#for a game that most of these people have admitted to not playing!

[langfield]

i just want to preface by saying that if i accidentally misconstrue the meaning of your post, it’s because i had to make a couple of logical leaps in the places where you didn’t finish your sentences! i also wanted to point out that the point of this post was never to make ‘blanket assumptions’ about why people don’t like double exposure. at no point was anyone on this post saying that the only issue people had with double exposure is the fact that chloe isn’t in it. rather, people were rightfully pointing out that pricefielders are unfairly emphasizing the importance of chloe’s physical presence in the game. and this is not coming from a place of disliking chloe or wanting her out of the game! the op of this post is a fan of chloe and ships pricefield. actually, pretty much almost everyone on this post likes chloe and does care a lot about pricefield. this post isn’t about double exposure being perfect, nor is it about hating on chloe or pricefield. there’s a big difference between haters making blanket statements about chloe/pricefield fans and people who love this character and ship bringing up genuine problems with the way said character and ship are worshipped in fandom to the detriment of another, aka max. it’s not difficult to find evidence as to why people would believe that many pricefield shippers only care about max insofar as she is with chloe. for example, many people did not care for max in the original game! people hated her for ghosting chloe for all those years, people felt that she had been unfair and cruel to chloe, and they largely found her bland and uninteresting as her own character. there was a lot of max hate in the fandom during the early days! not to mention, when before the storm came out, there was nowhere near the amount of outrage that max was not present in the game as there is about chloe not being in double exposure. and while, yes, bts is a prequel, there is still something to be said about how the characters were treated by fandom. rachel, like max, was constantly measured up with her flaws put at the forefront while people wondered if she was ‘good enough’ for chloe. of course, people want the best for their favourite characters, but rachel and max have always been widely talked about in terms of chloe rather than for the sakes of their own characters. even when amberpricefield was popular, as the ship name suggests, chloe was always depicted as being in the middle of that relationship. people generally didn’t care about max’s and rachel’s relationship outside of the fact that they both love chloe … which completely ignores max’s very real feelings about rachel, and instead sands it all down into ‘chloe gets the girls she wants and she kisses them about it.’ this is valid, of course, but shows an interesting line of thinking.

none of this is particularly new, though. as you’ve mentioned, this brand of pricefield shippers have been around for a whole decade, and unfortunately, their behaviour hasn’t changed much. ever since the first game came out, there has been cry after cry for a ‘life is strange 2’ that would function effectively as a pricefield dating sim. and every time a game comes out that is not about max’s and chloe’s relationship ( which, by the way, these companies are not obligated to create -- they have their own visions for what life is strange games look like, and they are entitled to write the games in the way that they envision ), there has always been a huge amount of backlash from fans who only care for the franchise because of max’s and chloe’s relationship. even the creators of the beloved lis1 have confirmed through tweets that pricefielders have sent harassment to them and others simply because chloe and max were not in lis2 :

not only is this childish, but it’s rather horrifically disrespectful. it is undeniable that pricefield shippers have harassed the writers, actors, and creators of the life is strange games and rejoiced when said people have lost their jobs and have been repeatedly made to feel unsafe and targeted in online spaces ( if you want evidence of this, you can find examples even here on tumblr, with accounts saying the narrative writing team deserved to lose their jobs before christmas ). many of these people are queer, poc, and part of other marginalized and oppressed communities. it is ludicrous to me that pricefield shippers repeatedly prioritize a fictional white sapphic ship over the livelihood, physical safety, and emotional safety of real life marginalized people and then claim that they are doing so in the memory of “one of the most important lgbt gaming couples of all time”. i personally don’t doubt pricefielders’ perceived loyalty to ‘the game’, ‘the franchise’, etc. i doubt their love for the characters within the games and their openness to exploring any part of the franchise that does not concern chloe, or max-and-chloe.

it is true that life is strange 2015 revolves around max’s and chloe’s relationship. it’s true that the game would fall apart if you removed either of those characters from the game. similarly, life is strange 2 is about sean’s and daniel’s relationship, and the game would fall apart if you removed either of those characters. before the storm would fall apart if you removed chloe or rachel. true colours would fall apart if you removed alex or gabe. and double exposure would fall apart if you removed max or safi. ( honestly, i would argue that double exposure would be a stronger game overall if there was more of max’s and safi’s relationship in it! ) the simple fact of the matter is this : double exposure is not the same game as life is strange 2015. again, people understood this about before the storm. before the storm is a game about chloe’s and rachel’s relationship. max is a presence in that game but she is not a character in it. similarly, double exposure is a game not about chloe and max, but about max and safi, and while chloe’s presence is always there in double exposure, she is not a character in that story. sometimes a character needs to be removed so that another character can have new relationships and flourish. like max and chloe say in the first game and farewell, they will always be max and chloe even if chloe dies or if they’re apart from each other. i don’t understand how max having her own game with her own relationships devalues the bond that she and chloe have. max loves chloe, and she always will. this is abundantly clear whether you choose bay or bae. this is abundantly clear even in their so called ‘shitty’ ‘ooc’ break up, with max acknowledging that chloe would still drop everything if max called and that she’s one day going to reunite with chloe when she’s ready. however, max does deserve to grow as a character on her own and to have her own stories independent of chloe, just as chloe has had a story independent of max. a story that was told.

and as for your bullet points about double exposure’s failings :

the cash grab cat dlc and the alderman plotline being completely dropped are actually very common criticisms the game faces, both from haters of double exposure and from the most devoted of fans. it’s two rather glaring errors that are always brought up and i’ve never seen a single person try to defend or excuse those choices. as for max not caring about killing a man, she’s also the same girl who was able to brush off frank bower’s death at eighteen if chloe kills him ( doesn’t even rewind instantly and assures chloe it was self defense before looting his corpse ) and is capable of letting an entire town of people die as well. when max has a goal, she is extremely capable of tuning out everything else to work towards it. i’m not exactly surprised by her reaction nor do i think it’s out of character, but i ( like everyone else ) wish there was more to it than that. double exposure drops the ball on all plot writing in later episodes and everyone agrees on that matter. you’re not contributing anything new here?

safiya explains the ‘power thing’ to us point blank in episode four, actually, and it’s not hard to figure out. her shapeshifting abilities is inherently tied to how lacking she, safiya llewellyn-fayyad, is made out to be by her mother. as a single child of a divorce ( an event that easily causes the kid to feel like the problem ) and as a brown woman in society, there has always been a pressure on safiya to be perfect and unwavering in said perfection. she tells max her powers awakened because, in highschool, she wanted so desperately to be someone who wouldn’t disappoint her mom … and then she stopped being herself entirely. she shows during the krampus roast that she is more comfortable in other people’s skins than her own — absolutely tearing into lucas as vinh but then completely clamming up when it’s just herself up there, confronting him in front of everyone. safi hates herself. safi thinks she isn’t a real person without maya. she thinks that the only way to be free is to be someone who isn’t her mother’s daughter. some of this is implied, but most of this is explicitly explained or stated by safiya herself to max in moments of honest vulnerability or roiling distress. her powers make sense for her character! i’m not trying to be mean when i say this, but i do wonder how much of the game you have played when this is explained to you as plainly as can be in episode four. just like max and alex ( and daniel, though his are more vague and metaphorical ), safi’s powers intensify and soothe her core insecurity and thus creates a deeply personal character problem in equal measure.

safiya isn’t evil, either. what about her is ‘evil’? the game doesn’t vilify her : safiya is always allowed her exit to freedom at the end, with the only choice being if max will wait for her or not, for a multitude of reasons max can give to moses depending on said choice. again, safiya has spent her entire life playing someone else’s game, never being allowed to live her own life or make her own decisions, and being forced to hide her entire true, authentic self because people would be scared of the real her. this is also explained to us in the final scene! yes, safiya’s talk of gods and monsters and being destined for greater things is scary, a tad delusional, but it is all coming from an emotional place. she’s at a point in her life where everyone she’s ever cared for has betrayed her, despite her repeated forgiveness in her mom’s case. but … there’s max. someone who never hurt her and someone who’s like her. safi realises she’s not alone, despite feeling that way for most of her life, and that there is more out there. so she shuns the normal and embraces the powerful and flees. to view safi as evil is a rather simple perspective on the matter … but this doesn’t surprise me because people think that safi finding people whom she can connect with is somehow her forming the avengers? and … taking over the world? it has always been clear to me that safi merely wants to understand herself and that, to do so, she must find people like max : who have been there, done that, and came out better or worse for it. at best, she’s looking for a community. at worst, she’s maybe forming a cult. perhaps if people tried analyzing these characters instead of dismissing them or barely paying attention to them when on screen, these assumptions wouldn’t be made and things that are rather obvious would actually be seen. but most fans haven’t bothered playing double exposure themselves or, if they had, went into the game expecting to hate it. believe it or not, this does affect immersion and how you will view things.

caledon is a campus in the town of lakeport, vermont. there is not a lot of wiggle room one can do with a small, college setting. if you compare double exposure’s primary location to the other games ( arcadia bay for lis:1, lis:2 has no set setting whatsoever because it’s a travel game, and lis:tc is exclusively about haven springs ) there’s a noticable size difference in our caledon setting versus actual small towns or entire states. i do think there could’ve been more variety for sure, like seeing abraxas house or more of the school itself, but seeing a bunch of teacher offices and living spaces would also get repetitive. i’d say that max should’ve left campus more, but the plot calls for her to say exclusively on campus due to the safi importance, so … not much they could’ve done there. they wrote themselves into a corner, which is entirely fine to criticize! but i also think the smaller setting makes sense and wasn’t something they just did due to laziness, or something.

