you shouldn’t be this worked up. really, you shouldn’t.
it’s just an office basketball game. fluorescent lights buzzing, the warehouse too hot, michael yelling nonsense from the sidelines. it wasn’t exactly glamorous.
but then there’s jim.
his face flushed, tie stuffed into his pocket, hair damp at the edges. there’s sweat on his neck and that cheeky grin he keeps throwing your way after every shot, like it’s your private joke, even in the middle of all this.
you’re leaning against a stack of boxes, cardigan slipping down your arm, pretending to sip from your water bottle just to have something to do with your hands. your heart skips every time he looks up, because he always finds you first, even with roy yelling and michael trash talking besides him.
“nice shot,” you call when he sinks one, trying to keep your voice casual. “thanks,” he says, breathless, voice a little rough from all the running around. “that one was for you.”
it shouldn’t make this many butterflies flutter around your stomach but it does.
and when the game finally ends, you don’t even remember leaving. just flashes, him catching your hand when no one’s looking, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he walks you to your car.
and then, you’re at his apartment.
the door barely clicks shut before you push yourself up on your toes to kiss him, messy, hungry. at first he laughs into it, a little startled, big hands landing careful on your waist like he doesn’t quite know where to touch.
“whoa—hey,” he mumbles, lips grazing against yours as he tries to catch his breath, voice warm and teasing. “didn’t know you were, uh… this into basketball.”
you pull back just enough to flash him a shy smile. “no… into you,” you flush. for a second he just looks at you, his teasing grin fading into something nicer. “yeah, okay.”
and then he kisses you again, even slower this time like he wants to remember it. he leans in closer until there’s no space left for you to think.
“been thinking about this all day, huh?” he teases, rougher at the edges. you nod, barely, your cheeks warm. “maybe,” you mumble back, words caught between shy and wanting. “don’t make fun.”
he laughs against your lips. “not making fun,” he says quickly. “couldn’t stop looking at you either,” he continues, eyes glinting with that familiar mischief, “so, lucky for you, i want you too.”
and as the world falls away, the only thing real is the heat between you, growing sharper, deeper, impossible to resist.
something short and sweet for my jim lovers <3 please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed! thank you!
Request: Could I request the reader having a fun adventure with the Jims? Just,, something not serious? Anything you’d like! From reporting on one of the egos to completely avoiding all and every ego and doing their own thing. Nothing romantic preferably, with they/them pronouns. Just,, Jims being jim-friends. Jriems
“Y/n?”
You turned over in your covers, grumbling something in the dark before quickly settling back down again.
“Y/N!”
You shot awake, clutching your heart as cameraman Jim, or Jimmy as you called him to spare your breath, and reporter Jim waited at the end of your bed, turning around once they saw you were awake and pinning something on your wall -.. what had they done to your wall..? “WHAT THE-“ Jimmy ran to cover your mouth with his hand, Jim dropping to the floor before army crawling towards you. “Quick y/n!” he whispered “Get out of your jimmyjams and into some quiet shoes.” Jimmy let you go and they turned their backs to you, covering the corkboard they’d set up in your bedroom, or their HQ now it seemed.
“W-What? Why am I up, what’s going on?” you yawned, totally confused as Jim rummaged through your wardrobes and handed you all black clothes. “I thought we were going with the camo aesthetic.” Jimmy hissed.
“Y/n doesn’t have anything in that style, like us, the shading is too different, we’ll be spotted!” Jim argued, pulling his brother out the room so you could get changed, popping his head back in just after they left making you cover yourself with the quilt. “Oh! And if you’re not ready in 7.95 minutes we’ll presume you’re dead and come charging in and avenge your death.” He nodded, giving you a reason to change quickly at- 3AM?! They better have a good reason for this.
You looked at the corkboard while you were changing but most of the pictures were blurred or covered by some part of a Jim, or taken in the pitch black. You asked them about this as you sneaked past the bedrooms of the other sleeping egos. “Did you want me to bring a torch?” you offered as they shushed you again, but the most panicked shush of the night. ‘We can’t.’ Jim mouthed and when you mouthed back he pointed to the name engraved on the door above you, the one the three of you were crawling past now. Darkiplier. Of course, he’d warned the jims before they’d almost been eaten by Dark Chica for looking like lunatic trespassers and he was always on short fuse mode around them, not appreciating your investigating, the spoilsport. The three of you quickly crawled past his room and downstairs, both Jim’s barrel rolling past Wilford who was having his 3am ice cream break while you walked and waved as he waved cheerily back, dumping the bowl contents into the tub again and taking the whole thing upstairs.
