#and even then those are considered just one of the many types

[clockwayswrites]

An abundance of birbs part 33

Masterpost Please no editing or concrit, I know I have missing or swapped words, but I am super fuzzy from this headache. It will get a good edit before ao3. <3

“I’m hiding in here from your children,” Danny said as he came into Bruce’s study. He had a tray of tea and snacks in hand, so he must have been sent up by Alfred.

“That’s more than fair, considering,” Bruce said with a little smile.

Danny just sighed as he set the tray down. “You have video, don’t you.”

Bruce nodded. “Jason sent one and Tim the other. They’re very moving.”

“Yes, Jerry’s love for me is eternal, clearly,” Danny drolled.

“If only Jerry’s father would approve of the union,” Bruce said.

Danny gave a little hum as he poured the tea. “Alas, Damian does seem very resistant to the idea, if the lecture he gave Jerry is any indication. Cream, sugar?”

“A little cream, thank you,” Bruce said and got up from his desk. “And Jerry was being very forward so the lecture may be a little deserved, but who can blame him with those wings.”

“Mister Wayne,” Danny said with an exaggerated gasp, “are you you saying that you’re enamored with my wings?”

Bruce reached out and brushed his fingertips through Danny’s wings. He could play it all off, of course. It could just be part of the rest of their banter. But did he want to? He’s enjoyed having Danny around. The man seemed to just fit with the family. Overall, the children certainly seemed to like him. And, well, Bruce found that he quite liked Danny too. Maybe it was time to take a little risk.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Though the wings are hardly the only thing about you that I’m enamored with.”

Danny blushed so quickly that Bruce was honestly a little concerned bout Danny’s blood pressure. “I—um, oh?”

“Is it that surprising? You’re kind, intelligent, considerate. You protected my children and even before that were gentle and understanding with them. You have a sense of humor and seem able to handle just about anything,” Bruce said, which was almost an understatement with what Danny has been through lately. “And, more shallowly, you’re very attractive, with or without the wings.”

“That—I—oh come on, you of all people can say someone else is attractive!” Danny sputtered.

“Oh?”

“Have you not looked in a mirror recently? You’re the type of person that ‘devastatingly handsome’ was coined for,” Danny said with a gesture at Bruce. “Which is something that I just said out loud. I don’t suppose you want to fire me so that I can run away to a remote island somewhere?”

Bruce chuckled. “Fortunately, I don’t have that sort of power over your job. All that would fall to Lucius.”

“Fortunately?” Danny repeated.

“Umhum. It means that there’s no company policy we’re breaking if we were to date. And there’s no pressure for you to say yes if you’re opposed to the idea,” Bruce said. He very much wanted to make that clear. “And between the press, my reputation, the large family, and the recent rogue attack I know there are a number of reasons to be opposed to the idea.”

“Bruce,” Danny said before Bruce could continue, “are you trying to talk me into dating you or out of it?”

“I well…” Bruce cleared his throat. “I don’t want to assume anything or imply that I am some sort of catch because I hardly am. I am a stubborn man. I have… a rather deep seated anxiety that verges on paranoia at times. It has and can make me overbearing when I try to protect the people I care about. I come with six children, almost as many pseudo children, and a frankly terrifyingly competent butler who is like a father to me. Every relationship I’m in and not actually in ends up in the paper—”

The spiral of words—of reasons he wasn’t good enough for someone like Danny was cut short as Danny pushed himself up on his tiptoes and across the coffee table to press his lips to Bruce’s. Bruce sighed softly into the kiss as it put sudden stop to the unwanted thoughts. Danny left his hand on Bruce’s cheek as he pulled back a little.

“Too forward?” Danny asked. His words and eyes alike were filled with nerves.

“Not at all,” Bruce said quickly. He followed his words up with a quick kiss as proof. “I am sorry about rambling like that. As I said, deeply anxious.”

“Anxious is okay. You’re aware of it. I’m not exactly a paragon of mental health either. I’ve been going to therapy since I was eighteen,” Danny said. His thumb gently stroked Bruce’s cheek. “First off, fuck the press. I can deal with it. Second off, your family is huge and wonderful and not at all something that would stop me, not unless they hated me.”

“They certainly do not hate you,” Bruce assured him.

“Third off,” Danny continued with a little smile, “I guess the anxiety, which we’ve covered. And fourth off, I am also very stubborn and have no problem telling someone to budge off if they’re being too much. So, yeah, we might have lines to find out and some of those we’d find out be crossing them and fucking up, but that’s just part of dating, isn’t it? If any of them become lines that we can’t deal with, well, we’re old enough that I would hope that we could end things maturely.”

“I have a very good track record of remaining friends with my exes, for better or worse,” Bruce said.

“Better or worse?”

“Harvey Dent, as one example.”

“Ah,” Danny said with a little nod. “I’ve heard that he’s been doing better at least?”

“That or he’s planning something big,” Bruce said with a sigh. “But I even I know I should stop talking about an ex with someone that just kissed me.”

“Generally a good rule,” Danny agreed with a little smile. “Does this mean that we’re going to try dating?”

“If I didn’t talk you out of it,” Bruce joked.

“Like I said, I’m stubborn,” Danny pointed out. “But as much as I adore them, I expect at least one dinner out with no children once my wings are gone.”

“Deal,” Bruce agreed easily and leaned down to give Danny a proper kiss.

---

AN:

I didn't plan for the kiss to happen here, but I'll take it!

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

To respond to prev tags:

The two major retailers I worked for were Five Below and CVS. Both had email quotas, as well as many other quotas to fill.

Thing is, our corporations really REALLY pushed for literally every customer to give their emails and phone numbers to us. We were taught, at both places, to greet customers at the same time we asked for emails, and to word it in a way which made it hard to deny giving an email.

For exmaple:

"Hi there, hope you're well! What's your email?"

"Hope you found what you needed today! Your email, please."

In both scenarios, you don't offer the customer a yes or no choice to deny or offer their email. You simply just ask for it outright instead of leaving the option to deny at all.

Now, a customer can deny, obviously, but then corporate got really fucking angry because a lot of people did say, "I don't have an email." Or something like that. And corporate would see that the number of emails added to their distribution system by our store was not what they expected, and they'd send our boss constant emails or give calls and send reports recording our quotas that were lacking, explaining they need us to do better.

Sometimes this was as low as 20% of customers giving an email, sometimes it was as high as 50 or 60%.

And it didn't help when half the customers didn't speak English (can't blame them, this language is a nightmare to learn) and therefore didn't know what I was asking, or that the ones who did were our regulars who signed up years ago and therefore wouldn't count being added again to the corporate email distribution system.

When folks went to checkout, the pin pads to insert or swipe cards would show a screen asking for email verification if one was listed, or asked if they wanted to add an email, and said customers could not swipe or insert their cards without selecting yes or no on the pin pad screen. It literally did not move on to payment until after the question was answered.

That was a nightmare with the non-English-speaking customers. They knew the process to pay with card, obviously, but how do you tell someone who doesn't know your language that they need to select yes or no in order to pay at all???

I often literally just spun the pin pad to myself and selected "no" for these poor folks, then spun it back to them so they could continue to pay.

Five Below was the worst because they ALWAYS ask a survey question before you can pay. It's because they have survey quotas to meet, and since those weren't met by the stores, it became mandatory by implementing it into the payment process.

Those surveys ask 1 or 2 questions that you have to select usually from a 1-5 scale, and are about either the customer service satisfaction rating, store cleanliness, or stock availability, etc.

And anything under the top most rating by Five Below was considered worthy of repremandation by the boss because it should only ever be 5/5 or 10/10 since you need to offer only the absolute best and nothing short!!!

But again, most of my customers didn't know any English, so it wasn't like I could explain this survey or tell them why their payment isn't working.

For CVS my boss printed out and highlighted and circled the quotas made vs those expected for each thing we had to meet, one of them being emails added.

I was hounded every day at both retailers I worked for to get as many emails as possible, but the large majority of customers, as in almost 100%, denied their emails to me or made excuses, and I can't and don't blame them!! I got bogus emails left and right, I was insulted left and right for trying to ask for the emails when folks were the stingy type that got defensive if I asked anything at all (and that's way more customers than you'd ever imagine), and some people threatened me, even.

But I was reprimanded constantly at both retailers by my bosses and managers if I did not ask every single customer for their email. I got told I wasn't doing my job at all or well enough, I was told I wasn't up to standards and shit.

One coworker I had would hear a customer say, "I don't have an email." And she'd ask them, "What about your wife/husband? Your sister/brother? A friend? Anyone you can think of." She tried so damn hard to get any email just to meet the quotas because that woman worked way too hard in attempt to overperform at a damn opening-level position that demanded way too much from far too few employees that were all overworked.