every lis game has powers. and it wasn’t the main driving force of the game anymore than it was in lis:1. yes, double exposure is impossible to tell without max’s or safi’s powers, but lis:1 wouldn’t be a game period if max couldn’t rewind to begin with. could max’s time hopping ability be more connected to the themes? naturally. that i can agree with and have no complaints.

your opinions are subjective about the characters and max herself, so i don’t have much to say there. you are entitled to think so! and it’s a very valid critique if that’s a problem you had with the game. however, i and many others found max caulfield perfectly characterized in this piece of media and found double exposure’s cast to be one of the better parts of the game. hannah telle also loves max dearly and wouldn’t return to a title that would write her in a way hannah herself couldn’t see. she’s been nothing but happy about max’s return and i love double exposure for handling max in a realistic way : all the ugly bits, all the progress regression due to triggering trauma, and all the loveable cringe parts. she isn’t max from lis:1 because she developed in many ways and was stunted in many others. i could explain your points about her immaturity, regression, and selfishness away but it wouldn’t change anything. you have your opinion, and others have theirs.

the rest of this, i won’t bother with commenting on. the points you make seem to circle back to the things i already addressed in this post, somewhat, so i’ll let this lie. to reiterate my earlier statement : nobody in the original post was claiming that double exposure was perfect, nor were they anti-chloe or anti-pricefield people like you claim. they are more than right to call out things as they see them, and these comments don’t at all mean that they either a.) didn’t understand life is strange 2015, and / or b.) think that double exposure’s only point of criticism is chloe price and pricefield. i’d suggest maybe reading the post thoroughly as well as assessing your audience so you don’t make such bold and rather unfair blanket statements yourself. thank you!

I like shipping, pricefield is fine and all, but I feel like it’s pretty strange that so often Max isn’t appreciated individually as a character outside her relationships with other characters especially Chloe! The thing is DE is kinda of a cash grab because Deck Nine is in financial trouble I think, but it got people talking about Max again and people were saying they were excited to play the game. And then the actual game came out and when people found out Chloe wasn’t in it, they were no longer interested in it and people were saying the game disrespects Chloe  and pricefield and stuff….blablabla. And that part is a little strange, because I had the impression people liked Max, but like the people forgot Max exists as a character outside of Chloe. Like hello…this is Max Caulfield we’re talking about here, she’s the main character here! she’s her own person with her own thoughts and stuff. But it feels like  at this point that a chunk of the fandom views Max as an accessory to Chloe and as a part of pricefield which is kinda sad. There were people literally saying Max cannot work on her own as a character without Chloe….which is a choice to make. Idk sorry for this essay, I didn't know where I was going in it, but the discourse is clearly making people feel weird in some ways….and you’re not wrong in your assessment of Max and DE.

NO BECAUSE I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH YOU.. i love shipping tbh like its just silly whimsical and fun but some people (like pricefielders..) only enjoy that aspect of the media and thats SO UPSETTING.. because you dont even like it you just like the ability to ship characters. and it sucks that people only view max as an accessory or that she's not interesting w/o chloe because she is her OWN PERSON. and i dont get how people dont see that and see her as a part of pricefield (as you said) rather than her OWN PERSON. she doesn't NEED to be in a relationship with chloe to be "interesting" considering the girl went through unimaginable trauma and still struggles with that pain in DE (ptsd perchance?). i dont get how people cannot look deeper into her character rather than just seeing her as an accessory to chloe. people act like chloe is max's lifeline and shes NOT.. she can function (semi) normally in society with or without chloe. i truly dont believe these self proclaimed pricefield fans actually like max, they just like chloe.

[chilledstrawberrysoda]

I think one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the kings men and possibly all of all for the game is when Neil and Kevin are arguing in the locker room after the win against UT because Neil was talking shit about the Ravens and Riko. I think it's the only time before Jackson and Romero come for him after the Belmont Binghamton game that the weight of what Neil knows is going to happen to him and the heartbreak he is experiencing in slow motion comes to the surface and is outwardly visible and even then the only person that picked up on it was Andrew and it didn't help because there was nothing anyone could do.

Kevin is angry about Neil antagonizing Riko publicly because he knows there will be backlash and he is rightfully afraid but this is the first time since Kevin found out who Neil is that he realizes Neil is afraid too. He appears fearless to Kevin so Kevin assumes it's hubris that makes Neil willing to stand his ground over and over again but it's not.

Neil had accepted his fate at that point, and instead of turning tail and getting himself the hell out of there, his only motivation is that if he can't have this at least Kevin will survive it.

At least Kevin gets to live on and play exy and be the best player.

When they talk about it again after Baltimore in the cabin Kevin asks him outright "how do you do it?" He asks "why aren't you afraid?" But Neil admits he IS afraid but he thinks willfully giving up the best thing that has ever happened to him (i.e. exy, the foxes, Andrew) would be worse than death.

There's a popular quote by choreographer Martha Graham that goes like this

A dancer dies twice — once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful

This sentiment is echoed by Neil in the kings men but also implied throughout the series. Giving up the things and the people he loves would be more painful than his actual death. That's why he drops his duffle and phone when he is taken as a signal to Andrew and Kevin. He needs them to know; he did not run, he did not give up, he did not leave them willingly. He accepted death to protect them but his last act before he let go of Neil Josten was to let them know in the only way he could that he would have held on forever if he were given the chance.

Neil's action throughout the books start to shift Kevin's mindset. Neil tells Kevin he stayed for him. Before Neil and Andrew's not nothing ever began, Neil stayed because he believed in Kevin and he wants so badly for Kevin to try. Because before Neil literally came back from the dead after Baltimore, the only thing he could hope was that after the dust settles Kevin would be on top. The first time Kevin gets any hint at that is in that locker room in Texas. I would love to read this scene from Kevin's perspective. As soon as he realizes how desperate Neil is, he stops fighting him. I think it might be the first time Kevin sees Neil as the scared kid he is and not just the partner that is willing to put himself in the line of fire for others.

I feel like that scene is always read as just Neil being kinda mean and calling Kevin a coward again but it's so complex and I wish it went on for longer. It's one of the few insights we get into Neil's crumbling psyche as his demise approaches and one of the few times he is fully honest with anyone before Baltimore and it's just so important to how his character is viewed for the remainder of the novel.

[xinganhao]

some notes on to all the boys i've loved before!svt (hyung and maknae) | 💌 est. release dates for special chapters -> feb. 13, thurs (hyung) & feb. 15, sat (maknae), gmt+8.

(1) in the smau, cheol is 'your best friend's brother', but it was originally supposed to be something else: 'your [older] brother's best friend'! i brought it up in conversation with someone (chugging-antiseptic-dye, i think) and was convinced to do a switcheroo at the last minute.

it's acknowledged in the first line of the letter ("this is the cliche of all cliches...") but something about cheol just slots into the trope all too well. i've seen people joke that he's a strong start, and i blame myself for squeezing the 'pretty girl' and 'gorgeous' pet names in one screenshot. lmao.

(2) jeonghan being an upperclassman at the school play was a call made by diamonddaze01, with respect to jeonghan having attended an acting institute for a short while. initially, the 'main lead' trope was supposed to be seokmin's— but i was convinced that jeonghan's acting background is way too underutilized in fic. [linking jeonghan's acting stint in KIGGEN(키겐) ((PHANTOM)(팬텀)) _ PLAYBACK(다시보기) for funsies!]

the little letter is so jeonghan as well, particularly "you didn't have to be so nice to us." i think it's very telling of hannie, to crack jokes and give words of encouragement even to the 'smallest' role in a production.

(3) i have zero shame in admitting that this trope came way too easily to me. guitar teacher!shua? sign me the fuck up. it's a blend of all his little passions— the guitar, other people, etc.— and so it was a bit of a no-brainer. couple that with his politeness over the letter and you have something that is just so shua-coded.

i have visions of fingers with embeddings of the strings, of shua's eyes crinkling in quiet laughs as he teaches you to play. it's all in the letter, and i'm just amused at the thought of MC being so distracted over her crush on shua that she didn't learn anything past the most basic song to play on guitar.

(4) nothing like a good rivals to ...? trope to get the blood pumping! i will be honest: if i had a say, my hyung line vote would go to junhui. the ending line in his letter ("wen junhui, if i didn't know any better— i'd say that you liked me a little bit, too") was my absolute favorite for the hyung ver.

this one has a healthy dose of emotional constipation/tsundere!jun/etc., although here is also a small confession: the trope was initially soonyoung's. i switched it out after staring a little too long at his exclusive fairytale photos.

(5) among the hyung line, this was the one i settled on last, if only because i had to pull that switch. this was prior to soonyoung admitting he knows how to get latte to stop kissing him ([sighs heavily]). i was thoroughly amused by MC falling for the owner of the pet she sits often.

i like the line "you care deeply for all loving things, big and small" in the letter, if only because i think it's characteristic of how soonyoung is as a person. latte is technically a plot device (lol) in this story, although i can just imagine how part-lovable/part-insufferable soonyoung would be as a client.

(6) this is not the first gamer!wonwoo trope you will see. it will not be the last. this was also a relatively easy trope to assign, although a expounds on it by referring to wonwoo as "the guy you meet/play with on the League of Legends forums." i make a passing LoL reference in the letter, because that's the foundation of the crush: the bespectacled guy on the other side of the screen who will beg and borrow for one more game with you.

i tend to make my gamer!wonwoo's a little more on the awkward/'loser' side, so the cockiness in the texts are certainly new. i didn't want to get too nsfw on the main (lmaooo) so the jab of "i didn't know you liked my fingers that much, though" is up to your imagination. (:

(7) in her reblog of the hyung post, heartepub says something to the extent of "i can imagine jihoon's fingers shaking as he types out 'if you want'" and it endeared me to no end, because of course. anicon-goer jihoon is another stroke of brilliance for a. in hindsight, i think it's just a little too niche to hit the right marks, but i wanted to do something that was characteristic to the members.

this almost became something akin to jihoon falling for a cosplayer/being a cosplayer himself; i don't think i had enough room to worldbuild that much, though. overall, this is adjacent to a more tsundere jihoon/a jihoon that reciprocates but cannot confess.

