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greengoblinswifey · 1 month ago

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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?”

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yanderedrabbles · 2 months ago

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Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

#mafia 1 #tommy angelo #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere oc

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dcxdpdabbles · 25 days ago

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Bruce: Attention, please. I understand a majority of you had plans this weekend. I want to be considerate of your time, so I'll make this brief. Lex Luther has hired a boy to seduce Wayne Enterprise secrets out of Tim. I need you to be weary at the gala. Dismiss.

Tim: Hold on hold on. I'm going to need a LOT more information than just that.

Bruce: I said dismissed Tim. Your siblings have plans.

Dick: *Raises a hand*

Bruce: Yes?

Dick: I can tell this approach is from the parenting books Uncle Clark got you, which is great. Thank you for trying, but we really need more details B. You can be considerate of our time by properly using it.

Bruce: hmmmm. Alright, if everyone feels this way. I suppose I can explain

Batkids: *Nodding*

Bruce clicking on the computer to show a picture: This is Daniel Fenton. His family used to own Fenton Works until the unfortunate loss of Mrs. Madeline Fenton in a car accident. Mr. Jack Fenton was convinced a ghost killed his wife. He was arrested after he crossed state borders chasing it and went on a rampage in downtown Gotham. He was deemed mad with grief and has been in Arkham for the last four years. Neither Jasmine nor Daniel were able to keep the family business afloat and were eventually bought out by Luthor.

Steph: I remember Mr. Fenton. He made that weird ray that was just throwing green goo on people. Besides scarying a few civilians, he didn't do anything bad. No one was harmed.

Bruce: That was the Fenton children argument as well. They were unable to get Mr. Fenton out of Arkham and into a different institution. I fear corruption is at play. During his stay in Arkham Mr.Fenton, has continued to create inventions, though no patent has been filed. All funds from said inventions are being made by local Mafia families instead.

Jason: Those thieves are preying on a grieving man. Rumors has it, Mr. Fenton isn't even aware his wife is dead. His mind blocked it, but he's slowly deteriorating. They're trying to squeeze out every drop of cash they can from him before his mind is completely gone.

Bruce: Exactly, and his children know it. Recently, Clark overheard Luthor offer Daniel a deal. He steals Wayne Enterprise secrets from Tim - probably got the idea after reading the article of Tim coming out, no doubt - and Luthor pulls enough strings to get Mr. Fenton out.

Tim: That's horrible. Is there any way we can help the Fentons instead? Move Mr. Fenton to a different place?

Bruce: I'm working it, but I believe Luthor is blocking my attempts. He did the same to Miss Fenton's college and loan applications. The pair are in a finical crisis that does not seem to get better no matter what they do. Luthor has employed similar tactics before.

Damian: Thus trapping the Fenton siblings in a box, unable to defy Luthor. They may be so desperate they would agree to anything after this many hardships.

Bruce: Exactly.

Tim: Alright I'll sleep with him

Cass: Literally, no one said you needed to sleep with him.

Tim: It's will be tough but I'll take one for the team.

Duke: Tim, that's not what B is saying at all.

Bruce: Wait, wait. I think Tim wants to sleep with Daniel Fenton. Hold on, let me consult the experts *opens parenting book*

Bruce: This isn't covered in the book. I don't know what to do.

Dick: I do. Tim, you're not sleeping with Daniel Fenton, but you are going to pretend his seduction is working. We're going to stop Luthor and the Mafia families controlling Arkham. We need to buy time to do that.

Tim: Kisses and over clothes stuff only. Got it.