So yeah. Honestly, it's all stupid, and corporate is stupid, and I truly hate both Five Below and CVS for more things than just these quotas, but that was a large contributor for why I no longer work in retail.

everywhere I go people are asking me for my email. my email is in high demand. it's rare for me to visit a website without someone getting on their hands and knees, begging me for my email

[linkons-most-wanted]

Sylus, Intimacy, and Desire: An Essay

Inspired by this excellent video essay on Zayne's intimacy and a few comments asking for a similar analysis of Sylus, I wanted to share a few of my thoughts!

I actually think that Sylus and Zayne are great to contrast to each other on this topic because they each make relatively overt bids for physical intimacy but in very different ways.

While Zayne is outwardly restrained, where that restraint causes his hidden internal desires to intensify to the point of no longer being controllable, Sylus is outwardly flirtatious/assertive, but then actually very comfortable managing/controlling his desires.

Sylus's character demonstrates that when desire is embraced and expected, and appropriately indulged, it can be confidently controlled and regulated. It can seem paradoxical at first--that the most "forward" character is also the one most interested in specific, verbal consent--but I'd argue it's spot on in terms of psychology.

Sylus knows and accepts his desires

In Midnight Stealth, he says, "I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle. Especially when it thinks it can escape from me." There's clearly a sensual/sexual element to this, and it points directly at kink, where power and power exchance are tantamount.

More on power exchange in a second, but what I want to emphasize here is that Sylus is very comfortable with what's considered to be a very "dark" desire. (Dark romance girlies, sound off.)

Contrast this to Zayne, who feels very conflicted about even very normative, expected desires and emotions.

Sylus has a lot of reason to be very comfortable with his desires, regardless of their nature, due to his powers as a dragon. He's able to pull out others' hidden desires, so of course he knows his own. As we see in Beyond Cloudfall, the types of desire he respects are when people are true to their hearts--ie honest with themselves and others about what they truly want, even/especially when others consider those desires to be dark/deviant. MC is the only person he's met who's honest in this way and truly follows her heart.

Power exchange

We get many signs that Sylus is very interested in power exchange, such as the entirety of No Defense Zone where he taunts MC to "tame" him, and the recurring theme of "taming" and "winning his heart" that's made especially clear in Final Farewell (the Abyssal Chaos Commission) dialogue. In Night of Secrecy, when MC indicates she wants control, he says he can't give it to her--"At least, not yet."

He is actively looking the relationship to get to a point where he feels safe giving full control to MC.

Conversely, when it comes to being dominant, he doesn't value dominance for dominance's sake--he's constatly talking about how boring "weak prey" is. What is attractive to him about MC, and when she submits to him, is specifically that she's strong and powerful, specifically that she trusts him with herself. If she didn't have power to give up, power that he respected, he simply wouldn't be interested.

Delightfully, in the AU of Innocent Birdcage, we get a version of Sylus who is similarly comfortable with his desires, so we get an even more overt demonsration of bondage kink. Even when not frenzied, he's tugging that thread of power exchange, reminding MC that he's dangerous while simultaneously smitten with her courage.

Sylus gets off on more than just sex

What is so interesting to me about Sylus's portrayal is that he's very flirtatious, very forward, and very sensual--but with relatively very few on-screen/-page kisses. We get very sexually charged moments with face touching, hands (MY GOD THE HANDS), etc, but the tension is rarely diffused.

We see Sylus's physical sensitivity especially in Lost Oasis, No Defense Zone, and Innocent Birdcage. Part of why we see these sensual moments not devolve abruptly into heavy petting, like we do with Zayne, is that Sylus is not in a hurry. We see this in Night of Secrecy too--MC has to get quite forward for him to finally "give in" (though he never really loses control).

Sylus enjoys the waiting. Unlike Zayne, who sees his restraint as a matter of life and death, to Sylus, it's a game. He enjoys seeing how much teasing he can take (No Defense Zone) and putting MC in situations where he doesn't know how she'll respond ("Sylus and Tartarus are in your hands...").

Given their history in Beyond Cloudfall, things like forehead kisses are just as precious to Sylus as other more overtly sexual types of affection. Sylus is willing to accept affection and sensation in any form MC is willing to provide it, while also enjoying a bit of power play. So, touching her face, grabbing her chin, throwing her around a bit--gestures which become more affectionate and more accepted by MC over time, but still retain their value to him.

He's a young dragon

One of my absolute favorite moments in Beyond Cloudfall is when MC says, "You're a young dragon, aren't you?" It humanizes Sylus in this really profound way, reminding us that he's still figuring certain things out as he goes.

Given that he's a creature very in-touch with his instincts and desires, you're not going to get a typical virginal trope. He's certainly not naive to the mechanics--and you can certainly imagine he'd be aware of all kinds of sexual desires thanks to his draconic powers.

But, MC is still the one to introduce him to the concept of a forehead kiss. We see him be bold and flirtatious in Bloodnight Blaze, confirming that he's well in-touch with those desires, but he seems to value the tender moments equally, if not moreso.

There is this sense in his character of wanting to explore things with MC, of wanting to learn with her, to grow together. There's an openness and receptivity to his character in that way. Unlike Zayne, he may not have all that many specific ideas of what he wants to do to/with MC--he wants to experience that intimacy with her having equal agency and initiative.

He wants to be wanted

I posted recently about the close-up shot of Sylus's eye in Night of Secrecy, where we're shown very clearly that he's not using his power to manipulate desire.

Given that Sylus has always been percieved as a dangerous, violent creature by everyone except a select few, to be seen in a tender way is unfamiliar and vulnerable.

He wants to experience her desire in its raw, un-tampered-with state. He wants to know what she truly wants, and does not want to create a scenario where he's in some way manipulating or coercing her desire, whether using his eye or otherwise. Her genuine desire is more precious and appealing to him than mere sex.

As much as I am begggingggg for more Sylus make-out cards, I think moments like we see in Magnum Opus are far more precious to him.

A very strong piece of supporting evidence here is what he says in Approaching Dusk when MC asks how she can get him to willingly stay in her trap. He tells her that she should ask him for things, show her vulnerable side, and make him feel as though she relies on him. That is much more seductive to Sylus than physical pleasure.

What consent means to Sylus

I think the idea of getting consent can be construed in a "cover your ass" way, as in, "well, you have to do this or you're doing something wrong" so it's a "good guy" thing to do.

But, one of the things to be found within responsible kink is a much more profound appreciation for consent. To pull on the themes above, consent isn't just a box to check; it communicates genuine, vulnerable desire. It also affirms that the power exchange is wanted on both sides.

When Sylus asks for consent, he's saying, "You have power in this scenario. Are you willing to give it to me?"

It's the very fact that she can and would say 'no' that makes her 'yes' so very intoxicating and appealing to him. Even in Long Awaited Revelry, he's giving her options. It's her own greed/desire that makes her agree to his terms--not her lack of alternatives. She doesn't actually have to get the Aether Core, but she wants it enough to take risks.

Night of Secrecy

Let's dig deeper into some key dialogue in Night of Secrecy:

MC: “I told you that a hunter doesn’t like being passive.”  Sylus: “Oh… so you want control… Unfortunately… I can’t give it to you. Not yet, at least.” His warm hands scorch my skin and slide up my back unhindered, settling firmly on my waist. When gripping a gun, they’re cold and unyielding, but when they touch me, they become tender and warm. And now they’re a weapon of their own, teasing and tormenting me. Sylus: “…Don’t run.” MC: “You’re… so annoying…” SYlus: “I won’t deny it. I guess you can say I lied. Tonight, you’re not the only one feeling greedy… And I won’t be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied. Ah, I misspoke. Greed can never be satisfied… But you can temporarily soothe it.” He takes my hand and places it against his chest. His voice is slow and earnest as he asks the question once more… Sylus: “Say it again. Kitten, do you want it?”  My eyes linger on his, and our heart rates sync up.  I lean down over him, running my fingers through his sweat-damp hair.  MC: “This is my answer.”

In "And now they’re a weapon of their own, teasing and tormenting me," we see more of this indulgence in power play and power exchange. You can easily imagine Sylus challenging himself to see how slowly he can go, to focus more on MC. Him saying "Don't run" can be interpreted as MC trying to get out of his grip--not to escape him, but to accelerate the intimacy, to escape the "teasing and tormenting".

Sylus's "greed" includes taking things slowly. It includes build-up and power-play. It includes spurring on MC's own desires.

We get this really lovely back-to-back of "I won’t be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied" to “Say it again. Kitten, do you want it?” 