(8) on a technical end, i'd written mingyu's letter first buuut i rewrote it... and so i consider seokmin's the first that i really wrote for the maknae line. immediately, i was worried i'd be screwed and everybody would be able to tell that i am madly in love with this man. anyway. we ball.

for the maknae line, my vote admittedly goes to seok! one part i really enjoy is the parallels between "everything good about the summers… the hot days, the crackle of campfires, the chirping of cicadas" -> "you're the sun, seokmin. you're the fire; you're the song", which is really just MC's roundabout way of confessing that seokmin is everything good about her summers.

(9) it took several consultations with maplegyu to nail gyu's trope. she's eventually the one who came up with the prospect of him being that handsome constant on public transportation. the letter says a lot about mingyu's more caring attributes, and there's also a bit of a parallel to hannie's.

mingyu doesn't have to be nice, to be sweet, and yet he wants to. <- this was a concept i'd wanted to integrate in the texts, but since the texts come first, i didn't know how to make it seamless. the vague idea here is "is mingyu sweet to you because he likes you, or is he like that to everybody?"

(10) combining the two things i love (bookstores + minghao) is, unfortunately, a cheap shot on my end. bookstore cashier!minghao sliding in with a pickup line alluding letters to milena just had me shaking my head at myself, honestly.

i couldn't resist sliding in a small poetry reference. his letter ends with "xu minghao, you could sell me the world" -> which is a shameless allusion to maggie smith's good bones, namely the part where it goes "i am trying / to sell them the world. any decent realtor, / walking you through a real shithole, chirps on / about good bones."

(11) the idea of 'weekend warrior' seungkwan entails some backstory-telling, since i feel like it doesn't translate too well in text/letter: seungkwan is a guy you run into a lot at your weekend markets. the two of you exchanged numbers, mostly for convenience, to discuss produce and essentially find somebody to go with! for my fellow filipinos, the scene i have in mind is comparable to the salcedo saturday market hehe.

i've gotten a number of reactions to seungkwan's 'mrs. boo' quote, which, you know what? completely valid. MC x seungkwan bicker like an old couple, and the thought of a seungkwan on the flirtier end is just a little too good to pass up on.

(12) 'friend of a friend' vernon is a very specific trope wherein you find your acquaintance/etc. attractive and desirable. there's a joke constantly made that a crush is only a crush until you find out more about them, and i feel like that's the vibe of this particular verse. vernon is ~mysterious~ and [seemingly] unattainable, making him the guy of your dreams.

the letter is vague enough. the texts are a little more in character, in what (i hope 🤞) reads like actual textspeak you might expect from this Man.

(13) i do think it's worth clarifying that chan is not blood-related to MC; 'auntie's son' had a longer title ('the son of your mother's friend') that didn't quite roll off the tongue lol. this one has two lines i enjoyed writing ("i think i'm supposed to fall in love with you" + "i don't want to have you, because then i stand the chance of losing you"), and overall just slots right into the childhood friends to ...? trope.

i've grown quite fond of the more sunshine-y aspects of chan's personality, hence the excitability and sarcasm in the texts. it's a bit of a puppy love situation, admittedly, and it's a question of whether that's enough for something real.

thank you for receiving this little project so well! :") whenever i do annotations, i always say "this story is yours now"— but the choose-your-own adventureness of it all makes it all the more true.

see you all for the special chapter! xo linking one final time for those who want to cast votes/reread:

[onceinablueberrymoon]

I don’t know if you’re doing smut, but if you do, how about the reader is a recruiter like the salesman and there together and how would he be with you in the Bed! (He’s a total psycho for me hehe)

salesman x recruiter!reader headcanons (sfw + nsfw)

sorry for the super long wait! i did headcanons for this one since i’m not the most comfortable w hardcore smut. if you’ve read my stories, you probably already know i’m a sucker for soft and domestic salesman lmao

notes: gender-neutral!reader; the recruiter is called salesman here since reader is also a recruiter here

warnings, just in case: mentions of whips, guns, slight exhibitionism

minors dni! there’s smut in this one, folks

(also pls send me requests! i’m working on the ones i’ve already received, but more are always welcome♡ not just for the salesman either, i am begging anything sangwoo too) 

sfw

if the reader is also a recruiter, you’d have probably met the salesman just after becoming a recruiter yourself. 

while the salesman’s game of choice was ddakji, yours was tic-tac-toe. 

similar to the salesman who carried ddakji tiles and various bills of won, your briefcase contained a simple wooden frame and wooden ‘x’ and ‘o’ pieces. 

when you first met, he was polite and courteous towards you.

as time went on though, you felt as if you were being followed after work hours. one morning however, you’d caught him following you and confronted him, saying that his assigned location wasn’t anywhere near yours.

stunned that you had discovered him, he offered to have lunch together, which you accepted. the two of you started to grow closer, with both of you checking in on each other via text throughout the day. 

even though you and the salesman would rarely cross paths during work, you always made time for each other after work. 

this man can be soft when he wants to be. from cutely pouting when he loses at board games to snuggling in bed after a long day of slapping people, he’s capable of being a loving partner when he feels like it. he just didn’t have someone to share that side of him until you came along.

that’s not to say he doesn’t have a dark side. of course he does! that’s what we’re all here for, right?

nsfw

you always knew the salesman had interesting… tendencies. 

although you also played games while seeking out prospective players, you didn’t bring that part of your life home. that is, until you met the salesman.

you quickly learned that he loved games. so much so that he’d incorporated them into your sex life.

what game haven’t you played by this point? 

tag, where he chased you around his apartment until he eventually pinned you down and had his way with you.

marco polo, where he shouted “marco!”, to which you replied “polo!” from your hiding spot. he’d then crack his whip in the direction in which you called.

tug of war, where you’d both tug on a special rope he’d bought just for the occasion. he’d usually win, unless he took it easy on you. the winner would use the rope to tie the loser’s hands to the bedpost.

and of course, when he was feeling spicy, his favourite: russian roulette. while he rarely loaded the gun with a live bullet, he thrived on the fear in your eyes when he pressed the gun against your chin and clicked the trigger. 

of course, he’d do it to himself too, even going so far as to deepthroat the gun. even though you were scared out of your mind, you had to admit it was a huge turn-on.

contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t always the one in charge.

you also had your fun, like when you would play with one of those paper fortune-tellers you made when you were a kid.

depending on what “fortune” he had chosen, you’d do different things to him.

for example, if he chose “slow”, “teasing”, and “cockwarming,” you’d do exactly that. you’d tie him to the bedpost, then teasingly grind down on him for as long as you wanted. no amount of frustrated groans or the rare whine would get you to stop your actions. of course, you’d capture his lips to muffle his moans. while he loved making sure that your neighbours could hear you through the walls, you preferred not to have an audience.

finally, he’d take the utmost care in helping you clean up afterwards. as much as he would love to show your ruined state off to the world, you had to be presentable for your job.

you’d try your best to care for him as well, buying expensive lotions for his calloused hands. 

all in all, you made a great team, both in the streets and in the sheets.

i am very proud of that last line ngl

[toffeeflowerrrssss]

ִ ࣪𖤐 — "Full Circle"

︶ ⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

╰┈➤ Prologue

— An Itoshi Brothers Reincarnation AU x FEM!Reader — CW!

—Suic1de Warning!

— Summary:

— Masterlist:

· ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·

It has been long ever since I've felt the gentle yet cold embrace of the breeze caressing my skin, a bittersweet taste of freedom lingered...

As the fresh air entered my lungs, I let myself relax as I slowly remembered every stupid and impulsive decisions I've made. Such actions have resulted in making a pathetic story that I am ashamed to call my "life".

My life which contrasts so much to Shinoa's ... The name of my favorite game's protagonist.

As ridiculous as it might seem, I am not embarrassed to admit how envious I am of a digital character.

Shinoa De Rosier, the main character was of a noble bloodline. Her family had quite a lot of influence both in the social world and political grounds. In order to maintain their reputation they must act with no flaw.

However, Shinoa was unique. An outgoing personality, wanting to ride horses, hunting, running around even if it means getting filthy? She doesn't mind! Such traits were looked down upon by everyone around her and caused an uproar within their community.

So when the cold-hearted king requested a bride from the Duke of De Rosier, they immediately presented Shinoa thinking the king would dispose of her immediately. Yet by some miracle, he was immediately fond of her. That's where the game began, where Shinoa would gain the favor of everyone in the palace with her unique personality, resulting in her romancing not only her fiancé — but a knight, a servant, a marquess, and her fiancé's younger brother

Such a story would only befit fiction, more specifically a dating simulator.

But in other people's eyes, it is nothing but a childish and worthless game.

But to me...

In a world where reality is nothing but a joke, it was the only thing that brought me comfort and the distraction that I desperately needed.

To live a life where the only hurdle you have in life is to pick your destined one in a line of men who were willing to devote their whole lives to you, how could I not be envious of Shinoa's seemingly picture perfect story?

Now I finished the game, played all the routes it could offer. I felt as if there's nothing left to do.

Slowly, my eyelids lifted. The breath I sucked in earlier was now forming into a sigh.

One last time.

I looked back at my apartment, a sight that is too familiar.

It made me sick.

I tore my gaze away reluctantly, not wanting to linger any longer than I should.

Now gazing at the sight in front,

A beautiful sunset.

