#this is a privilege not to be used and abused lightly

[littleheartsong]

i think itd be really funny to make chilchuck beg especially cause hed be so bad at it. he has a lot of pride and refusal to ask others for help so pushing him to that point where he has to verbalize what wants would be inchresting

just his expression looking at you SO incredulous at first like umm yeah right but hes Doubtful but he wants to kiss/cum/cuddles/whatever. its a stalemate at first and youd probably have to coax it out of him until hes just AUUUGGHH FINE PLEASE!!!!PLEASE!!!! and hes just all blushy bc like omg verbalizing my needs but he gets what he wants so it all works out

[autolenaphilia]

This post has been in the back of my mind ever since i saw it last year because it is a mask off moment for a usually more subtle transmisogynist. : I blacked out the account names being accused in the screenshot above, because i don't want to be spreading fake transmisogynistic callouts around even to be criticquing them.

Like "trans women are sexual predators who use their identity as queer women as cover to prey on children and other vulnerable people, and liberals are too afraid of being called transmisogynistic to stop them" is like the basic transmisogynist narrative. It's literally the terf narrative about trans women. This is the real terf rhetoric, not trans women criticizing (trans)misogyny.

Yet it is still so common among ostensibly transfem-accepting liberals/leftists. Like trans women using their identity as a shield against legitimate criticism of their predatory behavior is such a common trope in queer spaces that claim to be against terfs. This is because TME people use hating on terfs as a substitute for dealing with their own transmisogyny.

This is extremely common among people in the callout culture transmisogyny fandom like the screenshotted blogger.They go for this line about "transfems using their identity as a shield against genuine criticism" all the time when their obvious if lightly veiled transmisogyny is pointed out. This is their main argument, their own shield against criticism. And it rings very hollow when these people call out transfem after transfem as sexual predators based on them liking harmless kinks like fauxcest and CNC, literally using old radfem arguments against kink.

What this sort of thing is, is the denial that transmisogyny even exists. A claim that instead of being an especially oppressed class of women, we are actually a privileged group. And terfs here are open about saying it's because we are men and have male privilege. The more subtle kind of transmisogynist, the "trans women are women, terfs dni" crowd, leaves the trans women have male privilege bit unsaid but implied.

And of course it's false. As people are surely aware, being transfem makes you more likely to publicly accused of being a sexual menace. And they are most likely false accusations. Accusations against the privileged and powerful, like cis men, are seldom false. The social power that these men wield make it dangerous for any victim to come forward.

Accusations towards members of marginalized groups like transfems, however, are easy and safe to make, because they don't have that kind of social power or privilege. Their position in any social setting is tenuous, and it's easy to turn the group against them to exile them. Transfems don't have the power to defend themselves even against the flimsiest of accusations, while privileged men can defend themselves even against the most well-documented ones. Transfems are instead more likely to be victims of abuse, and then DARVOed by their abusers, being accused of abuse when they were actually abused.

The fact is that transfems can "scream transmisogyny" but few TME people, including other lgbt people, are not likely to listen.

And this is not a "white girl" problem despite what the screenshotted post implies. This problem is far worse for black transfems suffering from transmisogynynoir, and other non-white transfems. Read writings written by black transfems like Position of Guilt: Black Hot Allostatic Load by Anonsee Storyweaver.

[depravitycentral]

General Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto Profile

Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto x reader

TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE: 

Introverted  

Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.

His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.

Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.

He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.

Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.

He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.

It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.

He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.

Creative

Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.

And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.

It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.

But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.

He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.

Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.

His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.

They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.

And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.

He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.

Nurturing

If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.

Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.

Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?

He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?

Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?

He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.

As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there. 

Competitive

While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.

As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.

Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.

Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.

He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?

Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.

(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.

It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.

He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?

He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?

Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.

(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)

He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?

It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!

It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!

It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.

Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.

And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.

He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.

It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).

You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).

You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.

And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…

Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.

So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!

It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?

Possessive

Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.

He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.

He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.

Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.

His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.

It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.

And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.

And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.

Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?

All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.

You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.

You’re just so perfect, huh?

Delusional

But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.

And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.

(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)

And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.

But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.

He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.

Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.

The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?

Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!

(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)

When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.

(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)

Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?

He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.

The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.

Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.

(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)

And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.

So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.

He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.

It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.

 Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?

It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?

He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.

Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.

And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.

He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.

Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.

You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.

With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.

He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.

You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.

Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.

The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.

You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.

In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.

Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.

Who was that?

Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.

Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.

What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.

Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.

That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?

At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!

And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.

Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.

That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.

You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.

(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.

He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.

(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)

His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.

Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).

He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)

You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.

(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)

And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?

And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.

Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.

He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.

That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.

(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)

And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.

But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?

Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.

And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.

He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –

He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.

As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.

No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.

Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.

It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.

He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.

He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.

He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?

And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.

The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?

By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.

(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)

He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.

(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)

He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.

(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)

So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.

There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.

There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.

But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.

And isn’t that so romantic?

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.

Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.

His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.

It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.

It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.

And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.

And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.

And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.

If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.

If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.

Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much �� and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?

Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?

You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?

It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.

You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.

His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.

He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –

Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.

Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –

You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.

Stuck here? What were you saying?

You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –

He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.

Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!

And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.

A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.

 Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.

He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.

He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.

And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.

You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.

He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!

 He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.

You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.

It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.

Please, he tries one last time.

And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.

After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.

The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.

The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.

You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.

You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.

You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.

I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.

And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest  I love you, too back.

And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.

He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.

Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.

He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.

It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.

He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.

He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.

And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.

You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.

It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.

It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.

Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.

And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?

After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?

[corvidcrossbow]

Since I made a post about Mother's Day w/ Daryl, I gotta make a Father's Day one too.

For obvious reasons, he didn't like Father's Day (me neither Daryl). It felt insulting to see people celebrating their dads, felt so forced and unfair, stupid even. How come other people got to have fathers who were there for them and cared for them while he didn't? What made him undeserving of that? (Mother's Day was already hard enough when he was young, sitting in class and nearly trembling from how hard he was straining himself to not cry while those around him made cards and talked about their plans for the weekend with their moms) So he tried to push the existence of the holiday out of his mind.

Fatherhood was never something he pictured. Even when the hypothetical idea of kids crossed his mind, he was sure it would never be plausible: he'd just follow footsteps and end up some doped up abusive deadbeat as well. Although he never pictured an apocalypse with the undead either, and that pushed the idea of fatherhood even further into a realm of impossibility.

So both those happening, and someone as perfect as you being directly involved in it, was leagues outside his imagination.

The first Father's Day after your child was born was rough. He enjoyed how the collapse of society made people lose track of the dates, too occupied with survival to care about minor things like this. But with the stability Alexandria provided, over time celebrations reintegrated into routines, this included, and he was not fond of the reminder.

He didn't mention the day at all leading up to it, or of, continuing his ignorance and hoping it'd slip your mind. He knew it wouldn't: you were too attentive and appreciative of him to miss any excuse to celebrate and congratulate him no matter the context.

But you threaded lightly, knowing it'd be touchy and let most the day pass by as any other would, just being extra sweet on him. You never wished him a ‘Happy Father's Day’, instead when you were going to bed that night thanking him for being a father, for everything he did for you and your daughter and how good he was at it.

He ended up just breaking down, falling apart in your hold and attempting to bury himself in you the same way he tried to bury so much else.

The next couple years were largely similar; little acknowledgement to the day, but extra acknowledgements to him. It was your daughter that started to make it more distinctive. A little older now, she saw the other kids in the community making little gifts and cards for their fathers the same way they did for mothers on the respective day. Even those who didn't have dads made them in memoriam.

So of course she did it too, she loved her daddy and did those things all the time anyway. Why not do it when it's even more special? She didn't even tell you about it, secretly assembling it all herself.

You shared Daryl's surprise when she presented her crafts, repeatedly saying the token phrase you'd held off from using. He was mostly frozen for a moment, trying to just see her and this singular day rather than previous decades of Father's Day's that came before, all negatively tinted and crossed out from his personal calendar.

He accepted it all, and her innocent recognition of the holiday's purpose. Though the urge flared up in some part of him, he couldn't shut her down. She meant well, and wasn't to blame for his rocky relationship with the day and his own father. He wouldn't create reason for her to despise the holiday too, and how could be cold to the human embodiment of sunshine while her toothy smile was beaming at him?

He put her to bed that evening, spending an extra while stroking her hair and admiring how peaceful she looked while sleeping. Despite the state of the world, she had the privilege to not only sleep, but feel safe while doing so. And he's what allowed that; gave her that.

She got to feel safe from all the horrors he'd seen: the walkers, blood, guts, violence, death, immorality, all the disturbing things about life that were amplified by the apocalypse.

But more importantly, she felt safe with him.

She got to excitedly jump on him while he was still asleep in the morning, roll around and shake him till he finally got up. She got to play with him in the dirt while out in the yard, or sit him down with jewelry and accessories surrounded by stuffed animals and toy dinnerware. She got to chase him around and bombard him with curious questions and learn everything she could from him.

She got to make messes and break things, make mistakes, and know he'd always help her clean or fix them.

She got to show her emotions and be a kid and cry, and know he would always hold and soothe her, wipe away her tears and do anything to make sure she was okay.

And she never knew a different response. She never knew the yelling or insults, the degradation, the mockery, the beatings and burnings and whippings. She got to fall asleep by her father's side, lulled to rest by his comforting voice, be in the most vulnerable state a person could be, and know that the last thing he would ever do was hurt her; the idea – the worry – of him hurting her did not exist in her mind.

Daryl'd crumbled to tears by the time he returned to you that night, collapsing into your arms the way he did every time the reality of being a parent hit him. He would never truly understand how he got to this point in life, how every unfathomable thing – good and bad – had genuinely occurred and this is what was real.

From the instant you found out you were pregnant, he'd promised you, promised himself, and promised his child he would always be the father he'd wanted, that he'd deserved, that his kid deserved and that every child deserves. He healed his own childhood by assuring his daughter'd have a good one, and that he'd be regarded as a good part of it.

She made Father's Day something that could actually be ‘happy’ for him.

The daddy issues hit a little too hard while writing this

I fr don't know where the last week of my life went I just remember watching Lost 🗿

[blingblong55]

Good girl behaviour -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Based on a request:

God I need Ghost to fuck the reader out of jealousy, but denying every fucking orgasm, and when the reader apologies for flirting with someone to have his attention, he says "Apologizing now won't give you an orgasm little bitch"

F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, jealous!Ghost, denied!orgasm, rough!sex, fingering, dom!Ghost, degrading, oral!sex, establish!relationship

You have been needy all day, you wore the pretty little skirt he likes but still, he didn't pay attention to you. You wore the shirt that shows your cleavage best and still, he didn't pay any sort of attention to you. That was until you two went to the market, he wandered whilst you talked to the man in the aisle, moving certain ways which made him notice your body more. Your voice so soft and innocent, "can you reach for that, im not as tall as you~" you get on your tiptoes to demonstare and thats when Simon comes in, grabbing the item and walking away with you, his arm snaked around your hip.

At home, he fingered you too much and each time he knew you were close, he would slap your tits and stop. Three orgasms were denied and by some point, he had you on your knees. A collar around your neck, leash on his hand as he watched you whimper. "Don't act innocent, R/N." he tightened his grip on the leash, choking you more. You give him a pouty lip, and you knew best, no brats were allowed in his bed. "You're nothing but a useless cum slut, R/N." he spits out. You whimper once more and he slaps you lightly and chokes you with his hand.

"You know I won't let you cum for what you did back in the market, sluts like you are worthless and don't deserve to cum, especially when they know getting fucked by me is a privilege." Your eyes pleading for any form of release, your pussy against his boot, the aching clit of yours screaming for him to fuck you. But that is how he is, training you to be the ideal cum slut for him. "Do you think I'm going to give you want you to want when you whimper?" he chuckles and cups your face, "My love, this is not how it works, not one bit, my darling," his voice smooth as silk.

"If you want to apologise, use that mouth for good," he says and you pout more. He grabs one of your tits and licks the already hard and sensitive nipple. Your piercing occasionally gets moved around in his tongue. You moan and squirm only for him to stop and get up. "Simon-"

"No, I'm not entertaining an orgasm for you and you better stay there like the good girl you are."

Minutes later, he comes back, cuffs in one hand whilst the other holds his drink. He sits down, "Make me cum first and I'll maybe think about fucking you." he unzips his trousers and you knew the drill by now. So, you reach for his cock, taking it out and before even daring to let your lips touch it, you look up at him. "Do it, darling." he nods and your tongue licks his tip.

Soon enough, he fists your hair, pushing you deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag and drool all over his shaft, your throat a guaranteed soreness for tomorrow. The stickiness of his body mixing with yours. He pulls his cock out, letting you breathe, "You're doing so well my darling, but take me like the cum slut you are, don't want to disappoint me now, do you?" You shake your head and he smiles, a soft kiss on your forehead and he goes back to that fucking you.

You mascara running down your cheeks, he wipes them off, "you're being so obedient, my love." he whispers as you continue to get throat fucked by his massive cock. You gag more, the wet noises filling the bedrom, your red tits getting abused by his constant slaps. He then chokes you, adoring how you gagged more on his cock and the feeling it gave him bringing him more pleasure. Once he begins to cum inside of you, he slows the thrusts and pulls his cock out of your mouth.

The white and stickiness of his seed falling down your face like drool. And before you can react, he grabs your hips, and with a desperate move, he slams you on the bed. Your back on the soft blanket, your thighs on his sides as he removes your panties, two fingers inside of you before he begins to eat you out. His tongue already savouring your juices, your clit swollen and ready to be fucked and pleased. "Beg me to suck on this precious clit, darling." he looks at you, you are already a mess and can only nod. He slaps your pussy, "I said beg, bitch," voice low with a growl. "Suck my clit, please, I need it, please~" your eyes shut.

