#salesman x male reader

[t0jisd0ll]

russian roulette

genre: smut

pairing: salesman x male!reader

CW: unprotected sex, cum as lube, gunplay, slight-dubcon, blowjobs (reader receiving), anal, creampie, breeding, the salesman is a warning of his own, the term [y/n] is not used

word count: 1.6k

The dim light of the underground room cast long, jagged shadows across the walls. The metallic scent of oil and gunpowder clung to the air, mingling with the faint coppery tang of fear. You sat tied to a chair, your wrists bound tightly behind your back. The sharp edges of the ropes bite into your skin each time you so much as shifted.

Across from you, the Salesman leaned casually against the table, his signature smirk firmly in place. He toyed with the revolver in his hand, spinning the cylinder with a flick of his wrist. His eyes—dark, calculating, and endlessly amused—never left you.

“You know,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk, “most people wouldn’t agree to this game. It’s dangerous. Final. But then again...” He stepped closer, the gun dangling loosely from his fingers. “You’re not like most people, are you?”

“Guess I just enjoy living on the edge,” you shot back, refusing to let the tremor in your voice betray you.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, you’re more than just that. You’re reckless. Stubborn. And,” he tilted his head, his smirk deepening, “you’re very, very intriguing.”

The gun clicked as he opened the cylinder, slipping a single bullet into one of the chambers. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and deliberate. He snapped it shut with a flourish, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Let’s see how lucky you are today,” he murmured, stepping into your personal space.

You tensed as he crouched in front of you, the revolver resting loosely in his grip. His free hand reached out, brushing against your jaw to tilt your face upward. The touch was deceptively gentle, his thumb lingering for just a moment too long.

“Do you always get this close to people you’re threatening?” you asked, your voice laced with defiance.

“Only the ones worth the effort.” His smirk widened, but his eyes were sharp, dissecting you as though trying to unravel the very core of who you were.

He straightened, spinning the cylinder once more before pressing the cold barrel of the revolver against your temple. The pressure was light, almost playful, but the weight of what it symbolized made your heart pound.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, leaning down so that his lips were just inches from your ear. “Not so fearless now?”

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze head-on. “Maybe I just don’t feel like giving you the satisfaction.”

His laugh was quiet, almost a hum. “Oh, you’ve already done that.” He pulled back slightly, shifting the revolver to your lips. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip as he tilted your head back further, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Open.”

The command sent a wave of heat through you, not from fear, but from something darker, more visceral. You parted your lips, the cold metal slipping inside, heavy against your tongue. The intimate nature of the act was suffocating, his hand steady as he watched you, unblinking.

“There it is,” he said softly, almost to himself. “That spark. That fire. You don’t want to lose, do you?” Click. The gun doesn’t go off.

You glared at him, your breath shallow around the barrel. His smirk softened into something more unreadable as he removed the gun, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw once more.

“No,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “You’re not afraid of death. You’re afraid of me.”

You clenched your fists behind your back, the ropes biting into your skin. “What do you want from me?”

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered the revolver and crouched again, his face level with yours.

“Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” he said, though the words carried a weight that contradicted his playful tone. His hand came up to your face again, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “Or maybe... I just like you.”

The confession, if it could be called that, hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. He stood abruptly, spinning the revolver one last time before slipping it into the holster at his hip.

“Lucky for you,” he said, his smirk returning. But instead of stepping away, he lingered, his sharp gaze raking over you like a predator sizing up its prey.

The tension in the room thickened, the charged atmosphere pressing against your skin. You wanted to say something—maybe challenge him, maybe break the silence—but the words caught in your throat when he leaned down again, his gloved hand brushing against your cheek.

“You look like you have something to say,” he murmured, his tone low and laced with amusement.

“I was just wondering,” you began, voice steady despite the heat building between you, “if this is what you consider being generous.”

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that made your pulse spike. “Oh, you think I’m playing rough now?” His fingers trailed from your cheek to your jaw, the leather cool against your skin. “You don’t even know half of it.”

You swallowed hard, meeting his eyes even as your breath quickened. “Then why don’t you show me?”

The smirk on his lips faltered, replaced by something deeper, darker. For a moment, the mask of playful arrogance slipped, and you glimpsed the man beneath—the one who thrived on control, who relished in watching others unravel.

His hand moved lower, the tips of his fingers brushing against your neck. He tilted your head back, exposing your throat as his thumb pressed lightly against your pulse. “You’re bold,” he murmured, his voice a whisper against the shell of your ear. “I like that.”

His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and faint cologne filling your senses. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as he leaned in closer. His gloved hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful.

“I could make you beg,” he said, his words a dangerous promise. “But I think I’d enjoy hearing you defy me more.”

You met his gaze, the challenge clear in your eyes. “Maybe you should try.”

For a moment, the world held its breath. His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth—not quite a kiss, but enough to make your heart race. His voice dropped to a near-growl.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, his breath warm against your skin.

“Good thing I like danger,” you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper.

His laugh was low and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

He hooks his finger through the hem of your pants and slides it down slowly, along with your boxers. Your cock hardens with the sudden rush of cool air. He stares at it momentarily, before kneeling down to – put it in his mouth?

That was not what you had expected, but it wasn't like you were complaining. He slowly licked a stripe from the base to the hand, while his other hand brought out his gun from the holster at his hip. 

“S-stop teasing,” you whimpered, and before you could say another word, he had taken your cock till the hilt. You let out a strangled moan, head falling back.

He slowly bobbed his head on your length, while his other hand had placed the gun on the floor and was now trying to free his own cock from the constraint of his pants.

Soon enough, you were at your climax, but he pulled off, and finished with his hands. You came with a groan, all over the man’s face. He seemed to be enjoying it though.

As your breathing slows down, he lifts your legs up (while you are still tied to the chair). Before you can say anything, a cold object presses to the rim of your ass. When you look down, you realize that its the revolver.

Click

It doesn’t go off.

“Today might just be your lucky day,” the salesman chuckles, before slowly inserting the tip of the revolver into your ass before you could protest, using your own release as lube. The feeling on the cold revolver has you seeing stars, it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

As the gun keeps going in and out of you, the salesman utters what you think to be a mix of praise and degradation. 

“Such a pretty little whore for me, that’s it… Do you get off to this? Having a gun up your ass?” Before you could respond, he gets up, takes the gun out and slides his cock in its place. He doesn’t even wait for a moment, and takes you all the way to the hilt.

He rocks in and out of you slowly, pressing the gun to your temple. “Such a good boy f’me,” he says as he drags the gun down to your neck.

One particular hard thrust hits your sweet spot, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Seeing this, he loses all form of self control, and stashes the gun, taking both of his hands to you hips before fucking into you like a wild animal.

“Fuck.. I’m gonna–,” he interrupts himself when he releases into you with a loud groan, throwing his head back. You too reach your second climax, painting both your stomachs pearly white.

After a few minutes, the man pulls out, cleans himself up takes his brief case and leaves with you still tied to the chair.

“Are you kidding me–”

© t0jisd0ll on tumblr. Please do not steal my work as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[sallyface4everimmarriedto]

I genuinely don't know the name of the salesman so I've been calling him Cho Sang-il *james bond imitation* Mr Cho sang-il😏 honestly that what I made up you guys can use it if you want-

[cheekycheesecake01]

I just finished writing a fic of him and I'll do it again. Maybe a male!reader this time? Or hell, I'll even do a top!fem reader. Getting ideas rn...

This gun scene on squid game 2 honestly had me physically GASPING for air I need to see some fics about this IMMEDIATELY pls pls pls pls TAG ME YALL

[muntitled]

Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

In and out.

[cosmicdahlias]

And They Were Roommates

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your roommate, Wade Wilson, brings home an alcoholic Canadian bastard with knifes in his knuckles. After a month of putting up with him, an argument between you two goes in an unexpected direction.

tags: hard drugs mention, marijuana mention, alcohol usage, age difference, enemies to lovers, slapping, claws, hate fucking, mdom/fsub, breeding, degradation, praise kink, belt usage, choking, p in v, knifeplay (counting claw usage as knifeplay lmao), blood, creampie, possible impreg, aftercare, oral, multiple orgasms (emphasis on multiple), overstimulation

i’ve recently started watching the xcu movies after deadpool and wolverine dropped on disney+ and MY GODDDDDD have i been missing out!!! i’ve been an mcu girlie for so long (plus deadpool). the x-men movies are so fun but alsoooooo uhhhh hugh jackman as logan??? HELLO??? i need this man biblically like it’s not even funny. i have yet to watch logan (2017) but i’ve seen edits on tiktok and WHOA MAMA talk about a silver fox!!! also fun fact male wolverines bite down on the female’s neck during mating and i couldn’t resist including that in this fic. animalistic logan is THE BEST logan 👌

You were Wade Wilson’s friend turned roommate. You first knew each other through your other roommate, Althea, a blind woman who went by Al. At one point in time you were Al’s dealer before giving up that life once you got your degree and found steady employment. You never dabbled in the devil’s dandruff like Al did, as with the rest of gen Z, your drug of choice was weed. Your friends often asked why you chose an old woman and a mutant in his forties as roommates, but honestly rent was cheap and that was all you cared about.

You hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, he mysteriously disappeared during his birthday party. Neither you, nor any of his friends had any idea what had happened to him. You knew he’d kinda hit a rough’ish point in his life, giving up his assassin alter ego by the name of Deadpool for becoming a car salesman. You wondered if he had gone off on some sort of bender, but you honestly didn’t know.

You had just gotten off of work and opened the door to your apartment. Getting home took longer than expected, half of your street was cordoned off, from the damage looked like a bombing was the cause. You sat on the couch and pulled out your phone, trying to see if the local news had covered what had happened when door unlocked and swung open.

Wade walked in, sporting the iconic red suit you hadn’t seen him wear in six years. He was carrying the most… unique looking dog you’d ever seen and he was accompanied by a man with a rugged appearance who was wearing pants of similar material as Wade’s suit and nothing else. The stench of blood permeated the room.

“Al, I’m back.” Wade said.

“She’s out. Dude, where the hell have you been?” You asked.

“Oh no big deal, just saved the entire multiverse from total annihilation. I’m Marvel Jesus now.” Wade answered.

You elected to ignore his explanation. You never knew why you asked what he’d gotten up to whenever he wore that suit, none of it ever made a lick of sense to you.

“Who’s the dog?”

“Her? This four legged scrotum is Mary Puppins, or as I like to call her, Dogpool. Something… unfortunate happened to her last owner, so I’m her papá now.” Wade said cheerfully.

Knowing him, he definitely had something to do with whatever happened to her previous owner, but that wasn’t what you were asking about.

“Cute, but I was talking about the washed up Abercrombie & Fitch greeter next to you.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Ohhhh, yeah that’s Logan. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. You disappear for days and you just show up in the suit you haven’t worn in years, reeking of blood, telling me some shirtless dude who also smells like blood is gonna live here like it’s no big deal?”

“Well funny thing is he doesn’t exactly know anyone else around here, not really his fault since I had to pull him from his universe and bring him here to save ours. May or may not have done so to a choir rendition of Madonna. You know, typical multiverse stuff and whatnot. I mean we’re Disney property now and that’s the horse they’re beating to death at the moment.” Wade answered.

Once again ignoring the exposition dump, you continued to protest.

“You can’t be serious, Wade! This is a two bed apartment. You and Al already share a room, so where the fuck are you gonna put him?”

“Isn’t that a couch you’re sitting on?” Logan scoffed.

“Oh perfect, so I can’t even use the goddam living room anymore?” You asked, growing even more irritated by Logan’s input.

“Jesus, you’re just a fuckin’ princess, aren’t you?” Logan huffed.

You glared at him before turning your attention back to Wade.

“Do I literally not get a say in this like at all? Even though I live here and pay my share of the rent?”

“Look, I promise it’s temporary. Just until he gets his footing in this universe. It won’t be so bad, I mean look him, total eye candy.” Wade said, gripping Logan’s face and turning his head to you.

Logan gave him a look that could kill. Long metal claws sprung out from just below his knuckles. Your eyes widened.

“THE FUCK ARE THOSE?” You shouted.

“Riiiiiiiight, so those are adamantium claws. They ain’t vibranium, but hey, can’t always be the number one. He’s a bonafide animal, in more ways than one, maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Wade said, you could tell he was winking underneath his mask.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, what?” You asked.

“Hey, I know sexual tension when I see it.” Wade retorted.

“I literally just met him.” You said.

“Yeah and with Hugh Jackman’s face and body, the time between introduction and need for face riding is a matter of seconds.” Wade said.

You gave a quick glance at Logan. Sure, he was incredibly attractive, but you sensed a sort of emotional unavailability that put you off. You had standards.

“You know my type and he’s not it, Wade.” You insisted.

“Forget type, he’s THE Wolverine. You know how many fanfics people read about this guy? Lookin’ at you, reader.” Wade said.

“Whatever, I’m not getting into a debate over my preferences for men.” You said, walking to your room and slamming the door.

“I think that went well.” Wade said.

-

A month had passed and much to your dismay, you were still being forced to share the apartment with Logan. At the very least he’d upgraded to wearing a shirt instead of walking around with his top half exposed.

After getting home from an exhausting shift at work, you opened the fridge, looking for the bottle of wine you saved for those evenings after a particularly long day. It was nowhere to be seen and you immediately knew who the culprit was.

“For fuck’s sake, Logan!” You shouted.

You headed to the living room to confront what was supposed to be your temporary roommate who sat on the couch.

“Christ, what now?” He groaned.

“Where the fuck is my wine?”

“Hm? Oh that? Yeah, it’s gone.” He answered dismissively, almost like taking time to respond or even look at you was beneath him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your barely functioning alcoholic ass away from my stuff?”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I specifically told you not to touch that fucking bottle multiple times.”

“Must’ve not been able to distinguish what you said from your typical bitching, I usually just tune that shit out.” He said, still not making eye contact with you.

“Jesus you really have no respect for anyone.” You spat.

Logan stood, coming in way too close for your liking.

“Respect? That’s a really funny word coming from someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to not wear short little skirts like the one you’re wearing, bending over all the time to show off that ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh you fuckin’ heard me. You think I don’t see what you’re doing with the clothes you wear, or when you come out in the morning in nothing but a shirt and panties because you think I’m asleep and won’t notice?”

“Back the fuck up, the hell do you mean by ‘think’ you’re asleep?”

“I barely sleep enough as it is, I’m awake the second I hear your door open. You have any idea what seeing you like that does to me?”

You blushed.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Please, you do it because you hope I’m watching you. I see the way you look at me. You can say you hate me all you fuckin’ want, but I can smell your goddam pheromones from across the room. I’ve been around for over two centuries and have more than enough experience to know when someone wants me. Especially when they’re acting like as much of a slut as y-“

You slapped him hard across the face. Logan immediately responded by pushing you up against the wall, unsheathing his claws and holding them under your chin. Neither of you said anything, the only sounds being a mix of him and you panting in anger.

Fuck, you had really grown to hate him, but something about his claws so dangerously close to you was playing into your kinks. You stole a glance down under, holy shit he was hard. You grabbed him by the face, kissing him aggressively. His claws retracted and he let his hands travel to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmf- fuckin’ knew it.” He said between kisses.

Logan picked you up by the underside of your thighs and carried you to your bedroom, his lips never once leaving you. He threw you down onto the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. He took in the sight of your exposed chest.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, babygirl.”

His rough, calloused hand cupped your breast. He leaned down and you gave a yelp as he bit and tugged your nipple.

Logan chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You kissed him as you pulled his shirt off and traced your fingers along the dip between his abs. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, like it don’t you?” He smirked.

“How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this if you’re gonna tear me in half?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it like that, I can tell you like it rough.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

Logan pulled off your skirt and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs. He looked at your pussy with pure animalistic lust.