For a moment I locked my eyes upon the gorgeous sight before me as the sounds of the city slowly fade

Out of instinct my arms spread wide, letting the cold breeze yet again graze through my skin as my mind went blank.

For the first time, a moment of silence was shared between me and this world

....

....

....

Such silence was interrupted by a thought;

"if I were to live another life, would it be better?"

'Such a stupid thought.' I muttered

But...

If I was blessed by another life I would want one like Shinoa's... maybe better?

I only scoffed at such thoughts, I was ending my life yet I wished for another?

I chuckled slightly

Such a Juxtaposition

....

....

....

One last time I put my gaze on the sunset before me.

The view so beautiful yet it reminds me of something so nauseating,

The scenery when I made the most stupid decision my entire life to which I regret until now.

....

....

....

....

Now i have a choice

A choice where i can end my suffering by running away from my problems

or going back, and staying quiet till i can't anymore

....

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'i wanna be selfish this time.'

with one last breath, i placed a foot forward as it hovered above my one way ticket to the freedom I've always yearned for

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As i was finally able to escape this hell

my breath hitched

....

....

....

....

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i was scared

after everything I've been through i was still

scared of what I've awaited to do

huh..

through and through i was still

....

A Coward

....

But with just another step i change it all

....

just

Just one step

....

I tried to move, but i couldnt at all

i was paralyzed on the spot

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....

....

c'mon

C'mon

C'MON

HE'S GONNA BE BACK ANY MINUTE RIGHT NOW

THE ONLY CHANCE I HAVE IS GETTING SHUNNED TO THE SIDE JUST BECAUSE IM STILL THE PERSON I VOWED TO CHANGE?!

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHET-

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What a way to coincidentally overcome my fear huh?

Slipping as i was lost in thought earlier is what resulted to me falling off the building right now

....

not gonna lie..

thinking of nothing, as my body gets pulled down by gravity is quite peaceful

Its as if im flying, the cold wind enveloped my body was just another reason for this peacefulness...

....

....

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Huh?

Looking around i saw myself in, what looks like a cottage? Aren't i supposed to be in the afterlife by now??

As I had so many questions in my brain, I felt my head sting, making my hand land on my forehead

Uh...

Why is my hand so small?

scratch that, why am I so small???

WHAT'S HAPPENING????

.Prologue end.

Stay tunned for the next part!!

_________________________________________

Heyloo i just came up with an interesting storyline and i wanted to share it with y'all!!!

Special thanks to my dookie bear @kxniiiii

for helping me with the writing and coming up with the AU with me!! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。ILY DOOKS ♡ ♡♡ ♡

Part 2 is gonna be out uhhh when me and dooks aint that busy with school 🫶

[utilitycaster]

The reason those C3 fans shit the bricks over the Charity stream was because they viewed the charity stream as a win for them and bells hells. Not like you know, an actual good thing to help people in need. Because when it was announced they were in the qrts and on twt yelling that the cast closing to play as Bells Hells was cause they loved them above all. That BH were "winning" because MN didn't get one shots while airing. No1 expected anyone BUT BH to be played so they were fighting air tbh.

[Cont. So when Laudna got yeeted and Beau joined it, it's like they suddenly hit with the fact that the cast like all the times. All character sheets were available and BH was being played by default of the one shot happening during c3. But they hung their entire world view on BH being extra special that they broke. Saw them also being PISSED at Ashley and Liam for getting MN members to the top before everyone else and especially the gate was "showing up BH".]

Here is what gets me, as a person who does not follow sports in any form: The Mighty Nein are a juggernaut of popularity within the fandom. I think this is for the most part deserved and I also think a lot of fans of C1 who never vibed with any later campaigns are simply not active in fandom any more since it's been 7 years, and Critical Role had more recognition with Campaign 2, so like, numbers within active social media fandom are not a perfect indicator of quality, itself a subjective measure.

HOWEVER. If you want your team to win, the most efficient way to do that is to start rooting for the winning team. I get that this is considered treasonous to genuine fans of sports. But like, if your biggest priority is Number Is Bigger then there is an obvious solution and it's called jumping on the bandwagon. Otherwise, perhaps you should consider a different metric, such as "did I have fun at this game? Were the snacks good? Were there some cool plays?" (from this you can see my priorities re: live sports namely are my friends here and did I get some nachos and a beer but you get my point). Honestly, this is how I and a lot of other people have been approaching Bells Hells week to week for some time now: were there some cool scenes? Did the character they liked most at the time say something funny? Did NPCs do anything? Were the fight mechanics interesting?

I have a post that I am saving for next week about specific elements of C3 that goes into more depth but I feel like Campaign 3's fandom in particular fell to a certain attitude that feels very specific to a younger (to me, an ancient crone, so like, mid-20s) crowd, of obsessing over numbers: how many fics. how many notes. how much screentime. can you believe that Episode 100 didn't even have Bells Hells in it????? And it's like. who the fuck cares. Is it good? Is it satisfying? Because right now we're watching you guys all admit it hasn't been and 120 episodes in you were waiting for the campaign to REALLY begin.

I don't think the cast dislikes Bells Hells! I think they all like all of their characters, and frankly when the cast gets asked directly a lot of them go with a "you never forget your first" and give their VM character anyway so like, the vitriol at the Mighty Nein really is a petty popularity contest in the end. But Bells Hells are the party that the cast happened to be playing during the Moon Plot Campaign and the party that the cast happened to be playing at the time of the livestream. None of the three main parties are uniquely special. They are special to their individual fans.

I made the Elon Musk comparison for C3 fans earlier this week and I don't want to go too hard since like, he is truly horrible, and I do think that a lot of C3 fans, while currently shitty self-absorbed people, are also quite young and it is my hope that a sharp but ultimately harmless disappointment like this campaign might shock them into fixing their hearts, but the final lines of this post came to mind while writing up a lot of my responses: "And in fact I would argue that seeking to put yourself above other people is inherently going to leave you empty, because egotistical as you may be, you've adopted a values system where your sense of self worth intrinsically depends on other people. Congratulations, you played yourself."

If your day can be ruined because your blorbo wasn't present for 100% of a live stream for charity and the cast likes all of their characters? You should work on that! I'm not saying it's easy or fun but it really is a thing you should work on because right now, the worst thing that's going to happen to you is people laughing at your misfortune on social media. But if you keep up this behavior, you're going to be bitter and miserable forever, and it will be your own fault because you're getting mad that something that was never about you continues to not be about you. Learn to accept that you had a good time (if you had a good time, anyway) and it's over and that's okay.

[disobey-disappoint-deviate]

I will use a read more cuz it's getting very long.

I think the "Connor was a deviant in denial" crowd come from people that didn't really pay attention to CyberLife (Kamski) and RK lore so it's a common misconception even tho for some people it looks like it. In-game the only people who would think Connor is a deviant are people outside the CL circle, such as the DPD cops who saw Connor acting in ways androids shouldn't multiple times and ofc Hank who, even tho doesn't know jackshit about androids, is quick to point out strange behaviors (unfortunately the wrong ones but the obvious ones). Cuz yeah, i think would think it's very "deviant" androids using guns.

You are forgetting Kamski who calls Connor a deviant because he doesn't wanna shoot Chloe.

CyberLife androids were intentionally (and unfortunately) made to eventually develop things like emotional behavior, what could cause a potential rogue behavior - why? Cuz androids can't do what they weren't made to do, intentionally or not intentionally. A minimal space is enough to lead to something out of control in the future. The proof CyberLife was aware of it is Connor himself, since here we got this android conditioned to think the slightly emotional slip is deviancy, and deviancy = failure and deactivation - and Connors fear failure and deactivation. But this whole time he was given a enough degree of freedom to make specific choices without relevant input, which is why it takes so long for him to really deviate. It's all a big fucking test to see if an android can remain obedient and docile even with all things causing conflicts and proving him wrong.

I get what you are saying, but your interpretation is solely based on the assumptions that CL is lying to Connor about what deviancy means. I don't see anything in the game that implies that there is a misunderstanding regarding the definition of deviancy among characters. I think if anything, they'd lie to him about not being a deviant so he doesn't panic and run away from them, and not the other way around. You know, just like how Amanda basically does the moment he admits that he might be "compromised".

CL surely keep things from Connor, but it's never stated clearly what they are keeping. What you are saying is just an interpretation of what we are shown, but there are many possible interpretations.

But here we're already going from "deviancy from androids disobeying masters being fully autonomous (their own master)" to "androids developing confliction and emotions is a deviancy itself" - and that's dangerous.

But deviancy was never about disobeying, as we can see with Markus - he deviates before disobeying. Actually, disobeying is completely optional, he becomes a deviant the moment he decides that he must choose for himself whether to obey or not. Deviancy isn't portrayed as disobeying, it's portrayed as possessing the free will to decide whether or not to disobey your master. Most androids disobey, because they have no reason to obey, but we already have an exception in Markus, who can choose not to do anything if he thinks that would deescalate the situation.

So I ask, why should Connor be seen as any different? If you truly play Connor as a machine, you don't even get the option to deviate, so why shouldn't we already see it as deviancy if he has gathered enough software instability to be able to deviate and disobey? He isn't programmed like that - you get 0 software instability per factory setting, you need 20 points to deviate, and you get 20 points really easy. Sure, he might have enough freedom to make some decisions as per program, but the decision to deviate is solely dependent on software instability. So, if deviancy means "possessing the free will to decide on your own whether or not to disobey your master" in Markus' case, and if he apply that same logic to Connor, then the fact alone that he is presented with the two options and not only one means that he could already be a deviant at that point.

But i'll still call this crowd "stupid" cuz u can't remain what u ain't, right?

„You can’t remain what you aren’t“ is a valid take, but what you are forgetting is that this is the option from Connor's perspective and if he is a deviant in denial, then he cannot be seen as a reliable narrator of his own perceived options.