When you got outside finally the Jim’s had childish excitement on their faces, Jimmy had started recording while Jim gave a progress report and you gasped as you saw the news story they had been reporting on. A stray cat had gotten into the Iplier premises and the small black and white thing moved fearlessly towards the three of you, Jim making lots of “CH CH CH” sounds while Jimmy cooed over it, the cat however sauntered over towards you. You held a hand out and it examined it, nudging into your palm and moving in between your legs, purring happily. Up close you now realised this wasn’t just a cat, it was a kitten. It meowed so high pitched as Jim picked them up, cuddling into its face as Jimmy zoomed in. “The evil hound that stalks these premises would scare of such a gift of a creature, but fear not viewers for the brave y/n will take in this even more brave feline and treat it as their own child, this is Jim signing out.”
“What!?” you screeched, quietly though so as not to wake any egos or ego dogs around. “I can’t keep them! Dark would kill me for hiding something like that!” you protested, as much as you wanted to spend extra time with the kitten Jim now placed in your arms to guilt you into bonding. “But y/n! Dark would never let us keep them. If you ask he’d at least consider it, besides, a cat is like a spy for reporters like us! We need a mascot!” Jim argued while Jimmy just nodded along with him.
You looked down at your new mascot and the papped your face with its soft, soft paw. Your resolve was crumbling… “Fine. But only because I wanted to keep them too. And I get to choose our next investigation, and prank, and what time it is.” You were smushed in the middle of a Jim hug as you let your new feline friend back down and explore, you’d make the deal with Dark to train Dark Chica to not eat this particular trespasser and put cat food onto the weekly shopping list, you knew you’d have to reign in the Jims to even get him to consider your proposal but watching this kit wander back into the bushes you knew you had to see them again.
loveddd ur jim basketball fic!! pleaseee do more soft dom!jim maybe even bordering on kinda mean
warnings: light edging, orgasm denial, mean!jim but canon‑compliant, fingering, beggingish and whimpering, established relationship, slight teasing, sexual content ahead please no minors past this point!
you’re already pressed close to him, perched on his lap as his hand already rests on your waist, long fingers ready to peel your work skirt off. “you sure about this, honey?” jim mumbles, voice low and so caring it makes your stomach twist up. “you get all shaky when i even hold you a little too tight.”
your lashes flutter; you can’t help it. “i want you to,” you confess, the words catching on a hiccupy breath. “even if it makes me all shaky.”
and god, he does want to. wants to see you squirm and shiver under his hands — but he’s still jim, all soft edges and worried glances. his thumb brushes under your chin, lifting it so you have to look him in the eye.
“you say that, but you’re already trembling,” he teases, voice gone a little rougher now. “you don’t even know what you’re askin’ for, do you?”
your face goes hot, but you nod anyway, lip caught between your teeth. “… just wanna feel you,” you breathe, small and needy, blinking up at him like you might cry if he says no.
you watch his throat bob with a swallow, jaw tightening like he’s fighting something off, but it’s useless. jim’s always been weak for the way you look at him, all soft and wrecked before he’s even touched you properly.
“okay, sweet girl. c’mere,” he murmurs, his hands slide up, palms broad and warm, dragging over your ribs. you twitch at the contact, lashes fluttering so hard they nearly catch in your brows.
“such a mess already,” jim mumbles, low. it’s more curious than cruel, but there’s something new in it too. his fingertips drag slow over your stomach, until he stops just under the hem of your skirt, trailing to where you want him most.
he doesn’t wait. thick fingers slipping in under your underwear, middle finger sliding down to feel just how wet you are. the quiet sound that leaves him is half groan, half laugh.
“god,” he exhales, pressing the pad of his finger just against your entrance, not quite pushing in. “didn’t even have to do anything, did i?”
you whimper, hips twitching, but he just tsks under his breath, finally sinking the tip of his finger inside. slow, deliberate. “stay still, alright?” he warns softly, trying it out — being stern, but still jim. still so hopelessly gentle even when he doesn’t mean to be.
he pushes two more deeper, knuckle by knuckle, until your mouth falls open around a silent gasp. his other hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so he can watch.
his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, brown eyes sparkling. “don’t go all floaty on me yet.” he commands with the typical sarcasm he always has, smirking lazily all the same.
your eyes flutter open, glazed over. he curls his fingers just enough to make your hips buck, and his lips twitch, caught between teasing and something softer.
his thumb ghosts over your lip again, almost like he wants to kiss you — but doesn’t. not yet.
he drags his finger out when you start instinctively clamping your trembling legs around his working hand, a tell-tell sign that you’re already at the crowning of your orgasm— leaving you empty, your breath coming out in a breathy whine.