“Fuuuck babygirl, look how wet you already are for me. You got it that bad for older men, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You retorted.

“Oh I don’t have to, the way you’re dripping says more than enough.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

You laid back on the bed with your head against the pillow and Logan flipped you over on your stomach, pulling you up to your hands and knees.

“No, you don’t get missionary. You act like a bitch? You’re getting fucked like one.”

Logan reached for his belt, he raised it, bringing it down sharply on your ass, making you squeal.

“This is what you get for being such a fuckin’ brat. From now on you call me ‘sir’, understand?”

“Like hell I will.“

He lashed you again.

“Keep talking back and see what happens. Now, what do you say?”

“Y- yes sir.”

“There you go. I’ll be nicer if you listen to me… maybe.”

Logan looped the belt around your neck.

“I’m keeping you on a leash in case you continue making smart comments.” He smirked.

“As if that’s gonna shut m- hrrrk!”

He pulled it tight, the leather dug into your skin and constricted your throat. The most you could get out was a strained moan.

“Got nothin’ to say to me now, huh? C’mon, tell me how much you hate me.” Logan mocked as he pulled harder.

You looked back at him and mouthed “fuck you”.

He laughed. “Oh I will.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against your slit for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his full length deep inside you, causing you to cry out as his intimidating girth stretched you wide. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, the sounds of your yelps and squeaks filling the room.

“Poor thing, am I hurting you? It’s okay, I’m only fucking you senseless.” He teased.

His free hand gripped your ass, nails digging into your skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. It’s like your little pussy was made for my cock.” He grunted.

Logan leaned down, sucking your neck, leaving mark after mark, his hand letting the belt loosen.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all marked up by me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me hickeys? Really? What are you thirtee- ngh!”

Logan pulled tight on his belt again, keeping you from finishing your snide remark.

His thrusts became more aggressive, and as much as your feelings about Logan confused you, his cock felt incredible. You moved yourself back on him and he growled in approval.

“Yeah that’s it, take this fat cock like a perfect little slut. So good for me.”

He let go of the belt, both hands moving to your hips. His pace became punishingly fast and brutal. Between his growls and the way he fucked you like a dog, he honestly seemed more animal than man.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you, I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not.”

You whimpered and tightened around him at his words. He smirked.

“Oh you like that?”

You nodded.

“Yeah? You wanna get knocked up? Tell me you want it, babygirl. Lemme hear you say it.”

“I need you to cum in me, get me pregnant. Please.” You begged.

He stopped his thrusts with only his head remaining inside you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you up against him, pressing his chest to your back.

“Please, what?” He commanded.

“Please, sir.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress and slammed himself fully back inside you, immediately resuming his vicious pace.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

He panted like a wild animal, his claws slowly extending as he grew close.

“S- shit, sorry. Happens sometimes.” He said.

You tightened around him.

“Use them on me, hurt me, sir. Please, I need it so bad.” You whined.

“Goddam, you’re a fuckin’ freak. Aren’t ya, babygirl?”

He raked his claws down your back, you moaned obscenely loud as pearls of blood formed from the long slits he’d created. The mere sensation of it all immediately caused you to cum on his cock. The feeling of you pulsing around his shaft pushed him over the edge. He grunted as he buried himself to the hilt and leaned over, biting down hard on your neck, capillaries breaking under your skin. His cock throbbed with every rope of cum he shot into you.

“Fuuuuckin’ Christ, it’s not often I find someone that’s as into the hardcore stuff as me.” He chuckled.

Your whole body shook and you collapsed onto the mattress on your stomach. Logan removed his belt from your neck and got off the bed.

“Stay there, don’t move.” He said, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room.

He returned five or so minutes later with gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a wet hand towel.

“Had to really dig around for some of this stuff, when two out of four roommates regenerate there’s not a real demand.“

Logan got back onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So what’s it like? To not heal immediately?” He asked as he dabbed at the blood on your back.

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. I guess you just deal with the pain for a few days, weeks, or months depending on what it is until it’s fine again.”

Logan chuckled.

“Sometimes I forget just how fragile everyone else is, until the world reminds me of it again and then…” He trailed off.

You could tell there was a heaviness to the latter half of his words, you knew why. Wade had told you that in Logan’s universe (a concept which took weeks for you to fully grasp) every single one of his fellow mutants had been murdered. You didn’t know the details, but you didn’t need to for you to understand why he was the way that he was. You looked up at him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said softly.

“What do you-“ his brow furrowed. “What did Wade tell you?” He growled as he covered his claw marks with gauze.

“Don’t get mad, I just- I wanted to know why you act like-“

“A dick?” He scoffed, pulling out a few inches of medical tape from the roll.

“Like someone with severe trauma.”

He went silent and looked away from your gaze as he finished adding the last line of tape to secure the gauze.

“…You’re all patched up.”

You moved to get up and dress yourself, but Logan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back onto the mattress.

“No, c’mere. Lay back for me.”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?

“It’s alright, you can call me ‘Logan’ again. This is about making you feel good, not me. I think I owe you one for being such a good girl.”

You laid with your head against the pillow and Logan began to kiss his way down the length of your body until his head was between your thighs. His lips were so close to your pussy that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“Didn’t peg you for the kinda guy that gives head.”

“You thought wrong. I’m eating this pussy until you’re shaking for me.”

His lips met your clit, his tongue rolling and circling it. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fuckin’ Christ, your scent is addictive.” He growled against you, making you shudder as the deep vibrations went straight to your clit.

You bucked your hips and he moved his hands to them, keeping you in place.

“Eeeeasy there. I know it feels good, but you can’t move around like that if I’m gonna eat you out, babygirl.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them at just the right spot to absolutely send you over the edge. Your breath shuddered as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You gripped his hair harder as you came undone on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuuuuuck, Logan!”

Your back arched off the bed, he pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you down.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued sucking and licking your clit, his fingers fucking you hard and fast. You shook, feeling a second orgasm build. Your head cocked back as all of the nerves in your body ignited in pleasure for a second time. You expected Logan to remove his mouth, but he kept going.

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re just too goddam perfect when you cum.”

You moaned loudly, your clit throbbing in his mouth as you came for a third time, cursing like a sailor and writhing against his tongue.

“You doing good there, babygirl?” Logan asked.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured.

At some point everything went hazy and you lost track of just how many times he’d made you cum. The more you had, the quicker the next one came, until it was one immediately after another. You were a shaking, stuttering mess.

“L- Logan, I ca- an’t keep going. I- it’s too m- much.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Just one more time, I promise.”

He pumped his fingers relentlessly, his tongue working your clit at an equally vigorous pace. Every muscle in your body tensed as the most intense orgasm you had ever felt in your life rocked you to your very core and everything went white for a moment.

“Ohhhhh godddd, Logan. You’re gonna fucking kill meeee.” You groaned.

Logan moved himself to get on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“I’m sorry babygirl. I know I pushed you hard, but you did so well for me.” He whispered softly, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He laid next to you, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back as your post orgasm haze finally subsided.

“Never saw you as the cuddling type.” You said.

“Depends on how I feel about whoever I’m fucking, and unfortunately for me I’m starting to actually like you.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re still a total bitch, but you’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be. I like you that way though, makes things interesting. I’ll admit when you slapped me I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“So, you’re saying I should slap you more often?”

“I’m not saying no, but just expect to lose the ability to walk after I fuck it out of you.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good. Now, there’s something you should know. Regeneration doesn’t just mean that I heal quickly.” He said, pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against you.

“Holy shit, so… we could fuck all night without stopping?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what the hell are we doing just lying here?”

Logan turned you onto your back, getting on top of you.

“Attagirl, let’s fuckin’ go.”

-

The two of you spent the whole night fucking like rabbits nonstop. When morning came you made your way to the kitchen. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind as you made yourself a cup of coffee. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I hope you know I’m never gonna get enough of you.” He said, his hands traveling underneath your shirt to your breasts.

“I swear, you’re hornier than a dog that hasn’t had his balls chopped off.” You teased.

“Yeah and you love it.”

“There you go with the assumptions again, you’re so right though.” You purred, turning to him.

“I know I am.”

His lips met yours and he lifted you onto the counter. You laced your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around him. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the sound of a door opening. Wade walked out from the room he shared with Al carrying Mary Puppins.

“Judging by the NC-17 noises I heard all night I’m guessing you two had fun.” Wade said, causing you to jump and pull away from Logan.

“For fuck’s sake, do you not know when to leave people alone?” Logan huffed.

“Oh c’mon peanut, you know boundaries aren’t my forte. It’s my toxic trait.”

Logan glared at him.

“Alright alright, I can take a hint. Just try not to get any fluids on the appliances. I certainly don’t mind a little Wolvie in my coffee, but I don’t think Al would appreciate it.” Wade said, heading back to his room.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“Now, babygirl, where were we?”

[nouearth]

a day at the office.

jim halpert x male reader.

summary: what happens when jim finds out that there's a secret place in the warehouse that's used for sleeping? hint: it's not used for sleeping.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: coworkers, top!jim, bottom!reader, bigdick!jim, spit as lube, fingering, milking, over-stimulation, spitting, kissing, lots of french kissing, breeding, public sex, established relationship, au where pam is with someone else, jim has a bi-awakening, seasons 1-4 jim!

It was a call-back that he’d been expecting. It didn’t take much of an utter of the familiar client’s voice, the principal of Dunmore High School, to assure Jim that he had already secured another renewal of paper supplies for the school; an impressive three-year loyalty from the school, but who was counting?

Jim held the phone and watched you at your desk, two sections diagonal of him. He looked pleased when the client began voicing out compliments because of his efficient service, smiled because you were absolutely terrible at playing computer Chess despite lowering the difficulty settings, and beamed when you caught his gaze, warm like the mug of coffee sitting by the small picture frame of your dog on your desk.

It was impossible to know if you could hear what Jim was saying, but the grin on his face told more than a thousand words and you bid him a thumbs up when he looked up from his notepad after scribbling the client’s purchase.

“All right, and before I let you go, our customer service representative will follow up with a short survey regarding our products and services.” A question followed after. “Yep, similar survey as last time—you got it. All right, it was a pleasure doing business with you. Take care.”

Despite originally feeling aversion for his job, he couldn’t lie about feeling some sense of accomplishment whenever he secured a huge order. Not to mention how much of an ego booster it was since he earned a commission out of the sale. Gradually over time, Jim found himself to be one of the top salesman at the office, convincing himself that his stay at Dunder Mifflin would only be temporary.

Then the gratification completely ceased, weakly fluttering like a limp balloon, when he looked at the time on his taskbar.

It was only 10 AM.

This is going to be a long day. Jim groaned, slouching in his seat because the negotiation felt like forever, sucked out all of the energy left in him during the half-of-an-hour call despite fueling himself with caffeine and random fruits he’d stolen from his roommate. They were nearing that gross, wrinkly stage anyway.

When he turned his attention back towards you, the phone was in your hand, the other typing on the keyboard what Jim presumed would be the client’s answers to the survey questions. There was always a smile on your face, even if the client couldn’t see you. And then tone in your voice. It was inviting and personable, a voice that made people feel safe and heard, as if that mattered at all because how could buying paper feel anywhere near dangerous? 

Or maybe it was simply because Jim was too high on his own infatuation for you, that he was mostly projecting his appreciation.

A couple of hours had passed, 1 PM, and Jim managed to make a few sales here and there. A couple of clients hadn’t finalized their choice of supplier yet, but Dunder Mifflin was certainly being alluded as the option once he offered free deliveries on the count that they ordered a certain number of shipments of paper. That always sealed the deal.

To be honest, other than enduring many of Michael’s annoying antics with Dwight being his right-hand man, most days in the office were exactly as mundane as today was turning out to be. Usually, he would find himself passing time by hanging around your desk, catching you up on the weirdest news he discovered through a deep-dive in the internet.

And you wouldn’t believe what’s about to happen next…

What..? Don’t tell me they found the fing— Yep, they found the finger in the chicken tenders. Cooked. Medium-rare. Crisp to the bone. Blistering. Oh god—that’s horrifying! Jim—

And usually, they were lies that he made up on the way to your desk, mainly because he loved drawing a reaction out of you. And you were also extremely gullible, which made it all the easier to do so.

But as far as today was concerned, you were knees-deep into your responsibilities. Phone calls concerning shipment delays siphoned you into brief turmoil because—of course there were going to be delays, we’re in the middle of February where the earth was working in mysterious ways to conjure up snow days!

As much as Jim wanted to cut the phone line off when a client had suddenly erupted into an audibly loud one-sided yelling match—he was winning, of course—it always impressive how calm and composed you were under those circumstances.

Though, while he acted the same way regarding his approach to customers, he preferred to give people time and space to calm down. Whereas you accessed the situation and carefully structured how you sounded to hopefully pacify their anger. Your voice was gentler, but it never faltered into a frailness that made you a pushover for the client to rag on. Rather, it was stern, especially authoritative when you would assert, “Sir, I understand this situation is very frustrating for you, but I am here to help. And I cannot help you if you do not tell me your order number. And it would also be very much appreciated if you lowered your voice.”

You were fairly new to the company, a little over two years in your position, and every day, as a little more of you unfolded, you’d shown Jim why you were hired on the spot. You were practically the face of what Dunder Mifflin desired, of what any company expected really; friendly, collaborative, hard-working, efficient, all those cliché keywords on a résumé. 

A golden boy, Jim liked to describe you as. He didn’t mean anything negative by it, simply by evidence of your personality at first. But when he mentioned that moniker for you one day, of course you laughed like it was the funniest thing Jim had told you since you’d introduced yourself, because you were a people-pleaser. Easy to get along. Charming. Handsome. Bright. Golden. 

That was you.

Honestly, Jim never expected to cross ‘fall in love’ off his New Year’s resolutions right before the year even started. He also never thought he’d strike out ‘discover your bi-awakening’ in any timeline of the universe—only because he didn’t even know he had a type in men—but the future worked in wondrous, confusing ways. Though, if someone actually asked for him to describe his type, it would be indescribable because Jim doesn’t know exactly what made him fall in love with you, except for the fact that it was you. Your presence. Your personality. Your looks. You.

Jim liked how you would say greet everyone ‘good morning,’ but it was him that you held in high-regard. He liked how you were shorter, like many others in the office were compared to him, but you had a build, or maybe a presence, that made him want to take you in his arms and never let go. He liked how you would end up snorting at his jokes because he never found his jokes incredibly funny. It was mainly a tactic, or rather an invitation for you to know that he wanted to be friends. With every laugh that spilled out of your mouth, fortuitous snorts that would embarrass you when Jim kept the joking going, a mutual bond was shortly formed and it felt even better than scoring a huge sale.

He liked how you were generous, tossing a bag of chips on his desk after a visit to the vending machine, and he’d suspected that you’d been watching him too, because you always got his favorite flavor without Jim ever telling you the minor details of his insignificant life.

He also liked how confusing it was to like you, to suddenly develop a crush on a man like he had just discovered a new aspect of life. There was something exciting and new happening in his mundane world, giving him a newfound motivation to come to work other than to pay his bills. He thought he discovered everything about himself by his early 20s, but you’d shown him that life truly does throw you off-course, or in Jim’s case, on the right side of the path. 

He casted doubts about his sexuality early on, pondering that loneliness had caught up to him and constructed an entirely different narrative as a last ditch effort to set him on an expedition to find love again.

But would loneliness really be influential enough to compel him to suddenly kiss you in the parking lot after having dinner together? He recalled you gasping, pulling away, thankfully not because you were repulsed by him, but because you were in complete shock that Jim was even into men in the first place. 

Jim never realized how much he brought up his ex-girlfriends to overcompensate for this sudden attraction for the opposite gender until you brought it up.

I don’t know yet, about all of this… I’m still figuring things out, but I really like you, (M/N).

Jim, I think you had too much to drink.