Damian: Life has been hard for you since Dowd left you, hasn't it Drake?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #from a fic i never wrote #The Bats family briefly #meanwhile Danny and Jazz are having a moral crisis #the Bats have forgot proper reactions to things #Jack is slowly fading #Luthor is evil

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the-merchant-cash-ceo · 1 year ago

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owning and running your own merchant cash advance business

i dont know were this is going to go but i guess i can use this as a way to express my thoughts is hard running your own business its even harder when you running a business about money as a owner sometimes you want things your way but i feel like some times you just have to let things go and like they say put it in gods hands some times you have to be firm and some times you got to be light hearted but you want to make sure you dont get stepped on if you make money and your guys dont hit there mark you cant celebrate be cause you become a show off its more than my self i know but i look to maximize every opportunity and some ppl dont get the bigger picture but as i turn in to a ceo there are tons of hurdles but we have to man up keep the money coming in in order for the business to bloom id like the world to share some of there experiences as owners so i dont feel like im the only one should i just let my management do what they want if i do i feel like i lose power what do you guys think

#business #merchant cash advance #ownership #ceo #hard money loan #mca #hard times #venting #personal vent #management

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natalieironside · 1 year ago

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So I used to be a pizza deliver driver, and that was pretty great for me; it made me feel like a video game character doing Quests. And when you started your shift as a driver, you got a wad of 15 singles for making change which was deducted from your tips at the end of the night. And this was back in the very early 20teens so $15 American just so happened to also be the price of half a tank of gas and a pack of Marlboro reds, so it was often also a sort of interest-free loan.

Now, a trope in pornography which was once so common that I myself have never actually seen a genuine portrayal of it but only seen it parodied runs thusly: A brave hero is delivering a pizza to some beautiful person who, upon receipt of the pizza, says, "Unfortunately I don't have any money; could I perhaps cover the cost of the pizza with sexual favors?" And always the hero agrees to this Faustian bargain which I'm sure must seem quite reasonable to you uninitiated civilians.

But, see, I'm making minimum wage. I have no savings. And I already spent my bank on half a tank of gas and a pack of Marlboro reds. So I'm $15 in the hole, and do you know what happens when you don't cash out at the end of the night? The manager calls the cops, and the cops come to your house. Mr. Domino is gonna get his $15 back by hook or by crook. I seen it happen. So if I accept the beautiful person's modest proposal, I'm mortgaging future tips against the $15 *and* the price of the pizza--which can get up there, depending on the order--and if I don't fix those books by the end of my shift, that could get to be a real pain in my ass.

Just doesn't make sense, y'know, from like a business perspective. Maybe it'd be worth a gamble. Maybe if it was like a beautiful woman who was a service top and also a werewolf, maybe you roll the dice and hope for the hard 6. But you gotta be risk-aware, is all I'm sayin.

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andhumanslovedstories · 4 months ago

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for people who also have a mild impulse shopping problem, I've found it useful to identify the itch I want to scratch: is it spending money or is it getting things? If it's spending money, I trick my brain by paying off something I owe. Like a few years back when I was feeling dangerously shoppy, I would drop a big chunk of change as a student loan payment. When I was buying an entire new mouth of teeth, I'd transfer money from my checking to my secret ultra hard to access tooth account.

If paying myself or paying a debt doesn't work, I find a charity or gofundme that's worth supporting. (You gotta be careful with that last one, it's really easy to be spend way more than you should, budget-wise, because it makes spending money feel good morally, which can be an incentive to keep going.) I also like to keep cash on hand so if I see someone who needs money, I can give it to them. It's a financial decision made impulsively for an opportunity I won't get again (giving $20 to this exact person at this moment of need). All this soothes the spending beast inside of me, and I don't deal with the Money Shame that comes with $100 of amazon orders.

If I want to acquire things, I download a lot of research articles I know I probably won't read, or I get an enormous stack of books from the library that would be impossible to finish before I have to return them, or I'll download a bunch of albums I tell myself I'll get to someday. Sometimes it's enough to just make a list of things of things I want to do or own. A list of one hundred movies I've curated from best of lists that in this moment I feel motivated to watch. Add tv shows to my watch list on netflix. Add fics to my "to read" list on ao3. Anything that feels like I'm adding to a hoard.

If I still want to shop, well, I'm probably gonna spend more money than I mean to, but I at least make sure I'm deliberate about my spending. If I'm gonna blow my cash on something, it should at least be worth it. That means either very cool or very useful. And honestly, the things you tell yourself are useful while in the shopping haze are never that useful, so you might as well go for very cool.