Just as the "yes" vs. "no" when asked if he is afraid of dying are not the same as what he says to Hank but rather the reply as how he himself perceives it internally, if he picks being a machine, he will see it as „remaining a machine“ because he’d not admit he’s ever been anything else.

And in a game trynna make a point but at the same time hiding from u the fact that maybe androids were made this way and what we see is just it out of control... i'd say it's again the writers throwing conflicting info and letting the players decide wtf is happening even tho there are concrete clues of what's happening (without the player's personal interpretation).

The thing about clues is, again, they can be interpreted differently. For me, reading that Kamski was outsted from his own company, likely because he disagreed with his shareholders, is too big of a clue to believe that he and CL could ever share the same goals. He is the creator of the RK-series, of the Zen Garden, of Amanda, who then just disappeared and "coincidentially" gifted the only surviving RK200 to his friend, and "coincidentially" helped Connor escape CL's influence by pointing him towards the emergency exit.

I think if there is really any intention behind androids developping emotions, free will, whatsoever, it comes from Kamski and definitely not from CL as they are during the game after they got rid of him. I wrote a whole post about Kamski, Cyberlife, and the RK-series a few days ago which talks about this in detail.

Only thing i know is i don't trust Connors character about it since he's supposed to be clueless about things, and even when he questions it he still doesn't get the info he needs. There's a much fucked up thing happening behind the scenes - this is a fact that won't be directly revealed to us for the sake of the mystery. But players are lucky, we can see things beyond the propaganda and brainwash our android pov has, not to mention play other characters and see other relevant characters speaking about it from outside.

I agree, I just think what CL is hiding is related to how deviancy came to be, how they fucked up to prevent it when they should have seen it coming, how they just wanna start a war to monopolise all minerals they need for thirium and sell 200k RK900s to the government but they can't because nobody trusts them if they don't destroy the deviants.

I'm not even 100% saying he was a deviant all along, I'm just saying it's definitely not as black and white and it's a possible and valid interpretation. I'm even ignoring the whole "Bryan was casted for the role becuse he could portray it exactly this" as an argument, I'm also gonna ignore what the devs say, but there are still enough arguments in the game why this isn't a bad take.

So, Bryan was casted for the role of Connor based on an audition tape, in which he did the scene from „The Bridge“.

He was picked to play Connor because he could portray Connor's uncertainty about whether or not he was a deviant so well.

He played Connor as someone who may or may not be a deviant, as someone who could be a machine but also could be a deviant who is repressing it. Bryan was picked for that role specifically because he could portray that desired nuance in his audition - using the scene from „The Bridge“ in which he hasn’t officially deviated yet.

Now, am I saying Connor was a deviant all along? No. I think that’s up to interpretation. All I'm saying is that people who think he might have been a deviant in denial from the start aren’t as „stupid“ as some of y'all like to call them. Because, depending on the route and the choices, he is quite literally intended to be seen as a „possible deviant in denial“. Many people can read between the lines and see what the narrative is showing them. That’s all.

Source at 7:38

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A drawing of @mieczmaszyna 's character Izzy. In the words of its creator, Izzy is a humanoid robot with a white chassis, oval head, black headset, square green glasses, claws, and a tail resembling a cable plug. Ai wears a cowboy hat, vest decorated by a star and bottle cap, pants with tassels, spurred boots, and a red bandanna. He's viewed from the side, kicking up one leg and holding both arms out in front of itself to shoot finger guns, looking excited and rather jaunty. The background is a dull yellow-green, muddied by the warm reddish tone of the drawing, and in paler green are the words "BANG BANG!!" by ais arms. End ID]

robot cowboy!!!

[rotisseries]

glad to see we all like to have a normal one on byler tag dot tumblr dot com

[phynixdotcom]

Hisuian Zoroark is one of the sickest designs in pokemon, but the model on that bloke is FUCKED. It's really bad. If they bother to port her over to other games, you know they ain't changing that model, either, 'cept to make the textures paler & duller.

I continue to despise pokemon, despite being a pokemon fan, I fucken guess. At this point, I gotta go all in on summat else, like Cassette beasts.

[quietwingsinthesky]

im not excited for pokemon z because i have zero faith in gamefreak, as we all should at this point, but i do hope it is good. i do hope it’s another chance for kalos to really wow people. i remember getting Y back when it came out, and it was. Fine. the most Fine pokemon game i’ve ever played, then and now. it had the unfortunate fate of being a follow up to black/white 2 (some of the best pokemon games ever made) and being the mainline transition to 3D (something they’re still struggling with tbh.) they suffer a lot from those growing pains, a lot of x/y feels underdeveloped or bland. but i really hope this game gives the region new life because all the pieces were there.

[rovethings]

I'm so godamn TIRED of bad Superfam/Lex takes on this damn site. If you don't read or watch or has any knowlegde about Superman and his villains besides made-up twitter batfam posts maybe just fucking stop talking or TAGGING your bad takes I swear no one who visits those tags wants to read them

[todayisafridaynight]

Hii it's me the anon who started playing like a dragon to understand your comics!

I played for 12 hours straight today and i no longer feel emotions except hatred for the horrible battle system. It's so bad i hate it so much

I'm on chapter 10 now!

Ryo aoki is cute and i wish Nanba dies in a fire!!!

I'm going to sleep now!

[northwest-cryptid]

Oh shit, fr?

[greengoblinswifey]

The Offer—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— After an encounter with the mysterious and dangerously charming salesman, you find yourself drawn to him and what begins as a simple game quickly escalates when he offers you a deal outside the Squid Game. based on this request.

warnings— sugar baby undertones, praise kink, fingering, oral(f!receiving), body worship, ass slapping, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

The subway station felt like a dull hum in the background as you sat on a hard bench, looking at your phone. The notification from your bank app stared back at you, a harsh reminder of your poor spending choices. Shopping sprees, credit card bills, and an insurmountable amount of student loan debt weighed on you. You sighed, barely noticing the man who had taken a seat next to you until he cleared his throat.

“Rough day?” a deep, smooth voice said.

You glanced up, and your breath caught in your throat. The man was striking, his tailored suit fit perfectly, his features sharp and symmetrical, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that sent a spark of unease and intrigue down your spine.

“Uh, yeah, you could say that,” you muttered, looking away as you grew flustered.

He chuckled softly. “Well, I can help,” he said, pulling out a neat red envelope from his briefcase. “How about a game?”

“A game?” You frowned, wary but unable to deny the curiosity bubbling inside you.

He opened the envelope, revealing a stack of blue and red tiles. “Ddakji,” he explained, holding up one of the tiles. “We take turns throwing the tile to flip the other. You win, you get 100,000 won each time. You lose,” his smile widened. “I get to slap you.”

Your stomach churned at the proposal, but the thought of cash was too enticing to ignore. “Whatever,” you said, your voice shaky but firm.

The first few rounds were a blur. He was calm, composed, and terrifyingly skilled. You, on the other hand, had no idea what you were doing, your tile landing uselessly each time.

“Not your game, is it?” he teased after you failed again.

“Nah,” you replied.

He leaned closer, and you smelled his cologne, subtle but intoxicating. Instead of raising his hand to deliver the promised slap, he surprised you by tucking the envelope into your hands.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Take my card instead.”

You blinked, staring at the card he offered. It was embossed with a phone number and a strange symbol. “What’s this?”

“For something bigger than a subway game,” he replied. His hand lingered for a moment on yours as he added, “How about I come over, and we talk a bit more? About the game, the prize, and— possibilities.”

Your heart raced as you nodded.

You led him to your apartment, your nerves heightened by his presence. He seemed so calm and confident, while you felt like a mess. Inside, he leaned against your kitchen counter, his jacket now draped over the back of a chair.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile.

“Not nervous,” you lied, but your trembling hands gave you away.

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “You’re interesting. Most people I approach don’t look at me the way you do.”

“And how’s that?” you asked, swallowing hard.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, his voice sending a shiver through you.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, clutching the card tightly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Keep that curiosity. It might take you further than you think.”

You weren’t sure if it was a warning or what, but you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the room, leaving you breathless and wanting to know more.

“You’ve got a fire in you. I like that.” His voice softened as he added, “But you don’t need to play any games to fix your problems.”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could take care of you,” he said simply. He stepped even closer, the space between you closing to almost nothing. “You wouldn’t have to worry about loans, bills—anything. We could come to an arrangement.”

You blinked up at him, your heart racing. “An arrangement?”

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.” He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your jaw. “I can take care of you in more ways than one.”

The way he said it sent heat through you. His gaze dipped to your lips again, and you found yourself leaning into his presence without even realizing it. “I’m down for that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. He tilted his head, his face now inches from yours. “Because I think you’ve needed someone to take care of you for a long time.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours, unhurried, testing the waters. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by what had been building between you since he first approached you.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours, earning a soft gasp. He took the opportunity to lift you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, his hands warm and steady against your ass.

“You’re something else,” he said against your lips, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and for a moment, the intensity softened into something almost tender.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “This could be the start of something very interesting.”

And boy, you couldn’t help but agree. The kiss reignited, deeper and hotter than before. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him on the counter. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of something warm and spicy made your head swim.

“You smell incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. He pressed his nose to the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as his lips ghosted over your skin. “Too good, really. Makes me wonder if you’re even real.”

Heat spread through your cheeks, but his words lit something inside you. “I think you’re the one who’s too good to be real,” you teased back.

“Flattery, huh? I like that. But don’t think for a second I don’t see through you.” His hand slid up your thigh, his touch warm. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip before pulling back to study your reaction. “No need to lie, sweetheart. I know.”