All I had was a Sprite—

He pondered that night, then many more until it began weighing on his conscience.

But he oddly found himself kissing you again a month after, properly this time, in his Subaru when he took you home after your car broke down. He felt like a volcano erupting when his lips landed on yours, soft and delicate like the first time he kissed you. His breath rattled into your own hesitation with every exhale, but then you took him in, let him in, and Jim melted. 

And then calmed, stilled, when you led, cupping his jaw to keep Jim from pulling away, and instead closer, leaning over the armrests of each respective seat and center console. The leather pressed uncomfortably into his body, but when you slipped your tongue inside of his mouth, he was spellbound, then purged of any feeling other than the ones you’d enthralled him with.

As you assured him on that night, with a late night conversation that refused to let you out of his car and Jim out of your neighborhood street, that was when he found himself.

Huh.

What?

Nothing… Usually my gay-dar is pretty spot on, so if I knew you rocked that way, I would’ve flirted with you early on.

Okay, one; never mention gay-dar to Michael or Dwight ever, because then they’ll go ‘I told you so’ on me. And two; you had a crush on me? Tell me more.

You’d be surprised how much height can make a gay man go feral, Jim.

Seems like you managed yourself pretty well, don’t you think? That you know of.

You animal…

Another hour passed by as Jim willingly let himself be sucked into a black hole of thoughts recalling those moments with you, those ‘firsts’ that could keep him distracted for another two hours or so. Alongside his first kiss with you, there was the first time he touched you; clumsiness took his hands to roam around your chest, stomach, then erection until you blew from Jim’s increasing interest, and then profound knowledge in your body.

He kissed you elsewhere other than your lips. It started off with your neck, then your shoulders, chest, and so-on, until his lips suddenly began wrapping around your own length without warning, sucking you off with cloddish, yet enticing attempts that made you laugh, because Jim was greedy, awkward with his tongue, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him to yourself.

You pulled him off and made him lean back on the couch instead, settling on your knees and then rewarding his service with your own mouth, to show him how to properly work a cock. Jim was never a man that was enticed by blowjobs, only because a mouth never felt gratifying enough, but with every swirl of your tongue, every spit that dripped off of his thick cock and back into your mouth, he was fully convinced that he was a changed man by the time he filled your mouth. 

He then intruded deep inside of you because to fully have an understanding of your body, he needed to explore every inch, every surface, every crevice. It was on his bed, in his messy room that Jim tried to hurriedly clean before you came in, that could barely accommodate room for two, but it was you who made it work when you straddled on his lap and rode him instead. You’d never felt so full, you said it yourself he was balls-deep inside of you.

And jesus christ, Jim knew he was big considering the women he’d dated were apprehensive about taking him, barely taking his cock before surrendering. It gave him deja vu with the way you held your eyes shut, bracing your position by having one palms on his chest, and the other guiding his cock carefully into you, controlling the stagger of your breath to the best of your ability. 

In the moment where he’d expect you to stop pushing yourself and tell him to settle for a blowjob instead, determination set you aflame like the painful stretch Jim had been providing you with, and with three more pulses to your breath, a brief break to apply more lube on Jim’s erection and your hole, you were entirely breached when Jim aided your hips and pushed you down until you were flushed against his body, flesh sticky and sweaty from your persistence.

You’re amazing… Jim, I’m close. Harder—

It was a memorable night, a messy one where you offered to change his sheets, and Jim swore he could’ve gone all-night if they hadn’t had work the very next day.  Instead, he held you close, panting and continuing to fill you despite your protest to shower, gazing into your eyes while you held his stare with a warmth that might have rivaled his own infactuation for you, and smiled.

I really like you.

I really, really like you too, Halpert.

And now Jim was here, fantasizing in his seat with an aching hard-on, but absolutely guilt-free this time, because it’d been a few months since you two made it official.

It took several pings from Jim’s computer to put his musing to a halt. He leaned forward to view the unread messages, tending to his erection with a few gentle squeezes, then peeked over his monitor with a grin when he realized it was from you.

[M/N]: lunch? [M/N]: hellooooo

[M/N]: if you don’t answer i’m ordering ahead without you [M/N]: wow you’re really out of it [M/N]: stare deep into space if you hate me [M/N]: wow, jim.

“Hey,” A gentle kick to your shoe knocked your attention up to Jim, where he greeted you with a warm smile as soon as your gaze fell on him, a coat draped over his arm. “What are you feeling today?” The weather wasn’t too cold, the coat mainly providing an obstruction to the evident outline in his khakis.

Glistening, you returned his smile tenfold in brightness, sprouting from your seat to stretch your arms over your head, loosening the tuck of your shirt crinkle by crinkle until you felt a pleasing crack to your back and shoulders. “Anything’s fine. Sushi? Wait, no—we had that last week.”

“You have…” Jim rolled a sleeve up to check the time on his watch, and your eyes immediately pivoted towards the veins in his forearm, endearing and taunting. “…the two minutes it takes to get to my car to decide.”

“Wait, but that’s not even enough—“ He turned his body so you were complaining towards his back, broad and firm through his blue dress shirt. You’d never felt so envious of a piece of clothing hugging tight on his body when that could’ve been you.

“Up and at ‘em, a minute and twenty seconds now.” Jim began walking towards the entrance, chuckling as he could hear you scramble through your desk in search for something. “Gotta find my wallet first—“

“Seriously? It’s already been thirty seconds now!” 

Turned out, all that rushing was for nothing as Jim had other plans when he pulled you past the exit to the parking lot, and instead another floor lower, and then another, until you and him reached the warehouse. He acted on impulse, his sudden thirst for you taking the reign of his actions that he didn’t exactly know what to do had the warehouse not been empty. Luckily, it was and Jim would keep that in mind for the future.

“Uh… Jim, why are we down here?” The warehouse was bigger than you last remembered from the brief introductory tour you were given. Though, to be fair, you were running on a half-mug of coffee, and the adrenaline rush of meeting everyone for the first time hadn’t worn off yet.

“You’ll see,” Jim shrugged, nonchalant in his demeanor as his gaze was seemingly in pursuit of something above him along the rows of storage shelves and units. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise for you.” The words rolled off of his tongue suspiciously, and beneath the growing smile on Jim’s face that was supposed to keep you calm and composed like it did on normal circumstances, was something that did the opposite, riling a wave of conflicting feelings within you.

Especially when Jim began to climb a ladder and step into a shelf space in the back of the warehouse that was hidden impressively well from the entrance.

“What—What are you doing?! Get down here!” Your eyes widened in panic, scanning the space from left to right multiple times in case any of the warehouse employees were within vicinity. “Jim!”

“It’s fine, come on up!” He waved you up once he got himself situated, head awkwardly bent and shoulders slant because of the shelf barely accommodated for his height and build.

“No way. We’re going to get fired if we get caught.” You frowned, crossing your arms as you stared up at him, baffled.

“You know, it would help your case if you weren’t standing where everyone could see you.” Jim reasoned and you huffed after. “I promise, we won’t get caught. I’ll keep an eye out. And if it helps, Darryl told me about this area. Toasty in here too.”

Apprehensively, you took ahold of the ladder railings and climbed your way to the shelf space where Jim awaited for your arrival, anticipated with a smug smile as he held out his hand to pull you in once you took his palm.

The shelf was in the darkest corner of the room. A few lights above had been burnt out for quite some time, and the large boxes of paper supplies that surrounded the perimeter casted shadows that ultimately provided an agreeable space despite your original complaints. In this case, as you cataloged the pillows and one throw blanket around you and Jim; a comfy place to rest your eyes.

“You took me here… to nap.” You stated matter-of-factly and stared at him disengaged, but nonetheless foraged a pillow behind your head and snuggled up to his left side when he opened his arm up. 

“The things I do for you. Absolutely no appreciation whatsoever.” Jim joked, then pinched your nose with a chuckle. The gesture always managed to pull a smile out of you, and he already anticipated you mirroring it back at him, to which he keenly blocked with a strong hold of your wrist. Then another when you attempted sneak attack with a neck-chop with your other arm.

“You know…” Your voice wandered to a deepness, a slight hush as if anyone around you could hear. “You could’ve just told me you were horny.” You tugged your hands in resistance.

“What—How did you know?” Jim broke out into a toothy smile despite being caught red-handed.

“I mean, you weren’t exactly hiding your boner that well. A hand isn’t going to cover that.” You nodded your head towards the size of his bulge, the center of Jim’s khakis creasing when his erection greeted you with a throb. The boxes of paper supplies couldn’t shelter Jim had they tried.

“Hey, are you shaming me for having a big penis? Wow, (M/N). I thought you were different.” He loosened his hold on your wrists, but nonetheless kept them within his grasp to guide your right hand to his inner thigh, dropping the other after. He leaned in, his gaze pivoting to your wet lips when you licked your lips. The scent of his cologne, along with the way Jim’s eyes glazed over you like a piece of meat, stirred something inside of you. Your pants felt tighter than a couple seconds ago.

“If blowing you until you finish in my mouth is shaming, then…” Jim’s hand pressed on top of yours to move you upwards to his bulge, but you resisted, a teasing grin beamed towards the smug smile on his face before you enchanted his lips with a soft, languid kiss. “Call me a monster.”

Jim abandoned your hand to take ahold of your jaw, cupping the underside of it softly while his thumb caressed the structure with composed strokes. Your breath tasted like coffee, sweeter than how Jim preferred his own cup, but perfectly delectable when it came from your tongue. 

“You stole my line.” He joked again, then kissed you harder; a stroke of his tongue parted your lips again in desperate need to take you, in a sloppy pursuit of some kind of reward for his terrific work this month. His tongue explored your mouth, panting among both parties, your own wet flesh gliding and slipping against and around his needy endeavors, prompted by the gentle squeezes and strokes on his erection, and it didn’t take very long before you were completely captivated by Jim and the way he took you, your body going limp except for the growing tent in your pants.

You palmed him through his khakis. Your hand barely moved up his thigh before you could feel a long and thick lump residing beneath the crinkle of his left pocket, and a moan slipped from your throat because you could never stop marveling over the size of Jim’s cock. “We only have twenty minutes.” It was a complaint rather than a reminder. The clock ticking in your head peeled you away from the captivating kiss, frowning because there was so much you wanted to do to Jim, for him.

“Better get to work then.” You felt his hands suddenly begin to work at your belt, unbuckling them with deft and efficiency. Impatience left the leather hang loose, flopping stiffly as Jim unzipped your pants, and then pushed them down to your ankles after turning you on your side, your back facing him.

Jim snapped your briefs below the smooth curve of your ass, plumping them with the help of the tight restraining digging into your skin and pushing your mounds of flesh upwards. It was a delicious invitation for him to spank your right ass cheek once to watch how his slap reverberated off your flesh in soft jiggles, then another because your hushed whimpers were the perfect accompaniment to the force of his palm.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about your ass today.” He confessed while the strong kneads to your ass, palms of thick flesh groped and spread, provided proof to his confession.

“Yeah? Is that why you couldn’t keep it in your pants today?” You groaned when something wet and lean slid nimbly inside of your hole without warning. Tight and warm, you squeezed around Jim’s lone finger as it thrusted inside of you. Whimpered when it curled, another finger joining after a couple of flicks of his wrist, with the intent to wreck vengeance on the source of his erection.

“You know it,” His voice ghosted over your ear, closer than you expected, and your head knowingly turned to meet his lips for a yearning, sloppy kiss that Jim mutually had been craving all day for. He pushed himself closer to you, your mouth and his parting open and lingering as tongues mingled for an open-mouthed kiss. It was wet and sickly, enough to get you high on the act alone, cock throbbing when Jim closed his mouth around your tongue and sucked the spit bubbles off your tongue. All of that simultaneously stirring butterflies in your stomach while he worked your hole open, presently stretching you out with three fingers barreled into your cavity. 

Usually three fingers was enough to take Jim’s cock. It was uncomfortable, at times painful when you barely stretched yourself. But you liked that you could feel every inch of Jim’s muscly cock pushing you open. You likened it to rolling out a tight muscle after a tough workout. Painful, but incredibly satisfying once you felt him turning you out. Plus, it never failed to make Jim incredibly gratified, his cock somehow growing harder, thicker while he was shelved inside of you.

It wasn’t the most ideal position; you were facing boxes of copy paper that instantly evoked shame, the Dunder Mifflin logo plastered across the cardboard seemingly mortified by the lack of restraining when it came to your boyfriend. It wasn’t often that you two involved yourself in public sex, but when Jim was either too impatient to wait at his apartment, or you needed something to recharge you in the middle of the day, those circumstances mainly resided in his car. You bought extra blankets to cover up the windows too, though ultimately, they served no purpose because you were here—ass out, jerking yourself off to the hastened sound of Jim’s belt unbuckling, khakis and boxers shoved down to his ankles similar to yours in turn.

“Shoot,” Jim grunted irritably. You turned your head over your shoulder, curiously finding the source of his evident annoyance along with him as Jim began searching through his coat pockets, only after taking a long peek at the glorious throb of his cock.

“What? Having regrets already?” You grinned, and you discerned a vacant smile of his own, Jim’s mind occupied by a multitude of thoughts.

“I forgot the lube. I thought I put it in my pocket, guess not…” A sigh of disappointment came after Jim’s habit of clicking his tongue whenever he felt any kind of feeling. “Well, I guess we could try—“

You suddenly took Jim’s hand and spat in it, Jim watching wide-eyed, stunned, while you pushed a few more out with your tongue since saliva never had the ideal longevity and viscosity of lube. “Hurry before it dries.” You turned back calmly, beckoning for his cock with a push of your ass. 

“I’m in love with you.” Jim breathed out, a toothy smile you could imagine from the giddy tone of his voice. The spit in his hand was then used to lube his thick cock, in a thick sheen you presumed from the sticky sounds that tingled the tips of your ears, then the base of your tightened balls.

“Prove it to me.” You folded the arm you were lain on behind your head, cushioning the weight of it while your other hand reached back to lather his cock in your saliva after spitting a few more times into your palm. You felt veins pulsing strong with every stroke, a weight of thick cock that made your wrist sore, and then as you pivoted towards the pink glans of Jim’s dick, a bulbous head that intimidatingly maintained the girth of his shaft.

“You’re going to regret it.” He said smugly, adjusting himself closer and lower to match your smaller build. His moans were bitten back, swallowed down with hard gulps while you were carried away in providing him a temporary relief that you were too impatient to ignore.

Your hand continued stroking him off, your saliva sticking on his cock and then eventually in between your ass as you guided him towards your entrance, immense warmth emanating from the blood surging through his cock veins. “Have I ever?” 

“No,” Jim replaced your hand, making it return back to fondling your balls, and teased by running his cock over the crack of your ass. You felt his cock bolt with a spring, taunting when the plump head pressed its slick pre-cum to your pucker. He loved how he could see your ass clench in desperate efforts to lure him in, but it was futile as he’d return to sweeping over your hole with languid swipes, drawing out whimpers that signified that your impatience was running thin. 

“And I love you even more for that.”

He suddenly pushed. Your breath got caught in your throat from the abruptness of it all, and your body immediately tensed in turn, frozen in place when a burning sensation from beneath alerted you to stay put and just breathe. Jim groaned, already feeling the swell of your pucker refusing to let the head in, so he pulled himself out and restarted. Harder, he pushed his cock inside of you again, persistent despite your body naturally arcing forward to escape the emerging pain, but his hand on your hip pulled you back, anchoring your withering body, until the thick inch of his cock slid in.

“Careful—F-fuck, Jim.” Your stomach was in knots as it always was when he would first push inside of you. Feelings, conflicting ones of need, want, and regret battling for the throne of your body, of your mind, as Jim kept pushing, sliding in and out, rough and impatient because he needed you to open yourself up for him.

