BLEED - the salesman x fem!reader series masterlist
series summary - you don’t know his name. You don’t know what he wants. All you know is this: he does things to you no one else can do. But this relationship becomes dangerous, and every meeting quickly transforms from pleasure into a fight for your life.
CHAPTER 1 - ‘Russian roulette - the salesman x fem!reader’
He’d been following you for a while. When you finally find the courage to approach him, you wake up hours later in his apartment, tied up and completely at his mercy. He has one offer: a game of Russian roulette.
CHAPTER 2 - ‘Bleed - the salesman x fem!reader’
Days after your first encounter, the two of you meet again, exactly as promised. This time, he’s eager for you to get to know him better. You play a game of two truths and a life - with a twist: for every lie you miss, he gets to make you bleed.
CHAPTER 3 - ‘Choke - the salesman x fem!reader’
One week since your last arrangement, he finds you again. He offers you a game of ddakji that quickly turns into a fight for your life.
CHAPTER 4 - ‘Carve - the salesman x fem!reader’
After your personal promise not to call him, a month passes with no sign of him. You really think that you might be free from his torture, until you wake up in his apartment all over again. He isn’t going to let your actions go unpunished - so he makes sure that to do something that you will never forget.
CHAPTER 5 - ‘Devour - the salesman x fem!reader’
You wake up one night after an embarrassing dream, and decide to give him a call. He rewards your good behaviour.
CHAPTER 6 / THE FINAL CHAPTER - ‘Heads or tails - the salesman x fem!reader”
It’s been months since you last met him, your meetings becoming few and far between. You can feel him becoming distant. Your suspicions are confirmed once he confronts you. Your time with him is over, and he has one final game. It’s simple: heads or tails?
— SERIES ONESHOTS/REQUESTS
REQUEST - ‘Retribution - the salesman x fem!reader”
After you nearly lost your life at his hands, you seem to slip away from his control. After a while, you even manage to meet someone new, thinking you may be free from him entirely. But when your new boyfriend goes missing, you’re quickly proven wrong.
authors note: first request let's gooooooo!!!!! tysm @youcandalekmyballs !!!!! also my first michael fic 🤧 anyway requests still open pls send me stuff!! hoping to do some fluffy stuff soon aswell. tysm for reading!!
cw: blowjobs, p in v, fem reader, michaels a teeny bit mean tbh, unprotected sex, not proofread
Michael came through the door, slamming it behind him.
"I'm so sick of him." You jumped a little, you had been sitting on the sofa waiting for him to come back from visiting his father in prison. From his tone of voice, it didn't seem like it had gone well. Michael made his way into the living room, face softening just a little when he saw you.
"Didn't go well?" You asked, you knew the answer.
"Not at all," Michael began, sitting down beside you on the sofa. "What does 'light' treason even mean?" He groaned. Michael began to loosen his tie.
"I'm sorry to hear that, it's not fair on you." You said apologetically. Michael had been so overworked lately. Between managing the company, his family, and the FBI, it had been a stressful few weeks. You wanted to help him but really there was nothing you could do.
But in this mess it also meant that the pair of had sex in a long while.
"I'm just so... frustrated."
Then it hit you. You knew what you could do to help.
"Frustrated?" You started.
"Frustrated. I mean it feels like I can't get a clear word out of my dad, everything is just so difficult with him." Michael muttered. You knew you had to help relieve some of this stress.
"Well maybe, if your frustrated..." You repeated. Michael turned to look at you, confused. You leaned in and whispered into his ear.
"You could take it out on me." That sentence sent shivers down Michael's spine. He straightened up, looking you in your eyes.
"Take it out on you?" Michael questioned, voice small, his anger lost somewhere between confusion and lust.
"Use me, Michael, be rough, let it all out." You smiled sweetly at him. Michael tried to remain composed even though the idea was making his cock grow harder and harder the more he thought about it. 'Take it out on you' the sentence kept repeating in his mind. It was so dirty. You knew he wanted this. If the tent he was pitching in his pants wasn't evidence enough, the way his face flushed and he now avoided looking directly at you were also solid clues.
"Unless," you rang mockingly, you were also quite horny now and not willing to wait any longer, "you're too much of a pussy-" Michael grabbed your face and kissed you rough. He wasted no time pushing his body on top of you until he had you pinned underneath him on the sofa. His tongue prodded at your mouth, demanding entrance. You whimpered out pathetically as your mouth opened. Michael smirked against your lips. He deepened the kiss, you both were growing more desperate. Your hands began to explore his body, craving some friction, some attention. After a minute, he pulled away, panting.
"You want this?" He confirmed quickly. You nodded your head.
"Use me Michael, take it out on me," you quickly replied. That was all the endorsement Michael needed.
"Get on your knees." You felt yourself get wetter as the words left his mouth. This demanding and dominating side was something you had never seen from Michael. Maybe this was something he always wanted to do. Maybe it was repressed. It didn't matter right now, you were savouring every second. You followed Michael's instructions and got on your knees in front of him on the sofa. You looked up at him. He looked divine. Hair messy, a few buttons undone. He breathed out a 'hm' and smiled weakly at the sight before him. He released his aching cock finally. "Don't need me to tell you what to do, do you sweetheart?" It was all too good to be true.
You gave his cock a few stroke to begin with, watching as his face began to relax. That was good. You started small, a few licks to the tip, he let out an annoyed groan. You shouldn't be teasing him - not when you're supposed to be helping him relax - but the noises he emitted were too good. Michael was growing tired of this though. He needed to feel you around his member. He jolted his hips up, making his tip hit your mouth.