This is all to say I fell into a trance last night and this morning woke to receipts and tracking info from etsy dot com. And I am like "yikes." But I did get something that is so so so stupid that I can't wait to show it to you all when it arrives.

#b.

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fiscuscapitalfunding · 2 years ago

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sylussys · 30 days ago

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KINGS GAMBIT.

AVENTURINE x fem reader. nsfw, mdni. porn with plot(?). putting a slight ooc warning in case those aventurine fans come at me. wc: 3.3k

SUMMARY. perhaps life is a gamble in itself—choices must be made in order to survive this world rife with opportunity and its pitfalls. but how far will you go? what will you put on the line? in his words, it’s all or nothing.

You find him at the casino.

Your casino, if you could still call it that. Or what it had been, with its endless rewards to sow from patrons that poured their wealth into machines that lined your own pockets day by day. You were the one who had built this establishment from the ground up, pulled together an existence amongst this bleak world.

So how had it all fallen into his hands?

Your fingers twitch, threatening to crumple the document in your hands. A debt settlement—you had wanted to scoff at the incredulity of it all, as you scan the brightly lit room for the man who had penned such a statement.

It’s not hard to locate him, sitting in the middle of it all, engrossed within a game of poker, chips piled high by his side. He sticks out like a peacock, extravagant and bold even amongst the finest luxury this world offers.

“Aventurine.” You utter, quietly at first, trying to hide the slight tremor in your voice—you’re still unsure of this whole affair, as you approach him. Your pride didn’t want to allow it.

Even his name feels embellished. But rolling off your tongue it’s heavy, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Aventurine.” You repeat again, louder.

The game pauses.

Aventurine lifts his head, glancing up at you. His lips pull up into a smile a moment later, eyes gleaming behind those rose tinted glasses. In this light, he looks smug almost.

“Ah Miss Y/N, we meet again.” He starts, as if greeting an old friend.

Your first meeting had not been so amicable, if you could call it that. His appearance had brought enough trouble to this world—you are not so blind to not notice the market shrinking, businesses run to the ground. Soon enough, it too had arrived upon your doorstep, to run up on old debts long forgotten by time.

For that was the price for existing, to flourish. You had only shone bright enough to draw their hungry gaze. These visitors from beyond the sky, they’ll soon drain this world dry and move on to things with greater promise. Everything would disappear, just as how quickly golden coins are exchanged between hands and cash is pocketed.

Thirteen days, he had given you. To either sign off your entire fortune and its shares to the IPC—or to convince him otherwise.

“I‘ve made my choice.” You say stiffly.

“Leave us.” You snap at the rest of the patrons around the table, who scatter immediately, scooping up their chips and disappearing out the door.

He watches as the last of them disappears from view, fingers drumming on the tabletop, before he turns to you, amusement written across his features. “And what will that be?”

“I will have you know, I do consider myself rather merciful, compared to my other colleagues.” He drawls, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t need your pity.” You hiss.

You had spent twelve of the days grappling between what was your pride and bare necessity. To throw it all away, could you even do that? Or would you be so pathetic enough to plead for mercy? If such a concept existed to those who looked down from the head of their high tables.

Even from here, the gold of his watch glistens brighter than any gold you’ve ever seen, the rhinestones on his jacket cut from a gem whose properties are beyond you. Your luxuries are lost on him, your world but a speck of dust in the vast universe the IPC encompassed.

It’s easy to hate him. You can think of a hundred different names to call him—an asshole, a loan shark, just to name a few. You wonder if he has ever known struggle, or has life always just been a game to him? One where he holds all the winning cards.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I’ll get the money. All of it.”

It falls silent.

He stares at you, perhaps almost incredulously.

Then he tips his head back and laughs.

“You’re aware that is half a billion credits right?”