“jim—”
“shh,” he soothes, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “you’ll get it back. maybe.” his tone is almost casual.
and god, the way his breath comes faster, his chest rising under your you — he wants to give in so bad, but he holds back, just for a second longer, because you asked him to… ♡
i feel like jim is not really meannn he’s such a gentle giant so this is my own little spin on how i think he’d act ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
truthfully, you’d been messing with him all day. no, not out of cruelty or anything, you simply enjoyed watching him try not to react. you were bored. and when you’re bored, you get a little bold.
so yes, maybe you stretched a little too slow in your chair every time he looked over. maybe you kept catching his eye while licking sugar off your thumb from the donut you grabbed in the break room. maybe you purposely dropped your lipgloss under the conference table just to kneel down and grab his leg for support.
but now you were alone at your desk, absentmindedly tapping away at some emails and jim, usually so patient, so collected, was leaning down across your desk with one palm flat and that look in his eyes. the one that usually meant dwight fell through the thin ice and was about to get pranked. except this time he was looking at you.
“you done?” he asks, voice low, too casual. you blink slowly. “with what?” you ask. he licks his lips, “being a menace.” you snort. “what, just because i touched your leg earlier?”
he doesn’t smile. just eyes your mouth, then glances toward the cameras before stepping around the desk and grabbing your wrist. not hard, but just enough pressure.
“you wanted my attention, right?”
your throat goes dry.
“jim.”
“good,” he says, tugging you up out of your chair like it’s nothing. “come with me.”
“what? where?” he doesn’t answer, just guides you toward the back hallway that leads to the annex. the lights are dimmer back here, and no one’s really around except for creed, but he’s basically a ghost. the moment you pass the copy room, jim opens a side door and pushes you in gently, following close behind.
small office. lights off. empty. no cameras.
the second the door clicks shut, he turns to you, arms crossed.
“you’ve been deliberately trying to get under my skin all day.” his voice is steady and almost even amused, but serious enough that your heart kicks up a notch. “well maybe,” you admit, biting your lip. “i was bored.”
“and now?”
you shrug, but your eyes are on his, watching, waiting.
he steps closer, crowding your space, but his hands stay to himself, resting on his hips like he’s holding back. “now, i have to remind you why messing with me is a bad idea.”
you swallow hard, heat pooling low in your belly.
“you always win, jim.”
he smirks, that half-grin that’s all charm and patience.
“not always,” he mumbles before closing the gap between you, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your skin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“cant just let you walk away without consequences, silly girl.” his voice drops an octave, calm and sure, like he’s making a promise.
and then his lips find yours, soft and deliberate, like he’s savoring this moment, making it last. your hands find his shirt, gripping them tight, and he doesn’t pull away. instead, he steps even closer, pressing you gently back against the wall.
“i’ve been nice all day,” he murmurs against your mouth, “but you? you’ve been asking for this.” his hand slips to your waist, fingers curling possessively as he deepens the kiss.
you’re dizzy with him. the way he’s so confident but never rushed, the way he knows exactly how to take control without ever overwhelming you. he didn’t ever need to try too hard, he was already exactly enough.
“promise you’re gonna be good after this?” he whispers, voice thick with something warm and teasing.
you nod, smiling. “yes.”
and he just smiles that lazy soft smile he saves for when he’s absolutely sure you’re his, and he’s yours.
he kisses you again, slower now, dragging it out like he's got nowhere else to be even though both of you definitely, technically, do. but the door's locked, the lights are off, and he’s pressed against you like you're his whole world.
his hands slip beneath the hem of your blouse with practiced ease, fingertips grazing your hips. he departs from your mouth to whisper, “quiet for me, yeah?”
you nod, dazed, and he wastes no time spinning you gently around, pressing your front to the cool surface of the desk. one hand finds your lower back, holding you steady, while the other undoes your button and slides your skirt down.
you bite your lip, eyes fluttering as his fingers trail back up your thighs, tugging your underwear aside. then, a pause. his hand lingers, fingers brushing through the slick warmth between your legs.
he hums, pleased. “so wet already,” he praises.
you jolt when one finger slides in gently. then another joins, stretching you just enough to make your thighs tremble. he works them in and out with purpose, thumb circling lightly over your clit, drawing quiet, involuntary gasps from your lips.
“good girl,” he breathes, low and sure. “just like that.”
it’s too much and not enough all at once, your hips instinctively pressing back into his hand.
but then he stops.
slowly, he draws his fingers out of you, and the loss makes you whimper. you feel exposed, aching. he leans down to kiss your shoulder once, warm and wet, and you feel him against you, not wasting time.
“still bored?” he teased, hot breath fanning your neck.