"Just fuckin-"
To Michael's relief you finally opened your mouth fully and took his cock in whole. You attempted to start a pace, dragging your mouth up and down and swirling you tongue around the bottom occasionally. But that wasn't enough. Michael needed this to be fast and rough, and you just weren't doing it right. Michael groaned out and grabbed your hair. He planted his hand in your roots, directing your movement into a much faster and more rushed pace. You weren't expecting this of course, causing you to gag. Your eyes welled unexpectedly, now your mascara was running. Michael's caring nature returned still even in his overworked and frustrated state, his other hand met your face, cupping it and stroking your cheek with his thumb.
His directions grew faster, using your mouth like a fleshlight. As he could feel himself growing closer he broke out a couple low moans.
"Fuck- jus' like that, m'nearly there."
He groaned a long 'fuuuckk' before cumming in your mouth, causing you to choke and spit. Michael held your face once more.
"Swallow." His voice was low and raspy, it only made you wetter. You did as you were told and swallowed his load. He smiled at you. "Good. Now bend over," He said bluntly. 'He isn't wasting any fucking time tonight' you thought. You crawled back onto the sofa, bending over; face down ass up. Michael came behind you. He ran hand down the curvature over your waist before pulling both your pants and underwear down. He pushed a few fingers into your dripping hole, ensuring you were ready. You tightened around his fingers. Michael laughed at this. "Needy much?" Which was ironic since he was already hard again and desprate to fuck you.
He positioned himself behind you before entering you, making a pornographic noise as your pussy clenched around him. He didn't start slow, thrusting in and out of you at a quickening pace. He let out some low groans and growls in time with his thrusts.
"Fuck fuck!" You choked out. Michael didn't slow down though. He was so taken by his anger and lust that we hadn't noticed the fact you were close, chasing his own high. You came first around his cock, trying to catch your breath as he continued to pound you.
"M'almost fucking there," his voice went higher and whiny before he pulled out quickly, coming on your ass, thankfully.
You sat next to him, both heaving and out of breath. He turned to you, face full of concern.
"I wasn't too mean was I?" He questioned.
"No honestly Michael, it was amazing," you smiled. He smiled back, wrapped his arm around you and bringing you closer to him.
extras: suggestive but more so in reader’s thoughts than any actions; pet names ‘sweetheart’ & ‘doll’; no pronouns or use of y/n; just something short bc he’s been plaguing my mind since i started watching arrested development a few days ago
becoming an assistant to kitty consisted of simple—boring, but you wouldn’t admit that—busy work: organizing papers from the copy room, taking calls when she (frequently) left, buying ink or staples whenever there was word of the absence of either, discreetly eyeing the head of the company whenever he passed with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to the bones of his elbows; why else would his office be behind the secretary’s desk?
she told you michael asked one morning if you could bring the copies to his office directly, rather than handing them off to her to do so; she grumbled something about him not trusting her—whether it was a quote or simply her irritability bleeding into her request, you didn’t pry—with an eye roll and an annoyed tapping of her pen to the desk. you could tell she really did not care—it was less work for her to do, more time to catch the phone if his father called.
you did as you were asked. you made the turn into his office rather than the straight path to kitty’s desk, knocking on the already-open door as a greeting along with a brief ‘good morning’ (even though he had echoed the same words when the two of you crossed paths earlier).
his head raised from whatever he was writing in a haste, flipping a page as he sent you a smile.
“you can just leave them right there...” he drawled with a slight raise to his eyebrows, eyeing your respective movement to the corner of his desk. “that’s perfect. thank you, sweetheart.” it was quick, thrown out of his lips with a charming crease underneath his eyes.
you nodded, reminding him with a routine phrase to let you know if he needed anything else. you hoped he didn’t exactly catch the brief glance to his hands atop his desk, baby blue sleeves, of course, rolled to his elbows.
delivering papers to the head of the company, whom they were intended for in the first place, was not unusual, not difficult.
michael was definitely making it so.
no matter if he was bickering with someone on the other line, scoffing at a file and marking another, only meeting eyes with a narrowing of his own if his head was still angled to the work atop his desk, whenever you came in with a new number of papers in hand, he made sure to offer you a smile, fiddle with the folded edges of his shirt around his arms. if there wasn’t anyone in the room or another voice registering through the phone, he would ask how your day was going with a low cadence to his voice, nodding regardless of what you said.
the days were much the same. you handed him copies and files; he muttered ‘thanks, doll’ in a lower octave, a tilt of his head. his actions were becoming less a friendly demeanor and more of an ease into whatever made a heat crawl to the skin of your neck, the shells of your ears, your eyes to wander to the slope of his nose or the way he shifted to spread his legs at his desk chair.
kitty, to no one’s surprise, left early one shift, leaving you to do more work than you knew she even had that day. the office was quiet into the later hours, save for the one sitting in the room behind you muttering under his breath.
you ended the last few minutes in the copy room, already tracking the path to michael’s desk, the elevator, your apartment. the fluorescent lights were a sore that sunk into the blacks of your pupils, and you might as well have kept track of the number they subconsciously flitted to the open door of his office.
but, he wasn’t at his desk. you rifled through the pages to check that you copied the right ones and he stood in the doorway of the copy room after having been looking for you, and you hadn’t noticed him until you were nearly chest to chest.
your apologies blended into one another, his hand already reaching out in belief the papers were to slip out of yours.
before you could ask, the dusty blues of his eyes broke contact to glance at your hands.
“i got ‘em, you can head on home.” his speech was tired, slow, punctuated with a small breath and his hand brushing against your own, gesturing with a wink to the door.
perhaps it was the sleep that strung itself in your figure, or maybe it was a simple itch that needed to be scratched, but you placed a kiss to his cheek as a thank you, not glancing back as you made your way to grab your stuff.
“have a nice night, michael.”
he could call if he needed anything—the almost displeased rasp in the brief apology that met your ear through the phone a few hours later proved your point.