He was so big, too big at times, and you felt so pathetic because you thought you’d get used to him by now; used to the way you felt so full even when only his head had penetrated you; used to how your hole stung as more of Jim sheathed inside of you, slowly with a couple of thrusts aiding its insertion. 

“I know, I know…” He breathed with a rattle, the tightness in your cavity gripping pleasurably around him as he thrusted with only the first few inches in, absolutely riveting that he couldn’t help but let his desires dominant his methodical approach in letting you adjust to his large size and instead, making you to take it all at once with one long and deep push.

“J-Jim!” A scream abruptly left your throat and before you could let another slip out, his hand suddenly came up to cover your mouth, pressing his palm hard to your face and squeezing your cheeks. Your eyes shut, and your body writhed from how Jim’s cock roughly worked you opened. You felt uncomfortably full, beyond stretched to your limits as Jim was balls-deep inside of you now, but most importantly, you felt so wanted.

Bounded by the strong hold around you; his hand squeezing your cheeks in his palm to muffle your moans; his cock penetrating you deep and hard with fast and needy rhythms; his lips soft against your neck before they surprised with a painful suck to your jawbone; you were enraptured by Jim’s dominance over you, leaking from the tip of your cock in heavy drips while he fucked you from behind, the metal of his belt clacking with every precision of his thrusts.

“You’re so tight. Fuck. No one can take my dick like you.” Jim panted, embellishing your neck in hot breaths before climbing to kiss you on the lips again once you were prompted to turn your head. 

It was the small sounds from you that drove Jim nuts. They spilled into his mouth without restraint, an open-mouthed kiss again as he licked into you, suckled on your tongue, and let drool join your own slick mess at your chin. Tiny whimpers and occasional gasps when he hit your prostate fed his thirst for you, knowing that only he could drive you this mad; fumbling over your begs and surrendering because his cock was too good for you to think properly and find your words again.

“Harder. Harder.” You gulped, your demands muffled as Jim had his thumb in your mouth now. After, you went back to sucking his thick thumb off, tongue laving him in circular motions, as best as one could as Jim sped his pace and fucked you into oblivion. “Harder.” You gritted your teeth, hustling through the burn as the saliva had dried off his dick by now. You were beating your cock, pumping it with an ample amount of strength that rivaled Jim’s hips against you, motivated by the ticking countdown of your lunch break coming to an end soon.

It still stung. You barely had time to adjust to him before you were completely taking Jim’s cock as if you were a cheap flashlight he bought online, a piece of silicon that he’d break. Your hair bounced, sweat-dripping down your forehead while you felt his own sweat dripping of his forehead and staining your dress shirt. The back of your shirt felt damp, heat building up at your back-side as Jim had enclosed around you with an embrace that thawed any ounce of pain and replaced it with intoxicating pleasure. An onslaught of thrusts kept you writhing by your toes, then curling into the blanket that had bundled beneath your feet.

Harder. Your demands were immediately met after Jim pulled himself out completely, as if he was recharging his strength, lubed his erection with a spit to the palm, then shoved himself back into you with one strong thrust, sending your body into an arc that he’d immediately restrained back with a push to your abdomen, forcing you to take his cock in full stride. Your ass rippled like the rattle in your moans, flesh clapping loud whenever Jim met his groin to your skin, and you couldn’t get enough of it, the sounds glorious in your ear. Your hole clenched in vain as Jim always managed to power through and forced you open again, hollowing you out until your pucker shaped itself to the exact size of his thick cock.

He would marvel at the gape when he pulled himself out again, for his own sake as he was nearing his climax, and spread your cheeks open. “Just for me?”

“Just for you.” You used the small break to catch up on your breath, wetting your parched throat with multiple gulps as you turned over your shoulder to catch him staring, finding it futile as your throat felt brittle again.

He clicked his tongue multiple times, that habit again whenever he felt something, when the rim of your hole tensed up at the multiple spanks he’d given you, seemingly swallowing at nothing but air, until he breached himself back in, angling his hips perfectly to press at your prostate.

It was nearing—your climax. You rarely touched your cock, abandoning it because your arms tend to be locked behind Jim’s warm embrace around you, but it sprouted strong in between your legs, aided by the repeated violation against your prostate. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head multiple times, Jim’s large cock knocking the breath out of you with every snap of his hips, pounding into the swelling of your insides.

“Oh god, Jim—“

That spot again, he never missed once in hitting your prostate, a storm of delight torpedoing the pit of your stomach as Jim impaled into you like lightning. Jim muttered something under his breath, striking on your skin as he bit into your neck, then pressed hard against your hip bone.

“I’m gonna—“ Jim gripped at your hips harder, a slur of words near your ear making goosebumps raise all over your body, beneath the layer of sweat that had dampened your clothes. 

“Too, me too—“ You huffed, closing your eyes, but deftly finding Jim’s lips when you turned your head to kiss him one more time. An immediate tangle of tongues was enforced, your mouths mutually opening on impulse while he held your head comfortably to keep you from straining your neck. You moaned, reeled your tongue back from the slippery closure of his mouth, and cried out as your pucker clamped down on his large cock moving inside of you. Your hole throbbed around his girth with exquisite spurts that came from within, pulsated with the veins that had adorned Jim’s cock delectably, grasped him like a tight sleeve that refused to let him go. 

When you opened your eyes, you were blinded by the lights that had donned over you instead of casted shadows, a heavenly choir celebrating with holy bells when your balls tightened once before loosening when your cock erupted thick cumshots onto the boxes in front of you, painting the cardboard in thick layers of yourself, of your desires, with the help of Jim’s cock, pounding strong ropes of cum out of you until they’ve hit every box like target practice. 

“Fuck.” Jim let out a deep groan, pushing painfully into you, his hand reaching over to milk your cock until you were only spewing out the tiniest bits of cum left in your emptying sack. Your whimpering and the convulsion of your body, as he continued to milk your cock, triggered Jim to finally break within a couple more thrusts and a deep grunt, his cock exploding hot and thick in the confines of your ass, flooding your tender hole with his thick cum loads.

“Jim.” You whined, drawing out his name. His cum was dripping out of you, a few thick droplets rolling to the side of your ass as Jim’s thrusts were beginning to shallow, but never once pausing. “Fuck—“

“You feel so good like this.” Jim was creaming your insides, using your ass to ride out his orgasm and milk his hard cock inside of you, even when he was beginning to feel sore at the base of his balls. You whimpered quietly, knowing it was such a waste of cum dripping out of you like that, but also because you felt your cock hardening again despite just now recovering from Jim’s devious hold on you.

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up.” You should’ve known better. Any time you offered him a reason not to do something, Jim was motivated to do the opposite. 

His thrusts remained the same, shallow yet deep against you, and right when you thought you felt soaked in your ass, Jim pressed another low grunt to your lips, snapping once into you and rattling another moan out of you, before the convulsions bound his body to your backside once again, and let him spill another load inside of your creamy hole.

Jim shuddered, feeling drained and especially aching as his cock went limp and slipped out of you, the only connection between you and him being the sticky cum that had webbed his cock and your ass together as you involuntarily pushed his cum out of your tender hole in a daze.

“Think you can work the rest of the day like this?” The pleasure subsided into exhaustion, a wave of drowsiness hitting you and Jim like a truck despite the uncomfortable pool of cum sitting beneath you two. Jim kissed your shoulder, then pulled your briefs back up, your pants following after.

“No way.” You laughed, lightly punching at his shoulder after buckling your belt because now all you wanted to do was use what the shelf was actually purposed for: sleeping. “You owe me a hot bath later.”

“Tch, the things I do for you. You're ungateful.”

"You love me for it."

"I do."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[islandofsages]

Hello, can i ask for Octavinelle dorm with Octavinelle! M! reader?

He's a really chill and silly guy but somehow crazy good with money and business. Like, if you give him 10 bucks and tell him to do whatever he wants with it and come back with 100 bucks, he'll somehow come back with 10000 bucks and become the CEO of some company. And, yeah, he's got these goofy ideas that somehow just work.

characters: the octavinelle boys x male octavinelle reader

tags: relationship not specified, crack (?), imagines format

warnings: a bit of swearing (just one word really)

author's notes: i love yall yall's readers are so goofy they're so fun to write

Azul Ashengrotto

He appreciates how you’re one of the more level-headed guys around, though if only you could lay off the joking and teasing

But as long as you don’t cause him trouble he doesn’t mind you as much - and you end up proving to him that you are the very opposite

One day, he asks you to run him a errand (with fair compensation, of course; he is the soul of benevolence after all)

It’s quite simple - fetch him a sum of money Sam owes the Mostro Lounge (you don’t question how and why a fully-grown adult owes a seventeen year old money)

And so you go over to Sam’s. You won’t lie, you’re a little curious of what this debt entails. You’ll see if you can squeeze some details out of Sam

You meet up with Sam, all smiles as per usual. Though when you mention that you’re there because of the debt, he takes you into the shop’s backroom instead

He gives you an envelope, stuffed with the goods no doubt. He seems insistent on not letting on anything - but then you hit him with a classic move

“Now, now, we’re not in a rush, are we? I don’t even work for the Mostro Lounge. Least you can do is entertain a guy. I’ll keep my lips sealed.”

Sweet-talk and half-truths are a way to a salesman's heart after all. It’s true that you don’t work for Azul but that’s only because you have other businesses going on right now

Sam gives in with a sigh. It seems as if he’s been carrying such a secret for a while and needs an outlet. And you are definitely here for it

You come back to Octavinelle, skipping merrily (if not physically, at least you were on cloud nine mentally) and carrying more than just an envelope. Azul, on the other hand, is borderline seething for whatever reason. Little does he know

The moment you reach his office, you toss him the envelope and is about to leave - until he sees not one but the two enormous bags you carried in your hands that are definitely filled with money

Distraught, he questions you on how the hell you manage to score that much money. You shrug while walking towards the exit. It's just a matter of persuasion and creative thinking.

Business is so easy, you thought.

Jade Leech

Similar to Azul, it’s nice to have someone who has their shit together - plus, he finds it amusing when you mess with Azul. It reminds him of Floyd’s antics

Once in a while, you’re a pleasant guy to just sit down and have small talk with, though at times he wishes you would let on about yourself more

For his information, you only let slip when you want to; and he finds that out himself one fateful day

He jokes that if there’s anyone who could overpower Azul and steal his authority over the Mostro Lounge, it’d be you. You chuckle knowingly at this

Feeling a little playful, you propose to him a bet - if you manage to do so by next week, he owes you ten thaumarks. But if you don’t, you owe him ten thaumarks

He lets out a carefree laugh, amused. He reserves his assumptions and agrees to play along with you for the next few days

He doesn’t see you in a while. Not intentionally - he genuinely can’t find you anywhere, though he only attributes it to the fact that there’s only so much time he can use to look for you

After a whole week has passed, he seats himself where the bet initially took place and waits patiently for you to show up. True to your promise, you come waltzing up to him casually, your hands in your pockets and a friendly smile on your face

You slide next to him as he asks you how’ve you been and the two of you update each other on your wellbeing. Then he starts chuckling, a hand over his mouth in true Jade fashion. You smirk in response, knowing too well what that chuckle is for

And in true you fashion, you pull out ten thaumarks and extend them to him

…wait a minute. That’s ten thousand thaumarks.

You savor the sight of a Jade with his mouth agape. You snicker at his bewilderment as he tries to process what’s happening in front of him

“It’s true that I didn’t usurp Azul’s power or anything - but that’s only because I’m not interested in the Mostro Lounge. I’d rather have it as a rival than my property.”

After he gets over his initial shock, he offers you a sinister, toothy grin. You respond with a finger to your lips. He nods understandingly and takes the money from you with no protest.

Floyd Leech

You’re more low-key compared to him but he still appreciates having a fellow pain-in-Azul’s-ass

Of course, it depends on his mood still, but his tolerance of you is pretty consistent despite everything. You take it as a compliment

On one of his good-mood days, he’s chatting it up with you and laying out potential ways to mess with Azul more. You bring your own idea to the table

“How about this? I get a common word used by literally everyone trademarked and anyone who dares utter it has to pay me. And that includes Azul himself.”

He guffaws at your ridiculous idea and voices his opinion. You laugh yourself and don’t deny it. It is pretty far-fetched… but you have your ways

Plus, he has to admit that would piss off Azul super bad it’d be worth the trouble

The two of you hang out from time to time as usual when behind it all, you’re setting up Azul’s eventual downfall

Or not. You don’t actually care about taking Azul down but it would be pretty funny. Also you’ll get to impress Floyd in some shape or form which you care more about frankly

Once the deed is done, it’s announced everywhere you could think of - you did it under a fake name of course. But the money you’ll be getting can’t be any more real

What did you trademark? The word “so”.

When you relay this story to Floyd, he lets out a howl of a laugh you could’ve mistaken him for a wolf - he has no idea what strings you had to pull to actually manage that but color him entertained

…until he realizes that he’d also have to pay you every time he uses that word. Then his mood goes down instantly

You shrug that realization off by giving him a pass since he let you entertain the idea in the first place.

Floyd happy again :)

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Failed proposal

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Summary; Azriel finally gathers the courage to propose, but what happens when the ring gets mixed with the earrings Cassian got for Nesta?

I was inspired by the movie "something from Tiffany's"

Warnings; a bit of angst and swearing. Mentions of violence.

Winter solstice was coming and everyone was rushing around trying to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. You, Feyre, and Nesta had already shopped for gifts and hid them around the house so the males wouldn’t find them. They were way too impatient and you knew that the moment they would spot a present they would open it to see what it is. Even your mate Azriel who seemed strict and a sucker for rules would cave. 

You and Azriel met 50 years ago and the bond snapped instantly, you spent the next years going out on dates and taking things slow and about 20 years ago you moved in the house of wind and accepted the bond. You didn’t have a ceremony so you recently discussed about getting married, he seemed nervous and wrapped the conversation quite abruptly making you wonder if he really wanted this. You couldn’t understand what was holding him back, you had accepted the bond so getting married was actually something meant to happen. Your insecurities resurfaced and the jealousy consumed you as you thought about the time he spent with Elain in order to help her adjust, but after overhearing that he had a big plan for this winter solstice, you decided to wait until then to confront him. The girls were all convinced that he will give you the ring you yearned for and you couldn’t hide your excitement.

Azriel 

“I don’t know Rhys… none of the rings feels right” Azriel said as they walked around in the store.  

“What about this one?” Rhys exclaimed and held a ring in Azriel’s face. The shadowsinger took a step back and examined the ring, it was indeed a beautiful gold ring with a blue marquise cut stone the same shade as his siphons. Azriel took the ring from Rhysand’s hand and moved it to the light, it was just as shiny as your eyes, he thought and smiled. 

“Okay I’ll take this” he informed the salesman and followed him to the register. After the ring was packed he took the bag and hurried off hoping to get home before you so he could hide it.

He entered the library and removed one stone from the wall leaving the present inside and placing the stone back into place. He was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice the same bag that Cassian had hidden there too.

Winter solstice.

Azriel’s behavior was completely odd the past days and this morning he jumped off the bed like you burned him. You were really confused but also excited because these were telltale signs of an upcoming proposal -or at least that’s what the girls had been telling you.

The night came rather quickly and you all gathered in the main room of the house of wind with all the presents. 

Feyre gave Rhysand a painting of Nyx and him flying around, then she gave Cassian a book about war strategies. For Nesta she had bought a book series and for Elain some gardening supplies. Then she moved to Azriel for whom she got a new dagger, and finally you… you opened the velvet box and gasped, she got you the necklace you had been checking out for months. You hugged her and then it was Rhysand’s turn, he bought Feyre an art gallery and jewellery and weapons for the rest of you. 

Azriel’s turn came, and he gave Feyre a sketchbook, then gave Rhysand a new pair of Illyrian leathers, and a new sword to Cassian. He had bought Nesta a book and then he moved to Elain, you almost growled when she gasped and held a bracelet with a pink rose charm. Then it was your turn, he looked nervous as he grabbed the last bag and gave it to you. 