You both know it would be easier to sign off your business, get the IPC off your back—him included. But you refuse to give up so easily, not after all you had done to bring this from the ground up. You weren’t going to become a pawn in their game.

“I’ll find a way. Just give me some more time.”

“How bold of you.” He muses. “You know Y/N, I must admire your tenacity.”

You’re not like the other women who have sought him out in desperation, ones with no true grasp on any business, this the first time in their lives where they’ve struggled, despaired even, at the uncertainties of the future which had once been promised to them. They plead for mercy, for themselves and their families.

You on the other hand have known struggle. Nothing in this world had been handed to you upon a silver platter. You’ve fought tooth and nail, clawing your way up to the top by any means possible—to survive. This business of yours had been nothing, but you had made it something. And you would not let go of something so precious in a world of beggars and thieves.

Aventurine clicks his tongue. “But time is money. None of which you have right now at your disposal, and the IPC does not take empty promises for one.”

“You’re setting yourself an impossible task. Why not take the easy way out?” He waves your discarded document in front of your face almost tauntingly, watching as your eyes narrow.

He knows you won’t. An animal caught in a trap will gnaw off its own leg to escape. Others unlike you would balk at the idea, accepting their fate.

“You and I both know that is not the case.” You hiss through gritted teeth, turning away, eyes flickering over to the unfinished game of poker on the table. Your fingers rest atop a particularly high pile of chips, watching as it topples beneath your touch. All this wealth, you think, brought crashing down so easily.

“Everything has a price. It won’t end here.”

A drowning person will grab onto anything, forgoing the consequences for a shot at survival.

You are no stranger to that nature of desperation, it forever having existed in the underbellies of this city and its helpless souls. Risking arm and limb for a bag of gold to feed their hunger, or to tarnish their own hands at a price—you’ve seen it all. You too had been amongst them once, staking your survival to dig yourself out from the dirt.

But you’ve learnt to be better, being the only way you have risen to the top. You would not subject yourself to the IPC’s whims so easily, to be forever indebted to them, with your last bargaining chip gone.

Behind you, you hear the scrape of a chair against the floor, footsteps stopping behind you. A gloved hand reaches out, restacking the chips you had knocked over. “I suppose I underestimated you, Y/N.”

You scoff.

“Perhaps we are kindred spirits, in that we will do anything to survive on our own terms in this world.” He huffs a laugh, warm breath tickling the back of your neck. “Let me make you an offer, one from myself and not the IPC. One you can’t possibly refuse.”

You pause, hesitating. “And what is your price?”

You don’t trust him. No one in their right mind should. But oddly enough, he sounds sincere. It could be a chance to escape the IPC’s grasp. Yet could you allow yourself to be indebted to him instead? The devil takes on many forms, with its most beautiful ones the most treacherous.

Aventurine hums appreciably. “Humour me, how much are you willing to put on the line? Could you wager your life—”

“—or something else perhaps?” His voice drops to a whisper.

Too late, you think. He’s already gotten you backed into a corner.

He has everything to gain. You have everything to lose, and already you’ve been left with nothing but your wits and the meagre sum left to your name. There’s nothing but a false plea for more time that you cling to now, hoping he would take your bluff. And perhaps he could see through that act of yours too.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hand grasp your chin. The leather of his gloves are bitingly cold, like pinpricks of ice against your skin, digging into you.

He turns your head to meet his eyes, hues of cyan and pink gleaming in the light—maddened almost. He’s suddenly way too close you realise, hot breath fanning against your face as he chuckles.

“Beg me.” He whispers. “Beg for my help.”

Your nails dig further into the table at his words. You don’t even notice the angry tears that have begun to prick at the corner of your eyes until he wipes them away. He’s practically pressed against you now—you have nowhere to run, wedged between him and the table.

You swallow back the lump in your throat, chest heaving. It’s suddenly stiflingly hot—between his closeness and the part of you that is seething internally, heart thumping loudly in the silence.

“You are infuriating.” You get out a moment later, scooting back on the table to swipe your foot at him.

He catches your leg halfway, amused. “So I’ve been told.”