His tongue and mouth bring you waves of pleasure, "cum for me, sweet girl." once more being soft to you. Your clit is beautifully pleased by him, and your body reacts towards the need that you have to finally cum. "Cum, please, I need my little doll to cum." he coos. A knot in your stomach, your fingers gripping the bedsheet underneath, your moans loud, too loud it makes them sound very pornographic. "Say you belong to me," he demands. You look at him, eyes almost unfocused from the incoming orgasm, "i belong to you!" you say between moans and whimpers.

"Fuck!" you cry, your legs feeling weak, his mouth not stopping. And then you let out a gasp, your eyes shut and you finally have your much-needed orgasm.

Your slick coating his lips and tongue. He licks his lips, and looks at you, eyes soft but still with that grin like the devil. "My my," he lays next to you, arms wrapping around you, "You did such a good job, my sweetness," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, a blanket covering your delicate body. "You are my life," he kisses your forehead again. "You belong to me, don't you, R/N?" his calloused hands caressing your soft skin. "Yes," you kiss his hand and he smiles. "Good, that's good my girl."

@liyanahelena @urmajestyzel @karurururu @hope-3429 @ghostslillady @alxexhearts @muffinsncoffee

[autumnywinter]

Filthy Desires - Harper x Reader

TW: Obsessive behavior, doctor/patient relationship, past dubious consent, abusive power dynamics, mentions of hypnosis, male Harper

NSFW! MDNI

Reader is gender neutral + AFAB

You don't know how long you had been here, and you were sure Harper and the rest of the nurses purposefully kept that information from you. Longer than a month, surely. Long enough for the other patients to call you "Harper's bitch", that was for sure.

As offended as you were by the crude nickname they had given you, it was still undeniably true. Harper controlled almost every aspect of your life. Sure, he essentially controlled all the patients' lives as long as they were in his ward, but you were a different case. You got a certain kind of privilege (that's what Harper called it, at least) not afforded to any patient. Your room was always the closest to his office, meaning he could just "stop in and check in on" you any time of any day.

Sometimes, it was a simple chat. He'd ask you how you were, give you a quick peck on the lips, and leave.

Other times, it was more serious sessions. Sessions that went on for far too long and made you extremely exhausted for days afterwards. He hypnotized you into being complacent, dumb, and forgetful, but you knew fully well what he had been doing to you. There were moments he didn't even bother going through hypnosis first. Those times he was obviously more pent up and frustrated, which used to be rare, but now it seemed like he got like that at least once a week.

Occasionally you enjoyed his attention and praise, but the toll it took on you to please him had gotten so mentally taxing that there were days you considered trying to break out or notify the outside world. Unfortunately for you, Harper never let patients use outside technology like cellphones.

As humiliating and invasive as the daily routine was for you, he also showered you with attention you never got outside of the hospital.

"Time for your session," a nurse calmly notified you.

You nodded and walked your normal route to Harper's office. You've memorized the way after having to go there so many times each and every day. Harper sat behind his large oak desk, reading a file on another patient.

"Y/N," Harper greeted. His piercing pink eyes peeked out over the rim of his glasses. He had his straight blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it from falling into his face while he's working. He raised his hand in the air and made a gesture for the nurse to leave. Once the nurse shut the door behind him, Harper spoke again. "Come sit."

Obedient as ever, you quickly sat yourself on Harper's lap. It had became your usual spot at this point.

Harper peppered gentle, loving kisses along your cheek, jaw, neck, and lips. It was hard to understand anything about the doctor, but one thing he made obvious was he loved kissing you.

When he pulled back, he ran his hand through your hair affectionately. His hand traveled down your torso, rubbing and touching at whatever pleased him. He pressed sloppy wet kisses over your neck and ground his knee against your clothed cunt. You keened and leaned into him, grinding down on his leg in hopes of stimulation. He chuckled darkly, always amused with how needy and desperate you got so quickly.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked in between pecks along your collarbone.

You shook your head.

Harper trailed his finger lightly along your side. "It's your birthday."

For just a split second, you felt happy. But then you put together how long that meant you had been here. Your face fell. Harper hummed, noticing your shift in attitude. His warm, broad hands skimmed over your stomach.

"We've been doing such good work recently, haven't we?" he said, ignoring your sudden dejectedness. Harper was good at shifting topics subtly. You hummed quietly in affirmation. "Then tonight," Harper tilted your jaw so you'd make eye contact with him. "I can give you a special treat for your birthday." He kissed your nose.

"Okay, Doctor Harper," you whispered, leaning into his hold. His strong hands pressed into your sides, encouraging you to keep grinding against his leg. You weren't getting any real stimulation that way, but he loved hearing your whimpers and moans regardless.

You gripped onto the doctor's broad shoulders and arched your back, rolling your hips. Harper watched you with an intent expression on his face.

"What do you want for your special treat, darling?"

"Uh..." Your breathing was getting heavy and he could tell how frustrated you were getting not being able to come from humping his leg. Harper let a hand trail along your torso, stopping to rub your labia through the standard hospital attire you were expected to wear. Your hips shuddered at the indirect touch and a squeaky moan escaped your lips.

"Be descriptive. I can't give it to you if I don't know what you want." Harper rubbed your core faster, encouraged by the high pitched noises and half-formed words coming out of you.

"I-I don't know," you shakily admitted. You just wanted to cum, it didn't matter how at this point.

Harper raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Then would you like to figure it out on my desk?" He didn't even wait for an answer, next thing you knew, he had hoisted you up with a shocking amount of strength. He sat you on the cold wood and made a place for himself by parting your legs open. "So cute, you're soaking already," Harper muttered to himself. He rubbed the dampened fabric between your legs, cooing when you jerked and let out a satisfied gasp.

"Doctor," you whined.

Just as Harper planned on removing your underwear, there was a knock on the door. His usual composed expression was gone, only for a second. He stood up straight to smooth down his hair and fix his tie. "Under the desk."

His tone was soft but stern. You crawled under, sitting on the floor comfortably in between Harper's legs. Harper seated himself in his comfortable, office chair and pulled it in so you would have just enough room.

"Come in," he answered, already back to his professional voice. You sat in the dark beneath the desk and listened to the nurse come in, talking about something related to the medication being stocked low again.

They began exchanging words back and forth, but your mind wasn't on that. It was rather on the obvious sight of his cock straining in his pants right in front of your face. You looked up for any acknowledgement from Harper, but his attention was focused on the nurse.

Without any sense of urgency, your hands slowly trailed up his legs. Harper didn't bat an eye. You played with the buckle, undoing and sliding the belt off. Your fingertips skimmed along his trousers, feeling the shape of his cock with a gentle press and rub. A small sigh left his lips.

Unzipping the zipper, you reached your hand into his trousers and pulled his underwear down just enough to give yourself some freedom to work with. His erection stood tall against his abdomen. Harper glanced down at you momentarily, meeting your eyes right as you were bringing your lips onto the tip of his cock.

His fingers tensed against his pen in his hand but he said nothing.

"Doctor Harper?" The nurse was worried about his sudden shift in focus, which prompted his gaze away from you. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine," Harper answered a bit too quickly. His face was lightly flushed pink and he was trying his best to not give himself away. You enjoyed how swiftly he could lose his composure.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took in the head of his cock, rolling your tongue around to tease the head.

"Are you sure?" the nurse pushed further. You wrapped your lips around Harper and swallowed his cock deeper, inch by inch. A jagged inhale sounded through the office. "Should I go get you a coffee or some water? You don't look very well."

Harper coughed. "That's unnecessary. I- ah -just get back to work. Please. I-I'm busy. Very busy."

As much as you could get annoyed with him, he was cute stuttering like a mess above you. It wasn't a common sight, so naturally you'd want to take advantage of it. You took a slow, teasing drag up his length, stopping just as the tip left your lips. Harper was used to you being needier and greedy by now. Something as simple as a painfully slow blow job threw him for a loop. His hips jerked for the feeling of your hot mouth to be back on him, which you complied.

Once he was sure the door shut behind the nurse, Harper put down his pen, rolled his chair in further, and bucked into your mouth without warning. You sputtered from the intrusion of your throat being filled.

He wrapped his lithe fingers into your hair, holding you in place. Your throat swallowed around the thick length, and Harper shivered from the pleasant feeling. He was frantic to chase his release.

With a shuddering breath, he bucked into you a final time and came, keeping your head pushed down as he did. He looked down at you with a proud gaze. "Make sure to swallow, dear. It's good for you." He freed you from under his desk, still panting. He caressed your cheek once you resurfaced and kissed over your sensitive lips. "Good job."

"It was supposed to be my birthday, and here I was pleasing you," you grumbled.

Harper didn't seem to mind your pouting at all. He glanced at the clock in the top right of the room. "Don't worry, darling, you still didn't tell me what you want for your birthday." Harper's fingers brushed through your hair, straightening any stray hairs and loose strands. "I'm afraid we don't have any more time now, but I could pay you a visit tonight. Would that make you happy?"

Happy wasn't exactly the emotion you'd associate with Harper visiting your room late at night. Yet you nodded. "Can I have some birthday cake, too?" You couldn't recall the last time you had sweets like that. The hospital's version of sweets were fruit cups and yogurt. Harper must've noticed how excited you were at the simple mention of a cake since he smiled, a toothy and genuine smile. You found it a bit hard to believe that Doctor Harper of all people could do such a thing.

"I'll see what I can do."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Fellow turns around after feeling the distinct sensation of someone’s hand in his pocket.

“…ah. Shishishi~ Nice collections of wallets you’ve got there, mister! Aren’t they heavy? I swear I was just trying to help you lighten the load! Isn’t that right, Leona-san?” -Ruggie, caught red-handed.

“…” -Leona, just passing by and torn between narrowing his eyes at Fellow’s presence at NRC or putting a palm to his face, absolutely done with everything.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Hey now, hands off my pockets!” Fellow shooed the hyena off, keeping protecting hands over his wallets. “I earned these fair and square. Find some other suckers to prey on—and next time, be less obvious about it!”

“Nishishishishi! I dunno, Leona-san~ Ya think we should let this criminal run free?”

“Tch, hell if I care. Don’t get me involved in your personal squabbles. I ain’t cleanin’ up after ya.”

“Wow, harsh.” Ruggie swiveled to Fellow. “You see how he treats me? Awful. After I work my tail off for him, too. The Mystery Shop’s a better gig. Sam still makes me clean, but at least he pays me for my time.”

The emerald of Leona’s eyes cut narrow.

With an impish grin, Ruggie continued. “Geez~ Rich people seriously are the worst!”

“They are,” Fellow agreed in a grumble. He thought of his own employer—well, ex-employer—a shadowy man screaming abuse at him through the phone. “So full of themselves and entitled to service.”

“See, you get me!!” Ruggie elbowed him in the ribs. “Us poors gotta band together and rise up against’m. Let’s eat the rich!”

“Oi, Ruggie,” his dorm leader growled at last, “Quit talkin’ about me like I’m not standing right in front of you.”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Leona-san?”

“Yeah, you’re really breaking my heart,” he drawled sarcastically. “I’m choking up over here.”

“Charming boss you’ve got here.” Fellow’s laugh as light as fairy floss. “I’ll bet he’s a riot with the snooty elites.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. Well, when he feels like turning on the charm. Works wonders for a distraction while I liberate them of their valuables~”

“Really! That’s usually my job. Sometimes I pull double duty. Giddie ain’t exactly good at keeping people’s attention or being slick with his hands.”

“You have a partner? Convincing Leona-san to play along’s like pulling teeth. He whines all the time and makes demands like some overgrown cub—”

“Ruggie,” Leona snapped. Low, threatening—a command to stay silent.

“My bad!! My lips are sealed!” the hyena pledged. He comically dipped into a bow and slunk back.

Leona stepped up.

“Ohoh?”

Here comes the king.

The regal lion rolled his shoulders, inclining his head back—looking down on Fellow. “… Hey, scammer. I held my tongue before since you were slinking around town being sketchy—but now you’re in my territory, and I make the rules around here.

“I don’t care if you go around plucking wallets from unsuspecting herbivores. Just don’t cross me, not again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tread lightly. Got that?”

His tone was familiar. Assured and full of arrogance. A luxury afforded to this beat thanks to immense power and privilege.

Fellow gritted his teeth. He managed to force out a measured response, despite his surging hatred.

He knew this song and dance. How to keep his head down, how to swallow his pride and comply. Kowtowing was a skill, and Fellow had mastered it.

“Completely. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way, good sir!” he chirped with a pearly smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Leona turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He strolled off without so much as another word or gesture.

Ruggie tore off after him. “Ah—wait up! You know I was just joking, right? Heeey, don’t ignore me, Leona-san!”

Fellow carefully watched their retreating figures. When their shaped had vanished entirely, he angrily kicked at the ground and shouted at the skies.

“I can’t stand these damn rich people!!”

[builtbybrokenbells]

LEX TALIONIS | ORSUS

orsus — a beginning, commencement, an undertaking, attempt

Masterlist | Taglist

listen while reading: it will come back - hozier

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Josh Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 24k (😘)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, hookups, one night stands, fingering (f!receiving) oral (f!receiving), impact play, cum play, sir kink, dom/sub, bratty sub, praise, degradation, name calling, touch of spit play, lots and lots of dirty talk, mentions of free use kink, choking, biting, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, the briefest mention of oral (m!receiving), manipulation/manipulative phrases, gaslighting, toxic themes, an unbearable amount of flirting, talking bad about men, superiority complexes, mentions of toxic/bad past relationships/bad experiences with men, a conniving evil reader, mentions of cheating/infidelity/home wrecking, mentions of addictions/substance abuse, mentions of death/dying, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

Here it is, I hope you enjoy my loves 🤍 (lightly edited)

According to Wikipedia, brotherhood is an ethical relationship between people, which is based on love and solidarity. According to the Oxford Dictionary, it is the feeling of kinship with and closeness to a group or all people. To the core, brotherhood is family, whether blood or not. A brother is someone you would give your life for at the drop of a dime, someone who you would protect with your life and avenge with a fervor. You can be siblings, cut from the same cloth and raised side by side, yet never once feel such things. You can meet a person on the sidewalk amidst the city chaos and feel for them in a moment, what you could not feel for someone else in a lifetime. Brotherhood is not a right, but a privilege, and one so sacred that not many are truly deserving of the title.