At the same time Cassian pushed a similar bag in Nesta’s hands whispering “I can’t wait anymore open it please” 

You opened the bag and saw a small velvet box, your heart stopped and you glanced at Azriel. It’s happening. You thought and opened the box with a huge smile on your face.

“Oh Az… uhm thank you” your smile fluttered.

He furrowed his eyebrows and asked “what?” 

“I love them” you smiled and showed him the box, a pair of earrings was inside and he frowned. 

Nesta squealed and jumped on her feet 

“Yes yes yes a million times yes” she screamed and hugged a very confused Cassian. 

Your eyes watered as you stared at them.

Cassian gulped as he saw the ring. He was sweating but seeing Nesta’s reaction he smiled and placed it on her finger. You couldn’t take it anymore so you congratulated them and excused yourself. Azriel was speechless… he glared at Cassian and hurried off to find you. 

You were in your shared room, sitting on the bed and crying. Azriel felt a pang in his chest but he couldn’t tell you, he didn’t want to do this without the ring. Rage filled him and he thought about all the ways he would beat Cassian. 

“What’s wrong angel?” He asked and sat next to you. 

“Do you even love me anymore?” You asked him, your voice breaking. 

“Of course, more than anything… where is this coming from?” 

You just shrugged and laid back. You didn’t mind that he didn’t propose as much as the fact that he gave Elain something that reminded of her while he gave to you a pair of simple earrings…and he knew that you didn’t even wear earrings. 

He opened his mouth to speak again but quickly shut it as you turned your back on him and tried to sleep. 

Azriel was confused because he didn’t feel any disappointment down the bond, just jealousy. He thought about it and then it hit him…he gave Elain -with whom you had a problem- a thoughtful gift while he gave you something that you didn’t even use. He felt even worse and with a groan he fell back and stared at the ceiling.

The morning came and you woke up alone in bed…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Rhysand exclaimed.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this too.” Azriel sighed. “I met her a few days before you were trapped under the mountain so our first years as mates were not easy, then she moved to the house of wind where everyone was mourning you and we didn’t even have a ceremony for accepting the bond, she just brought a piece of apple pie in our room and offered it to me…. The next days I was busy helping Mor, Cassian and Amren rule Velaris and  we didn’t even celebrate our bond. I can’t let anything destroy the proposal too.” 

Cassian walked into Rhysand’s office and Azriel immediately pounced on him.

“You fucking idiot” -punch

“Why didn’t you say something?” -punch 

“You fucking stole my ring” -punch 

“You stole my moment" -punch, punch 

The warlord was accepting the punishment knowing that he messed up, only when the high lord pulled Azriel back he dared to speak. 

“I’m so sorry brother… I was shocked I didn’t know what to do…and Nesta was so excited… I couldn’t find it in my heart to destroy the moment” he avoided Azriel’s gaze, the shame consuming him. 

“I. Want. My. Ring. Back.” The shadowsinger growled, pausing between each word. 

“Okay…” Cassian mumbled and left. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were sitting in your room staring out the window… you wondered if Elain came here sooner would Azriel still want you to accept the mating bond? You doubted that and pain filled your heart. 

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts and Nesta walked in.

“Heyyyy, I was wondering if you would like to come with me to the store where Cassian got me the ring, I want to ask them how to maintain it clean” she said and stretched her hand out staring at the ring.

“Sure” you shrugged and got up. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feyre came and winnowed the three of you to the store, you walked in gaping at all the jewels there… the store was really expensive. 

“Hello, I recently got engaged and I wanted to ask how to clean this” Nesta asked the salesman and showed him the ring.

“Ooh yeah, you must be y/n” he smiled, you glanced up but he wasn’t looking at you, he was talking to Nesta. 

“The shadowsinger was so excited when he found this ring, he kept saying how shiny it was  just like your eyes” he continued and Nesta gulped. You were staring wide-eyed, your jaw almost touched the floor but thankfully Feyre pushed it back in place. 

“Azriel bought this?” Feyre asked. 

“Yes my lady, your husband was here too, he was helping the shadowsinger choose.” 

“What about Cassian?” Nesta asked and the salesman gave her a questioning look. 

“The warlord, the general of the armies… the brute with the red siphons” she explained and you and Feyre snorted at the last remark. 

“Oh yes. He was here first he got a beautiful set of earrings” 

And then it hit you, somehow the two idiots mixed their presents. Nesta growled and turned around marching out.

“Thank you” Feyre smiled and pulled you out.

 Nesta was pacing…

“Y/n I’m so sorry” she said when she saw you. 

“It’s okay Ness” you smiled.

“Why didn’t the idiot say something? Oh he is sleeping outside today” she growled.

“I think he just didn’t want to ruin the moment, you were really excited” your voice was soft as you spoke.

“Yeah but we ruined your moment” she pushed 

“It’s okay I’m used to it” you shrugged with a sad smile. 

She gave you the ring.

“I think this belongs to you” 

You placed it on your finger and stared.

“The stone is the same color as Azriel’s siphons” Feyre noted.

“Yeah I was confused about that too” Nesta shrugged. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was served and you and the girls walked inside the dining room taking your usual seats. Azriel glanced at you with a worried look and Cassian whispered something to Nesta… she shook her head and smirked.

The room buzzed with conversation and everything felt normal again, you reached for the wine bottle in front of Azriel, the ring on display. Azriel was taking a sip from his wine and the moment his eyes fell on the ring he choked, spraying the wine all over the table making everyone stop and look at you. 

You giggled while Nesta and Feyre smiled.

“Where… how…when?” Azriel was blurting out questions. 

“We went to the shop today and the salesman called Nesta by my name so we figured” you shrugged and smiled. 

Cassian’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair back, he glanced at Nesta and with a quick “oh shit” he jumped up and ran away, Nesta following suit.

Azriel smiled softly and took your hand in his own, pressing a small kiss on the back of your palm. 

“I didn’t want this to happen like this…. We deserve one good moment” he whispered.

“Being in the dining room with all our family is a pretty good moment…” you smiled “and maybe we can lock Cassian in a cell on our wedding day” 

Azriel burst into laughter and pulled you in his arms. 

“I promise to give you the most amazing wedding day” he smiled and kissed you. 

Requests are open!

[cutiebinni]

audrey - 20 yrs old - love kpop, kdrama

comment if you'd like to be a part of my taglist!!

i write for::

(my faves are in pink!)

squid game s2: cho hyunju, lee myung gi, kim junhee, seong gihun, salesman, hwang inho (front man), hwang junho, kang daeho, choi su-bong (thanos),

i will not be writing nsfw for hyunju because im not comfortable with writing nsfw about a trans person who hasnt undergone surgery

squid game s1: seong gihun, kang sae byeok, hwang junho, hwang inho (front man), cho sangwoo, ali abdul, salesman

masterlist

ask box is open, send whatever u'd like :) im not uncomfy with anything, so say anything!! mostly will write fem reader, but feel free to send male reader asks! nooo character x character tho pls ❌

up next: answering asks

anons: 🦴, 💋

[saymio]

⤷┆ MASTERLIST

𓂃𓈒 welcome to saymio's matserlist. i hope you enjoy my fics, almost all my content will contain NSFW and/or dark themes. MDNI

SQUIDGAME

MALE CHARACTERS

.ᐟ Hwang Inho x Fem!reader hcs smut

.ᐟ Thanos x Fem!reader hcs smut

.ᐟ Silent Obsession: Hwang Inho x Fem!reader smut

.ᐟ Little Girls Shouldnt Be Out Alone: The Salesman x Fem!reader smut

FEMALE CHARACTERS

.ᐟ Guns Aren't Toys: Kang Noeul x Fem!reader smut

ᵎᵎ... there seems to be nothing else...come back later for more content ...ᵎᵎ

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Lewd Request:

Hey I was wondering if you could do a lewd Striker x male reader, something along the lines of the festival and the main character made a bet with striker he'd beat him but they lose so Striker has his way with him. Love your stories.

A bets a bet

You weren't particularly fond of the new field hand.

Sure, the man was good at his work.

He could shoot, and hunt and ride with the best of them, but something was... off.

Nobody was that good and that proud.

Of course, you couldn't say much, he may boast like a snakeoil salesman but like you'd said, he was as capable as any worker you'd ever had, if not more so.

And while you tried to ignore the man, much to your annoyance, he seemed to take a special liking to you.

The man often 'helping' you with chores, or coming along if you had to head into town.

His favourite was teasing you.

It started with a few comments here and there, teasing if you screwed something up, or had some issue or other.

Then it became general teasing and prodding, the man loving to get a rise out of you.

Though you could often get him back, the man usually either impressed or annoyed with your come bqcks, leaving you alone for a while.

Although, after a night of drinking with some of your siblings and farmhands.

Hed be teasing you, yet again, making some snarky comment on how often you got your dick wet, and after a few too many drinks and a serious lapse in judgement, you made an off handed comment on how if he wasn't such a prick, you probably would have been all over him.

And you immediately regretted it, cause that man perked up like a Hellhorse spotting a prime-rib.

After that, Striker only became more persistent.

It was never quite forceful enough for you to get creeper out. But he was certainly persistent. The sheer number of times he'd bitten his lower lip, giving you those playful "fuck me" eyes, was more then enough to haunt your dreams.

And while he could be a total pain in the ass, he was also really useful, so you put up with it, simply rolling your eyes when he made a less then subtle comment to you.

And you totally weren't into him.

Sure he was swave and confident and Very capable, and could probably ride you like he did bombproof-

Nope! You didn't think like that. No matter haw many times.

Or think about his skills with rope.

Mind drifting off to that one time he'd managed to tie you up, man sitting on your back as he practically purred in your ear.

Nope! None of that!

But, past all the flirting, you had a formidable rivalry.

Of course you always played it off.

You didn't care if he won some stupid race or could shoot something, or won some wrestling match. What do you care, not like a single win meant anything.

Unless you won.

In which case you felt like King of the Ring, and was sure to rub it in his face.

Until you lost a match of shooting, that bastard hitting one more can then you.

It was quite the roller-coaster.

At least for humble farm life.

Having been bested one time too many, you snapped, demanding a rematch.

At that he grew a wicked grin across his tanned facad, telling you he'd agree, buuut, if he won, he wanted something.

Hesitant, you'd ask what he wanted, the man moving forwards, arm on either side of you, pinning you to a fence, telling you smugly.

"A Kiss."

You, Red faced, woukd agree, telling him it wouldn't matter cause you'd win.

And you Aaaaallllmmmoooossssttt did.

Almost being the key and only word.

Hitting the last can, but failing to knock it off.

So, Striker, all smirks, strutted up, expecting a kiss.

And so, you gave him one.

Kissing his cheek.

Striker, cocked a brow, you telling him smugly.

"You wanted a kiss. Never said where you wanted it."

You spoke casually, taking your small victory in stride.

Though unfortunately, you set a precedence with that little incident, as after this, any time you competed, Striker managed to slip a bet in there.

Though none were as bold as the first one.

Usually little things. Making you call him sir or having you follow him around for a day.

And while it they were fairly innocent, if annoying, things, there was always a heavy sexual undertone.

He never stopped chasing you, he just chose a more... passive, method.

But, after a particularly hot night, you snuck out, ending up out in a field half naked, relaxing against a fence, enjoying what little breeze there was.

Of course, Striker would appear, he too half naked, man shirtless with only his hat and Ascot, the two of you just standing there for a while, in a peaceful silence as the breeze blew across the field.

After a while he'd finally pipe up, asking if you were gonna compete in the harvest moon games.

You'd hum, telling him you probably would, before asking why.

Striker, in an odd moment of seriousness stood there, peering at you with those ringed yellow eyes, the same ones that had haunted far too many of your dreams.

The man, turning to you, would ask if you wanna make a bet on it.

You, swallowing, would nod, telling him. 'Sure.'

So, getting off his fence, he walked over and in a surprising display of boldness would pin you to the fence, voice low, shimmer of his tail ringing out.

He wanted you.

He was sick of the games, the little bets, your 'rivalry', he was going all in, he wanted you.

So, if he won, he wanted you.

Standing there, chest to chest, the man peering intently into your eye.

You, red faced, blood rushing to the one place you didn't need it, would stand there.

And well, call it a weak will or your will being chipped away after so many months, or perhaps a large part of you wanted this all along, you agreed, telling him yes, may the best man win.

To which Striker smirked, chest to naked chest, leaning in and breathing hot in your ear.

"Don't worry... I will~"

And so, the next few days zipped by in the blink of the eye.

You didn't see Striker much, and when you did he usually just smirked, eyeing you in a fashion that always left you red faced, pants suddenly tightening.

And so, the day finally arrived. You and the family loading into the truck and rolling into town, Striker riding Bombproof besides you, the man giving you an occasion glance, you pretending you hadn't been staring.

The town was lively, and all the townsfolk were a flurry of activity, preparing to either join or enjoy the games.

You prepared as well, limbering, stretching, just getting ready.

Striker however, just stood there, leaning against a fencing, man chewing on a wheat stalk. The man occasionally glancing back at you.

You didn't say anything to him, not willing to let him mess with your mind any more.

Eventually, you got to the games.

You excelled.

As did Striked.

Both of you far surpassing the regular saps that participated.

You were faster, but Striker was more nimble.

Not evenly matched, but you certainly pushed yourself.

You both put in your best show, and it was a close fight, you working harder then you'd ever worked before, really pushing yourself to your limit.

And after pulling, jumping, running and wrestling. You fought, and bit, there being more than a few fatalities from each of you.

It was a tie!

Nah, Striker won.

Some asshole had just miscounted your score.

Striker won.

And hearing that, you just stood there.

It took a minute to sink in, and while you realised just what happened, Striker seemed to relish the news, bathing in the crowds applause.

A flurry of emotion hit you, your head seemingly spinning. But the most concerning part of it all was you weren't... you weren't upset.

You were a little annoyed, angry even at losing, but that felt more like being upset at losing the games.

Not the bet.

Striker, surprising you, didn't come up and boast. Instead he joined the crowd of adoring fans, the lot of them all heading off to celebrate.

So, knowing the fate before you, you joined, snatching a comedically large jug with 4 large Xs on the side, drinking at your pleasure.

Eventually you'd end up in the town bar, sipping your drink, you and Striker staring at each other from across the bar.

You refused to make the first move, yet as the minutes ticked by, you became restless, constantly looking back at the man.

The cowboy simply standing there, peering at you with that seductive little smile, sipping his own drink, seemingly content in his position.

You eventually grew tired of the waiting, and shotgunning your drink, you stormed over to the snake.

Of course, he wore that Victorious smirk of his, standing there as you approached.

You scowled, storming up to him, stopping just before him.

The man smiled, popping an olive into his mouth, giving you a royal shit eating grin.

You snorted, simply standing there.

You told him bluntly to get on with it then!

Striker just smirked, looking you over, the fucking snake was relishing this.

After a few minutes, he asked what ever could you mean? And so, snapping at him that he was an Ass, you grabbed the man, dragging the him upstairs.

Striker just went along with it, smirking as he finshed his drink, discarding the bottle as he stumbled upstairs.

Reaching some bedroom, you didn't care who's it was, you dragged the man towards the bed.

But before you could throw him onto it, he suddenly whipped out of your grasp, the man slipping his neckerchief and seamlessly binding your hands with them, tying them behind your back before throwing you onto the bed.

The man, slipping his jacket off, working on his shirt as his tail slammed the door shut, his eyes the only thing visible, that and his golden tooth as he smirked a victors smirk.

You lay there, red faced, drunk and extremely aroused as the man climbed atop you, the clink of his belt being undone and the shimmer of his tail filling the air as he lean, the snake getting close, alcohol ladened breath on your neck as he growlwd out.