He is greedy... for her genuine consent. He wants her to want it.

I think "I won’t be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied" is best understood as Sylus being clear to MC that he wants her too. Neither this, nor “I’m hoping ‘yes’ is still your answer because… I just can’t hold back anymore” can be construed as him pushing boundaries because MC has already explicitly invited him into that territory. I interpret the hand that she puts up to stop him as her wanting to be "on top", not as her wanting to stop or slow down, and Sylus's remarks as specifically, verbally affirming his desire for her.

Even him saying "Greed can never be satisfied…" indicates that his everyday baseline is wanting her in this way, and he's very comfortable with those desires and how to keep them in check.

Desire without entitlement

At no point does Sylus ever behave as if he's entitled to MC's affection, physical or otherwise. He always desires her, but does not have specific expectations of her. He's always asking, "so what will you do?" The fact that he doesn't know the answer is what makes the question so compelling to him.

If he wanted sex, he could get it--he's powerful enough and persuasive enough. Which makes that conquest irrelevant and boring to him. What is far, far more interesting is co-discovering MC's true desires with her, just like they did in Beyond Cloudfall.

Repression and regulation

In the way that Zayne's character represents repressed desire, Sylus's character represents regulated desire.

His desires are accepted and known, not rejected and bottled up. Thus, he's able to approach regulation in a playful way, appreciating the challenge that it provides and finding ways to express his affection and sate his desires that don't put pressure on MC.

It is because he is comfortable with his sexuality that it's able to be secondary to his primary desires with MC.

In conclusion

So, as much as I want more kiss cards for them, the writers are cooking. There's a specific point they want to make, and I think they're making it beautifully. I am constantly delighted by the complexity and nuance that the writers bring to Sylus's character.

I'm hopeful that as we see Sylus's and MC's relationship deepen, we'll see MC gain more confidence to initiate, which will then translate to more on-page and on-screen intimate moments.

And until then... there's always fanfic. 😅

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What do you think of the back of Malleus' new outfit? The bare back and the spikes on his back?

As I mentioned in this post, I find exposed skin on Malleus to be a weird look since he's usually pretty covered up. With his clothes being as dark as they are and his skin being so pale... it especially stands out.

Maybe this is because I've personally never been into dragons (no shame to those who are!) but the back looks... slightly uncomfortable to me? Like, the longer I look at it, the more I squirm. I think it's the cracks on his skin at the base of the spines; it makes me imagine that they pierced his flesh while growing, and that just freaks me out to think about. It's nice to see more of his monster-y features come out after like 5 years though. I'll have to focus on the silver chain + green gems swooshing around him and the long sleeves to keep my mind off of the spines 💦

Going to assume you're talking about one of Malleus's voice lines in his Ruler of the Abyss SSR? The line being referenced is basically:

“Trampling on the tremendous effort required to hatch me is a grave crime indeed. You doddering old fools of the senate... How shall I punish you?"

This is a sentiment that Malleus previously expressed after Lilia woke up in book 7, albeit in OB at the time. "How dare those doddering old fools in the senate treat you that way..." (Yes, I borrowed the "doddering old fools" line to repeat in the voice line translation above.) In any case, it seems that Malleus's anger persists, even once he is restored to his usual self.

He doesn't go into further detail about what exactly he plans to do, and it's not really clear if this would even be canonized in the main story (a main story that, mind you, doesn't exactly commit to many long-term consequences). I'd imagine it's probably not something Malleus is in a position to do right now considering that 1) he's not the ruling sovereign yet; his grandma would likely have some say and 2) the political circumstances might be a little precarious, seeing as Briar Valley got into some heat for its crown prince posing a threat to Twisted Wonderland. Now honestly might not be a great time for another big shakeup in BV politics (but hey, when has Malleus been the patient type 😅).

[boosnotes]

Circling you

Shadow x reader

Genre: fluff Warnings: none A/n: a little fun one shot, the tag has been feeling dried lately

You were typing on your laptop, searching for that artist you've seen illustrations of many times, but we're just reposts of reposts. Your concentration was at maximum, reversing images, Reddit, and more weren't that useful, just sending you from dead link to dead link; you haven't even gotten the username yet! That is to say, you weren't paying attention to the world around you.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence to take your laptop to friends' houses; at that moment, in Amy's sleepover, you were the only one awake, or so you thought. You have heard footsteps during the night, but you didn't give any thought; considering you were sharing a roof with a bunch of people, it was expected for them to walk to the bathroom or the kitchen. Oddly enough, those footsteps kept going for way longer than they normally would.

With your curiosity picked, you looked up from your device. Dark red and black fur and those shining amber eyes made you jump on your seat. He walked, going from front, to next, to behind, to your other side, and so on. What was he doing? It felt like an animal hunting its prey while being less serious in some way, you could describe it as a dance maybe. He stared at you and you stared in return, puzzlement in yours and glad in his that you had finally noticed him.

Your eyes creased as you kept him in your eyesight, waiting expectantly for what he was going to do, though it never came, it just kept going and going. You were feeling a little dizzy, your eyes couldn't look away from him, it was hypnotizing. Without noticing, he had closed the gap between you with each circle he completed, just taking a step towards you; yet with enough of them, he was only a couple of steps from entering your personal space; you didn't know if he was lingering for confirmation or basic teasing.

You'd be a fool to turn him down, a part of you always found him appealing, even after he went crazy back then. This was so unexpected, despite having made some moves on him in the past, which he never showed any reciprocity, thus making you drop the attempt to not make him discomfiting. You would've never thought something like this could ever happen, it all felt so surreal as if it was a dream; by luck or not, the numbers were still legible, and the lines on your hands were very much still visible.

You adjusted yourself in the chair, now sitting sideways to have more mobility when standing up in case he did anything. You noticed he was puffing up his chest as his white fur from that zone became more evident, the soft feeling of it becoming alluring, almost causing you to place your hand up and touch it yourself, but you contained it. This was getting too much for nothing really happening, just silence, excluding the breathing becoming a bit heavier than usual and watching each other intensely, curious about what was coming next.

Tired of all this performance, you stood up from the wooden seat, leaving your investigation abandoned for the time being; this was more noteworthy than finding a dumb photo you obsessed over for no reason; the waiting was making you so impatient. After concluding the round he was doing, he finally stood up in front of you, his face a mix of satisfaction and uncertainty, both crashing with his wants and realism. The closeness he had created was evident from the fact that you sensed his light breath on your face; it didn't make you uncomfortable, in fact, you were very welcoming of it, not really wanting him to step away.

You didn't understand what possessed you, maybe it was the chilly night or the strange ritual that just occurred; even so, your brain let you fulfill your wish, brushing your hand in his chest coat. It pushed a pleasing sigh from him, not doing anything else but that, his hands still dangling on his sides. You continued playing with it with the entire care in the world, the smooth texture of it, clearly having been taken good care of, making it seem air-filled, yet each stand screaming they existed between your fingers.

Your eyes concentrated on the fur, the snow-white tone of that part produced a huge contrast against the obsidian color that covered most of his body, making it stand out and capture you in it, losing yourself in this section of his physical being. You didn't notice when he gently yet cautiously touched your shoulders, keeping you in place so you did not lean in; he wanted to see your face, the little reactions you were making. If it wasn't for that, your face would've been deep inside his chest fur, retaining the sensation of your hand in your face instead.

His hands then traveled up as he pulled your face up, the fat on your cheeks gathered around the edge of them, spilling out. His delicate lips pressed against your forehead, an honest representation of his feelings without showing his soul too much, in fear of rejecting even if he knew that wouldn't happen cause it was you; it made you all warm and fuzzy. A big smile appeared on your factions, making you look like a fool hit by Cupid's bow, and that moment you were, he had finally reached him and made you one for the time being. Your loving smile was reciprocated with a shyer one of his, smaller though carrying the same emotions as you. He cut himself off with the gazing, changing it instead for having his fluffy furred forehead against yours, drinking in your presence and this quiet moment.

[erriga]

THE QUARANTINE QUERY

(tl dr I didn't vibe with the demo for some silly and not so silly reasons)

Welcome to my special post where I will try to explain my personal problems with Quarantine and the general creative and narrative direction the next game seems to be heading towards. I decided to write a longer text instead of a couple of bullet points, because one does not simply write a thesis about a game just to later complain about it in a sarcastically laconic tone.

Things this essay is going to be:

my opinion/critique

an analysis

a reflection upon my feelings about the series in general

Things this essay is not going to be:

an angry rant about the new game in the spirit of they changed it so now it sucks

an attempt to prove that old pathologic = smart and new pathologic = stupid

Ok, with the disclaimers out of the way, let's get into it, and by it I mean levels of pretentious nerdiness unknown to many.