“It must be difficult.” He steps in between your legs, leaning down as he continues. “Alone with the world crashing down around you… I suppose I could understand how you feel. That the mighty should be humbled.”

“Truly it would be a shame for it to end like this.” He murmurs, fingers moving to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him so that his breath fans across your cheeks as his eyes fall to your lips. “Take my offer. Let me help you.”

You could almost believe him, the way he grazes your cheekbone with his fingertips before tracing the outline of your jaw with an uncanny gentleness. That he pities you—your desperation. It is a desperation that burns like no other, hollowing and empty, yet ravaging to consume, lying beneath the last extant shreds of what remains a tether to this world that has not yet blurred beyond reason.

“I only wonder…” The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “How much more can you take until you crack?”

The shallow breath you draw into your lungs is like music to his ears, and you feel his hand stiffen against the nape of your neck as he awaits your response.

Your skin is as smooth as porcelain and just as devastatingly fragile, beneath his digits encrusted with the weight of gold—as if made to crumble by his touch, the gravity of it all, that delicate figure that has teetered precariously on the lines of control.

And he cracks that shell, leaves all there is to break, to consume. Your response is airy, hardly more than a whisper, but a bite to the last of your challenge, rekindled fire burning to meet his hungry gaze. “How much will you give to find out?”

“Everything.”

Those few words come out roughly, but you hardly get the chance to dwell on it. His lips are on your neck in the next second, stealing your breath and igniting a fire in your veins that threatens to burn you from the inside out.

His fingers trail down the length of your figure, bunching the fabric of your dress in his hands as he pushes you further over the table. A stack of chips topple over at the force, scattering all over the tabletop, splayed around your frame.

You shiver as his free hand pulls down the zipper of your dress—revealing the full flush of your figure, his mouth trailing past your collarbone, down to your exposed breasts, his tongue flicking out as if to savour the feeling of your bare skin, a low moan of satisfaction escaping him. You smell sweet, like the scent of freshly blossoming flowers.

Perhaps you could grant his starving soul satiation, two sides of the same coin, halves to a whole.

It’s no secret he has been captivated by you. He’s heard acclaim of your name in the first moments of stepping onto this world, a woman who had come from no background having risen so high, forged your own path. And perhaps he had gotten more than what he had gambled for.

Truly he does think you’re pretty, from your first meeting where you had stood as an elegant figure of ethereal grace—an unattainable treasure, cutting a flawless figure in the sweep of your dress. But you’ve shed some of that light, revealing all that lay beneath. And now, he sees you laid out before him, face flushed, lipstick stained in a hot mess.

Slowly, his kisses move further down. Before you could even make out his motions, he’s licking a hot stripe down your cunt, pulling a choked gasp from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you try not to lose all control. His tongue prods at the entrance of your hole, and you can feel his groan reverberate against you, drinking up your arousal.

Good gods. You think you’re beginning to see stars already.

A shudder escapes you when Aventurine cuts you off with another hot moan against your dripping cunt, pressing his lips against your clit. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds that push past your own lips.

“Embarrassed?” He purrs, lifting his head, fingers pulling away your hand.

You forget how infuriating he can be when his mouth isn’t occupied. You grit your teeth, shoving him back, rolling your hips against his tongue just to shut him up. You earn a quiet huff from him before he’s dipping back into your cunt with renewed vigour, lapping up the arousal.

He doesn’t let up, enraptured with the taste of you, the sounds of him sloppily sucking on your clit and your soft moans filling the room. You’re momentarily glad that you had emptied the room and the rest of the casino earlier.

Soon you can’t take it anymore, chest heaving as he coaxes another moan from you. Tears begin to prick at your eyes again as his tongue drags another languid lick up against your folds, eating you out like a man starved. It’s awfully vulgar and lewd, so perfectly mind numbing—you’re practically keening, fingers entangling themselves in his blonde locks as your back arches against the table.