"Don't worry darlin', I'll make sure you enjoy this as much as I will~"

The man purring before he bit your neck, forcing a lewd moan from your lips.

•••

You awoke the next morning a mess.

You were sore.

You had more bite marks and hand shaped bruises on your ass then you cared to count.

Your hair was a total mess, clothes in tatters after being practically torn off you by the snake, and you were still recovering physically and mentally from everything that happened the night before.

You hissed as Bombproof bumped upwards, you clinging to Striker, the man being your only ride back to the homestead as your family had left the night before.

You didn't say anything, neither did Striker, though, the snake didn't need too.

The man simply wore a smirk, that smirk saying it all.

"I won."

And the annoying part, that was he was right.

Though even as you got home, hissing as you slid off the horse, gritting your teeth as you shambled back to the house. All the way there, able to feel the snake's gaze on your back.

And while you knew he'd be insufferable after this, likwly even more forward then ever the thing that really got to you, was knowing that there was no way this was gonna be the last time.

And even as you stumbled, collapsing atop your bed, body and rear sore, you wondered what came next with that smug sexy asshat of a snake man.

[baronessvonglitter]

Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight

Max Phillips x gn!reader

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: When your vampire boyfriend Max Phillips agrees to turn you, you enjoy one last day as a mortal.

WARNINGS: Rated T, reader is gender neutral, established relationship, some kissing and fluff (as fluffy as Max can get), mentions of vampirism and ways a vampire can be hurt/injured, mentions of blood drinking, one mention of "intimacy" but is not detailed, no gore, mentions of eating food, reader wears a hoodie but is otherwise not described, use of hypnotism, mentions of being bitten, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: This work is for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge 🧡 I chose Max Phillips and apple picking 🍎

I'd kept this idea on the very, very back burner because honestly I love the mythology about vampires, and I wanted a soft!Max story, just to shake things up, and this fic challenge helped kickstart that idea into motion. There was absolutely zero information on our guy Max, so I just kind of messed with the lore and added some good ol' vampire myths just for fun 😊 Also, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was meant to be a vampire love song, hence the title I used 🖤 (Side note: if you don't already squeeze lemon on your apple slices I highly suggest it. It keeps them from turning brown and gives them a little sour bite if you don't like them too sweet)

Thank you to @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese for hosting this lovely challenge!

divider by @strangergraphics👑

Honestly, you made your choice two seconds after Max told you he was a vampire. There were no two ways about it: if he was one, you wanted to be one too.

"Honey.. you need to think about this seriously. It's not some knee-jerk decision. We're talking about the rest of your life.. or afterlife.. unlife?.. that's at stake here."

"You'll outlive me one day," you reminded him. "I don't want that to happen." You snuggled against him, feeling how warm he was, though now that he'd revealed his secret, you started to feel the cold that seeped through his skin, was ever-present in the physiology that still made him a human male, but also something else.. some preternatural creature that was just under the surface. Hiding.. or suppressed.

"I try not to think about that. I haven't been undead that long," he admitted. "Can't we be happy with what we have now?"

It stung, but you tried not to take it too personally. Max was the type to say whatever thought flitted across his brain, be it snarky or sweet, though around others it typically tended towards the former.

From then on, once he knew you would keep his secret, once he put that trust in you that he didn't place in anyone else, you had so many (too many) questions to ask, and Max was as open as he could be regarding your curiosity. Yes, he could walk around in the daytime, but it was a necessity to slather himself in the highest grade SPF that he could only purchase online from a small business in Romania and cost ten times as much as you made in an hour at your job. And it explained why he always had a scent of coconuts beneath the layer of Tom Ford cologne he practically bathed in.

There were some things that could kill him, primarily a stake through the heart. Garlic and holy water made his eyes water and skin burn, temporarily subduing his powers, and you understood why he dissuaded you from eating Italian food when you started dating.

Speaking of the powers (and that was a huge point of curiosity for you), he had strength, speed, hypnosis (although he preferred the term 'powers of persuasion' -- ever the salesman, that one.) Drinking blood powered him, made him strong, and he managed to drink a little to get him through the day, only succumbing to his deeper cravings after hours.

It was this part he didn't want to talk about. He didn't like you thinking of him prowling after his prey, planning his attack, taking what he needed from unsuspecting victims. He'd drunk from you during moments of intimacy, the small, sweet sting of his fangs was something you'd come to like, but you knew it had to be different for those he hunted. You could paint your own picture of such a scenario-- you'd seen enough movies and read enough Anne Rice and Charlaine Harris to put the pieces together of how he had to survive in the shadows.

If anything, it only further endeared him to you.

But when you'd try to press the issue all he did was sidestep it.. at first. When you were persistent he was firm, telling you in no uncertain terms, "No."

"Do you not think I have what it takes?" you'd asked.

"Babe, I don't doubt your ability--"

"Do you just want to keep all your vampiric secrets to yourself?"

He'd sputtered out a laugh despite trying to keep a serious facade. "You're being ridiculous now."

"Then.." you'd used your puppy dog eyes on him, "you don't love me?"

He'd taken your face in his hands, his gaze insistent. "Don't say that. Ever. Okay?" He'd kissed your forehead, taking in the scent of you, just at your hairline.

You'd been patient, dropping hints until one day you'd stopped, a part of you giving up.

But Max didn't like seeing you unhappy.

"All right, all right," he'd relented one night, during a viewing of American Psycho while hanging out at your place. "If you really want me to turn you, I'll do it."

"Max, you will? Really?" you'd beamed with excitement.

"Yes, sweetheart. If you really want it, I'll do it for you."

You'd pounced on him, kissing him as he pulled you down on the sofa with him, the sounds of Patrick Bateman chasing his victim with a chainsaw playing in the background.

You decide on a date: mid-October, your favorite time of year when the leaves crackle underfoot, and there's the sweet odor of chimney smoke in the air. Max tells you you should spend the last day of your human life doing whatever you want to do, and though it's something small, though it probably ranks low on most people's list of priorities before they begin a new life as a vampire, you tell him you want to go apple picking.

A part of you is relieved that Max doesn't poke fun at you, which he usually does when you tell him you want to watch Dead Poets Society instead of The Wolf of Wall Street, or when you'd rather go on the Ferris wheel than the Zipper with him at the carnival.

You typically play it safe, and he respects your playing it safe with your last day as a mortal, because he loves you.

The apple orchard is an hour and a half away, and Max holds your hand over the center console during the entire drive, letting you choose the radio station, and you spot the small twitch of his eye when you turn up the volume on a Taylor Swift song. He keeps his thoughts to himself but his opinion is written plain on his face. Ever the peacemaker, you switch the radio to an oldies station, listening to Bonnie Tyler belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and even though Max refuses to sing along with you, a smile curves the corners of his pretty mouth as he indulges in your joy.

Upon arrival you jump out before the car is even in park, and are greeted with the scent of the sweet and crisp fragrance of the orchard. The skies above are pale blue, tinged with gold from the late afternoon sun's delicate rays. Grey threatens in the corners of the firmament, and you recall checking your phone's weather app and seeing there would be rain that night. You've come on the right day.

Max grabs your hand as you join the others in line, some families with young kids, some couples, and when he's not expecting it you plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Not typically one for PDA, he one-ups you by taking you in his arms and practically bending you backward in a passionate display of romance, lips claiming yours. "My baby doesn't deserve to wait in line," he whispers, and with a devilish grin he pulls you to the front of the line where the cashier is taking payment.

"We don't need to pay," Max tells her, and from the look in the woman's eyes you can tell he's mesmerizing her with his powers.

"You don't need to pay," she repeats in a monotone, handing over a wicker basket for you to collect the apples.

Max smiles at her charmingly, pulling you along as you enter the apple orchard.

There's a chill in the air as you walk into the wide expanse of land, the green of the apple trees and the ruby fruit of their production providing the perfect backdrop for your date. You cross your arms over your hoodie just as Max puts his arm around you.

"I'll never get cold, just like you," you wonder aloud, thinking ahead to your immortal life.

"Right. One of the perks," he grins. He's wearing a dark grey nylon bomber jacket, hair perfectly coiffed, and even though other people are checking him out as you walk by, he only has eyes for you. "You'll never grow old, either. You'll still be hot. Like me," he grins.

"Which ones look good?" he asks, directing your view to the apples red and ripe, swelling with sweetness, their tangy aroma dancing in the air.

You look up and select a few, holding each one in the palm of your hand before twisting the stem off and placing it in the basket looped around your arm. Max watches you, in awe of your thought process, and the careful way in which you make your selections. When the basket gets too heavy he carries it for you.

"Are you going to eat all of these tonight?" he hides a smile.

"Don't underestimate me," you tell him. "I might just do that."

He envisions what your blood will taste like later, at the time of your turning: bitter with hints of spice and sweet, the flavor inhabiting every blood vessel, flooding into his mouth as he begins the process of forever changing you.

Soon the basket is brimming over with sweet, tart apples. Some of them fall out of the basket on the walk back to the car, leaving a scarlet dotted trail behind you.

At home, you gorge yourself on the crisp flesh of your fresh-picked apples in all your favorite forms: sliced plain with a drizzle of lemon juice, some dipped in caramel, others covered in crunchy red candy. Your lips are sticky and sweet when Max kisses you, savoring the warmth of your skin that, come tomorrow, will be colder, room temperature at best, but still soft, still delicious.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his eyes glinting, irises blown full black, like a shark detecting blood in the water around him. You're settled on the sofa, hands linked, fingers intertwined as your heart races. Max senses it and his tongue flicks out across his pink lips.

"Yes," you answer, and for a brief, sweet moment your life flashes before your eyes, a memoriam to all the things you held dear, the good and the awful, the trail of tiny moments, the heartbreaks you thought you'd never heal from, that ultimately led you to Max and the love you uncovered within him as you broke through his egotistical outer shell.

You kept his promise. He knows his trust is well-placed.

As you offer your neck, the last thing you see before you close your eyes is the Castlevania poster Max gave you for Christmas last year, hanging on the wall above the sofa.

Only the death matters now..

You hear the click of his fangs protracting. Soon you'll be just like him. You have no regrets.

"Thank you, Max," you whisper before you feel the hot sting of his bite on your tender throat. "Thank you for the best day of my life."

[crazyskirtlady]

The Dragon's Eye Amulet

genderfluid! reader X human male

content: you are a demonic entity, shape shifted into an amulet of power, you grant the wearer of your amulet wishes of their desires...for a price

warnings: demon, shape shifting, fem&male genitalia, yandere vibes, forced/coerced, bondage, pain, blood, gawk gawk 5k, le anale penetratíon

From the moment he picked up the amulet that contained you...

Immediately you could see the vanity in his eyes, the shallow desires that filled him are what attracted him to the cursed amulet, to you, in the first place, and you gleamed knowing he would be perfect to feed upon.

Prihyom purchased the gold, dragon shaped, red jeweled bauble from the glib salesman (an associate of yours) who confidently promised it would empower the wearer with all they could desire and more...

He took the amulet home and adorned himself, prancing about his room admiring his reflection. And you exuded aura from the sparkling gem, a glamour he could see and feel...

He couldn't take you off, the red and gold necklace suited him so perfectly, emboldened him and he could hardly keep his hands off the intricate design and bejeweled filigree. He took out his phone and admired himself again and again in the screen. And you glowed brilliantly, fueling his pride into conceit.

Prihyom could not even take the amulet off to sleep, and stoking it as he lay in bed he dozed in and out of sleep, and you whispered to him...

"Tell me what you most desire..."

Clutching the amulet in his hands he mumbled softly, asking to be even more handsome, he wanted to become achingly, stunning beautiful!

And of course you obliged him.

The next days everyone who saw him fawned on him, commenting on his pleasing features, dewey smooth skin, eyes bright as copper, hair black as night. Prihyom was beside himself in amazement, his physical transformation was like a miracle!

But it wasn't enough of course, having had a taste of your power Prihyom felt the amulet to be something otherworldly. He could feel your presence, though he did not know it was you yet. And so, in bed, in the dark of the night, stroking the amulet, he murmured to you, about being the most popular and most liked among his peers. He wanted to have the charm to become affluent and adored!

And of course you obliged him.

And the next days you watched as he was flooded with a thousand new friends, dates, party invitations, engagements of all types. And he was so happy, busy enough that he seemed satiated...but only for a bit.

Because he was again clutching you, clutching the amulet in the night whispering to you in a desperately needy voice, oh! He wanted wealth now! Wanted people to throw money at him! And now you chuckled to yourself knowing he was irrevocably bound by your power as you again granted his demand.

In the next days an offer was made for him to become an entertainer, with his tantalizing good looks, his supernatural charm and smile, all it took was a wink and a flick of his silky mane to have people sending money to him in all forms.

With his newly acquired wealth he stepped into a better quality of life. Bigger lodging, fancier decor, amenities to impress his many friends and many more eager lovers...

Now Prihyom knew without a shadow of doubt that his amulet was magickal, that you were powerful magick and he was filled with greed for whatever he could summon from you. He was hungry for more!

More!

Now the time was ripe.

It was time for him to pay the price for all he had asked of you...

In the night your spirit poured like a mist from the amulet, transmogrifying gold into flesh, jewel into bone and teeth and eye. Standing over Prihyom sleeping peacefully in his bed you grin and stretch oh! It has been awhile since you have taken on a physical form!

Glancing down at your fearsome visage you decide perhaps a more feminine form would be preferable in this instance. Smoothing your skin, sprouting long flowing hair, shaping delicate, feminine features vaguely similar to his own; as Prihyom had become quite narcissistically vain.

Sitting down in the bed next to him, you reach out and run your fingers along his jaw, cupping his chin you tilt his head back slightly so you can examine his handsome face closely. The small movements make him grumble and stir, his hand grasping yours in a half conscious reflex. His eyes open and focus on you in confusion, he startles and tries to sit up but you have already weighed him down with your presence, demonic paralysis now makes his jaw drop and his uplifted hand slump down.

You chuckle and click your tongue at him.

"My dear, sweet Prihyom, you didn't even bother to question the powers of the amulet that granted your every whim, and now..." You grin wickedly and watch growing fear widen his eyes. You reign in your power, allowing him the freedom to gasp and cough.

"Who...are you?" He manages to choke out the words.

"Now you ask ah? The golden amulet you wore everyday for weeks? It was I that granted your plaintive wishes no? Gave you everything your little heart desired." You stroke his face, letting your fingers linger on his lips.

"You?! The dragon necklace is...was you?! This whole time you were trapped within? Listening to me?"

"Not trapped, just a different form, and I didn't just listen, oh no...I watched you as well..." Your voice lowered to a husky whisper as you trail your hand through his silky black hair and watch a deep blush redden his cheeks. Quickly Prihyom turned away from your touch to hide his face.

"Aww, did I not give you everything you asked for?" You pout at him while he stutters

"I didn't...I mean I don't...well yes...but I couldn't have known the necklace was...was you?"

You lean close to him and notice his breathing speed up, you can hear his heart racing and it makes you smile in excitement.

"Aren't you satisfied with everything I have done for you?" You let your mouth hover over his while he pants and gulps air, his chest is heaving and sweat is starting to bead on his forehead. His cheeks are bright red now.

"What...what are you doing? What are you going to do!?" If he could, he would be thrashing, but your power holds him still.

"You didn't think I did all that for free did you? My dear, I feed off of you in exchange for what I gave!" You press your lips over his and suck the air right out of his lungs, pulling his face tightly against yours as you force your tongue into his mouth. Prihyom grunts, struggling to turn his face away again.

You pull back, anger reverting your hands back to their large, scaled form, grabbing his face firmly you stare intensely into his eyes.

"You are already mine Prihyom! From the first wish I granted you we became linked inexorably! If you want to break our partnership, then I will simply revoke all that I have granted to you!" You growl at him, letting him see your true demonic form for but an instant, power raging like fire inside your eyes.