I wrote down four statements that describe my general feelings about the demo. They will serve as a frame of reference for what my critique will fundamentally touch upon instead of trying to fit every possible complaint I might have in a disjointed fashion. Here they are:

I feel like Quarantine expects me to:

Consider Dankovsky to be a specific Character in a specific Story

Believe Dankovsky has an internal world that can be mechanically represented in the ludo-narrative

Find said internal world to be compelling enough to let it filter the whole experience of the game

(presumably) emotionally connect with Dankovsky due to all of the above

If all this sounds confusing - good! Keep reading, it's going to get even better.

So, is Daniil a character?

Yes, of course he is. But what does it mean in the context of the original game compared to Pathologic 2 and now Quarantine?

Over the years I've come across vastly different opinions about the quality of character writing in the original Pathologic. I am not including complaints about the English translations or other technical aspects, just the most basic tendency of how the game portrays its characters. Most people I've seen who have passionately engaged with the game (including me) tend to describe the original game's characterizations as nuanced, complex and strangely realistic despite their rather theatrical tendencies. But I've also heard others say the exact opposite. That the characters don't feel like real people at all, their personalities are incoherent and fall flat due to a lack of consistency, and that every single one of them, from an old man to a literal toddler, falls back on the same pseudo-philosophical cadence, which while attempting to make them seem deeper ends up dehumanizing them even further. And even though those two opinions seem to be contradictory, I think that they are both the exact same reason why the writing of the original game captivates me so much. Because it doesn't really matter.

I wrote my thesis about the brechtian influences in Classic. One of the most characteristic aspects of the Epic Theatre is the attempt to remove illusions typical to traditional theatre, among which is the illusion of a character's psychology. I believe that you can absolutely argue that the characters in patho 1 were designed to behave like Brecht's characters - lacking internal psychology, mainly serving as mouthpieces for political and philosophical arguments, more so types than individuals. But here's the catch - I believe it's actually impossible to create a character completely immune to identification, because we as humans love to project our silly little emotions on pretty much anything, including animals and inanimate objects. Compared to those cases, Gorkhon's gallery of strange individuals is a painfully human display. So it's no wonder that many of us did indeed relate to those weirdos, just like nothing can possibly stop an audience member from identifying with Mother Courage or Galileo in Brecht's play. But the fact still remains that none of those characters were designed with this kind of simple emotional identification in mind and thus the attachment we may feel to them is more of a byproduct than the main goal. Taking a character who was meant to be analytically pondered and instead adopting them as a breathing human being is in that case, almost an act of rebellion. It's like saying, this is mine now.

Coming back to Daniil, this lack of clarity of how much he was written with this sort of characterization in mind is the main reason why I found him so compelling, he always kept me asking: is this part of Daniil as a coherent whole or is it just a philosophical stance which I should ponder at this moment or is it the writer's attempt at predicting what the player (presumably a straight male player) may want to say through this character? Does Daniil say "wow" because that's how he speaks, or is it just an oversight? Am I supposed to treat optional dialogue as things he would say or just things that are sometimes said in his world? The point is I DON'T KNOW and I love that I don't know that! It gives me so many posibilities! To me Daniil's character isn't so much about what he exactly says or does, but rather the internal logic that guides him. And I am the one who can choose its exact mechanism. He is mine.

Meanwhile, I feel like Quarantine wants me to treat Dankovsky like I would treat most other characters in traditional/popular media. Here are his personality traits. He is intelligent, he says so himself, and that lady over there also said it and he knows science and formulas and speaks Latin. Here are his thoughts. He has a memory about this thing. He feels guilty about that. I suddenly have a whole army of simple sentences that are meant to help me umderstand Daniil in this new iteration. Not so much a puzzle but a construction manual. And I'm not saying that this way of storytelling is fundamentally bad just because I can parody it as simpler than it really is. I want to engage with the new game's writing on it's own terms but so far I haven't done that mostly due to the giant dankovsky shaped object blocking the view.

Speaking of-

THE BACHELOR-CENTRIC MODEL OF THE UNIVERSE

This demo is so much about Dankovsky that it almost makes me embarrassed in his name. And honestly, I'm surprised I feel that way, considering how much I usually enjoy stories where a character's perception shapes the narrative to a great extent. I love symbolic dream sequences, guilt-driven visions and unreliable narrators. But the way Daniil's perception of himself and his surroundings doesn't really feel like a service to him as a character, but rather a narrative shorthand to spoonfeed me, the player, the most relevant information. The way Daniil's thoughts appear around objects is realistic to the extent that yes, human thoughts can be often rather simple and disjointed but there are moments where I think this mental streamlining is detrimental to his characterization and rubs him of nuance. The worst culprits of that are (IN MY OPINION):

Him calling Eva a ray of sunshine

The part where he references the fact that he and Artemy always fight about whose methods are better

Any time Daniil or someone around him refers to him as especially intelligent

Mr Little's Special Tutorial Perspective or Please Daniil Explain This To Me Once Again

None of those ideas are fundamentally bad, not at all. I'm curious to see his relationship with Eva develop, I want to see him interact with Artemy more like they did in the original, I can see some great ironic potential in the constant hyping up of Daniil's intellect and yeah, I hope Yakov is revealed to be some secret government agent or something. But I'm annoyed that I feel like I can predict all of this from just a couple of lines in the demo. I want to be confused and unsure of my own judgement. I want to be proven wrong, surprised, and ashamed of my own surface level analysis. And that can still very much happen, perhaps even in the comments on this very post or once the full games comes out. But right now I feel rather pessimistic.

I don't have a good segue for this part so now let's talk mechanics.

PRESS B TO EAT A CIGARRETE

The new mechanics try to break away from the body-first focus of the original game and the way Pathologic 2 expanded on those ideas even further. This time it's all about the mind, baby. Which - again - on itself isn't a bad idea. If this game was just 2 with different dialogues it would be very hard to justify its existence as a stand-alone product that needed to somehow be funded over those last 6 years. But the result to me feels more like novelty for novelty's sake. Not everything of course - the diagnosis part of the gameplay is definitely its most well-designed aspect, and there is a consistent logic behind it. Where Artemy saw systems, Daniils sees individual parts, where Artemy had to rely on luck, Daniil controls all the variables etc etc. The same, however, cannot be said about some of the other new mechanics.

Managing Daniil's mental state doesn't feel that much different than making sure Artemy drinks enough water and I personally think it's a wasted opportunity. I'm not going to insert myself into the discussion about whether the game's use of terms associated with bipolar disorder is accurate/tasteful because other people with relevant experiences have already voiced their opinions about that and will hopefully continue to do so in the future. My point is - regardless of what exact mental condition or more general function of the human psyche the game is trying to convey, it does so in a manner so simplistic that it doesn't encourage me as a player to connect with it on a deeper level. Apathy is blue because it's sad, Mania means, well, mania so it's red. Once again, I have only experienced a small portion of the game's final system so I might be in for a surprise and perhaps I will get to see Daniil experience something... purple?

Also adding to my previous point about switching perspectives - I think this mechanic will be an absolute gut punch in the final game. I hope it's something akin to the original meeting with the Powers That Be, especially with the way multiple characters can "jump" into one conversation at any moment. This will surely be utilized for some mind-fuckery and I can't wait to see it. I think this is also the one aspect of the demo that gives me the most hope as far as my beloved emotional confusion is concerned. Because what is the switching of perspectives supposed to indicate really? Are we supposed to filter it once again through Daniil's perspective because of the framing device of him recollecting the events? So nothing we learn by getting the insight into other characters' thoughts can be taken at face value because that's just how Daniil sees them? Are those other/new characters even real or just exist in Daniil's psyche? Does it have something to do with the time travel blahblah? Or are we not playing as Daniil at all but some other entity entirely? That's the main question I hope I don't get a clear answer to but rather contradicting paths to follow. But despite that optimistic outlook I still need to get into the final aspect that made it difficult for me to engage with the new game on its own terms, and instead deciding to take its dead corpse apart.

I CARE TOO MUCH BUT NOT ENOUGH

I just can't get over the fact how much this game wants me to identify with Daniil or at the very least find him cool. Cool as in how modern characters are often cool. Wet cats, chaotic bastards, jerks with hearts of gold and vaguely homoerotic energy with other male characters. And I'm not saying this as an insult, narrative trends are a thing, I find many of those archetypes to be endearing more often than not, but my problem is that it still only serves Dankovsky as our center of the world. By flanderizing him and making him fit into a more recognizable character archetype we lose the feeling of him being always at odds with the world around him, the way he used to be conflicted over every single thing in the original game. This new world is too suited for him to be a hero of his story, a tragic hero but a hero nonetheless, while in my opinion what made him uniquely tragic in classic was precisely the fact that he wasn't anyone's hero.