“shut up, jim,” you practically whine, breath shaky.
he lingers against your shoulder while his hands fumble at his belt. the sound of the buckle, the soft rustle of fabric, it all makes your pulse skip. he unbuttons his pants, pushing them just low enough to free himself, movements efficient but not rushed.
you glance over your shoulder, just in time to see him stroke himself once with your slick still on his hand, eyes fixated on you like he’s making sure this is real.
you feel him line up, thick and hard against you, and your body tenses in anticipation. his hands grip your hips firmly, securing both of you.
he pushes in with a slow, steady thrust that knocks the air out of you. your hands digging into the edge of the desk as he stills for just a moment, letting you feel all of him.
“fuck,” you whisper.
“you’re not so cocky now,” he murmurs, thrusting again, not rough, but purposeful, like he’s proving something.
it’s fast, can’t be anything but, with time ticking and tension still buzzing in your veins from hours of teasing. his hand finds your mouth as he speeds up, muffling the soft whimpers spilling out of you while his other grips your waist, anchoring you in place.
“you can be so good when you want to,” he says lowly, strained.
you moan into his palm, knees threatening to buckle as he hits that spot again and again. it’s overwhelming. the heat, the pressure, the way he’s losing control but won’t let go yet.
“jim—” you gasp, hands instantly grabbing around the desk.
“i’ve got you,” he mumbles into your skin.
your thoughts scatter, mind blurring at the edges. everything slips out of focus, except him. the soft creak of the desk. the rhythm. the quiet hum of an office pretending nothing’s happening behind this door.
Summary: Pam’s art show didn’t go nearly as planned. She’s had enough and is ready to go home when a certain someone shows up. Based on Business School from season 3.
A/N: My first bit of fanfiction for The Office and I wrote it over a year ago!! I honestly don’t know why I didn’t post it here when I finished it but oh well...
Fic:
“Thanks so much for coming,” she heard someone say. She looked down at her wrist and checked her watch, figuring it was probably a good time to pack up and head out.
Pam did not expect this to happen. She invited everyone to the art show, hoping for a good night to spend with people she thought were her friends. Roy and his brother Kenny visited for a little while, but they didn’t seem that interested in her art, which really hurt but she shook it off. Art isn’t for everyone.
The only person from the office to show up was Oscar, and he brought his boyfriend, Gil. Much to her disappointment, they too only stayed a little while. Her day only got worse when Gil called her work “motel art.”
And now here she was. Over an hour had passed since Oscar and Gil left. She kept hoping, waiting for someone else to show up. But no one came. And it hurt.
Taking a few steps toward her art, she reached forward and grabbed a thumb tack holding down the corner of one of her drawings. Before she could pull it out of the wall, however, a familiar voice called out to her.
“Hey, these are yours?”
Pam turned around and saw none other than Jim Halpert standing in front of her art. She moved to the side for him to get a better look and said, “Oh, Jim, hey. Yeah, these are mine.”
He looked at each one slowly, noticing every detail. “Wow,” he whispered. He looked over to Pam, who had remained silent as she watched him look over her art.
“You like it?” she asked.
“I love it. These are really good.” He smiled.
She smiled too, “Thanks.”
“Oh, hey, sorry I was late. Had the whole bat situation.”
She nodded, “Oh yeah, how did that go?”
“I’m 95% sure I’ve convinced Dwight that I’m a vampire,” he chuckled.
“Who’s to say he’s wrong. It explains a lot,” she laughed.
“How so, Beesly?” he questioned, sticking his hands in his pockets.
“Well for starters, you’re incredibly pale.”
“If that’s your reasoning, we are both vampires.”
“You’ve got me,” she threw her hands in the air. “And that reminds me, I haven’t had my daily dose of human blood yet.”
“You know, I haven’t either. I say we band together and go kill that guy over there who thinks socks and sandals were a good idea.” Jim nodded in the direction of a man on the other side of the room who was in the process of packing up his art.
“Ohhh, I had a socks and sandals guy last night.”
“Bummer.”
They smiled at each other, but neither one could think of something else to say. So they stood in silence for a few moments. Jim started to look at her art again.
“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence and facing her again.
“So,” she said.
“I’m really happy for you. Your art really is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Jim took a small step toward her and she sucked in a breath. He wasn’t doing what she thought he was doing, right? He had a girlfriend. She had a boyfriend. They had moved on. Right? When Jim looked back at her art again, she let out the breath she forgot she was still holding. Phew.
“Pam-casso!” The voice of Michael Scott echoed through the room. Pam turned and saw him walking their way.
“I should get going,” Jim told her.
“Yeah, you should,” she nodded. She reached out her arms for a hug, which he accepted. “Thanks for coming.”
“Hey, no problem.”
They pulled away right as Michael approached. “Hey Jim! I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh, I was just leaving.”
“Oh.” Michael looked over at Pam, who confirmed his statement by nodding her head, “Well. Bye then.”
As Jim walked away, Pam smiled to herself. Maybe the night didn’t turn out to be that bad after all.