For Joshua and Jacob, brotherhood began in the womb, and carried on well into their adult lives. In this particular instance, deserving was not nearly a good enough descriptor for the men in question.

Two souls destined to be infinitely intertwined and lucky enough to be born as twins. For the pair, loyalty was without question and love was always abundant. Since their first minute on earth, they knew that the world would always seem less cruel when there was someone to depend on walking beside you every step of the way. In their younger years, they were akin in so many ways that it was hard to comprehend by times, and as the years passed, it only further proved the two were identical in more ways than just physical. Morals, attitudes and interests were shared, as well as dreams and desires. Even in their differences, they were determined to support each others dreams as if it were their very own aspirations.

The love the two had for each other was hard to comprehend, especially if you had never felt something so strongly before, and sometimes, it was easy to feel jealousy at the sight of the two together. It appeared as though they were the only two people in the world, and the only person the other cared about. Although their bond was strong, they had room in their hearts for more than just each other. Despite their differences, and the fact that they understood each other best, they both loved fiercely and deeply, and that love extended far beyond themselves. They loved their siblings, their parents, and their friends. They loved the bugs burrowing in the soil in the front yard, and the birds that flew overhead. They loved the trees and the rivers, the flowers and even the pesky weeds that grew at an unprecedented rate.

Love, by times, seemed like the only thing the two boys knew how to do. As they grew, so did their hearts, and that was one thing that never seemed to flee them.

When they lost their childlike nature, turning into awkward pre-teens with gangly limbs and cracking voices, the differences began to emerge. Jake, who loved to pick away at his father’s old guitar, seemed to take the side of reservation. He watched often, yet only spoke sometimes (unless of course, he cornered you with a topic that he had a staggering amount of passion for). He fell in love with the six stringed instrument, and all of the girls in his grade in high school. He was shy, but he was always lending an ear to anyone in need. Often quick with a joke and developing an awful habit for flirting, he seemed to make everyone fall in love with him without ever needing to try. His mystery aided his charm, and cemented his memory in people's minds.

Josh, who did not care who you were or where you came from, would talk your ear off about anything and everything that came to mind. His smile was always bright, and his heart was written on his sleeve. He took to the theater, and sang along to whatever song Jake had learned to play that week. He was a socialite who loved company, and seemed to bring out the extrovert in Jake when the two spent enough time in close proximity. He too, made people fall in love but for much different reasons than his brother. He was kind, generous, and extravagant. People fell because it was hard to keep your eyes off of him.

The sun and the moon respectively, making the whole world fall to their feet without ever realizing it.

As they grew into young adults, their personalities seemed to stick, only ever growing more intense as the days went on. Although the two seemed to have grown into different people, if you cared to look close enough, the similarities were not hard to find. In their faces, of course, it was not hard to tell that they were twin brothers, but it was more than that. In the warm brown of their irises, when they looked at you for too long, the same feeling would wash over you; like comfort on a cold day, or sleep to the exhausted. Their charm, unruly yet soft and subtle, would sneak up on you and sink its claws deep into your skin before you would even notice. In their touch, the same searing sensation and intoxicating feeling. The two were more alike than what showed on the surface, and you could easily find it if you had enough dedication to discovery.

More than anything else, their bond steadily grew stronger as they grew older. Brotherhood to them was not a title, nor was it a given. It was a lifestyle, and something they chose to do every minute of every day. Caring, loving, and understanding each other was of great importance to them, and it certainly was not easy work. They could have succumbed to sibling rivalry, quarrels that carried over into adulthood and bred resentment, but it was not something that they wanted for themselves. Their relationship was of utmost importance, and they made sure that anyone who stepped foot into their lives understood the requirement of loving both of them just the same.

They would always be each other’s biggest supporters, cheering them on in every aspect of life. They would be best friends, there to share every moment of happiness and suffer through every failure. They would be the ones to dish out the hard truths, and the harshest advice when needed. They were anchors, keeping each other grounded when life began to spin out of control. It was important for them to maintain the strength of their relationship, especially when living such a crazy and difficult lifestyle. Traveling the world and playing music was a dream come true, but it was even more so to them because they could share it with the people they cared about most, but it was strenuous and tiresome. It was easy to get buried under the stress and neglect their own health and wellbeing. It was easy for relationships to fail and for people to forget about them while they were gone for months at a time, which was exactly why family was so important to them. Without each other, they would crack and crumble under the pressure of the world.

A love like such only comes once in a lifetime, and the two felt incredibly lucky to be able to have it from the moment that they were born, until the very last breath. Even after death, they knew that their love would carry on, and they would search for each other in every lifetime to come. A bond so strong was not something to take for granted, and not something that you would ever want to let go of.

On the other hand, there are some people in the world who simply can not comprehend what it’s like to feel such a bond, nor can they comprehend how to care for someone more, or even equally to how they feel about themselves. You can call it narcissistic, but in some cases, it’s rarely ever that intense. It boils down to the fact of routine, and in some instances, people spend years without ever meeting anyone who could make them feel so strongly. Decades spent on their lonesome, having to stand up for themselves and watch over their own shoulder with nobody else to help carry the burden. Countless days of loneliness, constantly attempting to find new ways to cope and distract. Never anyone to share the success with, and no shoulder to cry on when times get tough. After a while, the idea of letting someone else experience such things alongside you becomes more of a fear than it is a comfort.

These people, as we have all have met, are known best as sharks or snakes; always awaiting the chance to steal an opportunity for themselves, and forever willing to throw someone else under the bus to achieve it. They are crude, unapologetic, and arrogant creatures who are often perceived as the enemy. In most instances, they are, and it is important to know that although sad, the reasoning behind their actions does not excuse their behavior. They are usually aware of their own actions, and most of the time, have little care for the people they hurt in the process. After all, how can you care about another when you’ve spent an entire lifetime only ever concerned about yourself?

You, a lovely woman on the surface, yet a nightmare just below, was a prime example of such evil.

You had spent an entire lifetime trying to find someone who made your heart beat faster. You longed to find someone who could turn your world upside down, or even someone who would promise to stick by your side during the hardest of times. Quickly, you understood that most people were willing to promise, but never follow through. In your younger years, you had your heart broken and your earth shattered by men and female friends who did not truly care about you as a person. For some time, you continued on the search despite the aching of your own chest, dedicated to knowing someone completely and wholly. After a while, you began to realize that the likelihood of finding such a person was near zero.

So, once you moved to a new city and started over, you decided that life could only begin again if every part of you was reinvented. At first, it was difficult to train your brain to think differently than it always had, but in truth, it did not take too long before you had learned the art of simply not caring. You realized that your heart had been your downfall the whole time; the relentless pining, the constant searching, and the endless begging for someone to love you. Other people had never been your issue, because you should have known better than to put your trust in anyone other than yourself. By closing yourself off and leaving dependency behind, you had managed to find happiness after all, and it did not come in the form of a man with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and sweet nothings stuck in his teeth.

Instead of being the victim of heartbreak, you had turned yourself into a heartbreaker. It was a cruel world that was only survivable if you were crueler, so you did what you had to do. The first few times were trial and error; you took people on dates and brought them back to your apartment for nothing further than mediocre sex. In the morning, you pushed them out the door with a smile, and answered a few texts here and there until you found the courage to cut them off. Every so often, you caved and fell back into your old habits, feeling guilty for being so harsh. You’d let them come back for another night of unfulfillment and only then would you find the courage to hit the block button.

Eventually, it became easier, and much more fun. You learned to seek out the men who you knew would be good in bed, rather than the ones who claimed to be good in bed. The quiet ones, talking sweetly and sometimes even nervously seemed to be the ones with the most breathtaking performances. You were nicer than you wanted to be, but after a while, even that seemed to flee you, too. You became witty, smart-mouthed and bold, testing your limits with every interaction. Your sharp tongue and your fiery eyes made people fall to your feet, and you began to understand that playing nice had never got you what you wanted. Now, sex was the only thing that caught your attention, and good sex was the only thing that could keep your attention. Rarely did you ever find yourself looking for a second date or a lasting relationship, and the longer you continued on your warpath, the more you felt like you were losing your humanity.

Men at bars appeared less as people, and more like conquests. It quickly turned into a game for you, and remorse was an emotion you no longer knew how to feel. Occasionally, you would make bets with your only acquaintances you’d made since moving to the city, just to see how fast you could get someone in your bed (or better, the bathroom). It was fun for you, but every man you left behind seemed dazed and confused, wondering if the moment was real or only a figment of their imagination. They only had a first name, never a last and definitely no phone number to call. You cashed out your earnings on cheap tequila shots and moved on to the next bar before they could catch up to you.

To some, it was a sad lifestyle to live, yet you never seemed to see the issue. You were so angry and bitter about the poor treatment you had received in the past that it blinded you enough to ignore the damage you caused. Then again, it was uncertain that if you did know how much turmoil you had caused, if you would even feel bad about it at all. You’d taken a liking to your newest personality, one in which you always got what you want and did not back down until you had it, and one in which your needs were always met first. After twenty some odd years of being on the receiving end of pain, you didn’t mind dishing it out every now and again.

After all, not every person who fell victim to your charm was upset with the lack of a second date. Most were quite content with a simple hookup, and you were certain that plenty were even in search of that alone. The ones that did get their feelings hurt were most likely over it in the morning, and the girlfriends of your conquests should have realized how terrible their boyfriends were long before you were ever involved in the equation. Not your man, not your problem, as you liked to believe.

Whatever could be used as an excuse for your abhorrent actions was made into one of your many personal mantras.

And so it was a Saturday night, the summer heat sweltering outside the Nashville bar and pooling inside every time the door was opened. The music was loud, the bass pounding in your ear drums and rattling your bones. The spot was busy, but no more than it usually was, and you were lined up at the counter with your aforementioned acquaintances while you waited to be served. Although, acquaintance was a strong term for the people you regularly spent time with, as they were no more than strangers who you drank with at the bar every now and again. The only reason you could stand to be around each other was because you adorned the same poisonous outlook, and your feelings could not be hurt when you were already prepared for the worst.

“Look, there’s one for you, Olivia.” You pointed across the room to a tall man hovering by the dance floor. He had a beer gripped tightly in his hand as he overlooked the crowd, hoping to find a potential suitor.

“Why don’t you want him?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked in the direction you were pointing to.

“We just got here. I have to keep my options open, and he’s not my type.” You chuckled, neglecting any form of eye contact with her. You played the same trick on her every time you went out, and she hadn’t seemed to catch on to it yet. Her fragile ego made it easy to convince her to take the average looking ones so you could save the best for yourself. “Besides, he’s your type, isn’t he? Tall, blonde…” you trailed off, refusing to mention his mediocre looks and his apparent lack of brains.

“Yeah, I guess he is.” She nodded, flashing you a smile. “Thanks!”

There were two types of women who loved the lifestyle you had chosen for yourself; those who had too much self confidence, and those who had been stripped of it and were in desperate search of it.

“Anytime.” You forced a smile, trying to keep up the facade that it was out of the kindness of your heart. You turned back towards the bartender, staring him down in hopes he would reach you faster. He was busy serving a plethora of drinks to a group of young girls who you doubted were of legal drinking age. When he finished up, he caught your eye and you gave him a smile, doing everything you could to convince him to serve you next. Luckily, it seemed to draw him in, and within seconds he was walking your way.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” He asked, his southern accent hanging thick in the air as he took his time looking you up and down. He was young, but still seemed a bit older than you. He had a cute smile, and a seemingly muscular build. Attractive, but definitely not what you were in search of. You leaned forward over the bar top slightly, ensuring he could get a good look down the front of your low cut dress, hoping the sight would persuade him to give you the first drink on the house.

It didn’t work all of the time, but definitely enough for you to try your luck.

“Double vodka cranberry, please.” You gave a soft smile, batting your eyelashes a time or two to add some extra sweetness. “And a shot of tequila, too.” He took a long look over your face, taking in the sultry stare and the subtle gloss on your lips. The small upturn of the corners of your mouth led him to believe that you were up to no good, but the mischief sparkling in your eyes intrigued him beyond belief. Paired with the soft skin exposed on your neck and chest, illuminated even under the dim bar light, he was enamoured enough to trip over himself to please you.

“Anything else?” He asked, looking up to meet your eyes.

“No, I think that’s fine for now.” You assured him. Without any further comment, he turned towards the wall of alcohol to grab the bottle of vodka. You drummed your fingers against the tabletop as you watched him mix your drink, biting back a smirk as you watched him overpour the shots ever so slightly. When he turned around, you pretended to search through your purse to grab your card. As your fingers closed around the thin plastic, he held his hand out to stop you.

“First one’s on me.” He smiled.

“Are you sure?” You questioned half-heartedly, trying to feign some air of surprise.

“Positive.” He assured you, sliding them your way.

“Thanks, honey.” You flashed a smile, sliding the shot glass and salt shaker towards you. You licked the back of your hand, shaking a few grains of salt on to it before grabbing the tequila. As you raised the shot glass to your lips, you licked the salt off your skin and threw your head back, swallowing down the liquid. Before the taste could overwhelm you, you placed the lime wedge between your lips and sucked the juice from it. You placed the glass back down on the table, sending the bartender a subtle wink upon realizing he was watching the whole ordeal. Without another word, you grabbed your mixed drink and took a sip from it, washing the harsh tequila from your tongue.