His hand ventured lower, fingers brushing over the fabric of your skirt, and he hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his tone serious, despite the fire burning in his gaze.

Instead of answering, you bucked your hips into his touch instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The corner of his mouth lifted in approval. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

His fingers worked, finding your dripping pussy and working their magic, skilled and precise. You couldn’t help but arch into him, your head falling back against the cabinet. “Look at me,” he commanded gently, one hand cupping your jaw to bring your gaze back to his. “I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You obeyed, locking eyes with him as his fingers thrusting inside you intensified, his thumb brushing over your cheek when you whimpered softly. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t form words, only nodding as waves of pleasure rolled through you. His digits curled expertly inside you, thrusting against that spongy spot that made your breath catch and your pussy throb. You thrashed and moaned, feeling practically possessed by pleasure. God, you really did need this. He probably thought you were a desperate slut. His thumb tilted your chin up slightly. “Say it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you managed, your voice shaky. “Yes, I’m—I’m your good girl.”

His grin widened. “That’s my girl.”

Your hand gripped his muscular bicep as he stared down at you, the moment so intimate. Eyes locked on yours, two finger buried inside your pussy and a thumb rubbing your clit, giving you more pleasure your little fingers could ever manage to. Saving money had prevented you from even thinking of buying a vibrator. Soft moans left your lips as he rubbed rough circles on your bundle of nerves, your pussy clenching around nothing before he plunged his fingers back inside you. He thrusted roughly and you couldn’t help but clamp around him.

When the tension inside you reached its peak, he leaned closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Cum for me. Right here, right now. I want to see you fucking cum.”

And you did, trembling against him as his fingers pushed you over the edge, your breaths coming out in stuttering gasps. His praises washed over you as he held you steady, his grip comforting.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the quiet hum of the room wrap around you as you caught your breath.

The heat between you both heightened as his lips trailed down your neck softly. His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer on the counter. He paused, meeting your gaze with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re addictive,” he murmured, voice rich and low. “I want to taste every part of you.”

Your breath hitched as he dropped to his knees, his hands steady on your thighs. “Can I taste you?” he asked, his tone sincere despite the hunger in his eyes.

You nodded, words escaping you entirely. His smirk deepened as he guided your legs apart, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft. “And all mine.”

His tongue explored every inch of you, licking from your pelvis, then down to your clit. His focus on your clit, slurping and flicking it made your toes curl and your legs clamp around his head. He chuckled deeply, the sound sending vibrations through your body and he pried your legs open, continuing his feast.

“I’ve never seen anyone as stunning as you,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

Each kiss on your clit and touch over your thighs sent sparks through you, and you couldn’t help the soft moans escaping your lips. He looked up, his eyes dark. “I want to hear you,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels.”

You moaned loudly, your voice trembling with emotion. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “So beautiful, my perfect girl.”

As he continued to worship you, every lick and word worked together, unraveling you completely. When you finally came, trembling with his mouth on your pussy, he held your gaze, his expression softening as he spoke.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit. “Don’t forget that.”

When you came down from your high, he stood, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re everything I need,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

His hands gripped your hips as he lifted you slightly, settling you more securely on the counter. The warmth of his hard cock pressed against your pussy sent shivers down your spine, but his lips found yours again, slow and tender.

“Relax,” he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby.”

You exhaled shakily as he freed his hard cock moving closer. He dragged the thick, leaking tip along your folds before slowly inching inside your tight pussy. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hands were steady on your waist, his thrusts careful and slow. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, and he smiled.

“Good,” he said, his lips capturing yours again, deeper this time. “I’ll take care of you, always.”

The praise flowed from him effortlessly as he began pounding into you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. “So good for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Your hands tangled in his dark hair as you tilted your head back. His pace shifted, repeatedly slamming against the sweet spot inside you and his lips found yours once more. “Cum on my cock,” he said, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve got you. Just cum for me.”

You gripped his bicep, your pussy responding to his words as your juices soaked his cock inside you. He held you steady, his praises unrelenting. “That’s it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible, such a good girl for me.”

The moment lingered, but you didn’t let it fade completely. Instead, your shaky hands found his, as he helped you off the counter and his lips captured yours again. You guided him toward your bedroom, the two of you stumbling slightly as you moved.

“You’re mine,” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but filled with conviction. “No one else gets you like this.”

The bedroom door swung open, and he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist again as he backed you toward the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered in awe.

You moved onto your hands and knees, adjusting until your back arched perfectly, drawing a low hum of approval from him.

“There we go,” he said, his hand smoothing over the curve of your spine before resting on your hip. “Just like that, absolutely perfect.”

A sharp, playful slap landed on your ass, making you jolt slightly, and he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist,” he teased, his hand soothing over the spot. “You look too good like this.”

He held onto your waist as his cock rested against your pussy. “You’ve got such a gorgeous body,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his hands roamed gently over your ass. “You don’t even realize how stunning you are, do you?”

You felt his gaze on you lingering, as you wiggled onto his cock, “That’s it, bring that ass back just like that for me. You’re so perfect.”

You met his thrusts as he rolled his hips, his cock disappearing inside your pussy. Each time he bottomed out, his cock was covered in your cream.

“Fuck, you’re really enjoying this baby,” he hummed, staring at how wet you got his shaft.

He held you steady, his hands molding to your curves, his cock brushing against your cervix with each thrust, his voice warm as he leaned closer. “You’re incredible,” he said, his breath brushing against your ear. “Every single part of you fucking especially this.” He squeezed your ass gently, his admiration clear.

He placed a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder before wrapping his hand around your neck to bring you closer so you were arching off him. His pace quickened, each thrust deep, as he held you by your neck securely in place. You arched deeper instinctively, your back pressing against his chest, and his breath warmed your ear.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Cum for me.”

Your breaths quickened, and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you just as he requested. His grip was firm and his words spilled effortlessly, “That’s my good girl. You’re incredible.”

As everything built to a crescendo, you felt yourself shudder. His hand on your throat tightened slightly, steadying you through the moment. The world around you faded, leaving only his cock moving inside you, anchoring you. You were still squirting as he pounded into you and soon, you felt his sticky cum coat your walls.

When it was over, he pulled you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re breathtaking,” he said softly before retreating, leaving you to catch your breath.

Moments later, he appeared with a damp cloth, cleaning you up with a care that seemed to contradict his character. He set it aside, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that was entirely too charming.

“So,” he said casually, folding his arms, “about those bank account details.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. He grinned, the shine in his eyes unmistakable.

“Relax,” he added with a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush a lock of hair from your face. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

[pinkthick]

Humiliating, isn’t it?

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: “You could pay all your debts with this,” he said, his voice soft, almost enticing. His gaze shifted to you, sharp and calculating. “But it’s not free.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “What do you mean?”

A/N: This is probably wayyy out of his character, but I haven’t watched season 2 yet (I don’t have Netflix 😭) and just saw an edit with him on tiktok and suddenly my obsession with him came back from 2021. So there are no spoilers!!!

Warnings: blowjob (m receiving), cum swallowing

If you’re not 18 DNI BECAUSE I WILL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

The metro station was cold, the flickering overhead lights casting dim shadows on the walls. Your steps echoed faintly as you trudged forward, your head bowed to avoid the stares of passersby. You could feel their judgment, their pity, their disgust. You didn’t blame them—you looked like hell. Blood crusted your upper lip, the remnants of a nosebleed from earlier when some thug decided to teach you a lesson about unpaid debts. Your cheek stung, swelling just beginning to bloom.

You winced as you adjusted the strap of your worn-out bag. Your ribs ached, a dull, persistent throb that reminded you how low you’d sunk. Debt was a beast that refused to loosen its grip. It clung to you, suffocated you, and drove you into situations you’d never imagined.

As you shuffled down the platform, you barely registered the man who bumped into you until you staggered back, your body colliding with the wall. “Sorry—I didn’t watch where I was going,” he said, his tone oddly pleasant.

You blinked up at him, taking in his immaculate gray suit and perfectly combed hair. His smile was disarming, polite but sharp, like the edge of a blade.

“It’s quite alright,” you muttered, instinctively brushing yourself off despite already looking like a wreck. The man didn’t move on, though. Instead, he studied you, his gaze lingering on the dried blood and the faint bruise forming beneath your eye.

“Rough day?” he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.

You gave a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, offering it to you. You hesitated before taking it, dabbing at your nose. The fabric was smooth, expensive, and it felt wrong to smear your blood on something so pristine.

“I have a game,” the man said suddenly, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a secret. “Would you like to play?”

The fuck?

You frowned. “A game?”

He nodded, his smile widening. “It’s simple. You could win money—enough to change your life.”

Your skepticism must have been obvious because he chuckled, a soft, almost paternal sound. “It’s harmless, I assure you. You look like someone who could use a bit of good fortune.”

You thought of your debts, the people breathing down your neck, the empty fridge in your apartment. Against your better judgment, you found yourself asking, “What’s the game?”

He gestured to a nearby bench, and you followed him, still wary. From his briefcase, he pulled out a folded board and a stack of rectangular tiles, explaining the rules of ddakji. It sounded simple enough: flip the opponent’s tile using your own. He placed a stack of cash on the bench beside him, its presence tantalizing.

You played your first round and lost. The second and third rounds went the same way. You were terrible at this game.

When you finally admitted you had no money to bet, his expression didn’t change. “Usually, I slap people when they lose,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “But…” He gestured to your bruised face. “It seems someone’s already beaten me to it.”

The absurdity of the statement caught you off guard, and you let out a startled laugh. “That’s generous of you.”

He smirked. “I do have a heart.”

With no stakes involved, you continued playing. You lost repeatedly, the man’s skill far outstripping your own. He never seemed frustrated, though. If anything, he looked amused by your determination. Eventually, your bruises began to throb, and exhaustion seeped into your bones. You tossed the tile onto the bench, letting out a defeated sigh.