Prihyom gasps and swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut against the image of your demonic form. You relax your features back into the pleasant mask you created for him. Stroking his head with your human hands you plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Don't fear me, I have been watching you all these months and have enjoyed doing everything I did for you. And I can do even more..."

"...if you will let me..."

You can sense him thinking about all the wonderful luck and prosperity that has befallen him since you came into his life; his physical transformation, his popularity, his charm, his wealth...

His eyes open tentatively and, seeing you gazing at him in such a lovely form he can't help but blush again.

"What...what will you do to me?" Prihyom whimpers, fear fills his voice, but his body betrays him, you can feel heat and tension building... elsewhere in him...you smile again and he knows you are well aware of his conflicting feelings.

"Oh I think you already know what I will do with you, don't you?" You push your body up against his, letting him feel the soft curves of your human form. You slid one hand under his shirt and up his chest, allowing a single claw to manifest itself, making a thin scratch into his skin, just enough to sting a bit, not enough to draw blood...yet...

Prihyom yelps, his breathing growing erratic again as you press his body into the bed underneath you, listening to his racing heart, feeling the heat radiating from his groin against yours. You twirl a finger into his hair and lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze has him hypnotized. Slowly you bring your lips to his and kiss him softly, savoring his taste again and again with small, sensual kisses that leave him breathless.

Sitting up you staddle his body between your thighs, and with a flick of your wrist all clothes are gone, nothing between your skin and his but air and heat. Prihyom nearly hyperventilates, taking in the entirety of your human form and you allow yourself a little giggle of pride for creating such an alluring physical shape after so many years of not having made one at all!

"You like what you see? I fashioned it just for you!"

You grab his limp hands, still paralyzed by your power, and guide them along the soft skin of your thighs, up your stomach and chest, pausing to hold them against your ample breasts. Prihyom moans, able to feel everything and not able to so much as twitch a finger. You delight in his helplessness, sliding his fingers gently along your nipples. It feels so good you grind your hips down against his body and hear him gasp and moan. Watching his face fill with desire as you lick and suck his finger, feeling his need as a growing firmness where your body and his meet. You lean down to kiss him deeply, his tongue meeting yours eagerly now. You devour his mouth in yours, drinking in his growing lust for you as a fine wine. Freeing him from the paralysis just enough to indulge him, Prihyom instantly wraps his arms around you and bucks his hips upward trying to bring the warm hollow of your body against his hard shaft. You immobilize his body completely again and laugh at his groaned frustration.

Now, you shift your form just a bit, and using your whip-like prehensile tail you firmly pin his arms above his head as your demon tongue lashes against his neck and slides downward, licking and tickling at the inner fold of his arms until he squeals, then flicking around his nipples making him whine nervously. You tease and suck his nipples until they are hard little nubs.

You know exactly what he wants, as you move lower on his body, feeling his muscles tense under the paralysis hold you still have on him and when your long, thick tongue begins to wrap around the hardened, aching shaft of his desire, Prihyom lets out a deep moan. You swallow his whole member with ease and swirl your tongue around and over the sensitive tip. Wanting to feed deeply upon his lust you again release your hold on his body and he is immediately thrusting desperately into your throat, his hands struggling against the strength of your tail. Your extra long tongue slurps the whole length of his shaft and curls down towards the more tender organs below. You can feel his legs trembling, his muscles tensing as he nears the peak, glancing up you watch his eyes roll back, his breathing all but stopped as he loses himself in ecstasy. You can taste him, swallowing his very essence, you drink in his vitality and feel it stoke your power like coal in a furnace.

As his body goes limp from expending himself you quickly flip him over, burying his face in the bed. Allowing yourself to partially revert to your demonic form you grab his hips in your large scaled hands, drawing a yelp from him as you plunge your huge tongue deep into his most intimate hole. He is howling like a madman while you tongue fuck him, your drool dripping down between his cheeks gripped tight in your claws. You feel him loosening up, thrusting himself back onto your tongue with eager abandon, chasing the wild throbbing feeling of your tongue stimulating his g-spot. You quickly draw back, making him whimper, loudly needy. As you position your even larger demonic appendage between his dripping wet cheeks, you pause, letting him feel the size difference of your monstrous phallus. Before he can turn or struggle you grip his hair and shove him down into the bed, thrusting yourself deep into his body at the same time. The mattress muffles his wailing as you slide your wickedly barbed shaft in and out of his tight hole, his muscles spasm, squeezing you so tight you stop moving and just enjoy the feel of his body struggling underneath you. Controlling the tip of your phallic appendage as easily as you could your finger or tongue, you find his sweet spot again and apply pressure to it as you grind your hips into his backside. It's all too much for Prihyom, he screams into his bed, his body shuddering as he cums again. The way his body clenches around your shaft as he bucks in ecstasy sends you over the edge as well. A terrifying roar bursts from your chest as you cum with him, your claws grip his skin too tightly, drawing blood in 5 fierce lines across his thighs. You fill his hole with your hot load and collapse atop him, nearly crushing him with your demon form. Panting and breathless you still manage to keep some sense and bring your body back to your smaller human form, but keep your demon phallus buried deep in him for a moment longer.

When you finally release him and roll off his back he is so silent you fear for a second you might have suffocated him! But then he too rolls over gasping for air, tears in his eyes. His beautiful hair is a tangled mess and his gorgeous face is red and marked from being shoved into the bed. You grab his shoulder firmly and pull him into an embrace, smattering his face with kisses.

"Is...our partnership... maintained...?" Prihyom gasps out. A deep rumbling laughter vibrates inside you.

"Yes indeed my sweet." You cradle him in your arms, despite your current smaller form your presence envelopes him completely, holding him as physically as your paralysis had. You stroke his hair mindlessly, listening to his breathing slow, thinking he has fallen asleep.

"You are frightening...and incredible...I...I like our... partnership..." He sleepily mumbles into your arms.

You chuckle softly, caressing his face.

You suddenly feel his hand on your lower appendage, still in demon form. He thumbs the barbs and bumps, all soft and limp now.

"I like this part as well." He admits shyly.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Reclaim (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request Dean's bf taking him out to just spend a day or two doing whatever childhood things he never got to do, no matter how much he huffs about it not being a big deal.  Just fluff and carthartic stuff, that kind of thing

A grumpy bearded man glares at you from a swingset that is far too small for him, his bowed legs bent pretty far.

"Are you happy now?"

You chuckle. "You didn't even swing."

"It's too small."

"Then go use the big boy set. Not my fault you wanted to go for the kiddie swings."

He huffs and stands indignantly.

you laugh harder. "This was kinda supposed to be fun, Dean."

"But, like... this is all kid's stuff."

"You're never too old for some of this stuff!" you cry, and pull him along to the swings. "Don't you have any fun stuff you used to do as a kid?"

"Uh... target practice with Dad?"

"Wow. Yeesh."

"What?"

"So, like... you never really got to have a childhood."

"Dude. You can't just say crap like that to someone's face. Besides, it's not a big deal. I can-"

"I know what we're doing today!"

"Oh boy."

You challenge Dean to see who can get higher on the swings before you chicken out - mainly to stop your competitive boyfriend from trying to go all the way over.

And then when you hear the tinny calliope noises of an ice cream truck you go running, calling out for Dean to come with you, and you both chase down the truck.

It's silly and stupid, but then the ice cream salesman tells you about the fair in town, and you give Dean an excited stare.

"......"

"...."

"...fine."

Dean usually doesn't get to stay in any town long enough for any local events, so a county fair is still relatively new to him.

The overwhelming amount of sight and sound is enough to burst his bubble of attempted adult disapproval, and you catch a glimpse of the goofy kid he probably would have been.

He grins, and eventually takes the lead in pulling you to the different attractions.

You gorge yourself on fried county fair food - Dean is in fried heaven, defying all the angels to come up with a food better than the fried oreo, but even his insatiable appetite can't conquer a huge funnel cake with a dollop of ice cream that won't even melt all the way on the hot day because it's so big - not without your assistance.

You make him do the petting zoo, and he tries to impress you at the dunk tank, pitching a fastball that sends some cute local guy splashing.

He wins you prizes, accepts those you win for him, and admits that it's probably just about as fun as that time his dad took him into a bar for the first time and showed him how to hustle pool.

For now, you'll take it.

He even lets you drive home, since he's tuckered himself out so much. You let him lean against you, and you grin to yourself when you hear him quietly ask-

"Can we go again tomorrow?"

[rierice8]

Last words of an old flame

Thank you for 100 followers guyss!! I was supposed to post a scara fic a long while back but I’ve been pretty busy, but then the next time I opened tumblr I had 100 followers?! So I decided to dedicate this scara fic to that milestone. Thanks a ton guys! And sorry for the long wait, this fic is super angsty too- OOPS! Turns out liquid smooth is not the kind of music I should write smut too…

Word count: 1921

Ftm Scaramouche/wanderer x male reader

TW: heavy mentions of memory loss, angst, degradation, semi public sex (forest), creampie, blowjob

You don't quite know when you’d first felt like this.

Perhaps it was as you saw him for the first time, sitting way up high, far from the busy bustling streets of Sumeru with that dejected look on his face. Or maybe it was as you caught another glimpse of the strange man as you were studying the forest, drenched from the summer heat. It could have been when you first spoke with him, calling him out for seemingly following you. Maybe it was as you spoke the second time, or the third. It could have been as he and you got closer, maybe as you played in the shallow waters of a nearby stream as a way to cool off. Perhaps it was his perfect physique, the way the water made his shirt stick against his torso, his muscles accented by the sleeveless black fabric. His hair dripping against his face and his sly smirk as he forces water your way.

But you don’t think it matters when you started feeling this way. Because it feels good. Too good.

Sitting alone in your room, fingers wrapped around your cock as you grunt and throw your head back to the thought of him. Skilfully going up and down to the rhythm you imagine pounding the man with. Staring at the pictures of him you took with your kamera, precum leaking down your cock. It was like your skin was on fire, though if it was really his touch it would feel all the better. You were completely unravelled all while thinking of him.

Him.

…

Who is he again?

It's been days, or maybe weeks since you’ve seen him. But who was he? You rack your brain yet you can't seem to remember his name, looking through your memory there seem to be blank places, places where his face should be. He meant so much to you, you know that much. He was your world, your light.

What was his name again?

Months go past and you’re sitting, face in your knees, photographs with what seems like blurs of what was a man all across the floor. It was like someone forced him from your memory. You were starting to forget the memories you shared. All that was left was the feeling. It was like sparks lighting against your skin, or that's what you remember it as, at least. A burning desire, a passion, a love for this…figure. This blur. If you didn’t know any better, it felt like someone had forcefully cut out his face from your memory. You miss him so.

Miss him?

Who again?

You walked down the streets of Sumeru city in the summer heat, buying some herbs for your morning tea.

“Thanks again for the windwheel asters, they’re so hard to get here!” You exclaimed. The salesman smiled and said it was nothing as you waved goodbye and set off again. Your next stop was the flower store, which brought you an immediate sense of dread, as it always does. The flowers made you think of something, but you don't know what. It's the same empty patch that kills you every time. You shake your head in an attempt to fix your thoughts.

There.

Your head darted upwards. A man you’d never seen before sat on the roof of some building. You’d never seen before? Yea… never before. His eyes were focused on you. You made direct eye contact with the stranger who sat above you. Who was he?

“Who are you?” You yelled up to the wanderer.

He looked at you cynically before letting out a ‘tsk’ and standing up, preparing to leave.

“No please! Tell me, I swear I must have met you before, something feels wrong about you,” you begged him. He slid down the side of the building before grabbing your arm and dragging your shocked self away from the busy roads. You didn’t question his antics, only following him deeper and deeper into the forests to the sides of the big city. His indigo hair flowing in the wind, his left hand holding his hat down to his head, pale shimmering skin holding your hand tight. He didn’t break a sweat from all the running, so you tried not to either, as not to embarrass yourself. Besides, you were quite well versed in combat, both with and without your vision. Yet running this far and long seems impossible with human stamina.

“Stop please,” you panted. He immediately stopped running and let go of your arm. You stumbled backwards and ended up falling over. He stood above you and cried,

“HOW CAN YOU TELL, HOW DO YOU KNOW!”

You shuffled yourself backwards and away from the angry man. What did you know?

“I don't know…I’m sorry. Who are you even, I feel like I’ve known you but whenever I try to think of you nothing comes up and it makes my blood boil!” You said shakely, eyes wide open. The mystery man took a step back, stumbling slightly as he covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes went glassy. As if realisation has struck him through the heart and it hurt.

“I love you,” he trembled out.

“You don't even know me?”

He knelt down to place himself on top of you, caressing your cheek with his burning palms. Pulling you into a kiss. Like habit you kissed back. He moved his lips against yours and like habit you closed your eyes and sighed into his mouth. He slid his tongue into your mouth and, like habit, you let him. His touch felt oh so familiar, like you’d felt it a million times before. As though the was he touched you was the same as the past. Like he was the missing piece in your memory.

You broke the kiss panting and staring wide eyed.

“Just who are you,” you whispered as you lent your head against his shoulder.

“Everything you do feels so right, but I can’t remember you.” He smiled, a sad smile, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I want you, my love,” he said with half lidded eyes.

And like habit,

You said yes.

Against a tree, deep in the forest, you ravaged this man who you’ve loved so much, yet who has been burnt from your memory. He stared up at you as his mouth worked your tip and his hands worked the base of your cock. Eyes tear filled yet perfect, seeming as though they were begging you to use his mouth as you pleased. Every time you moved slightly he’d moan around your cock, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. It was intoxicating, the way his pink lips worked so skilfully and as though they’ve been there before. As if they knew everything that made you come undone. You grabbed his head by his hair and forced him to take you all the way. He gagged before grabbing your thigh and letting you move his head as you pleased. His occasional moans were enough to get you burning on the inside, aching for him. Pulling him off your dick, he whined before you pulled him off the floor and pulled his shorts and panties right down. You lifted one of his legs above your shoulder to support him better before shoving a finger into his wet pussy, not needing any lube from how wet he already was. You pumped that one finger in and out of him slowly, painfully. You watched his face as he squirmed in pain.

“Hahh~ more, faster…please?” He moaned out.

You smiled at him as you pushed in one more finger and started moving them faster.

“Someone’s already all stretched out, like a good slut. I’m sure you were thinking of me a lot, hmm? Not being able to tell me who you are or show yourself really got to you, bad little whore.” You whispered into his ear.

“Mmfh! It- ah! It was so hard! I missed you too much~ ngh!” He groaned. You pulled your fingers out and licked them clean while staring him in the eye. You closed in and kissed him, letting him taste himself from your mouth. You moved down along his chest, giving him little hickeys and kisses along his whole neck and collar.

“Please…put it inside.” He begged. You smiled as you followed his begs. Aligning your dick with his sopping pussy before pushing in. It was almost like he was made for you, fitting you perfectly inside him. He moaned out loud and pulled your head down to his chest. You started moving, fast straight away, having no patience left to tease the wanderer anymore.

“Fuck, I feel as though I’ve done this before. Have I? Why don't you be a good little cock slut and tell me everything?” You say as you pull his hair so that he faces you.

“I- ah!! I can’t tell you~ mhfg, fuck me oh archons!” He whined. You furrowed your brows and sped up. Even now he couldn’t open his mouth.

Even now you were left in the dark.

You kissed him violently, smashing your lips together as you pounded his small frame and trailed your free hand up to twist and pinch his nipples. He moaned into your lips and you did nothing but speed up again. Chasing your own high.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He moaned out.

“Then cum, slut.” And he did. He let out a long moan as he tried to close his legs, but you kept them open and continued so that you could feel release too.