I know this constant comparison to patho classic can get tiring, so let me use another point of reference which is also the reason why I am even writing this post in the first place - The Marble Nest. I love the marble nest. I find its narrative structure to be expertly crafted, emotional beats placed in just the right places and godd i still cry over the fact that they put his soul into a nutshell. And the funny thing is that TMN does share a lot of similarities with the new demo. It's a Daniil-centric story with a framing device that encourages us to look at the entire experience as Daniil's impression of the reality around him. It's a short and rather simple experience with a strong central theme. So why do I feel so emotional when Daniil talks to the death in that game but feel pretty much nothing when he talk about dying in Quarantine? Maybe because The Marble Nest is still steeped so deeply in the theatre influences which I hold dear to my heart while Quarantine moves away from them and maybe towards another medium entirely. Theatre never pretends to be reality and it's artificiality is always front and center. Film meanwhile often has the tendency to try to replicate reality or even try to be reality itself. In one of those cases I feel like an active audience member and in the other like a passive voyeur of some vision of reality. Or to put it simply, in one case I am afraid of Death and in the other, I am watching someone act out being afraid of death. That is a highly personal preference though and I'm genuinely happy to see that many people do indeed relate to this portrayal of Daniil, especially when it comes to how his mental problems are displayed front and center. And that's amazing! I want to see all the fan input that comes out of it and I hope the final game delivers on everything they hope for. But for me? I think I might need to take a back seat, at least for now. Watch the scene from afar, perhaps get a fuller picture. Because I want to care and understand and know and feel. I really do. But sometimes it's not possible and that's also good.

So, if you've read this overwritten mess to the end, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart and encourage you to voice your opinion. Art doesn't exist without discussion so let's discuss!

POST-SCRIPTUM - ON THE NATURE OF MAKING GOOD THINGS IN YOUR PAST

One last thing I wanted to add which feels highly relevant to the my critique is the question of what to do when someone says they liked your old work better? I like to think of myself as an artist and I think that many of us do, even without getting into how according to Beuys everyone is an artist. So you make a thing, some people like, perhaps many people do. So you keep making things, you grow with them, change, realize your old ideas were often childish or naive which you can only do through gaining experience. So you make new things, often drastically different from the ones you made before. And someone says "I liked the old stuff better". And they don't say it as an insult, even though it may sometimes feel like it. Because you cannot recreate whatever you did in your past. And you want to grow. Does that mean that you got worse instead? That you peaked in your past and it's all downhill from here? Of course not. You know that. I know that. I hope every artist knows that. And yet it still hurts. It hurts to be perceived as a line graph when in reality you are a recursive function.

----

all images made by me, the ones with yellow background are from a shitpost animatic, the white one was a joke I made after hearing the famous"sherlock mind palace fruit ninja" pitch, and the last one is me in my Daniil cosplay. Goodnight Bikini Bottom

[demonslayedher]

Yoriichi Type Zero and all that could have been

You know what would have been great? Seeing someone with vision like Kanao go up against Yoriichi Type Zero.

That's all this post was meant so say, but now that I'm thinking in those terms, though, it seems Yoriichi Type Zero had not be used for actual training for a long time before Muichiro came along and demanded to use it, and its existence was a rumor even among the Hashira. Kotetsu's father had only recently passed away and it was already in a state of disrepair before Kotetsu tried to protect it. This means it either had not be used in a long time because upkeep is so difficult, or it had suffered damage in its previous use (after all, Yoriichi Type Zero was developed with a purpose--to make demon hunters stronger and more capable).

So, if we consider the last decade or so (Kotetsu's early childhood), it is possible that another Hashira had used it and damaged it, and it has been hidden ever since. And perhaps that Hashira felt bad about the damage caused and agreed to keep it a secret. Sounds like something Kanae might do.

However, if Kanae had used it, I doubt she'd have caused damage like what Muichiro did in one session, mainly due to being a more considerate person but also because not many people could hold their own against it so quickly. Muichiro is a genius who felt sufficiently challenged but still trained safely with it, at the expense of cutting off the doll's arm, presumably to protect himself since even his sword got damaged. Someone who is not necessarily a swordsmanship genius may have needed to work their way up to being able to use it in the same capacity.

This means that if a Hashira--for the sake of argument because it would challenge her Flower Breath vision, Kanae--had formerly used it with permission, she'd have worked her way up to that (or to the limits of the doll's safe use) with the help of Kotetsu's father.

Anyway, it is fun to toy with the possibility that she could have used it in canon, but I don't find it likely. That puts this more in the "Wouldn't it have been cool if Kanae had trained with Yoriichi Type Zero and this enabled her to defeat Douma!?" AU territory.

Kanae, the not-necessarily super inherently strong Hashira, being the first to defeat an Upper Moon would be so cool. Upper Moon Two, no less!!

Kagaya would be thrilled. Himejima would be stunned. Uzui would be so annoyed. Sanemi would be... well I don't know Tecchikawahara would be so proud, both of her (who he hypes up even more because he's a fan of the girls) and of Kotetsu's father and whole family line. Might have assigned him more people to help with the maintenance. Akaza would be freaked out by an Upper Moon having been defeated by a frail-looking girl, but hey, there's an upside to it. Shinobu would never, ever stop bragging about her sister. Just think how openly smug she might be to the other Hashira when and if she takes up the Insect Hashira position. She'd bug everybody so much.

Sure, this might come at the expense of Kanae's vision, or a limb or two. But if Kanao managed it with the help of Inosuke and Shinobu's poison in large part thanks to the Final Form of Flower Breath and how she was already so good at tracking motion and detail, then maaaaybe giving Kanae the chance to improve this skill could have been enough. After all, she stood her ground against Douma well enough to have managed to escape instead of being eaten. She was probably so close.

Granted, Rengoku was also so close. There were probably a lot of Hashira eaten by Upper Moons who thought they were so close.

Maybe a lot of tides could have been turned by having Yoriichi Type Zero be more functional. It would only be a fraction of the influence Yoriichi himself had on strengthening the Corp, but it would still be significant.

To conclude on how things are always so close, it's a common criticism that Muichiro's solo battle against an Upper Moon looked easy. Might I remind you: --It wasn't solo. Without Haganezuka withstanding attacks to keep Gyokko distracted, Kanamori having forged and delivered a new Nichirin blade, and Kotetsu providing the Breath of Life, Muichiro never would have survived or won that battle (helping others really does come back around to helping yourself!). --Muichiro's true genius was unlocked in that battle. As Yuichiro said, when Muichiro is fighting for others, that is when his unlimited potential comes through. --Muichiro had just caught the Mark from interacting with Tanjiro. It's supposed to make things look dramatically easily for the person who attains it. The Mark is probably the only reason Muichiro didn't fall down dead immediately after that battle. --Like Tanjiro, Muichiro had just Shonen Manga Leveled Up thanks to a training session with Yoriichi Type Zero. This is how training works in shonen manga; it just does. That session was important and fulfilled the purpose of Yoriichi Type Zero. It was not just a chance to show off the difference in skill between Muichiro and Tanjiro, it was for Muichiro's benefit and survival.

And Uzui would probably be so annoyed to hear of it later and how he could have trained with this mystery tool too, if only he had heard of it. What a lousy ninja to have not heard all the rumors.