As you turned around, you intended to step away from the bar and make your way towards the small stage, where there looked to be a band preparing their instruments for a soundcheck. Before you could, your eyes landed upon something much more intriguing than the amateur music group hoping to make their big break. There was a man, not very tall, yet appeared to be the most attention grabbing thing in the entire room, and inexplicably charismatic without even knowing it. He was not looking in your direction, but you wished he was, and upon catching sight of his soft and inviting features, you knew you would make it a point to make him notice you before the night was through. The dumb blonde nursing his third beer and already bordering intoxication was not your type, nor was the overly flirty bartender, but whoever was standing amidst the chaos of the crowd, whiskey glass tucked neatly in his hand and brown hair flowing gracefully off his shoulder, definitely was.

He was in blue jeans that appeared to be very worn. The knees and thighs had turned near white with how thin the denim had grown. The fabric hung from his figure slightly, cuffed at his ankles to show off the expensive looking brown boots he was wearing. On his upper half was a black button up, only tucked into his jeans on one side while the other hung down loosely over his hip. The top two buttons were undone, showing a flash of tanned skin from his chest. It made your mouth water, and it made you curious to see the rest of him. His face, when you finally had the opportunity to see the whole picture, seemed to take your breath away. His smile held a playful joy that was almost infectious, and his eyes were warm and only ever seemed to draw you in further.

You decided at that moment, it was imperative that you take the opportunity that was presented to you.

You were never one to jump first, but this time, you couldn’t seem to resist the temptation. Usually, you loved drawing them into you, to enchant them enough to make them approach you. You thought it was entertaining to watch them stutter over their words as they tried to persuade you of their intent. This time, you knew that this was a game where time was of essence, and if you did not jump at the chance, someone else would definitely beat you to it. You weren’t sure about his game, or if he was one with undying loyalty to a woman who did not want to be with him that night. You were unsure if he was already stuck in a game of flirtation with another woman at the bar, or if maybe, you were not his type at all. No matter, you still believed it to be your best bet to try, because leaving without a piece of him was not something you were willing to do, or at least do happily.

You drew in a long breath, swiping your tongue over your front teeth to ensure there was no lipstick smudged on them. Then, you ran a finger through your curled hair, arranging it neatly to frame your face. You took a sip of your drink, surveying the area to determine what the best move would be. He was next to a taller man with curly hair and a big nose, who was without a doubt, just as attractive. You decided that if you could not have your first choice, he would do it for you just the same.

A break in conversation allowed for you to make your move; the nameless boy turned away from his company for a moment, and then the taller boy seemed to abandon him in search of a booth on the other side of the bar. Before you could think up a line to deliver as you approached him, he took a step in your direction. Your stomach fluttered nervously and your heart sped as he continued moving towards the bar. You weren’t ready, but you weren’t willing to let it stop you from getting what you wanted. Instead, you turned towards the bar again and changed your course of action. You prayed that he would do exactly as you expected and come to stand beside you, because only then would you be able to make the first move.

After a few seconds of uncertainty, you had to bite back a smile when you felt a body present itself next to you. Immediately, before you even turned your head, you were hit with an intoxicating scent. Woody and deep, almost as if amber was delicately laced between the notes of sandalwood. Even with the heaviness, there seemed to be something light, almost like a citrus or a flowery smell. As if in an instant, your switch was flipped and you were ready to play. Slowly, you turned your head to the side and casted a careful glance at him. He had an empty glass in his hand, the ice melting due to the warmth of his palm surrounding it. Now that he was next to you, you could see the subtle gold of a hoop earring settled on his lobe, and a chain dangling loosely over his collarbones. There was a bracelet around his wrist and a ring sat on his middle finger. Suddenly you were overwhelmed by the idea of his fingers closed around your neck instead of the cup, and your stomach twisted into a knot.

The bartender seemed to be completely immersed in something, failing to notice his new customer. You smiled to yourself, wondering if you could use it to your advantage. The man had yet to notice your interest, and you were happy to keep it that way for a moment. The same bartender who had served you moments before passed by, not even giving the boy a second thought. He seemed to shift uncomfortably on his feet as he raised a hand to call him over, almost as if he was nervous to be rude. The bartender looked up for a moment, but continued on doing his previous task.

‘Perfect,’ you thought, sipping from your drink. The situation seemed to be resolving itself as the man beside you lowered his arm in defeat, tapping his fingers against the wood grain as he patiently waited his turn. You observed him as he did so, pitying him only slightly for his lack of confidence. You began to wonder if he was timid in all areas of his life, and if he was, how easy it would be to break him free from that chain. When the bartender took a step in your direction, intending to move past you to the customers at the other end of the line, you raised a hand to him and gave a sickly sweet smile. His eyes gave a sparkle as they landed upon your face, and his attention was quickly focused on nothing other than you. He cut towards you, ready to take your order again.

“Another shot?” He asked, already half-turned to grab the tequila bottle. You have a chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“My friend wanted to order, actually.” You said, nodding your head towards the boy beside you. “But I’ll take a shot too, once he gets his drink.”

“Oh, sure thing.” He said, averting his gaze to the person next to you instead. You felt a pair of eyes burning into you, but you did not want to look yet. Instead of addressing your notion of friendship, he cleared his throat and smiled at the man across the counter. He waited a moment before he spoke, wondering if you might have anything else to say. Eventually, he began to order and you listened intently to hear the sound.

“Double shot of Woodford, please.” He said, his tone low and gravelly. You could not ignore the rush of emotion that flooded you from the simple sound alone. “And I’ll get hers, too.” Now, you couldn’t resist the temptation to look at him. You shifted in place, turning towards him ever so slightly and catching his eye. Now that he was looking straight at you, his gaze heavy and his face close, you knew you had made the right choice. He was the only person in the whole bar that would be able to affect you with something as simple as a shared glance.

“Woodford?” You asked, your lip turning up into a smirk. “Expensive taste.”

“I can say the same about you.” He said, watching the bartender reach for a bottle of Don Julio. You gave a slight shrug, brushing off the comment. “Friends, eh?” He asked, addressing your earlier comment.

“Just figured you might want a drink.” You said, elusive to the real reason you’d called the bartender over. “Didn’t seem like he was very eager to serve you.”

“‘Preciate it, sweetheart.” He said, grabbing his drink from the counter as it was served. He swirled the ice around the glass for a moment, pondering his next words. “If we’re friends, I s’pose it would be nice to know your name.”

“Are you asking ‘cause you want to know, or ‘cause you feel like you have to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as a shot was placed in front of you. Seconds later, a lime wedge and salt shaker was placed next to it. You looked over at him, noticing that he was still watching you. You’d caught his attention, and in the exact way you had been hoping to.

“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t care.” He said, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his cup. “I’ve never been the type to entertain people I’m not interested in.” He had a drawl to his words that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. It didn’t sound like a southern accent, but then again, neither did your own. Perhaps both of you had come to Nashville to find a new life.

“So you’re interested?” You smirked, turning your head fully towards him now. He didn’t respond, instead taking another sip. “Y/n.” You said, smiling at his strong attitude. You liked it, and you appreciated the forward response. It made your job so much easier. “You?”

“Jake.” He said, seemingly pleased with your words. “And to answer your question, yes.” He grinned, setting his glass back down on the table. You took the opportunity to think over your next move while taking the shot he’d so kindly bought for you. You placed the empty shot glass back on the counter, sucking the juice from the lime as the burn traveled from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

“Jake,” You pondered the name, imagining nothing good as it infiltrated your mind. You imagined how it would sound, laced delicately around your tongue with his head between your legs. You wondered how it would hang in the air, heavy amidst the desire that would surround you two. “I like it.” You deducted, understanding that all of the aforementioned things would come to life before the night was through.

“I’m glad.” He let out a small laugh, looking over your face for a moment. There was a twinkle in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t mischievous, but almost seemed to be devious, like he was thinking and planning the exact same things you were. “Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“That depends.” You said, taking a sip from your straw, washing down the bitter lime and lingering tequila. “What kind of company are you wondering about?” You looked over at him, noticing his eyes still lingering over you. He gave you a small smirk, understanding that elusiveness was a part of your charm. He didn’t seem bothered by your indirect response, and if anything, he found it intriguing.

“The kind that takes you home with them at the end of the night.” His counter for your mystique was to be blunt, which did catch you off guard. For someone who seemed timid at a distance, he was awfully forward now that you were speaking. It made you wonder if you misjudged, or if he was hiding that part of him particularly well. You decided that if he was hiding it, it was for a reason, and one that you were rather eager to know about.

“No,” You shook your head. You debated elaborating, but decided to bite your tongue instead.

“Are you looking for someone to take you home, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing further as you watched him. “Is that why you were trying to get my attention?” You tried to keep a straight face as you pieced together his words. At face value, you took it as a general inquiry about the bartender, but you knew people better than to take anything at face value. He meant something deeper, but you didn’t want to mention it. You had faith in your ability to get him to cave, first.

“Wouldn’t say I was looking for your attention, honey. Seems as though it just happened.” You lied through your teeth, letting the accusation roll off your shoulders with ease. One of your biggest flaws was always responding to things as if it were an attack, and your defense was up; you wanted him, but not enough to bend to his will. You’d learned a long time ago that desperation was not a good look for you, and you much preferred it on someone else’s face.

“No?” He questioned, calling your bluff. “So you’re telling me you weren’t watching me earlier?” A prickle of indignation was felt in your spine as he spoke and you felt the need to correct him, even if he was right.

“Sneaky.” You muttered, your eyes flickering to his hand still wrapped around the glass. You couldn’t give up now, because that would leave him with the upper hand. Arguing seemed to be what he was hoping for, just so he could put you in your place, so you did the opposite; you admitted to the fact, but only to regain control of the situation. “You caught me.” You shrugged your shoulders, giving him an innocent smile. “So, what now?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” You rolled your eyes at him, but it was playful. Something about him was less bothersome; if anyone else were to be playing the same cards, you would have walked away, but he had an odd sort of charm about him. Plus, his face certainly didn’t hurt the case. “That didn’t answer my first question, though.” He said, his gaze growing slightly stronger. “Are you looking for someone to take you home?”

“Is that an offer, or just your curiosity getting the best of you again?” He gave another low chuckle at your reluctance to answer.

“Both.” His answer was curt, but you appreciated it. “If you’re interested, of course.” Normally, you would have made him chase you a bit, or work a little harder than what he’d already done. Other times, you would have jumped his bones so fast that he wouldn’t know what hit him, just to leave him alone to ponder all that happened in the short time. Right now, you did not feel like doing either of those things. He had piqued your interest in the best possible way, and for once, you felt like talking, even if it was going to lead to the same old outcome.

In another universe, maybe you even would have bent your rules for him and pursued something more.

But, of course, fantasizing about an alternative universe is only ever harmful in the long run, especially if you aren’t willing to put in the work to alter the universe you’re already stuck in.

And you, a secret romantic buried deep under the surface who covered their own heartbreak by becoming a player, had never once considered putting in the work to change.

After all, why would you ever want to change when playing dirty was so much fun?

“I’ve never been the type of person to entertain someone I’m not interested in.” You smirked, throwing back the last of your drink as you let him digest his own words that you’d thrown so powerfully back in his face. As much as it seemed like a lie, it was not; you would never entertain a man you did not want to be with. You only cared for leading them on enough to get what you wanted, then pretending they did not exist.

“Happy to see we’re on the same page, then.” He chuckled, seeming like he wanted to move closer to you, but he held himself back.

“Where are you from, Jake?” You asked, taking the step for him and scooting a little closer. It was not enough to touch him, but there was a notable difference in space between you now.

“Michigan.” He smiled, showing appreciation for your efforts to be closer. “And you?”

“Atlanta.” You responded, flagging the bartender over for another drink. “You’re a long way from home.” You noted, watching as the worker took your used glass and turned to mix you another. “What made you decide to live here?”

“Work.” He replied, sipping away at his own beverage. Now that you were closer, the smell of his cologne seemed to be suffocating you, but it was with great pleasure to succumb to such an end.

“Must be a good job if you were willing to move so far.” He gave a small smile, nodding his head after a moment.

“You can say that.” The look in his eyes made you believe it was no ordinary office job, nor a regular paycheck that motivated him.

“Was it a job, or was it a dream?” You pressed further, studying his expression.

“Both, I suppose.” He replied, curious about how easily you picked up on it. “I’m in a band.” You could not deny your interest in the topic, nor your personal infatuation with musicians in general. You should have guessed, but somehow it was so much sweeter coming from his mouth. Everything seemed to be sweeter when he was the one saying it. “What are you here for?”

“To start over.” You shrugged. “New place, new people… new everything.”

“What were you trying to get away from?” The question struck a sore spot, but you tried not to let it show. You liked to view your move as something brave, rather than a cowardly act. When he worded it as such, it made it seem like you were running out of fear rather than confidence.

“I wouldn’t say I was running from anything. More or less just looking for something more.” You explained.

“Have you found it yet?” The question was a loaded one, and you weren’t sure if you had the answer he was looking for. The conversation seemed to run deeper than anything you were intending, yet you didn’t seem to mind. Usually when at the bar, especially with a man, the conversation revolved around sexual desires and painful flirting. This one was different, and it seemed like he wanted to see into your soul before ever taking your clothes off. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t mind it.

You hadn’t found what you were looking for when you moved to the city, but you had definitely convinced yourself otherwise. When you made the big move, you were young and naive. You had been desperately in love with the idea of love despite never knowing what it actually felt like. As you decorated a new apartment with memorabilia of a different lifetime, you fantasized about replacing it with love letters and pictures of a man you had yet to meet. You went to bed nightly with a melancholy hanging over the room and a longing for a life you were never destined to live. That was what you had been in search of, and instead, you had given up. You filled the void with sex and money, drinking away the bitter taste of your own failure and falling into bed with people who did not matter. It was a sad exchange, and no real replacement for the fulfillment you once craved, yet you had been doing it for so long now that it was the only thing you knew how to do.

