking know, Arthur... I could sell it, donate the money to camp, I guess."
Arthur chuckles. "Or you could keep it. Put it someplace where you won't see it until you want to. A trophy, kinda thing."
You hesitate, but look back to the revolver. Arthur had a point, the memory will forever be burned in your mind, you might as well reward yourself with a trophy for your good-doings.
You chuckle and set the gun down in front of you. You look up at Arthur and smile. "Thank you."
"Kid, we should be thanking you."
49 notes · View notes