[mintymisdemeanor]

zolu agenda thoughts (a loose attempt at analysis and interpretation)

i am not very versed with tumblr posting AND instead of relying on analysis as i try to do most of the time i got a little interpretational in there this time around. -> the word count is loosely around 3,300 words for those interested! -> the content discussed covers events of pre-timeskip. -> a lot of focus here will be on zoro because i must defend him on the internet from people who don't understand him (hopefully doing a good job at understanding him myself)

alright so. i was pondering luffy's perception of zoro, what caused it, and then started wondering what people in general perceive zoro as. the way the crew talks about him or what they seem to think of him is similar to what the outside world seems to think, but only on the surface level. what his relationship with luffy is like.

zoro's reputation in the world is of a "bloodthirsty hound, a demon in human skin, a merciless killer single-minded in his pursuit". that's also the first thing luffy hears about him. he decides to seek out zoro knowing him by name only and see for himself who zoro is, and if he is a good person enough, he would allow the other to join his crew. it's not as if luffy extended the invitation at the sight of zoro, hanging around him a bit to see what he will do and what he's like. the conclusion he comes to is similar to the people who put zoro in the situation, only that it lined up right with luffy's morals. it wasn't zoro's reputation or even skills (since luffy didnt get to see them before recruiting zoro) that got him on luffy's crew but simplicity and kindness.

luffy saw a man who stood up for what he thought was right, protected the weak and was willing to his life on the line in the hands of the enemy. he was going to pay for his life with it, the marines seeing zoro's decisions and convictions as stupid and planning to use them to simply kill zoro for going against the corrupt law enforcement. luffy understood how it wasn't a smart decision but he simply respected the gall others seem to lack (especially the marines who used power and dirty tricks to get their way). thus he decided to prevent zoro's untimely death and grind the opponents into dust, having found zoro worthy enough of considering a crewmate.

one thing that stands out to me here is that in the very first moment zoro was the one who stood trial in front of luffy openly, even though one of them had reputation all across the east blue sea and the other was quite literally unheard of.

anyway, so to sum up luffy's initial perception of zoro that doesn't change a lot for the rest of the manga as i know it, zoro is a simple person to a fault. it's a fault luffy can excuse because he himself is a similar type of simple, hence the natural understanding between them two that appears as early as in orange town where they meet nami (chapter 5 or 6). the part that luffy does consider just dumb is also the part that makes zoro more similar to an "average" person. that awareness zoro has of things that luffy thinks needlessly complicated and unnecessary.

luffy's initial impression of zoro and his unwavering confidence that what he sees in zoro is the truth, whatever other thing someone may see, is what also influences the view the rest of the strawhats have. zoro is somewhat an amiable person when you don't know who he is (aka don't view him as the demon pirate hunter and instead as a human person in front of you), relaxed and levelheaded, and so with time, luffy's louder and way more noticeable personality overshines zoro and leaves his reputation as a demon in the dust as zoro's just considered one of the crew.

since the outsiders don't get to perceive zoro as one of the crew, their perception stays similar to the initial reputation zoro gained, and well... given the way zoro seems to behave and doesn't go out of his way to change people's perception of him, only following what he thinks is right, many people are only proven wrong when they take a close look at the difference between what zoro looks and souone thing that stands out to me here is that in the very first moment zoro was the one who stood trial in front of luffy openly, even though one of them had reputation all across the east blue sea and the other was quite literally unheard of.

anyway, so to sum up luffy's initial perception of zoro that doesn't change a lot for the rest of the manga as i know it, zoro is a simple person to a fault. it's a fault luffy can excuse because he himself is a similar type of simple, hence the natural understanding between them two that appears as early as in orange town where they meet nami. the part that luffy does consider just dumb is also the part that makes zoro more similar to an "average" person. that awareness zoro has of things that luffy thinks needlessly complicated and unnecessary.

luffy's initial impression of zoro and his unwavering confidence that what he sees in zoro is the truth, whatever other thing someone may see, is what also influences the view the rest of the strawhats have. zoro is somewhat an amiable person when you don't know who he is (aka don't view him as the demon pirate hunter and instead as a human person in front of you), relaxed and levelheaded, and so with time, luffy's louder and way more noticeable personality overshines zoro and leaves his reputation as a demon in the dust as zoro's just considered one of the crew. since the outsiders don't get to perceive zoro as one of the crew, their perception stays similar to the initial reputation zoro gained, and well… given the way zoro seems to behave and doesn't go out of his way to change people's perception of him ("i don't care what people say, i know i haven't done anything i regret"), only following what he thinks is right, many people are only proven wrong when they take a close look at the difference between what zoro looks and sounds like (his friendly midspar smile) and what he actually does.

the strawhats themselves often tease and talk about zoro as if they view him similarly to outsiders; calling him heartless, a monster, ruthless and such. however, the difference is that they know what zoro is like. if they didn't know, sanji wouldn't be defending zoro when someone thinks him heartless, telling them that he is actually softer of a person that they think, nami wouldn't be capable of exploiting zoro's honor to get him to run errands for her and add to his debt, usopp wouldn't be absolutely relaxed and easy around zoro capable of chattering his ear off as zoro trains, the only response being a grunt or an "uh huh", they wouldn't be able to point out the moments when zoro's saying or doing something because he is worried. they love him, and in return, zoro loves them. he allows usopp to hide behind his back even though it is arguably the most carefully guarded part of his body, while he grumbles and complains he does what nami tells him to, he worries when sanji rushes off on his own where no one can follow, he hopes for the well-being of everyone when separated. i am partial to believe that the strawhats learn about zoro's "real" personality, as much as he's willing to be learn of what's hidden underneath their exterior, is because there is someone zoro is following instead of drifting on his own, trying to honor the person that is no longer here and won't speak for him. without the knowledge of kuina, luffy or mihawk, zoro's choices are donned in air of mystery and unfathomable. with them in sight, zoro becomes less of an urban legend and more of a person. somewhat like "oh so he's not just chasing people like crazy and bringing them in bloodied bags for the fun of it, he's just making money 'cause he got lost looking for a guy".

which brings me to my seconds point: despite the easy understanding between luffy and zoro concerning their mindset and preferred method of action, the way they both treat relationships and distance is as different as night and day.

zoro spends his life chasing people. there are 3 people, three suns that zoro orbits his entire life around. we don't know about zoro's family much other than the fact that he lost his parents at young age and kuina was a distant cousin of zoro's. the first of zoro's sun was her, but not because of any familial connection (not that he was/is aware of it). kuina was strong and always ahead of everyone else, and zoro who was a good fighter even as a child, constantly praised by people around him and capable of even beating adults in a fight, couldn't win against kuina. that was what put distance between them. and that distance is what makes someone a sun in zoro's eyes and worth chasing. so he joined the dojo after challenging and losing to kuina, and kept on challenging her over and over again. that was the way he grew close to her, seeing her as a worthy opponent and an idol. that was the type of person kuina needed in her life, torn between her passion, dreams and what the world told her life looked like. even though she was respected for her skill, she wasn't allowed to forget that her time would run out soon because she was born a daughter and not a son, boys she'd beat in the dojo eventually besting her not because of their level of skill but pure physical prowess she would be left out of gaining. that's why i think someone considered strong, nonstop following kuina and seeing her as their goal without any care for the finer details, that's why zoro never winning against kuina is an important writing choice for me. he never quite managed to cross the distance between them both, and when he got close to (on the emotional scale, making the promise that one of them would become the world's best, not her because zoro isn't the type to give in to pity) that sun of his, he'd lost it.

still, he kept the metaphorical warmth it gave and kept training to be capable of fulfilling said promise he's made.

the second sun of zoro's is mihawk. the distance between those two is more obvious seeing as mihawk has the very title zoro aims for. when zoro set out from the village he did so to find mihawk and defeat him. when he met the man on baratie, he was willing to welcome whatever fate had in store for him, be it win or death, and so he challenged mihawk to a duel. the distance between them was too great, and so mihawk dictated not only the pacing of the duel itself but also zoro's fate. zoro did not get to die like he was ready to; he was told to get stronger. we don't get to see as much of zoro's life centered around crossing that distance between mihawk because it mostly happens off-screen, and what we get on-screen is when the third sun of zoro's life enters the stage. the moment zoro loses, the moment he makes promise, the vow, he aims the words at luffy.

luffy; the third - of course the third because zoro is all about the number 3 in his life, isn't he? - sun. bringing me back to one my early points; when luffy first appears in front of zoro, he's not the one trying to appeal to zoro. instead, zoro is the one watched and scrutinized, judged on the basis of whether he's worthy to be a crewmember of luffy's or not. that puts a distance that zoro is familiar with with people he deems important in his life. it's always zoro giving chase and trying to prove himself to the world. later on, during the baratie duel with mihawk, zoro lives because mihawk sees potential in him and allows him to, but at that point of zoro's life, mihawk is slowly stopping to be the center of zoro's life and luffy slowly starts to take his place. that's why zoro's promise to never lose again, to become a swordsman worthy of someone like luffy (of someone like king of the pirates) happens after his loss. he doesn't clench his teeth and try to fight again and again like he did with kuina because zoro understands when the distance is too great, and he has found something closer by his side, someone whose dream he can support and believe in, instead of just being united for convienience and the deal made between them.

on the other hand, luffy's approach towards relationships with others is about crossing the distance. one of luffy's greatest and simplest fears is to be alone. having only his grandfather as his family, luffy had not even considered having a father before water 7, and garp - being the vice admiral - was busy enough to leave luffy in foosha village the responsibility of raising him first falling on the villagers of the town, and later on on dadan and a group of mountain bandits deeper into the island. when in foosha village, aside from the villagers, an unexpected third party that got involved into shaping luffy's worldview was shanks and his crew. shanks had become luffy's rolemodel and to shanks luffy has become His Kid, pride and joy, embodiment of his faith in the future. however, no matter how warm their bond was, given shanks status and occupation, his stay in the village was only a temporary affair, and soon enough he'd left only with a dream and a hat to symbolize the promise between them as proof that he was ever there.