Although it was nice for someone to pick your brain for once, and it was thrilling to finally be faced with stimulating conversation, you were a creature of habit. It was too risky to give too much of yourself away, even if you liked all you had seen from Jake. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you were too selfish to let him go. You needed the notch in your belt, even if you were sacrificing his heart in the process. You needed to regain control of the conversation, to hold the power in your hands once more, and you knew you wouldn’t have to work very hard for it. As you conjured the best response to his question, you almost felt a shred of guilt about using him for your own personal gain. You decided that out of all of them, his heart would be the hardest to break.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I will, someday.” You whispered, knowing that what you had been searching for was long out of reach for you. You had sinned so much that a simple lifestyle of love would never be in the cards for you. You had made your bed, and it was time to lie in it.

“Maybe I can help with that.” He said, his voice dropping ever so slightly. He was curious about you, and how after only minutes of knowing you, he could not imagine a world in which you did not exist. You drew him in so easily that he could not question whether it was a good idea or not. He found you inexplicably easy to need.

“Maybe so, rockstar.” You smiled up at him, knowing he could not. He could help with plenty of other things, but never that.

“Am I keeping you from anyone?” He asked, looking around the crowded bar for a moment, realizing he may have been taking you away from friends. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, am I?”

“Definitely not.” He promised. “I’m here with my brothers. I see them enough—they can wait.”

“Don’t be like that, now.” You laughed. “You can find me later, when they’re drunk enough that they don’t notice you’re missing.” Even if you tried to make yourself seem heartless, it didn’t feel right cutting in on his family time. Humanity was something you didn’t often feel, but he seemed to pull on strings of your heart you no longer believed to exist. “I promise I’ll stick around.”

“No way,” he laughed, brushing you off. “I’d much rather get to know you, sweetheart. Plus, it saves me a headache from bickering with them all night.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Hesitation was still present in your voice, but if he was certain about it, you couldn’t find anything to complain about. Part of your hesitation stemmed from the fact that you did not want your night to be cut short by any distractions. The bar bathroom did not seem fitting for all you wanted to do with him, and if it took letting him go for a while to have him until the sun came up in the sky, you were okay with it.

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you come over and drink with us?” He offered, mistaking your reluctance as something selfless. Then again, he could not be upset if he were to discover your true intent, for his own was just as selfish. He feared that if he left you on your lonesome, someone else would catch your eye and he would lose his chance. Besides, inviting you to drink with the group wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had. In fact, he thought it might be quite enjoyable.

“Taking me to meet the family already?” You teased. “I must be special.” His lips upturned slightly, drawing your attention to the mustache that decorated his upper lip. It made his already beautiful face all the more remarkable.

“You certainly are, angel.” He affirmed your statement, seemingly gravitating towards you the longer he held your gaze. “You did catch my attention, after all.” Before you knew it, his face was inches away from your own. He looked down at you over his nose, his eyelashes casting a slight shadow over his reddened cheeks, burning from the alcohol he was drinking. The smell of his cologne mixed with the whiskey on his breath was turning you into a mess, insanity calling your name the longer you stayed in the position.

“Takes a lot to do that, eh?” You asked, you voice barely heard over the sound of your hearts beating in time.

“Some would say so.” He smiled, warmer and less flirtatious than the ones before. He knew he had you how he wanted you, and he felt as though he could let go of the act for a moment. The tip of his nose was brushing against your own, making the temptation almost too much to resist. You wondered if he would strike first, or if you would have to take the risk yourself. He was a flirt, and seemingly just as big of one as you were, but you weren’t sure how deep his confidence truly lied. He’d known you for all but a half a drink, yet your claws seemed to strike deep. He was trapped, and he could run, but would always look back over his shoulder to ensure you were following.

“Have I caught your attention enough for you to kiss me?” You asked, your tone quiet but your words impactful. His hand reached out for your hip, his fingers settling gently over the silky material of your dress. The touch felt good, but it was not nearly enough. Above all, it perpetuated a vicious cycle, for you knew that a touch so addictive would not be something you could walk away from.

Perhaps Jake Kiszka was not the one trapped, and for once, you had backed yourself into a corner at the hands of his irresistible sin.

You knew better than to seek someone with the same deadly power, but you could not manage to keep yourself away. He’d kept it so well hidden that you failed to realize his power until the very minute his skin met your own.

He leaned forward, the gap closing between you as his lips landed on your own. The violence was disguised with sweetness, and wrapped up in a bow of desire. The faint taste of the whiskey he was drinking was dancing on your tongue, drawing you in alongside the warmth of his body. You raised your hand to his cheek, cupping it in your palm as his hand guided you into him. You had never experienced a feeling so overwhelming, and the sensation of his tongue gliding over your lower lip, begging to push any boundaries, was so powerful it nearly shattered your psyche. In an instant, you forgot about your plan to take him home and instead were plagued with an imminent need for him. You worried that you might not be able to make it to the bathroom with his hand so powerfully holding you in place. In that moment, you needed Jake more than you had ever needed anything in your entire life.

As he pulled away, you fought the urge to pull him right back in. He did not move too far away, almost as if he was waiting for you to do exactly that. “Is that the answer you were looking for?” It was the exact answer you were hoping for, and the two of you felt no need to go any further with formalities. You knew what you wanted, and waiting seemed pointless. Before the night was through, he would have you, and whether then be in a bed or the bathroom, he was not sure.

“A simple yes or no would have done the same.” You teased, running your thumb tentatively over the soft skin of his cheek. He seemed to lean into the touch, making your hesitation disappear.

“Right,” he chuckled, still a bit dazed from the intensity of the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No need for that.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your response, leaning in and placing a shorter, sweeter kiss on your lips.

“Something to get you through meeting my brothers,” he explained, as if he needed an excuse to kiss you at all.

“Is that so?” You grinned. “They’re that bad?”

“No, not bad, just a lot.” He corrected, his hand still lingering on your hip. “Was hoping that if I kissed you, it would give you a reason to stick around.”

“I’m sure it’ll be quite alright. No need to stress yourself out, honey.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He sighed, wishing that he never brought up the idea at all. He would much rather stay at the bar, alone with you to do anything you wanted. With that, he pulled back from you and grabbed his drink from the counter. You did the same, watching him as he stepped away. Suddenly, a flood of fear ran through you and reached out, grabbing his arm before he could go any further. He gave you a confused expression, wondering what was wrong as you stepped towards him. You raised your hand to his face, letting your thumb swipe away some smudged lipstick decorating his lower lip.

“Don’t think pink is your color.” You giggled, releasing your hold on him.

“You sure?” He questioned. “I’m think I can pull it off.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, grabbing your drink from the counter. “Whatever you say, rockstar.” You said, waiting for him to lead the way.

“What, you really don’t think so?” He asked, extending his arm out to you. You joined him at his side, watching as he surveyed the room in an attempt to locate the booth his brothers were sat in. After a moment, he seemed to brighten up as his eyes landed on a booth with three people sat inside.

“Who knows, you could surprise me.” You replied, finding yourself looking in the same direction his eyes were pointing. As you did, it felt like you’d received a harsh blow to the stomach, nearly doubling over in shock as your gaze fixated on the booth. You knew it to be the right one because the curly headed boy from earlier was sitting at the edge of one bench, laughing at something the boy beside him had said. Across from him, though, was a side profile that was so stunning it nearly stole the air from your lungs. In an attempt to make sense of it, you looked over at Jake, recognizing the similarities instantly.

You were stuck wondering if it was a joke, or a perfectly wrapped present placed at your feet by the universe itself. The evil that normally ran through your veins seemed to increase tenfold as you understood that the door had opened for you to have access to not just a gorgeous, outlandishly charming man, but a set of (outstandingly beautiful) twins.

As Jake looked back at you, you covered your expression of joy in an instant, understanding that if you were going to pull it off, you needed to be as thorough and precise about your actions as possible. You did not want to pull one just to fumble the other, nor did you want to lose both of them in the process. Before you spoke, you chose your words incredibly carefully.

“I’m nervous,” you forced a small smile, trying your best to appear anxious as you spoke.

“What are you nervous about, angel?” He asked, stepping closer to you and seemingly falling straight into the trap.

“What if they don’t like me?” You offered, glancing over to the booth and back to him.

“Not possible, sweetheart. They’re quite easy to get along with. I’m sure they’ll love you.” He said, landing a gentle hand on your arm to reassure you.

“I want to go home with you tonight, Jake, but could we… keep it between ourselves? Just for now, at least.” You knew the words were incriminating, but you always had a plan in mind. If he responded the way you predicted, it would be easy enough from there.

“What, like it’s a bad thing?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what your intent was.

“No, honey.” You shook your head, giving a small laugh. “Not that I usually kiss and tell anyway, but I’d rather them see me as a person, not just the girl their brother is trying to fuck. It changes the way you see people, sometimes.” You explained, looking carefully over his expression as you spoke. You tried to keep your words sweet, hoping it might sway him to see it your way, even if your way was not how you were presenting it. “Does that make sense?”

“It does, angel.” He nodded, giving you a smile. “We can do that, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“It does,” you let out a sigh, fake but clearly convincing. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for, sweetheart.” He said, moving his hand to the curve of you back as he guided you through the crowd. “At least not yet, anyway.” He said the second part much quieter, as if he was already ahead of the game of secrecy. You wondered if maybe he enjoyed it, or the idea of having you in private got him off even further. There was much left undiscovered about Jake, and you were excited to see more. More than anything, you were happy that the first phase of your plan had come to fruition so easily.

You allowed him to lead you towards the group of unnamed boys, only a small nervous stutter in your heart. This was something you feared might be beyond your capabilities, yet you could not ignore the urge to try. When a player is faced with a challenge, backing down is not an option, and when it came to the game, nobody was more committed than you were. The minute your eyes landed on the previously unmentioned twin brother, your heart was set upon the desire for both, and you had grown so selfish over the years that you had yet to feel a shred of remorse about it. You knew that caution was needed, and every moment needed to be carefully calculated. It was a daunting task that would make a weaker woman shy away, but you were confident in your own abilities. Try as you might, you could not turn down such an opportunity.

Jake loosened his grip on you as you drew near the end of your seclusion. As he approached the chatter-filled group, they turned to look at him. Their eyes didn’t take long to land on you, but once they did, they didn’t seem to want to leave. You were hyper aware of the skimpy dress hanging over your body, tasteful enough not to potray you as a slut, yet bold enough to catch ample amounts of attention. It did not come as a surprise when all of their gazes were not pointed at your face, but rather the peek of cleavage from the black material covering your chest, and soon after, the smooth and enticing skin of your legs.

“Found some extra company, Jacob?” If it was even possible, the curly headed boy who looked so similar to Jake was even more beautiful up close.

Much like his brother, the beauty seemed to sneak up on you, drawing you in from far away and stealing your life away without a second thought the minute you were within reach.

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash the party.” You gave him a sweet smile, hiding the hunger in your eyes so you did not scare him away.

“Not at all,” he said, sliding further into the booth to make room for the two of you. You sat first, allowing Jake to take the spot at the end of the table.

“She was here all by herself, figured she could use some friends.” Jake smirked, casting a sideways glance at you.

“Friends are plentiful, here.” The boy with long curly hair said, giving you a smile. “I’m Danny.”

“And I’m Sam, Jake’s brother.” The boy beside him cut in in as if he was afraid he’d be forgotten.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n.” You extended the sentiment, looking both of them over.

“And I’m Josh, also Jake’s brother.” The boy beside you spoke now, catching your attention and forcing you to look in his direction once again. His brown eyes were warmer than Jake’s, perhaps a tad bit friendlier. His hair was shaved down on the sides, and his cheeks were tinged with a blush from the alcohol he was drinking.

“A twin, perhaps?” You asked, hoping you were guessing correctly.

“How’d you know?” He raised an eyebrow, but did not seem surprised at the statement. He was intrigued by you, and his face did not hide the fact very well. The attraction was mutual, and you could read him like a book, much different than his brother. You held a cloud of desire around your head, and no man was privy to the reason why. It affected them all the same, and it was the reason why you were stuck in the situation you were in, now. Upon first glance, his twin brother felt all of the same things.

“Lucky guess.” You chuckled, taking in all of him that was up for offer. His clothes were a bit basic, yet seemed to suit him well. The long sleeved white sweater he was wearing appeared soft, and the cologne that radiated from him was mouth-watering. It was light, fresh smelling, like sage and cedar wood. Underneath that you could smell notes of long burnt out incense sticks that seemed to cling to the fibers of his clothing. He had on beige khakis, and even if his style was not exactly eye-catching, he pulled it off well. It was clean, concise, and did not draw attention away from his face that was seemingly crafted by gods.

“Takes one to know one?” He guessed, curious about your precise analysis of the two. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, just a good observer is all.” You replied. “Only child, actually.”

“Ah,” he hummed, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing curiously over your face. He was intrigued just as well as you were, which seemed to make your job so much easier. “Explains a lot, then. Nobody to keep you company, so you had to occupy yourself with watching everyone else.”

“I suppose you could put it that way.” You laughed, already beginning to notice the clear difference between the two. Josh was much more outgoing than his counterpart, with a goofy smile and booming voice. He seemed to say whatever was on his mind, whenever he wanted to. You weren’t sure if the liquor had any impact on that fact, or if he was like that all of the time. You were curious to know, and you knew that in due time, you would have all of the answers you wanted. “I think people are interesting.”

“That they are.” He agreed, sipping from a beer bottle in hand. “Am I interesting?” He was definitely drunk, but you did not mind; if anything, it seemed to rid you of the uncomfortable getting to know him phase.

“Incredibly.” You laughed, the sound filling the immediate air around you all and catching all of the attention. You were not afraid to admit to your own beauty, and how easy it was for you to catch attention. When you had a smile on your lips and a laugh stuck between your teeth, the genuine warmth pulled people in even further.