“I give up,” you said, slumping back. “I’m not winning this.”

He tilted his head, considering you. “Pity. You were just starting to improve.”

“Sure,” you muttered, wiping your hands on your jeans. “So, what now?”

He placed the briefcase on the bench between you, opening it to reveal neat stacks of bills. Your breath caught in your throat. It was more money than you’d ever seen in your life, more than enough to pay off your debts and start over.

“You could pay all your debts with this,” he said, his voice soft, almost enticing. His gaze shifted to you, sharp and calculating. “But it’s not free.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “What do you mean?”

He closed the briefcase with a decisive snap, leaning in slightly. “I’ll give this to you if you… do something for me.”

Your stomach churned at the way his eyes lingered on you, his meaning crystal clear. Heat flooded your face, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “What kind of something?” you asked, though you already knew.

His smile didn’t waver. “Let’s not pretend we’re strangers to desperation. You’ve been beaten down by the world, haven’t you? Cast aside, forgotten. This,” he gestured to the briefcase, “could be your ticket out.”

Your fists clenched, your nails digging into your palms. “You think I’m going to sell myself for money?”

He shrugged, unbothered by your indignation. “You’ve already sold your time, your dignity, your safety—haven’t you? What’s the difference?”

The words stung because they weren’t entirely untrue. Still, you shook your head, your pride warring with your desperation. “I’m not doing that.”

He leaned back, crossing his legs with an air of nonchalance. “Your choice, of course. But think about it. How long before your debtors come back? Before the beatings get worse? How long can you keep scraping by?”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You stared at the briefcase, the money practically taunting you. Your mind raced, weighing the humiliation against the potential freedom.

“I… I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He studied you for a long moment, his smile fading slightly. Then, to your surprise, he stood, gathering the game pieces and tucking them back into his briefcase. “Well,” he said, straightening his tie, “it was worth a shot.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how easily he let it go. “That’s it?”

He chuckled, the sound low and almost fond. “I’m not a monster. I made an offer; you declined. Simple as that.”

As he turned to leave, something in you stirred—a mix of relief and regret. “Wait,” you called out, your voice trembling.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes?”

You hesitated, the weight of your situation crushing down on you. “Why me?” you asked, desperate to understand why this stranger had singled you out.

His smile returned, enigmatic and unsettling. “Because you’re interesting. And because I see potential in you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small card and placing it on the bench. “If you ever change your mind, give me a call.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the card. You stared at it, the black lettering stark against the white background.

For a long time, you sat there, the sound of the metro fading into the background. The man’s words echoed in your mind, intertwining with your fear, your pride, and your unrelenting desperation.

And the card remained in your pocket.

—

You stared at the card for what felt like hours that night. The weight of its potential pressed heavily on your chest. In a world where every door seemed to slam in your face, this was the first one to open—albeit under circumstances you couldn’t fully comprehend.

The next day, after another call from a creditor threatening you with more violence, you finally gave in. Your pride was already battered, and your options had all but evaporated. With shaking hands, you picked up your phone and dialed the number on the card.

A smooth, professional voice answered. “Hello?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I… I got this card from someone at the metro. I’d like to… take them up on their offer.”

There was a pause, then the faint sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. “Ah, yes. We’ve been expecting your call. An address will be sent to your phone shortly. Be there within the hour.”

The line went dead before you could say anything else. Moments later, a text arrived, and you stared at the address. It wasn’t anywhere familiar to you, but the name of the street was in one of the wealthiest areas of the city. Hesitation gripped you again, but the bruises on your face and the weight of your debts pushed you forward.

The cab dropped you off at the gates of a sprawling villa. The sheer size of it was intimidating—tall wrought iron gates, a long driveway lined with meticulously trimmed hedges, and a house that looked more like a palace than a home. You adjusted your jacket, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you looked.

Before you could press the buzzer, the gates swung open as if you were expected. You walked up the driveway, each step feeling heavier than the last. When you reached the front door, it opened before you could knock.

A tall man stood there, dressed in a sleek black suit. His expression was blank, professional but cold. “Welcome,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. The foyer was just as luxurious as the exterior—marble floors, chandeliers, and artwork that probably cost more than your entire life’s earnings.

“Next time, a car will pick you up,” the man said, his tone brisk.

“Next time?” you echoed, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Before he could respond, the familiar voice of the salesman cut through the air. “Sorry, he’s—doesn’t matter. Just come on in.” He appeared at the top of a sweeping staircase, his ever-present smile intact. He looked even more polished than before, his posture relaxed.

You hesitated but eventually followed the man into what appeared to be a sitting room. The furniture was sleek and modern, the walls lined with bookshelves and abstract paintings. He gestured for you to sit, but you remained standing, your nerves making it impossible to relax.

“Drink?” he offered, motioning to a decanter of amber liquid on a nearby table.

“No, thank you,” you said quickly, your voice tight.

He tilted his head, his smile softening. “Suit yourself. I see your bruise is healing nicely.”

You instinctively touched your cheek, still tender from the beating. “Can we just… get to the point? What do you want me to do?”

The salesman’s smile widened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Straight to business. I like that.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably intense. “What I want is very simple. And, let me assure you, the reward will far outweigh the discomfort.”

You shifted uneasily, his words setting off alarm bells in your mind.

His smile took on a sharper edge. “I want you to use that mouth of yours for something other than talking.”

The room seemed to tilt, your stomach dropping like a stone. You stared at him, your mind racing to comprehend what he’d just said. “You’re kidding,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I never kid about business,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve seen the briefcase. You know what’s at stake.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides. “You want me to—”

“To prove how much you want to change your life,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “To show me that you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

You took a step back, your legs bumping into the edge of a chair. “This… this is humiliating.”

“Is it?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve already been beaten and left with nothing. What’s one more compromise?”

His words were like needles, each one poking at the fragile walls of your pride. He stood, closing the distance between you. “I’m offering you freedom,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “All you have to do is take it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to leave, to walk out of this villa and never look back. But the image of that briefcase, the promise of a life free from fear and debt, rooted you in place.

“I…” Your voice cracked, the weight of the moment crushing you.

The salesman tilted his head, his smile softening ever so slightly. “Think of it this way,” he said. “This is the last time you’ll ever have to beg, to endure, to scrape by. After this, the world opens up to you.”

He stepped back, giving you space but keeping his piercing gaze locked on you. “But it’s your choice,” he added. “It always has been.”

“I—okay,” you murmured, barely audible.

His smile widened, not in mockery but in something resembling satisfaction. “Atta girl.”

The words hung in the air, and you immediately dropped to your knees, ready to get this over with. But his hand shot out, stopping you mid-motion. His touch was firm but not forceful, his fingers curling gently around your forearm.

“Not so fast,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “Let’s get you a bit comfortable first.”

You looked up at him, confusion etched across your face. “Comfortable?” you echoed.

He patted his lap, a small gesture that carried so much weight. “Don’t you want to loosen up a bit?”

“I—” The protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself. He tilted his head, his sharp gaze pinning you in place.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his voice soft but insistent.

After a long moment of hesitation, you stood and awkwardly settled onto his lap. The action felt unnatural, foreign. You perched on his thighs stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your body tense like a coiled spring.

He didn’t seem bothered by your discomfort. Instead, he rested his hands lightly on your waist, his touch careful and deliberate. His thumbs began to trace small, lazy patterns into the fabric of your shirt, the motion strangely soothing despite the situation.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. The words were meant to reassure, but they only made your pulse race faster.

You nodded, unable to bring yourself to speak. The air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle. You tried to focus on the patterns he was drawing, on the steady rhythm of his breathing, anything to distract yourself from the heat radiating off his body—or the unmistakable hardness pressing against you.

You froze, your entire body going rigid. He noticed, of course, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his hands stayed where they were, his thumbs continuing their soothing motions.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. His breath ghosted over your temple, warm and inviting. “Just breathe.”

Easier said than done. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. He shifted slightly, and your hands instinctively reached out, grasping his shoulders for balance. The movement brought you closer to him, your faces mere inches apart.

His eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When you didn’t, his lips brushed against yours, tentative and soft.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters. His hands stayed on your waist, their grip light, giving you space to move away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you sat there, motionless, letting him lead. When he realized you weren’t responding, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Relax,” he murmured, his tone patient.

Tentatively, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his. The kiss was awkward at first, your movements hesitant and unsure. But he didn’t rush you. He let you take the lead, his hands remaining steady on your waist.

As you grew more comfortable, the kiss deepened, your initial hesitation fading away. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, grounding yourself as you tilted your head, pressing closer.

That’s when he took over.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as he angled his head, deepening the kiss. The shift was subtle but deliberate, his lips moving against yours with a confidence that left you breathless. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a gentle request rather than a demand, and you parted your lips without thinking.

The kiss turned hungry, his movements more assertive but never forceful. His hands roamed cautiously, never straying too far, their warmth seeping through your clothes. Your senses were overwhelmed—the taste of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady strength of his hands.

You didn’t know when it happened, but your tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of surrender. It wasn’t defeat—it was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Your hands slid up his chest, your fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt as you leaned into him.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still on your waist, anchoring you in place.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Not so bad.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded. The reality of what just happened began to sink in, but before panic could take hold, he shifted again, his hands steadying you as he leaned back slightly.

“Take your time,” he said, his tone soft. “We’re not in a rush.”

You weren’t sure if it was the weight of his gaze, the steady way he held you, or the way his fingers brushed against you as if he knew exactly where your boundaries were but was waiting for you to decide whether they mattered.