sometime after, luffy was brought to be raised by mountain bandits. at dadan's place luffy first met ace. that fear of being alone was what drove him into months of repeated attempts to cross the distance between them two. not to win against ace and best him and move on, but to have someone close nearby because luffy is scared. he fears torture, he fears enemies, he cries out of fear, but most of all he needs someone by his side and is willing to face all those things as long as it means he's deemed worthy of having around. he eventually manages to prove himself to ace (and sabo at that point) and those times are one of luffy's happiest and most cherished. they become brothers, become family, something that was something luffy wasn't ever given for free, and earns his place alongside knowing that not only was he accepted, he was welcomed and an integral part of the trio.

sabo disappears from their life and ace sets on his own journey to become pirate 3 years before luffy does, and luffy, although knowing that ace is somewhere out there, is on his own again. we don't see desperation in luffy's actions in the very beginning of the series, though. he doesn't just pick anyone to be crew; because he's not looking for people to follow his orders.

that's why morgan and helmeppo are scum in luffy's eyes. that's why crocodile and many, many opponents who view crew as meat shields often face luffy's wrath. to control someone with fear, to leave someone alone even in a group is unforgivable. he wants the crew to be his, his to hold close, his to love and accept.

so, how do luffy and zoro meet halfway if one's goal is to have someone as close and theirs as possible, and the other is to have someone to chase? they manage, and the way they do also helps them balance each other out. luffy becomes part of zoro's dream, and the goal to become world's best swordsman shifts towards becoming luffy's best swordsman. it manifests in the moments where luffy's life or dream are jeopardized, zoro willing to go as far as sacrifice his life if it means luffy's dream is kept safe. zoro stays keeps close to luffy because that's the correct way to achieve his dream. since luffy does not only care, but also considers zoro strong, zoro's own ambitions and drive further motivate luffy towards becoming better. to become someone worthy on stepping on the path towards taking the throne of the king of the pirates, becoming someone worthy having his crewmates by his side. in return, at times where the integrity of the crew is put to question, zoro is often the one to help hold everything together. i don't necessarily mean he's the one to take reigns or bark out commands, however in water 7 where luffy loses the going merry (that he also considers part of the crew), usopp, zoro reminds him of the burden of being captain. when chopper relies the new about robin, zoro is the one to make his speech about how judgement will slow the the reaction time. when the crew is emotional and panicked, zoro is the one to remind them their priorities, no matter how harsh it may sound. the steady presence helps luffy focus on rescuing what he can. after the events of enies lobby, luffy's fear and priorities get to him, choosing usopp over his influence as captain, just for the sake of avoiding losing people he loves and wants close. it's a human response and i am certain many people pleasers can see themeselves in that choice. to pick a friend over being right. to allow someone back into your life because you love them. zoro respects himself and thus won't follow someone who will bend too easily; he steps in to keep luffy from making a decision aiming to smooth things over rather than resolve the issue, and some people see it as proof that zoro would leave the crew, but i think it just shows how well zoro understand what drives luffy's actions to be able to hit the nail on the head. he stops luffy from becoming someone not worth chasing - because zoro does want to still chase the chance of earning his place at luffy's side - by putting himself in the way of luffy's choice, instead of just allowing one crewmate to come back.

this also ties into the part of the discussion relating to nature of zoro's loyalty. the fact that it exists is widely known and rarely questioned (if so, mostly in bad faith) but there's some opinions out there that consider zoro's single-mindedness to be blind. "as long as luffy orders it, zoro will do it". zoro has a reputation and knows his worth, thus he won't follow someone with whose ideals he doesn't agree with. zoro needs to chase, and he needs the right person to chase. luffy's simplicity and unabashed, unapologetic way of existence, his pluck and drive are what keeps zoro by luffy's side, and what captures his heart enough to be willing to consider luffy's goals his own.

the nature of their relationship, of the way they see each other is incredibly sun and moon coded. luffy as the undeniable sun, always in the center of everything, always the brightest and the warmest in the room. loud, loving, and someone everyone else seems naturally drawn to and orbiting around. zoro as the moon who uses the light of the sun for his own glow, and to give chase to cut the distance. on an average day it manifests in the way luffy never sits still and constantly seeks out tasks and stimulation that paw at his attention to entertain himself while zoro either tries to snooze the day away or follows his carefully tended to workout routine. in a fight it's in the way luffy beelines for the enemy standing behind the cruel events, the strongest one, trying to remove the issue from its root, leaving everyone else - enemies to defeat to his crew, and the crew to protect to zoro - behind. in the dreams it's hidden in the way luffy's goal of becoming king is achieving is freedom, and zoro's willingness to tie his person, his own dream, his hopes and his priorities to one crew and allow luffy to guarantee it.

[rasticore]

Camael ripe for the "my pronouns are they/them not because i'm non-binary but because i'm Literally Everyone" joke

[fionnaskyborn]

People like this have made me terrified that I am mischaracterizing my favorite character by playing into his strengths and emphasizing them so much... That I'm making things "too anime", "too over-the-top", and by doing that straying away from the groundedness that made the character compelling in the first place... But I think it's better to be a fan who loves someone so much they're willing to step into goofy over-the-top showcases of strength and morals out of love than being a fake fan who only ever rags on what they proclaim is so dear to them. I dunno. I don't think I'm wrong in saying that. I'm hella insecure when it comes to my own writing, especially with this guy because I want to do him as much justice as I possibly can as a writer. But I have to convince myself that it's not too much.

[ravenwolfie97]

all pokemon games are good but they are not all equally as good

send post

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

[peapod20001]

I’m the type that can and will cry if think too hard <3

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[worst-egirl]

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Can't stand how people will learn that humans are related to Pokemon and somehow come to the conclusion that different people are different types. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.

🍑 pechaberrysoda

there are literally so many fighting type people what are you even talking about lmao

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Your genetic make up doesn't just magically change type because you took a karate class. Do you also think your Charizard is a Grass type now because it learnt Solar Beam?

✨ ace-trainer-luna

But aren't Psychic type people a thing? Some humans have telekinetic powers, I'm pretty sure there are a few gym leaders who have them. There are even rare cases of children born with psychic abilities.

🌸 cynthiasfuturewife

that's still just learning moves

🌌 mistyterrain

As an actual Psychic type, this post is really disheartening to see. The fact that people who still refuse to acknowledge the existence of psychics are so common is just shocking. We exist!

☣ deathtounova

no one's refusing to acknowledge the existence of shit, you just don't know how types work

🌌 mistyterrain

The sheer ignorance on display here, it's obvious you're just mad you're a normal type lol.

☣ deathtounova

how bout i karate chop your ass and we'll see how "not very effective" it is

🌌 mistyterrain

Typical physical attacker brutishness, resorting to violence as usual

🦧 return-to-mankey

didn't you claim you manifested the kyogre disaster in hoenn?

⚡ electrictypesfuckyeah

WHAT

🥀 cradilyzone

Actual professor here! Genetically, all humans are Normal types, though some of our relatively recent ancestors were Psychic. Part of what let us succeed as a species was reutilizing the brain power originally used for psionics to language and tool use. We do still have some vestigial psychic power that can be trained, though it's quite weak compared to most Pokémon. As for those born with psychic powers, this is considered nowadays to be like an egg move, passed down from parent to child. And no, obviously learning Fighting moves doesn't make you a Fighting type, there is no way for a human to change their type.

🌔 hexmaniac

my grandma became a ghost type

🔶️ bigjiggly

I-

🔞 mega-miltank

What about swimmers though, they're water type, right?

📀 HM-69

did you even read the post

🪴 n-did-nothing_wrong

Are we all just ignoring OP's url?

🌊 lugias-sopping-anus

Team Plasma apologist blog, opinion discarded.

🛗 mostlymukposts

This post single handedly evolved my Porygon-2

[ireverie]

see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader

pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jake x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader

summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that jake sim would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.

wc ↠ 14.9k

a/n ↠ jeno version of this fic posted on my nct blog revehae. yea, mine. i am her she is me. THERE WILL BE NO SEQUEL. feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky

it was supposed to be like everybody else.

short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that sunoo boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through. 

you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.

hook, line, and sinker.

far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.

no one told you to expect something different from jake sim. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.

which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.

as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jake turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”

jake raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”

“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jake, right?”

jake nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”

“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”

jake hummed. “are you now?”

you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”

“you think so?” jake asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him. 