“I don’t know if I like how fast you answered that.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows with another grin lighting up his whole face.

“If it’s the truth, I don’t think it really matters if you like it or not.” You explained, keeping your tone light to match his. You tuned out of your conversation for a moment, just for long enough to gauge how Jake was taking to the two of you talking. Within seconds, you realized he was not even listening; he was stuck in a lighthearted argument with his brother across the table about something that seemed (to you, at least) incredibly unimportant. Once you were certain you were in the clear, you focused your attention on Josh again. Even after only a few seconds of looking elsewhere, his beauty seemed to smack you in the face with a newfound intensity, as if it was angry with you for not paying attention.

“Why are you here all alone, anyway?” Josh questioned, fidgeting with the corner of a napkin sat in front of him on the table.

“I figured spending a night at the bar would be better than sitting at home all alone.” You shrugged, knowing that you were only giving him half truths. Sitting there and flirting with him was the reason you came out alone, even if you did not know he would be the main subject of your focus beforehand. Well, one of them at least.

“And you were just lucky enough to run into a group as fun as us.” He added, making sure to motion towards the whole table as he spoke. He seemed as if he was big on talking with his hands, and it was a trait you thought was quite cute.

“Luck is a good word for it.” You agreed, deciding now that he’d invited you in, you could begin to seek out the weak spots of his strong personality. For a moment, you did not speak again. You took the time to study him in his entirety, but played it off as if you were invested in the bullshit argument still going down beside you.

His eyes were shining with amusement at his brother's butting heads, and his smile never faltered. You wondered if he was genuinely just happy all of the time, or if the breathtaking smile was a constant mask he’d learned how to perfect. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop with one hand as his other fidgeted with something else. It bounced between the aforementioned napkin and the waning edge of the beer bottle label. His foot tapped against the ground as well, every so often switching to a full on leg bounce. You had yet to confirm if it was anxiety making him jitter so badly, or if it was a surplus of energy. Either way, it seemed like he could get up at that very moment and run laps around the building.

There were silver earrings placed in different spots on his ear, yet the chains that dangled around his neck were gold. It was a contradiction to the way Jake wore his, with gold in his lobe and silver decoration on his chest. You thought it was interesting enough, but nothing worthwhile enough for you to remember. He hummed along to the songs the band was playing every now and again, showing his appreciation of music through minute actions. You wondered if Josh was also in the band that Jake had previously told you about. The song switched, and there was a twitch in Josh’s eye as his lips upturned ever so slightly. He liked the song, and you could capitalize off it. This specific bar had a liking for old music, and luckily for you, your father refused to listen to any song that came out after ‘95. It was your forte, and seemingly his too. You wished you could thank the (mostly) cover band for picking such a great song to play.

“Fairport Convention.” You sighed, smiling as you stirred your ice around your drink. As you said it, Josh seemed to perk up. His head turned towards you, his eyes shining with admiration for your music knowledge. Once you knew his attention was yours, you spoke again. “I love this song.”

“You… uh, yeah. Me too.” He grinned. If he thought you were attractive before that second, it seemed to grow even stronger. His whole body shifted as he turned in your direction, and his tongue darted out and over his bottom lip. “This is definitely one of my favorite bands of all time.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You said, looking over at him as you sipped your drink.

“And I mean it.” He assured you. “I didn’t know I was in the company of someone with such fantastic taste.” Like venom, your next words came smoothly and deadly.

“There’s lots you don’t know, but I’m sure you could find out if you’re ever interested.” Your voice dropped as you spoke, as if the words shared between you were sacred. In a sense, they were; there was no chance in hell you would ever say it loud enough for Jake to hear. Your eyes flickered to meet his, holding his gaze with a soft intensity that made him squirm in his seat. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, trying to piece together your true intentions. His demeanor shifted in an instant, and in a way you very much needed to see more of.

“Is that so?” He pried further, treading lightly and keeping his voice as hushed as your own. As he said it, you felt Jake’s hand snake to your thigh underneath the table, so stealthily that you would not have even noticed the movement if not for his burning touch lingering just below the hem of your dress. “I’m not sure if I understand what you mean, mama.” The pet name rolled off his tongue, coated in a slight husk that raised goosebumps across your skin. You wondered if you should feel dirty for flirting with Josh while Jake’s hand lingered so tentatively on your leg, but you seemed to miss the boat when it came to remorse in its entirety.

“I think you understand exactly what I mean, honey.” You chuckled, giving a soft smile. His eyes darkened at your words, as if the statement had opened up a whole new world for him. You had given him permission to think such things about you, and he was grateful for it, almost like he’d been fighting the urge to see you as such since he first laid eyes on you.

“Mhm,” he hummed to himself, his head cocking to the side slightly as he tried to figure you out. “How could I say no to an offer like that?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” You admitted, holding his gaze to cement your position on the matter. With that, Jake was calling your name and bringing you into conversation with the rest of them. You looked over Josh for a moment longer, then turned to look at his brother. You would have been fearful of Jake seeing Josh’s dumbfounded face if not for the fact he was fully immersed in you. As soon as he caught sight of your face again, he seemed just as enthralled in you as he was when you were talking by the bar.

Time passed and drinks were had, laughs were plentiful and the flirting was unbearable, although kept expertly under wraps. Bouncing between the two seemed like a daunting task you feared you would not be able to do, yet the longer you did it, the easier it became. As the time passed, you even seemed to enjoy it. Danny and Sam seemed incredibly drunk, and due to their innate inability to be observant, your work had become quite simple. Jake had gone to the bar and grabbed everyone another round of drinks, and you had noticed that he switched to drinking beer as the night dwindled on. Your best guess was that he did not want to be too drunk to entertain you, and you had to appreciate his effort.

“Do you have any plans after this, mama?” Josh asked, leaning in almost too close for comfort. Although, it would be very comfortable if not for the crowd onlooking the two of you.

“Looking to learn more already?” You teased, casting a look at him through the corner of your eye.

“Is it such a crime?” He challenged, wishing you would turn to face him once more.

“Not a crime, but not a good night for me. I have to work in the morning.” The lie slipped off your tongue as smooth as silk, no hesitation present in your answer. If only he knew the truth, he may not be so willing to give in to you. “Raincheck?” You asked, turning your head towards him a little more.

“You name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” He promised. Your forearms were resting against each other on the table, incriminating the two of you even further. Josh seemed to be leaning in to you, and if you were a little more drunk, you would have reciprocated the action. Before he could get too close, though, you felt Jake’s fingers tighten against your thigh, but it was not in the soft teasing manner as it was before. It pulled you out of the bubble that surrounded you and Josh, causing a flood of fear to run through you as you looked over at him.

The look in his eye was sinister, yet not threatening. You weren’t sure how he pulled it off, but you had no better way to describe it. His grip on you remained the same, and for a moment, he did not speak. His jaw was hard set, the muscles in his cheeks tense as he looked over your face. “I’m going to grab another drink. Care to join?” He asked, his voice soft and nothing like the flame in his eye. Although his tone was misleading, and you knew that his question was not as it appeared; he had no intent on going back to the bar without you.

“Sure,” you nodded, giving him a smile. You wanted to maintain your composure as much as you could, because if you faltered even slightly, he would see you exactly as you were. He stood, not making any further moves as you joined him. Discreetly, you gave Josh’s knee a squeeze to reassure him after leaving him hanging before you stood yourself.

Jake began walking without looking back to see if you were following; he did not need to, for he felt the cloud of euphoria surrounding him that was only sourced from your company. When he reached the bar, he leaned against a vacant area with room enough for two. He faced inwards, looking at all of the whiskey bottles on the wall and wondering if he would need something stronger to cope with your venomous personality. You took the spot beside him, wondering if he would speak, or if you would have to come up with something on your own. It was so much easier when he did the talking for you.

His lip was curled slightly, as if he had a sour taste on his tongue. You noticed his shoulders heaving with every breath, but he did not appear outwardly furious. Maybe he was holding it all under the surface and waiting for the right moment to explode. For a second, you believed that you had ruined your chances with the beautiful man before you. You wondered what he was thinking, or how much he heard or saw of you and Josh. His silence was painstaking, and you could not deny the nervous flutter in your stomach or the clammy palms.

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes catching yours in a tell-all reunion. If he was angry, it had dissipated in a second and it was now replaced with the same carnal desire that plagued him before you ever joined his brothers at the booth. You had your pretty face to thank, and the budding feelings that were already blossoming in his heart. He felt for you more than a one night stand should, and even if he knew you were evil to the core, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling such a way. The cycle continued, and he had already branded himself a fool for you.

“What game are you trying to play, sweetheart?” He asked, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Depends… what’s your favorite?” You smirked up at him, giving a bat of your eyelashes to cement the flirtation in your tone. He gave a low chuckle, neglecting a response, instead raising his beer bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. As he drank down the liquid, your eyes drifted towards the exposed columns of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing with each long gulp.

You couldn’t help but think how foolish he was to expose his very lifeline to you, and although you were not a being of mythical nature and blood was not exactly your thing, you were certain that your lips, or better, your tongue settled gently atop the skin of his jugular would send him straight to his knees. You were tempted to test it out, just to see if your assumptions were correct. You could lean forward and try, but you knew it was best to wait; he would run himself in circles for a few moments before he inevitably landed himself in that exact position.

As he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, the glisten of alcohol making the plush skin of his lips glisten under the dim bar light, his eyes drifted back down towards your face before his head dropped into its earlier position. He was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to understand you better, and then he spoke softly, leaning down so you could hear him over the boom of the stereo system.

“I don’t like games at all, angel.” The sultry tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you did not let it phase you any further than that. Before he could pull away, you turned your head inwards, just enough so that your nose would brush against his. At the sudden touch, he did not shy away like you expected. If anything, he seemed to lean further into you without any hesitation. At that moment, you understood that you were not playing with an amateur; any lesser man would shy away from your strong nature. If you had to admit, him being open to the advance made your desire to play him grow even stronger. “I saw you talking to Josh. Do you think you’re being sly? Playing hard to get?” He asked, the sheer power behind his soft tone making your knees weak and your stomach twist in a knot. “Or are you trying to make me jealous?” If only he knew how extensive your evil truly was, he would never have spoken at all and instead turn away to run. His accusations were nowhere near the atrocities you were intending to commit. “What, you have nothing to say, now? Finally have you cornered?”

“Just don’t think you’d like what I have to say, is all.” You said, placing your empty cup down on the bar top without breaking the position. His eyes were boring into your own, as if he was trying to make you submit to him. In truth, you found his confidence comedic. Of course, you’d give him what he wanted, but he’d be doing you more of a favor than you were doing him. It wouldn’t take him very long to put down the dominant facade and comprehend that he was not the one with the power. “Some things are better left unsaid, Jacob.”

A flame was dancing dangerously behind his pupil, letting you know that there was much more to his character if you looked behind the mask he constantly had on. It intrigued you, making you wonder what would happen if you continued to nurse it with gasoline. Perhaps the explosion would be quite enjoyable, even for days after the disaster. Russian roulette was a game that often seemed tempting, and playing it with Jake made it all the more enticing.

The lights were low, making it incredibly difficult to place the emotion in his eye. Even then, it didn’t matter; all men were the same, and he was already caught on your hook. He was irritated, annoyed at your evasion and what seemed to be a tiresome game of cat and mouse, but it was not enough for him to lack interest in you. The scent of whiskey on your breath, casted warmly over his lips was drawing him in further, making him wonder if he could still taste it on your tongue if he acted fast enough. He thought he had the upper hand, that he was the one who was charming you, but he could not seem to see that he was playing the exact way you wanted him to. He was blissfully unaware, and you were ready for the kill. “If it means that much to you, Jacob, I’m sure the bathroom is free. Maybe a quick stop might convince you of where my loyalty lies.” The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a small, wicked smile. “Josh was never offered an invitation like that, was he?”

You reached out, running a delicate hand over his bicep that was covered with the thin material of his button-up. He flexed in response of the feeling, the touch running through him and clouding his judgement. You leaned forward, captivating him further. It was your time to strike, and you were moving with full force. He was too weak to resist, even if he knew he should. You did not need to deny the flirting accusations, because he had seen it with his own eyes. Doing so would drive him further way, but you could capitalize off the fact that he did not know the true motives of your conversation with Josh. For now, you could let him believe it was to make him jealous, because it worked in your favour.

In that moment, he realized the full extent of your wicked nature. He wanted to walk away, to leave you to wallow in the loss after he caught you flirting with his brother, but something about the burn of your touch and the calming effect of your gaze made the desire flee him. He knew you had no intentions of anything further than sex, and now that your mask had melted away, he could even understand that you didn’t even have care for him as a person. Getting off was the only thing that mattered, and that much was clear, but not even that seemed to turn him away. With every touch and lingering stare, every ounce of kindness (even if it was rare) and each one of your sweet smiles gave him a breath of hope that maybe he had misjudged the situation and you were actually telling the truth.

The vicious cycle had already begun, and he was a fool for thinking he could escape. He couldn’t resist your temptation, and he could not refute his desire to have you, too. As long as you continued to feed him, he would come crawling back, even if it would kill him. He could not assume the worst of you, especially because he’d only known you for a short time, so he relaxed under your touch and gave in to the feeling. He wanted to change your mind, to be the one to keep you for longer than a day, and he was willing to do whatever he could to persuade you to give him the chance.

Little did you know, by offering him the invitation, you were walking straight into your own demise. Although he did not know it yet, he would not be the one to steal your heart, but he would be the one to put an end to your venomous ways.

“How kind of you.” He shot back, but the refrain from earlier seemed to disappear. “Your generosity is staggering, sweetheart.”

“Is that you saying no?” You took it upon yourself to move closer to him, nearly pressing yourself into his body in hopes that it would sway his thoughts. He turned his head down towards you, casting a far away glance from over his nose, as if he was already thinking of all the things the two of you could get up to behind a locked door.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His voice was quiet, but his tone was strong. His hand reached for your hip, the pull of your aura too strong. He couldn’t help himself.