Your orgasm builds quickly, much to your further embarrassment, his name coming out in broken gasps. It crashes through your veins in a wave of white-hot pleasure that has your eyes rolling back, your body trembling as you cum on his lips.

“Oh my god.” You choke out, chest heaving loudly, your heart thrumming in your ears.

You’re spread out the table with an utterly fucked out expression across your face, cunt dripping as Aventurine slowly pulls away, eyes roving over you. His finger flicks out to wipe away a stray tear that falls down your cheek.

He’s then climbing on top of you, shedding the outer layers of his coat—and it’s not long until he’s pulling you into a heated kiss, chasing your lips. You can taste the remnants of your sweet release on his tongue, forcing its way between your teeth and licking at your mouth.

It’s hot, too hot.

“… fuck, don’t look at me like that.” He mutters between breaths as he takes a moment to truly take you in. “Please, gods, let me fuck you.”

It’s inviting. He thinks maybe you look prettier when you cry, his name pushing past your lips. You wanted more—you were too far gone to act as though you weren't eager to experience everything he had to offer, your own desires having overcome you.

He unbuckles his belt, letting it slip to the floor with a clink. He would’ve made you beg for it, but how could he deny himself when you were right here in front of him like that?

His hands move over your body, smoothing up the skin of your thighs, pulling them farther apart. Your eyes flutter shut as you swallow back a gulp, your breaths shaky and haggard as he pushes himself into you. You bury your face in the crook of your neck as if to stifle your cry, a groan rumbling in his own chest.

“Look at me baby.” He gasps, pulling you from his chest, fingers tangling themselves in your hair, violet irises dancing, as he rolls his hips against yours and you moan. He didn’t think you could make such a beautiful noise, lips crashing against yours as if poised to devour the essence of your being completely.

He could think himself truly enamoured by you in the height of his pleasures. You’re dancing in the palm of his hands, tits bouncing up and down as he thrusts into you, letting that sweet, sweet melody of your pleasure fill his ears, pushing any coherent thoughts from Aventurine’s mind.

Your own mind is equally blank, you’re numb, shaking all over as he continues to slam his cock into you, gasping as his fingers dig into your thighs. A cry escapes you, your legs trembling, as the knot in your stomach seems to tighten with each movement of his. He’s grown rougher, faster.

“Mm you’re beautiful.” He kisses along your neck, as you wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his back amid a muffled sob as he continues, settling into a steady pace.

At this point you’ve begun to lose count of the times he’s abused your cunt, your vision blurring as a sudden orgasm crashes through you, the knot in your stomach growing taut—then snapping, without so much of a warning, as his cock hits that sweet spot of yours, one that has you seeing stars.

It’s so much all at once. Pleasure rips through you like a tidal wave, painting your mind in a foggy haze. It’s shamefully fulfilling as you ride out your high.

He fucks you through your release, your first, and then every other one that follows, in chase of his own, your walls growing tighter and more desperate. Your cries become higher and higher in pitch—you’re practically keening with your head thrown back, eyes rolling to the back into your head.

His pace grows sloppy, his words coming out between gasps against your ear. His eyes are equally unfocused, strands of blonde hair sticking to the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, as he loses himself in the pleasure of your soft cunt. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving as his hips stutter.

With one final thrust, he spills into you with a sigh. You feel him twitch inside, warm liquid painting your walls and dripping down the inside of your thighs. His head drops down, slumping over.

You have little to no idea how long you two lie there for, catching your breath as the rush of the moment dissipates, both of you equally spent. Your mind is in no better state, a good deal of time passing before you can even think clearly enough to be stirred to action.

Eventually, he lifts a hand to guide your legs off him, settling your trembling limbs back down on the table, almost like dead weights.

He gets up quickly, pulling up his pants, the clink of a belt being refastened as he fixes up his clothes. He pats his pockets, looking for something, as you watch bleary eyed from your position.

“Here.” Aventurine slides a black card across the tabletop a moment later.

You blink dazedly, confused.

He smirks.

“I don’t make deals that don’t pay off.”

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