“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”

jake stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”

your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.

jake spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”

“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”

jake snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.

your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”

jake smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”

switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”

“am i?” jake asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.

“there it is,” jake sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”

you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.

“i’ll help you,” jake said after a pause.

you forced a smile. “great, so…”

jake interjected, “on one condition.”

smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?

“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”

jake grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.

you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”

“sure, you’re not,” jake answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”

“that’s not my problem,” you spat. 

“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jake retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”

something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.

but jake had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”

“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jake asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”

“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title. 

“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jake told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”

you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”

“right. too busy,” jake echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”

with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”

jake arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.

then, you started typing away, all the while jake watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.

“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you.  “pleasure doing business with you.”

with that, you walked away. 

jake shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?

over the next few days or so, you met with jake to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.

you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.

it was okay. jake’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.

short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jake’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.

more like sacrifice.

▸ gilded age

“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.

roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”

jennie narrowed her eyes. “hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”

you snickered. “god, what happened now?”

“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently sunghoon.”

your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.

roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but sunghoon? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.” 

“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”

“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”

roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”

you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”

jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”

your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.

“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”

you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”

roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jake guy is staring you.”

your head whirled around, spotting jake in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising. 

roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”

you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”

for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jake for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”

your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.

what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.

“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jake were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwon?”

jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwon isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.

roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”

“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”

“a lot can change in two months.”

“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”

▸ takes two to tango

jake: come over

you: no

jake: that wasn’t a request 

you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around

jake: not even for an A?

you: that’s what your grabby hands are for

jake: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us

you: i’m otw, chill. jesus

the knock of your fist against jake’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.

jake threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you. 

“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”

jake shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”

you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”

ignoring your snarky attitude, jake glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jake was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.

“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.

busy, my fucking ass, jake thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”

“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”

“sure, you can,” jake replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”

“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”

“your attention,” jake said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”

the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.

without warning, jake grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jake would handle you delicately.

but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of. 

in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jake, what the hell?” you exclaimed. 

“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jake said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”

for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jake’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.

your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.

unsatisfied, jake bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jake, that hurts,” you whined. 

jake didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”

you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.

needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”

“stop complaining,” jake groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”

your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped. 

jake heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”

you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit. 

the last thing you expected jake to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.

and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.

to make matters worse, jake was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.

maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jake said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.

even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.

jake had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased. 

you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”

jake had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”

you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.

“takes two to tango, baby,” jake called after you, simpering.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled jake sim.

 ▸ chess, not checkers

deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jake’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.

jake didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.

instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.

the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.

and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.

jake could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jake for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.

the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.

but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.

and yet, maybe jake was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.

hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.

jake winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”

“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.

jake exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.

seoa recoiled, pulling away. jake had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”

a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jay marched over to jake, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”

jake snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.

jay’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”

rolling his eyes, jake grabbed the back of jay’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jake knew it had when jay’s confusion melted into disgust. 

“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.

jake chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”

jay couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwon like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”

that was news to jake. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from sunoo and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwon. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.

jay shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”

now that was funny as hell. jake had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”

jay made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwon. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”

jake shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”

jay gawked. that didn’t sound like jake. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”

“oh, dividends,” jake quipped.

“oh, and in what? pussy?”

“nope.”

jay looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”

it didn’t, not immediately, but jake had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.

jay shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”

“chess, not checkers, jay.” jake smirked, putting a hand on jay’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”

▸ things good guys do 

“you’re lucky i was already out,” jake told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”

“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”

jake exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jay had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”

you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.

jake’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.

jake groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”

you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”

jake shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”

“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.

“you think that was assault?” jake asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”

scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”

“good guys have self-control,” jake replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”

you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”

“a blowjob.”

“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.

jake quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”

you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?

jake grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”

“that’s not the same!” you whined. 

“of course, it’s not,” jake said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”

you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”

maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jake stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”

you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.

it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jake couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”

you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.

jake walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.

normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt. 

“good girl,” jake praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”

you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jake, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.

jake hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”

your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.

not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.

at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”

your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.

that amused jake to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.

he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.

it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jake instructed.

widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.

jake was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.” 

your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jake hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jake’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.

jake, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.

there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.

“lick,” jake said, chest undulating. “up and down.”

with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jake’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking. 

jake’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”

you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.

if jake could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”

you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.

it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.

compared to when you first started, jake was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.

“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jake said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.

at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jake groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.

you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.

at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.

jake’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.

“open up,” jake said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.

not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.

when you tried to pull away, jake grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.

tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jake scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”

chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jake loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.

jake held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jake said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”

he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.

there was a fleeting second of relief when jake unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.

though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible. 

you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.

“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jake taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.

it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own. 

then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing. 

with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed. 

jake groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”

even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.

it got to a point where jake couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”

like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.

irritated, jake pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”

you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.

jake laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”

he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.

▸ hard feelings

something about today was different than usual. 

when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.

but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.

it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.

you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about sunghoon’s clap rumor.

long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.

and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?

but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.

fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.

jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.

roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.

they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”

jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”

your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”

jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”

“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except… except jake. you tensed with anger.

roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jake reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.

your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jake didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.

“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”

jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”

then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.

you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see. 

you: you and i need to talk. right now.

jake: about what?

you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!

jake: maybe u should have swallowed

you: you know what, i don’t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone

jake: [one attachment]

jake: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it

you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.

adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.

you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you

jake: this is bigger than just you and me

jake: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out

and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.

if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.

you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.

no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.

you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.

“i’ve been texting you,” jake said, sounding miffed.

you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”

“aw, poor thing,” jake crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”

you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.

stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open. 

“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”

it was a wonder you managed to make it to jake’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.

on the other hand, jake seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did. 

you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”

jake chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”

your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?

“i’m sad,” jake said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”

you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”

jake nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”

you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”

“so?” jake asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”

you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jake, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”

“take everything off,” jake repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”

defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jake shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.

what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.

when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.

you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.

after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your moan, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.

“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”

you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”

“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”

“i miss you,” you confessed. 

“a lie don’t care who tell it.”

“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”

“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”

there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”

you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jake without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”

your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that. 

taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”

your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”

in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”

“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”

“ma,” you groaned with a wince.

she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”

you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jake really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.

because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.

and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated jake sim.

  ▸ cheerleader? breed her! 

standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.

you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jake and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.

there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jake’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.

you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.

jake came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”

you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”

jake chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”

you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.

jake’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”

you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.

“that’s not nearly enough,” jake insisted, squeezing your ass.

god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.

“you know what i want?” jake asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”

your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jake had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic. 

grabbing your arm, jake started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”

you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jake, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.

jake scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.

panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to. 

then, you locked eyes with jungwon. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jake was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwon saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.

your shoulders slumped in defeat.

jake started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.

just your luck, the bathroom jake hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jake, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”

jake didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”

you swallowed, not saying a word. 

the silence was very loud, very telling. jake arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”

your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.

jake chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”

you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”

jake shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”

it went without saying that jake always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed. 

hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jake was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”

jake could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”

it wasn’t lost on you that jake obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jake. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”

“what a privileged response,” jake hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jake, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.

two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jake. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”

you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”

“me and you, we’re not the same,” jake remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”

“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”

jake laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.

“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”

your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.

“take my dick out,” jake said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”

you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jake had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.

getting a hold of your throat, jake roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”

you gawked, shaking your head.

his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”

with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jake released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.

he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.

jake had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.

you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.

the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.

“i’m so nice to you,” jake said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”

your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.

but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.

sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.

jake grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”

your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.

jake watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”

no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul. 

your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jake, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.

jake smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”

“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”

jake snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”

those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback. 

hips beginning to move faster, jake continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”

“jake, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half. 

but jake didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”

there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.

jake stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”

you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.

jake threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”

your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback. 

“jake, don’t…”

before you could even finish your statement, jake clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”

you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jake’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.

with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jake emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.

you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point. 

to your surprise, jake started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.

you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.

then, jake stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jake, stop! it’s sensitive.”

“that’s the point, dummy,” jake replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.

your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered. 

jake smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.

that made jake chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”

you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.

“please, what?” jake asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”

god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.

and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.

and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.

“shit,” jake hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.

your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jake thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.

after a moment or two, jake pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”

you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth. 

jake raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”

your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled. 

“you’re learning,” jake commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”

“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.

keeping your dress bunched up, jake grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”

you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight. 

“did you think i was kidding?” jake asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”