“Why don’t you go wait in the bathroom, and I’ll go and collect my things. I’ll tell them I’m headed home so they won’t even suspect a thing.” You said, giving a soft smile as his eyes watched your face. “Then, I can show you just how generous I really am.”

“How do I know you’re not playing another one of your little games?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, heaving a little sigh as you did so. You could not lie and say that abandoning him just to mess with him had not crossed your mind, but you needed him far too much to walk away without anything. So, instead of making a fuss, you reached up and let your fingers settle over the clasp back of your diamond earring. You slipped it off and extended your hand towards him. He looked to the shiny rock, then back at your face, unsure of what you were doing.

“Take it, so you know I’ll come back.” You motioned your hand further towards him, insisting on the fact. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed it from you. He slipped it in his pocket, nodding in appreciation for your lack of fight.

“Don’t be too long, sweetheart. I don’t like being kept waiting.” He spoke, looking down at you once more before taking a step back. His cockiness was infuriating, yet looked good on him. Instead of arguing, you winked at him before he turned to walk away. Once he was swallowed by the crowd, you turned to the bar and grabbed a napkin from the stack sitting nearby. Quickly, you called the bartender over to ask him if you could borrow a pen. Luckily, he was quick to retrieve you one, and you scribbled a message down on the paper.

You walked back towards the booth you were sitting in moments before, making sure Jake was nowhere in sight. When you reached the group again, Sam and Danny were chattering amongst themselves while Josh seemed to be awaiting your arrival. You shot him a smile, sliding in beside him for just a second to tie up any loose ends and to let Josh know that the invitation was still very much alive. “Hey,” you breathed, talking only loud enough for him to hear.

“Was wondering where you were.” He replied, his stare intense as he silently begged you to move closer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You said, giving a sympathetic smile. “Jake wasn’t feeling well so he went to the bathroom. Probably because he was mixing beer and whiskey.” You paused, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “He wanted me to tell you guys not to wait up for him. I wish I could stay longer, but I have to work in the morning.” You put all of your heart into the fake tale to make it believable, and Josh was just drunk enough to take your word for it.

“You’re leaving already?” There was a hint of disappointment in his eye, but when you reached out under the table and landed a gentle hand on his thigh, he seemed to perk up.

“I wish I could stay,” you said, finding his hand so you could slip the napkin into his palm. He grabbed it from you, keeping it as discreet as he could. “Thank you for being so sweet and letting me drink with you guys, though.”

“Anytime, mama.” He said, noticing your fingers still lingering on him. There was a twitch in his jaw as his teeth clenched together. If he could have it his way, he’d have you right then and there.

“I’ll see you again sometime?” You asked, a fake look of hope in your eye.

“Definitely.” He nodded. “You have a way home? Do you want me to walk with you?” He offered, partially concerned with your safety, but more concerned with getting you alone.

“I live just around the corner, so no need for that.” You assured him, imploring him to remember the note clutched tightly in his hand. “I’ll see you later, Josh.” You gave him a lingering stare as you grabbed your purse and backed out of the booth. He nodded in response, watching your hips as you walked off into the crowd. When you were out of eyesight, he looked down at the napkin, scrawled with your number and a message for him.

Call me so we can arrange that raincheck. Keep it between us, though—a secret is all the more fun ;)

You walked towards the bathroom with a fervor, pushing through the crowd with little regard for anyone or anything. It had been an extremely long night of flirting with little reward thus far. Knowing that Jake was waiting for you, feeling the same way that you were, was enough to make you want to tear the building down in order to get to him. When you rounded the corner to the one single bathroom that the building had (which in your opinion was a poor judgment on the owners part), you noticed nobody pooling around the door to wait their turn. It came as a surprise, especially considering how crowded the establishment was, but you certainly could not find a complaint about it.

Before you went inside, you reached into your purse. First, you popped a mint in your mouth, settling it under your tongue as you reapplied your deodorant and lipgloss. You ran your hand through your hair and took a deep breath, settling your thoughts before you joined Jake. The whole night has been a whirlwind, and you were shocked that you made it this far. You reached out, your fingers clasping around the handle and turning it, only to find that it was locked. You let out a huff of irritation, raising your fist to knock on the solid wood door. You hit against it with little force, sending a pattern of thuds echoing into the other side. You thought that if you did it like so, he would recognize that it was you.

You waited for a moment, and received nothing in return. Frustrated, you knocked again, a little louder this time. When he did not answer, you tapped your foot against the ground while anxiety invaded your mind. You worried that maybe you had crossed a line, pushed him a little too far and he’d changed his mind. Worse than that, you feared he decided to give you a taste of your own medicine and lead you on only to leave you with nothing. Just as you were ready to knock again, the knob twisted and the door slowly opened, revealing Jake’s smirking face illuminated by the fluttering fluorescent bulb.

“Asshole,” you muttered, unpleasant about his actions.

“Impatient, much?” He raised an eyebrow, opening the door to let you in. You pushed past him, watching him close the door and lock it before turning to face you.

“Not impatient,” you shook your head. “Just wondering why you were keeping me waiting.”

“That is impatience, sweetheart.” He chuckled, stepping towards you. “Just like you not being able to wait until we got home.”

“So what?” You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. You were becoming less annoyed the closer he got, and now that he was within arms reach, you had almost forgotten about the minor inconvenience entirely. “Maybe you should take it as a compliment.” You offered, reaching out and settling your hand on his bicep. You pulled him further towards you and his hand shot to your hip as if it were a natural reaction.

“Who says I don’t?” He challenged, his lips just inches away from your own. He was teasing you without even doing a thing, imploring you to make the decision you both had been waiting so long for. “You’ve got a habit of jumping to conclusions.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, the smile still eating away at your lips. “You’ve got an awful way of showing it.” You had been with plenty of people, many in this exact situation, yet it had never come so easily as it did with him. There was something compelling about Jake, and it made you want to banter with him and challenge his every move. It wasn’t malice, but it was fun, and you knew you would have a very hard time letting go of it when the night was through. Something told you that Jake was not the type of person you should let go of.

Perhaps that feeling was meant to be felt in a romantic context, yet you were still greedy enough to keep him on your hook for your own selfish desires.

“Maybe I’ll have to show it in some other way, then.” He theorized, bringing his hand to rest on your jaw. You did not have to respond in order for him to feel your enthusiasm. He leaned down, wasting no more time as he pressed his lips to yours. The seclusion of the bathroom had been a blessing in disguise; as his lips moved against your own, you could feel his guard being let down. Whether that was because of privacy, or because you finally had the opportunity to leech the life from him, you did not know.

What you did know was that because the two of you were alone, everything felt all the more fantastic. His hand felt like it was burning to the touch, melting into your skin and bringing the two of you together as one. The taste of alcohol on his tongue was even more delicious, because this time you knew it was laced with sin. His chest pressed against yours was intoxicating because you could feel the beating of his heart in time with yours. The smell of his cologne was not clouded by perfumes and aftershaves of people walking by, and his ragged breathing was not covered by the boom of music. In here, you had access to him in whatever way you pleased without interference from any external force. In here, you had the opportunity to take him for your own.

His lips trailed from your own, brushing over the firey skin of your cheeks and eventually, down to your neck. The graze of his teeth against your pulse-point was was driving you to insanity, and the feeling of his tongue running over your sweet spots was the nail in the coffin. For a brief moment, you feared that with him, your power was obsolete. Every touch was electric, and every second seemed antagonizingly slow. You were at his disposal now, and you wondered if he would be kind to you despite all of the bad karma headed in your direction.

As he continued to work his way down to your collarbone, you knew that that was no way he could be your bad karma, because no punishment should feel so good.

He backed you into the countertop, the backs of your thighs slamming against the cool tile and sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could recover, and without ever moving his lips from you, he planted his hands firmly on your waist and lifted you onto the counter. He was moving so quickly that you barely had time to process the submissive role he’d forced you into. His hand wandered up your body, settling on the thin material of your dress just above your breasts. The feeling of his warm hands on your cold skin made your breath catch in your throat, and when he pulled the material down, you felt a whine escape your lips.

“Needy little thing,” he muttered, his voice raspy with lust as his eyes grazed over your now bare chest. He’d become a whole new person in an instant, and shyness or reserve completely fleeing him. You wanted to know this side of him, more than you ever wanted to know the other side of him. There was something bordering animalistic in his approach, and his eyes darkened with the intensity of his need for you. “You want me, sweetheart?” He asked, lightly running his thumb over your hardened nipple.

For once, completely submitting to a man seemed like the right thing to do. You felt in your heart that if you were good to him, he would be fantastic to you.

“So bad, Jake.” You breathed, looking over his face as you spoke. You noticed a slight scowl on his lips that had not been there earlier, and a shed of malice in his eyes. Perhaps Jake was the type to become the worst version of himself when his clothes were off, and you were not shy in admitting that it only turned you on further. You wondered if maybe he was not looking for you to call him by his name; so far, he’d exuded his adoration for dominance, so perhaps he was searching for a title that fit the character. You thought that if you’d made it this far without fucking up, the least you could do was try your luck. “I need you, sir.”

His pupils engulfed his irises as he listened to your words and the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. He was painfully hard, the newest term of endearment sending him into a craze as he bunched the bottom of your dress in his fists. You raised your ass off the counter, allowing him to push the fabric to your navel. As you sat back down, his hands caught your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. The two of you were perfectly in tune, now. He was fucked up for needing you to refer to him in such a way to get off, and you were just as fucked up for knowing exactly what to say without him telling you.

He hooked his fingers through the side of your panties, pulling them down with your help. “You need me?” He asked, his eyes settling on your cunt, finally getting a taste of what he’d been waiting for all along. “You flirt so much that you just can’t wait another second to be touched? Is that it?” He pressed further, his eyes only flickering to your face once to catch a glimpse of your expression.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, aching at the thought of him being the one to touch you. Your desperation had grown so quick and so strong that it was nearly painful, and you had to fight the urge to reach between your legs and do the job for him. As much as you enjoyed his antics, you knew you would enjoy sex with him even more.

“So what was it?” He asked, letting his rough fingertips graze the soft skin of your thighs. The touch sent goosebumps prickling over your skin. “Or who was it might be the better question.”

“W-what?” You stuttered, only half listening to his tirade.

“Don’t play dumb, angel.” He scolded, his fiery gaze flicking upwards and holding your stare this time. Before he spoke again, he placed one hand on your knee, roughly pushing it to the side to give him access to you. “Who turned you into such a mess? Was it me, or was it my brother?” Jake knew as soon as the words left his lips, it hit a nerve within you. You had expected him to drop the subject and forget about it as soon as he got you naked, that he would feel superior for being the one to have you in such a way. Clearly, you had misjudged him, and Jake was the type to hold a grudge. That, or he didn’t really care all that much and just loved to torture you.

“You, sir.” You promised, making sure to add a breathiness to your tone that would send him spiraling. It worked, but not to the extent you had hoped. His hand drifted to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core yet far enough away to make it excruciatingly hard for you to sit through.

‘Maybe he’s a sadist,’ you thought. Then, a worse idea washed over you; if he was a sadist, you would gladly be the masochist. At that moment, the tables turned. The boy before you had made you into a mess, spinning your entire world on its axis and changing your trajectory. For once, you had no concern for your own pleasure, and felt that you could only accept such kindness if it were to please him.

In short, he’d turned you soft.

Jake knew that this conversation was making you squirm, but he did not know the reason why. You did not feel guilt for flirting with Josh; you were overcome with emotion at the idea of living to be a source of pleasure for Jake. You were so keen on the idea of using others for your own personal gain, yet as he stared at you from between your legs, waiting for his next moment to strike, you knew that you would give up the whole world just to be of use to him, in any way he deemed necessary.

Sexually, of course.

Romance was never an option laid out on the table, nor would it ever be.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” He asked, his upper lip curling as he brought his hand to your cunt. You let out a gasp, your fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop as his thumb brushed over your clit. It was featherlight, a minimal touch that should not have produced such a strong effect on you, yet everything seemed grand when Jake was the one doing it.

For a split second, you felt regret at the idea of trying to get Josh into your bed, too. You need not be so greedy when someone so fantastic was willing to fulfill all of your needs. Then, the moment passed and your wicked nature returned to you. You were excited at the prospect of having Josh in the same way, because you had little doubt that he would treat you just as good.

“Did you want him in here with you, playing with your pretty little pussy?” The vulgarity wrapped delicately around his tongue, like it was the sweetest word he’d ever spoken. You felt yourself clench around nothing, your heart beating hard enough to burst through your ribcage. “You want him to touch you, instead?”

“No, sir.” You whined, feeling the muscles in your thighs twitch as he added pressure to his thumb. You were only partially lying, because you knew that if he stopped, you would break down, crumbling to the ground and turning to dust from the loss of his precious company. You did not want Josh to touch you instead, you just wanted him to do it too. “I just want you, baby.” You pleaded, hoping he could read between the lines and see that you wanted more.

Jake knew you were lying; he knew that you were not a lustful woman who caught the attention of men at the bar; you were a foul, wicked entity that was rotten to the core. He could see it in your eyes, the lack of remorse and shame. There was no room for any other emotion in you other than desire, but he felt lucky to be on the receiving end of such things. If he was smart, he would have turned and walked out the door. He should have left you there to wallow in your own stupidity and arrogance, and maybe then you would have learned not to make such a mistake. Every time he felt like he had the willpower to do so, you caught his eye, or another whiny moan pushed past your pink, glossed lips, and he knew he would stay between your legs until he heaved his last dying breath. Leaving you was not an option, yet staying would kill him.

Either way, he knew that death was most feasible, and he would rather die hearing his name stuck in your throat than alone and clinging to the memory.