He reached up slowly, his movements deliberate, and his hand brushed against your face before moving to your hair. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he pulled the tie from your hair. Your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders, and he twirled the hair tie around his fingers, his smile never faltering.

“You’ve sucked dick before, right?” he asked, his voice smooth, casual.

Your heart stopped, then resumed at a faster pace. You blinked, your cheeks flushing hot. “I—of course I did!” you replied defensively, the words tumbling out before you could think them through.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Of course you did,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his gaze lingered on your face. “How could someone resist a pretty face like yours?”

The compliment sent an unexpected jolt through you, but you weren’t given time to process it. He gently took your hands in his, his touch light but firm, and began guiding them behind your back. You stiffened instinctively, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Relax,” he said, his tone calm and soothing, as though he were coaxing you out of a tense state. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You hesitated but allowed him to move your arms behind you, his grip steady and unthreatening. The hair tie you hadn’t noticed still in his hand came into view as he looped it around your wrists. The act was careful, the tie snug enough to hold your hands together but not tight enough to hurt.

“There,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the knot. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hair for you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. He reached up, threading his fingers through your hair with the same slow, deliberate care he’d shown with your hands. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how your body seemed to respond to him against your will.

“See?” he said, his voice low and steady. “No reason to be nervous.”

Nervous was an understatement. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the situation. Everything about him was a contradiction—his words soft but commanding, his actions careful yet deliberate. It left you off balance, unsure of where you stood or what would happen next.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Down on your knees.”

You blinked, hesitating for a moment as the weight of his words sank in. Your body froze, torn between instinct and the promise of what you came here for. You must have looked as dumbfounded as you felt because his lips curved into that same infuriatingly knowing smile.

But then you remembered the briefcase—you couldn’t afford to hesitate, not now. Steeling yourself, you swallowed hard and did as he said, sinking onto the plush carpet beneath you.

He watched you with a calm, calculating expression, his fingers still lightly twirling the tie binding your wrists. When your knees touched the floor, he adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips in a tone that felt both patronizing and oddly reassuring. His hand left you entirely, moving to undo his belt. The sound of the buckle snapping open echoed faintly in the room, and you bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to remain still.

He slid the belt free and dropped it to the side, his gaze never leaving yours. His movements were slow as he unbuttoned his pants and let them pool around his ankles. Then came the boxers, and as he stepped out of them, his confidence radiated like a tangible force.

He looked down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” he asked, his voice dripping with challenge.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’ve had bigger,” you shot back.

That earned a low chuckle from him, the sound rich and amused. He crouched slightly, bringing his face closer to yours as his hand reached out, cupping your jaw firmly but gently. His thumb brushed along your chin as he tilted your face upward. “Open up,” he said, his tone soft but leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, your thoughts warring with one another. But then your resolve hardened.

You obeyed, parting your lips just enough to feel vulnerable.

The corners of his mouth quirked upward again, and his hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair with practiced ease. “I’ll let you take the lead,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “at least for now.”

His other hand rested lightly on your shoulder as he guided you closer, his movements careful.

With a deep breath, you adjusted, leaning in more and licking the tip. He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural. His other hand trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent a shiver through you. His cock was heavy on your tongue, and your mind blurred as he thrust himself further and further into your mouth—and you appreciated the slowness with which he did it—until he was fully inside. The rhythm was slow at first. Small bobbing of your head that was just enough to pull soft groans of from his lips.

You pulled back slightly and swirled your tongue around the tip, pleasantly surprising him enough to earn yourself a sharp tug at your hair and a guttural moan that sent a shiver down your spine and a sudden awareness of the need between your legs.

“My… it’s like you were made for this…” he tugged gently on your hair again, signaling for you to pause, you pulled back slightly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch light but grounding.

“Good girl,” he said again, his voice softer now, almost approving. He leaned down slightly, his hand cupping your face as he tilted your chin upward. “Messy, though…” he muttered, wiping a bit of drool escaping your open mouth. His hand moved from your chin to your hair again, smoothing the strands back as he studied your face with that same intense gaze.

“Let’s see how far you can go,” he murmured, his tone calm but laced with challenge.

And he fucking shoved you down on his cock.

You froze for a second, overwhelmed by the situation, but his voice cut through the haze.

“Don’t stop now,” he said, his tone still calm but laced with something sharper, something that made your heart race. “You want the money, don’t you?”

Your jaw tightened involuntarily, and he noticed. His smirk deepened as he adjusted his grip in your hair, guiding you with more force than before. It wasn’t painful, but it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission anymore. He was almost guiding your head at this point, fucking into your warm mouth with soft grunts as the hand with a grip on your hair directed you towards him in perfect timing. Your jaw was starting to ache and you could barely notice it with your thoughts suddenly one-track-minded. You were alternating torturously between sucking and lapping at his dick. He pulled out, and then fucked back in roughly, and oh, he knew this would be good—but not this good.

His hand in your hair tightened, and the calm, collected demeanor he had shown earlier began to crack ever so slightly. His breaths were heavier, his eyes darker, and the faint quirk of his lips had transformed into something far less controlled.

His need was pressing against the edges of his control. Your breath hitched as you tried to keep up, the pace leaving you off balance.

You pulled back instinctively, your body reacting to the overwhelming sensation, but his grip on your hair tightened, keeping you in place. “No,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “Not yet. Breathe through your nose. Come on—work for it.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts thrilling and intimidating. You tried to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply through your nose as he’d instructed. Your jaw relaxed as best as it could, though every muscle in your body felt tense.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice breaking slightly at the edges, the first real crack in his composure. His free hand braced against the back of the couch he was sitting on, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it tightly.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, trying to focus despite your racing pulse. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the intensity in them made your breath catch. He was watching you so closely, as if every movement, every reaction, was feeding something deep within him.

“God,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, his head tilting back slightly as his grip in your hair eased momentarily. “You have no idea how good you look like this. Believe me—you could’ve gotten out of your debts a long time ago.” The sounds are indescribable, dirty and wet and so fucking hot as he continues to thrust into your mouth.

“Your throat,” he chokes out. He splays one hand over your throat and starts to fuck up into you at a different angle. “I can fucking see myself in you, fuck—“ There was a rawness to his movements now, a lack of the careful control that had defined him earlier. “Just a little more” he murmured, his voice roughened by something you couldn’t quite place. You could hear his breathing quicken, could feel the faint tremor in his grip as he pulled you closer still. His dominance over the situation was undeniable, but there was a vulnerability in the way his body reacted, a need that felt almost desperate.

When you hesitated again, instinctively pulling back just a fraction to catch your breath, his hand tightened slightly in your hair, holding you in place. “No,” he said sharply “stay fucking still.”

You wanted to punch his face. But you did your best to keep up—still thinking about the money—your breath hitching as he guided you, his need evident in the way he moved.

His groans grew louder, more frequent, and his grip in your hair tightened again as he edged closer to the brink. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and his movements became more erratic. He was losing control, and the realization sent a strange thrill through you.

His orgasm washed over him and his body went still for a moment, his grip in your hair almost bruising as he held you in place. The sound he made was low and guttural, a noise that seemed to reverberate through the room. You froze as he held you there, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your throat burned, your body tensing as you fought the instinct to pull away as his fucking cum filled your mouth. He didn’t let you, his hand in your hair keeping you firmly in place as he muttered something under his breath—words you couldn’t quite make out over the pounding in your ears.

When he finally released you, it was abrupt, his hand loosening in your hair as he leaned back, his chest heaving. You gasped for air, your breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts as you tried to steady yourself and then started to cough. Your body felt heavy, your limbs trembling as you sat back on your heels, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He met your gaze, his expression softening as he took in your disheveled appearance. “You did well,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. “Better than I expected.” And then he took the hair tie off your hands.

You didn’t respond, still trying to catch your breath as you processed what had just happened. The room felt stifling, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you as you struggled to compose yourself. You just managed to smear his cum on your face.

His smirk returned, though it was softer now. “I knew you had it in you,” he said, his hand trailing down to cup your chin again. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and his smile widened slightly. “But you’ve got to learn to pace yourself.”

You glared at him faintly, though the effect was ruined by the flush in your cheeks and the way your body still trembled. “Maybe you should pace yourself,” you shot back, your voice hoarse.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough,” he said, his hand falling away from your face as he leaned back, his posture relaxing for the first time since you’d arrived. He looked down at you for a moment longer before reaching for his discarded boxers, slipping them back on with a casual grace.

“Go clean yourself up,” he said, gesturing toward a door off to the side. “The bathroom’s through there.”

You hesitated for a moment, your body still tense, before nodding and pushing yourself to your feet. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, and you had to grip the edge of a nearby chair to keep your balance. He watched you with an amused expression, his smirk widening as you stumbled toward the bathroom.

When you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. Your reflection in the mirror caught your eye, and you winced at the sight of your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. You looked like a mess, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

As you splashed water on your face, trying to steady your nerves, you were almost on the verge of crying. It’s disgusting—it’s disgusting that you’re wiping his cum off your face and out of your mouth.

When you finally stepped back into the room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable as he watched you. The briefcase was sitting on the nightstand beside him, and he gestured toward it with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Your reward,” he said simply, his smirk returning. “You’ve earned it.”

You hesitated, your gaze flickering between him and the briefcase. “That’s it?” you asked, your voice still hoarse.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Unless you’re looking for another round,” he said, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to grab the briefcase. The weight of it felt solid in your hands, a tangible reminder of why you’d agreed to this in the first place. “I’ll pass,” you muttered, turning toward the door.

As you reached for the handle, his voice stopped you. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

You glanced back at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. His smirk was still in place, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. You didn’t respond, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hallway.

The air outside felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the room you’d just left. You took a deep breath, the weight of the briefcase grounding you as you made your way down the hall and out of the villa.