“I can't any more n- no! Too sensitive~ ah!” He moaned, but you ignored his pleas.

“I don't even know your name yet I feel like I’ve fucked you senseless a million times. Yet you seem to know me so well, plastering yourself on me like some cheap whore,” you said, accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. The wanderer was a mess beneath your arms now. Crying and moaning at how good it feels.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you groan.

“Cum inside me- ngh!! Ah yes, please!!” He whined and begged. You smiled and nodded slightly, after all, you couldn’t refuse such a good boy. With a few more thrusts you came inside him, filling his pussy up with your cum. You stayed like that for a moment as you caught your breath.

“I wish I knew who you were, you know,” you sighed. The wanderer looked away from you, in a solemn way.

“And I wish I could tell you, but even if I did, you still wouldn’t remember me.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You sighed again and pulled out. The man gasped at the sudden emptiness. You pulled your own clothes back on before helping him out and dressing him again. You then picked him up and carried him back to yours.

As you came home, you lay him down in bed alongside you, already knowing that he would be gone before you next opened your eyes. But you silently prayed that he’d still be there. Yet before you fell asleep, you stared at him, letting all the details you’d long forgotten sink back in.

“I forgot how beautiful you were,” you smiled.

He said nothing in return, just blankly stared at you.

“I’m sorry.”

In the morning he was gone. Just as you’d predicted, any trace of him vanished, all that was left were his words echoing in your mind.

The last words of an old flame.

[mrs-murder-daddy]

A/N: It's finally here, and it's only part one! I'm so sorry everyone but I've been fucking miserable for the last few months. But I'm here, I promise!

Requests are also open for BoB and MotA!

The Heart of the Ocean (Part One)

Gale "Buck" Cleven x Reader

The stateroom is much smaller than you anticipated, though perhaps your expectations were too high. After all, this is just a boat with a lot of people on it.

It feels suffocating, though perhaps that’s a consequence of your circumstances more than your room. 

You stare at yourself in the vanity’s mirror. You look tired, but maybe you should cut yourself some slack. You’re getting married in a few weeks. Every bride looks this sallow before their wedding day.

There’s a knock on the door, gentle and polite. You haven’t even responded when it opens. Caledon Hockley, your fiance, walks in. If you had never spoken to the man, you’d say that smile on his face is genuine.

He brandishes a velvet jewellery box and presents it to you with all the showmanship of a salesman. You’re not sure why. You’re marrying the bastard, not buying a house from him.

Cal crowds up behind you, opening the box, expecting you to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over it. He gives you some long speech about how the diamond used to belong to some long dead king. All you can do is stare. It’s so… big. It’s gaudy and awful. At least it matches your engagement ring.

He clasps the necklace, the chain feeling rather literal. He kisses your temple and grins at his most prized possession. You paste on a smile and thank him for his kindness. As he leaves, reminding you of the lunch you were already supposed to be at, you wrap a hand around the massive blue diamond. It’ll at least weigh me down, you joke.

Despite your mother’s hatred of her, Mrs Margaret “my-friends-call-me-Molly” Brown is the only person you can talk to that actually listens. You walk into the dining room for lunch, hands gently wrapped around one of Cal’s arms and the first thing you hear is, “that necklace is gorgeous darling!”

Your mother fawns over it and you almost tell her to just take it if she wants it so bad. 

Molly says, “Not as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

Her beaming smile is not enough to distract you from your mother’s eye roll, but it is enough for you to respond with a genuine thanks. You can’t remember the last time you got a compliment.

Stuck at a table between a rock (Cal) and a hard place (your mother), you wait anxiously to eat. You would listen to the conversations around you, but it’s mostly your mother bragging about the family you’re marrying into, and the men discussing which type of cigar they’ll smoke next or other trivial nonsense.

When the waiter approaches, you perk up. but Cal takes over. “We'll both have the lamb, medium-rare with very little mint sauce.” He turns to you and pats your hand, “You like lamb, don't you sweet-pea?”

You stare at him silently, god his face was just so punchable. A pinch on your thigh reminds you that there’s an audience. “Of course, darling.”

Molly jumps in, noticing the distinct pinch of your mouth. “You gonna cut her meat for her, too, Cal?” The table bursts into laughter and even your fiance forces a tight smile.

The food is not quite to your taste, the bitterness of Cal’s mistreatment tainting your meal. But the conversation takes a turn for the better.

Molly posits, “So, how do ya reckon they got to the name Titanic?”

An older fellow married to a woman 3 years your junior speaks up, “Well the name obviously conveys size, thus it also conveys strength.”

You jump in, “Perhaps Dr Freud’s ideas about the male preoccupation with size will interest you, Mr Higginbotham.”

Your mother pinches your thigh again and you jolt. The conversation changes once more and even Molly’s boisterous laughter can’t calm your temper. You excuse yourself and race outside for some fresh air.

The ocean breeze cools you down somewhat. You bask in the sun’s rays, gripping the rail in front of you and leaning back just a little.

Your reverie is interrupted by a loud shout of “Miss!”

You look down to see two brunets wrestling playfully. Their blonde friend shakes his head before looking up at you. Your knees turn to butter. He’s quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

The two of you stare at each other for so long, his friends have stopped wrestling, instead looking between you two like a tennis match. The Greek statue below only stops the staring contest when a frown takes over.

Your own face falls when you realise why: Cal. Your fiance grips your arm and begins to berate you quietly while dragging you back inside.

But the beautiful blonde man is all you see. His smile as his friends begin to tease is enough to feed you for a lifetime.

Dinner is much the same, only your noose feels tighter than before. Your newfound wealth is still the only topic of conversation your mother cares about and your fiance is content to make every little decision for you.

Of all your companions, at least Molly Brown tries to reach out with some gentle questions about the wedding. Cal fields all of them, he and your mother having planned everything to the very flowers of your bouquet.

Your ears begin to ring. Your mother over one shoulder, your fiance over the other. A hand touches yours lightly. It’s gloved but still warm. Molly’s Southern accent cuts through the rest of the conversation.

“You okay darling?”

You nod and beam brightly. “Of course, just excited for the wedding.”

It’s clearly not enough for her. Then an icy glare from the people either side of you reminds her of your precarious position.

“Well who wouldn’t be? It all sounds so beautiful!”

You power through dinner, Cal ordered the beef for you both, though you would rather have eaten dirt.

He kisses your gloved hand as the men retire to the smoking room. Molly rubs your shoulder gently as she bids you goodbye. 

Your mother hisses at you for acting up. You simply smile apologetically and ask to get some fresh air. She waves you off with an angry “I’ll see you later.”

Thankfully, no one else is on deck as you sprint across the wood. Your chest is heaving with panicked breaths and barely concealed sobs. The theatrics catch the attention of a man laying on a bench staring up at the stars.

You crash into the rail at the stern of the ship and hastily climb over. Your breath gets stuck in your throat as the wind brushes past your face, cooling the tears on your cheeks.

The skin over your knuckles stretches as you cling to the only tether you have left. The water looks cold but so inviting.

Then a voice. It’s quiet and gentle, but it nearly startles you into letting go. 

“Easy, easy, didn’t mean to scare you.” He approaches, palms up in surrender.

“Go away.” You’re beyond embarrassed to have someone witness your breakdown. Your consideration of the unthinkable.

“Well that I’m not gonna do.” He creeps closer like you’re a wounded animal. It’s perhaps a cliche, but you imagine that’s what you are. Hunted for your beauty and trapped in the snare of a loveless marriage.

“You should leave. If you know what’s good for you.” You wish your voice sounds stronger. The creaking of your throat doesn’t make you sound very intimidating.

He just sighs and sits down on the deck. He begins to… remove his shoes? You frown and look over your shoulder as much as you can.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re going down there,” he nods to the water below you, “I’m coming after you. And these are a new pair. Can’t get ‘em all soggy.”

You begin to laugh, a little hysterically. “That water’s freezing. There’s no way you’ll jump after me.”

“That’s not the part I’m worried about.” He stands up and begins to remove his jacket. Your face grows serious once more. His shoulders are broad, he must be a steel worker or something. But his face is too pretty for that kind of work. “You know a fall from this height into water, it’s like hitting pavement. Then you add the freezing water and-“ he hissed through his teeth.

You take another look, it is a very long way down. How did you not notice that before? A few moments of contemplative silence pass and the broad shouldered man moves closer.

You look over your shoulder at him. “You ever feel alone? Like truly alone in the world.”

He frowns sympathetically, “Can’t say I have, ma’am.”

You smile sadly. “That’s good.” Your hands begin to loosen their grip. 

His voice now sounds like it’s right next to you, but you can’t bring yourself to look. “Maybe you should come back over this rail and tell me all about it. Maybe I can help you.”

A sad little smile appears on your face. “I wish you could.” 

Then warmth wraps around your wrist. The man’s hands are calloused but much softer than you expected. 

“You never know if you don’t try.” He’s practically begging, anxiously waiting for your response.

You turn your head to look at him, tears threatening to choke you. You realise just who this man is. “Okay.”

He wraps a gentle but firm arm around your waist and helps you pull yourself back over the rail. When you finally set your heeled feet on the deck, your body feels like it’s going to collapse. The man leads you to a bench and wraps his jacket tight around you.

“I’m Gale by the way, Gale Cleven.”

You introduce yourself, still feeling rather defeated.

“Now tell me about what happened just now.” The words imply an interrogation, but looking into those baby blues you see… concern. What is with the people on this boat?

You’ll know them for only about a week and yet they’re the only ones in your life who seem to actually care for you.

“I know what you must be thinking.” You sigh, “Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”

Gale leans his head forward to make eye contact, “Not at all. What I’m thinking is what could have happened to this girl to make her think she has no way out?”

You flash the giant ring on your finger, “I’m getting married next month.”

He jokes, “Wow! You would have gone straight to the bottom.” 

But you can’t laugh, you just stare at it. “All of Boston society will be there. 500 invitations.”

You finally look at his face, counting his freckles subconsciously, “Sometimes I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up.”

He frowns and you’re hit with a sudden wave of shame. “Thank you for your help, Gale.” You take his jacket off hastily and drop it in his lap.

“Wait-” He tries to process the abrupt end to your conversation but you’re already halfway down the deck, surreptitiously wiping away tears.

The next morning, you beg your mother to let you have some space and fresh air. Really, you want to find the handsome blond from the night before. To apologise and to assure him that you will be just fine.

It’s not difficult to spot his incredibly handsome profile. He’s hunched over a sketchbook, head bobbing as he looks to his reference then back down. Trying to follow his eyeline, you see a sweet looking older man dancing with his little daughter. She stands on his feet as they sway to nothing in particular.

You approach carefully, worried you’d break the warm quiet, or disturb the family’s moment. You decide to just sit next to Gale. He tilts his head in acknowledgment but continues his work.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night,” you begin, “it was inappropriate for a woman of my station.”

He gives a little half-smile and looks up at you. His stare is like looking into the sun. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel. And I felt honoured you trusted me enough to share your pain.”

Your face warms, you’re not sure if it’s shame or those baby blues trained on yours. The girl and her dad are still dancing, but he’s picked her up. Her curls swish around as he twirls them and her giggles almost bring a tear to your eye. You can’t remember the last time your parents showed you any affection, let alone danced with you just to make you laugh. 

Gale clears his throat and holds his sketchbook out. His work is incredible. Not only is his technical work beautiful but he’s captured the loving glint in the father’s eyes and the little girl’s missing tooth. You can’t help your beaming smile.

“This is incredible work! You should be proud. Is this what you plan to do back in the States?” You brush a gentle finger over the drawing’s finer details.

He blushes and shakes his head, “I’m going back to my tiny hometown to see my family. Where I go from there, I don’t know.”

“You have a real talent here, Gale! You should explore this.” You hand the drawing back to him.

His plush lips part like he wants to respond, but you’re interrupted. The sweet little girl taps your shoulder, her tiny hand covered in freckles. She introduces herself as Niamh, and asks if you’re some kind of fairy. You frown, confused, but hear Gale chuckle behind you.

“She absolutely is, Miss Niamh.” When you turn your head to look at him, he winks. You look back at Niamh and smile.

“He’s right, I am a fairy! And I have a gift for you, little one.” You pull out one of the many pins in your hair, a bejewelled butterfly on the end. You hold it out to her; she seems hesitant to take it.

Niamh looks back at her dad who nods in her direction. She takes the pin and gives it a little kiss, “I promise, I’ll take care of it.” She runs back to her dad, giggling.

“I gotta go soon,” Gale’s voice draws you back to your previous conversation. “It’s almost lunchtime, but I wanted to ask.” He closes his sketchbook and faces you head on. “You ever been to a party?”

You had assumed when Gale asked you about a party there would be drinking and music, but nothing to this level.

The small parlour is packed to the brim with warm bodies and free-flowing drinks. Gale is up on a makeshift stage dancing with a cat in one arm and Niamh on the other. You remember his two brunet friends from yesterday and search for their faces, hopefully one of them will remember you.

One is preparing to arm wrestle a big bald man while the other claps him on the shoulder for support. A pregnant woman stands behind them, arms folded and a big grin on her face. You make your way through everyone, feeling very overdressed. By the time you reach them, the arm wrestling match is done and everyone cheers for “Curt”. By the big smile on his face, you assume Curt is one of Gale’s friends.

You can’t quite find a way to interject yourself into the celebrations so you find yourself leaning against the wall awkwardly. Gale finally notices you and tries to wave, only he has no hands free. So he quickly gestures to his friends.

“Hey!” The taller brunet shouts, holding his arms out for a hug. You shake your head, not quite there in your acquaintanceship with him. Instead the pregnant woman wraps her arms around him instead. “You’re the dame who Buck can’t stop talking about.”

“Buck?” You look over his shoulder at Gale whose attention is divided between you and Niamh. “Oh Gale!” Your face heats up, “I hope he’s been kind.”

Curt butts in, “Darling you’ve got nothing to worry about, the man is already picking out a ring for ya.”

The tall brunet holds his hand out to shake yours, introducing himself as John, “But my friends call me Bucky.” He also introduces the woman under his arm as Angel. She gives you her real name but says she prefers the nickname.

Curt gives you an official introduction, and Gale peels himself away from Niamh and the cat long enough to come join you all.

“I’m glad to see you here, sweetheart.” Gale smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulder. You lose yourself in his eyes again.

“Glad to be here.” Your voice is breathy, but for once you’re saying what you truly mean.

The night is long and restless, you drink and you dance and you laugh and you dream. This is the life you’d sorely missed, friends, fun, and blossoming love.

The night winds down, Curt has passed out on a bench near the makeshift stage. There’s only one fiddle player left, the rest of his musician family gone to bed. Niamh is asleep in her dad’s arms while her mother dances around them.

Bucky and Angel dance together, looking more in love than anyone you’ve ever seen. He whispers sweet nothings in a low tone just to see her blush. Gale clears his throat next to you and you snap your eyes towards him. He holds his large hand out, inviting you to dance. As you join him, slow dancing next to your new friends, you wonder. Maybe you can learn to love Gale like Angel loves her Bucky.

It’s late when you return to your room. A familiar face greets you. Cal sits on his reading chair with a whiskey in one hand and your massive blue diamond necklace in the other.

“Where were you?” He doesn’t look at you, only the necklace.

“Out.”

“And what, precisely, does that mean?”

“I… was with friends.” 

“Is that why you smell like a brewery?”

You roll your eyes, but choose just the wrong time to do as his eyes shift to you.

His voice is dark and angry, and your palms begin to sweat. “You are my fiance, and you are to be my wife. You will wear this gift at all times and you will not leave my side without my express permission. In fact, I’ve come to an agreement with your mother.” He stands, looming over you. “You will stay in this room and share this bed with me.”

Your eyes widen, “That would be inappropriate, we’re unmarried.”

“You are still mine.” He clasps the necklace around your throat once more.