“Then let me hear how fucking bad you want it.” He ordered, his words resembling a growl as he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers. Not long after, he pushed his middle and index finger inside of you. Your back arched at the feeling, your hips lifting off the counter to meet the curl of his fingers inside of you. You let out a string of curses, a groan tearing through your chest as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You had no idea what he was depriving you of until you felt it, and now you feared you could not live without it.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped, noticing the steady pace of his fingers be joined by his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear it.” He encouraged, nearly driven to madness at the knowledge he was the one making you sing such precious sounds. You leaned back, your head resting on the scratched mirror as you portrayed yourself in an even more pornographic manner. Your tits were spilling from the top of your dress and your knuckles were white from gripping the countertop so tightly. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your lips parted as he worked his way up to familiarity with your body. Although he wasn’t certain he would see you again after the night was through, he wanted to ensure that if he did, he knew you well enough to pick up where you left off tonight. Plus, he hoped that if he did a good enough job, you would invite him back for more.

His need to be needed by you was debilitating, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt like something else entirely when he was around you, like pleasing you was the only thing in the world that mattered.

You would think that by now he would know better, especially after seeing the evil you were capable of when it came to his brother, but it did not matter to him. He wanted to be with you so badly that he chose to blind himself on your behalf. He’d tricked himself to believe you were genuine, and he had enough faith in his own ability that he believed he could make you forget about your attraction to Josh. When the night was through, he was confident that his brother would not even be a passing thought in your mind.

His own naïveté would inevitably be the end of him, but he was too stubborn to admit the truth.

He was a force to be reckoned with, but you were an otherworldly force that not only him, but the world itself had never encountered, and likely never would again.

“Feels so fucking good, sir.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as another forceful pull of pleasure twisted your stomach. His eyes were settled on your cunt, watching his fingers drive you to the brink of insanity. The sight was doing just the same to him—with every pump of his fingers, his cock throbbed in anticipation for what he would experience in due time.

“See, sweetheart? You do know how to do something worthwhile with your mouth after all.” He muttered, talking down to you all while blessing you with the most generous gift. He was still seething that Josh had a taste of the sweetness you had to offer, even if he was the lucky one to have you so intimately. Instead of depriving you both of the pleasure, he figured he could get the best of both worlds. He might have felt remorse if not for you enjoying his harsh words so much.

Another moan escaped you. It was louder than you anticipated, engulfing the silence that once existed in the air. The sound was so vulgar that it clung to the poorly decorated walls, seeping into the foundation and making home. You would never be able to walk into the place again without being reminded of the memory indefinitely. Jake's company far outweighed the value of any other, and his legacy would live on in the building forever. Even as sharp insults slid off his tongue and in your direction, you felt like it was a blessing to be the one to receive it.

Your muscles tensed as his fingers curled, brushing against the sweet spot he’d so easily found. He seemed to know you so well despite barely knowing you at all, and it was comforting just as much as it was confusing. You wanted to give in to him, to let your iron guard down for a moment to let him and see you as you truly were rather than what you tried to be, but you couldn’t. You could not trust a man that seemed so eager to please you, and one who did it so well. For a moment, you believed that he was the master of deception, and you had taken him for a fool when in reality, it was only you who could be branded as such. You wondered if you had been so sure of yourself that you believed he was falling for your lies, when in fact, you were playing into his game.

Whoevers game it was did not matter in the end, as no matter which way it went, the two of you were being played by each other in entirely different ways. He was trying to con the player into taking a chance on him, and you were trying to con the lover into submission so you could fuck his brother. It was a losing battle for the both of you, but try was the only thing you knew how to do.

“Are you going to cum for me, Angel?” He asked, his voice barely sounding over your desperation.

“Y-yes sir,” you gasped, the intensity of the pleasure making you want to force your legs shut just to get a moment of rest. You were certain that you were being louder than the music playing outside the door, but neither of you cared.

“You going to let everyone know how good I’m making you feel?” He asked, his eyes flickering towards the door for a moment, then back to you.

“God, yes.” You muttered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your forehead. The bathroom was unbearably warm as is, and with the added warmth of what he was doing to you, it was nearly suffocating. Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your heartbeat was deafening as it rang through your eardrums and the pit of your stomach felt like it was encased in flames. You were so close, and you needed it so bad. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could not formulate any further words. Instead, you did exactly as he said, muttering curses mixed with pornographic sounds that would ensure anyone lingering by the door would quickly make an exit.

Then, your vision began to blur as the orgasm threatened you further. The euphoria was coursing through your veins, throbbing under your skin and begging to take your life. With every movement he was pushing you closer to the edge, and he was drinking in every second of the moment. He watched as you expression twisted into pleasure, how your chest would rise and fall with every breath, how the muscles of your legs twitched every time he brought his thumb back over your clit. You were enchanting and he found it impossible not to watch.

You could feel yourself descending into something stronger than anything you’d ever felt. The whole world felt like it was spinning and your body felt light. It was within your grasp, and you were delirious enough to think that if you reached out, you could wrap your fingers around the billowing clouds of euphoria and draw them closer, to drown yourself in it. You moved your hips down on his hand, needing that little bit extra to get you there, and he had no issue giving it to you. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and you felt the need to stave off the urge just to make it last a little bit longer. Not long after that, you realized how ridiculous the idea was and began to give in to the temptation. It felt like it was consuming you, your skin white hot with desire and no sign of letting up.

And then it was gone.

Your eyes shot open, a fire dancing in your pupils as you looked down at him. He had drawn his hand away completely, a small smirk toying across his lips as he turned his gaze towards you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, clearly upset with no intent to hide it. The pleasure was still making your skin tingle, but it was dissipating faster with every second that passed until eventually, it turned into an empty sense of longing settled deep in the pit of your stomach. In any other circumstance, he would have chastised you for speaking so harshly, but he was enjoying your desperation and frustration too much to ask you to stop.

“I’m not that kind, sweetheart.” He reminded you, knowing that denying you an orgasm was a complex decision with many reasons as to why. He did not think you were deserving of one so soon, even if he craved to see you turn to a mess before him. More than that, he did not what you to cum from something as frivolous as his hands. “You really think you deserve it?”

No, you did not think you deserved it, but god did you want it. In your mind, want was equal to, if not more important than anything else.

“Jake, please.” You breathed, your cheeks stained red from embarrassment more than pleasure, now. Not often did you feel that you should beg for a man, yet for some reason, he made you feel as though you would die without him. There was some otherworldly power that he bestowed upon you after a single touch, and you were hooked on him for life. He was more powerful than any substance and more desirable than any other man. “I’ve been so good for you, baby. Please let me cum.” While you spoke, his mind seemed completely elsewhere.

As you begged, he paid no mind to your neediness and instead raised his index finger to his mouth, slowly slipping the digit between his lips and settling it on his tongue. He inhaled deeply as the taste of your arousal overwhelmed him, letting out a low groan that rattled his chest. Although it was muffled by his finger in his mouth, you heard it loud and clear. If it were possible, the simple action made you even more desperate for him, and you thought you might die if he made you wait any longer. When he withdrew his finger, a slight popping noise echoed through the air around the two you. When he looked up at you, his pupils had completely consumed his irises, blackened with lust for you.

“Taste so sweet, angel.” He muttered, his gaze flickering back to your cunt. “You have been good for me, haven’t you?” He smiled, but it was not the beautiful one you’d grown so accustomed to. This time, it was evil, and it shook you to the core.

“So good, sir.” You agreed, nodding your head slightly. You looked down at him with innocent eyes and a little smile, hoping that he would see reason. “Please let me cum, sir. I’ve been so good.” You said it again, with more conviction in your eyes in hopes of winning the battle. He let his fingers trail up your thigh, the light touch tickling your skin and sending another rush of arousal straight to your cunt.

“You sound so fucking pretty when beg for me.” He spoke lowly, but with plenty of power within his words. With that, his hands settled on your hips and he pulled you even closer to the edge of the counter. He drink to his knees before you, eyes focused intently on your cunt. He leaned forward, his mouth connecting with you without any further conversation, reveling the real reason why he’d gotten on his knees.

He flattened his tongue against you, slowly running it through your folds, getting another taste of the arousal that he was responsible for. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation for you and the opportunity to have you like such. You let out a shaky sigh, still leaning your head against the mirror to support yourself as he worked at you. He took it slow at first, wanting to savour every moment of the experience as he feared he may never get the chance again. You loosened your iron grip on the countertop, reaching down and tangling your fingers in the long locks of brown hair. It felt good around your fingers, just as soft and silky as you imagined it would be.

When he seemed satisfied with the teasing he was doing, he let his tongue settle over your clit, moving it slowly across the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched in your throat as a rush of pleasure flooded through you, reminding you of all he was capable of doing, even with the most miniscule of actions. He used one hand to guide your leg over his shoulder, running his fingers back up until he could grip your hip again. He repeated the action with the other leg, and once he felt you were secure, he pulled you down even further on him. When you grew comfortable with the changes, he brought his fingers back to you and wasted no time in resuming his earlier pace.

“Fuck, Jake.” You hissed, the feeling consuming your entire body once again. He’d pushed you so close to the edge that it wasn’t hard to get you back, and after only a few seconds of steady movement, you could feel the pressure begin to rise again. In response, he curled his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you, unable to forget the reaction that it prompted from you. You felt yourself clench around him, drawing his hand in further and deeper, intending to keep him there forever.

He took in a sharp breath, loving the way your body responded to his efforts. He thought you were the most enchanting thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he would happily die between your legs with his name knotted around your tongue. You were so caught up in bliss that you began to believe this was the best it would ever get; no man before Jake had ever made you feel so good, even if they tried ten times harder. Jake was what you had been looking for every night since moving to the city, and if you had been smart, you would have recognized that and took the leap of faith. You were too far gone, spiraling down your self-made rabbit hole, neglecting the idea that he could be more than just good sex in a dingy bar bathroom.

The truth was that you knew all of those things, and worse than that, you could feel it when you were with him, but you were too far gone to ever be able to introduce love to your cold heart. You wanted to love, to be loved, but you no longer had the capacity for such things. The fleeting feeling of an orgasm was powerful, and even if it did not leave you fulfilled for very long, it was preferable to the pain of heartbreak. He made you feel more than you ever had before, but that was what made you want to run. A man met at the bar with sly words and a pretty smile was never good news, and when you took note of the rest of his charming attributes, you knew he was even worse than bad. Jake had the ability to make you see him for more than sex, but he also had the ability to hurt you worse than anyone else.

Drawn by the first touch and stuck there after the second, he was the most devilish of all men; the difference between you and the razor sharp thorns that grew from your skin was that he did not have intent to use his for harm, but you were always looking for a reason to injure. You recognized his deadly beauty because you held the same one in your heart, and you had taken him as someone just like you, neglecting to consider that he was far from it. You did not have enough time or care to make an attempt to see differently, so you continued on with your same old treachery with intent to destroy anything good before it could ever happen.

With expert precision, he kept his fingers in time with his tongue. He could feel how close you were without you having to say a word. The rapid breathing and racing heartbeat, the blushed cheeks and the forehead gleaming with sweat, the eyes squeezed shut and your thighs tightening around his head. It was so powerful that he almost felt the same desperation in his heart, fearing that if he did not get you there you would succumb to the sickness of need. He wanted to talk you through it, to use words of praise instead of the cruel sentiments he had been giving you before. He wanted to be the only thing on your mind, to invade every thought and fibre of your being so you did not even have the opportunity to think of anything else. His work was driven by greed, and he was not ashamed to admit that he would do whatever he could to keep you coming back for more.

The thought of you flirting with his brother had long left his mind, replaced with filthy thoughts of all he could do to you. He knew that Josh did not have the same luxury, and he would be walking home alone without you, while he would spend the entire night entangling you within his soul. He was the only one of the two who was blessed with the privilege of having you, and he would wear the badge with honour until his very last minute on earth.

Once again, his overconfident attitude and foolish naïveté would seal his grave forevermore.

A particularly sharp moan forced him to break out of his thoughts, returning his focus back to you as he continued to push you closer to the edge. “Oh god, Jake.” You cried, feeling the threat of an orgasm creeping up on you once more. It was much stronger and more intense than the last, and your whole body felt ablaze with pleasure. Your heart felt like it would explode out of your chest, and your lungs would deflate. Your head was buzzing with anticipation, and your entire body was tense.

You wondered if it was possible to survive the fall after allowing him to carry you to such heights.

You did not have enough time to worry about death as the knot in your belly snapped under the pressure, unravelling as the feeling took over your entire body. Your thighs squeezed against his skull, locking him there indefinitely as your fingers grasped at the strands of his hair. If not for the counter beneath you and his hand holding you in place, you thought you might descend to hell from the sinful indulgence. You had never felt anything quite like it, as if your soul was being consumed by the irate pleasure that knew not when to stop. Your back arched off the counter, the feeling of his tongue still moving sent you into another wave of euphoria. His fingers inside of you were moving with a fervour, lingering around the sweet spot he’s taken to. It was so much that it was almost nothing at all; so powerful that it was the only thing you knew.

When you came down, you were delirious from the depths of the new world he’d introduced you to. You wondered if you would ever find something that could make you feel that way again, or if you would spend an entire lifetime chasing after a high that only existed when you were with him. Debate on the topic was non-essential, because when he rose from his knees and unbuckled his belt, it did not matter. In fact, nothing in the world mattered except for him.

Recovery was not a conscious choice, because he gave you no other option. Before you were even of sound mind, he’d freed himself from his boxers and resumed his position between your legs, only standing this time. Your orgasm was still glistening on his chin, and he wore it like a trophy as he casted a downward glance at you. Even in the lowlight, every one of his features still appeared so beautifully, as if all of the gods had a helping hand in the creation of him. “Was that what you wanted, angel?” He asked, his voice husky as he watched you with a whole new type of hunger in his eyes. “That’s what you waited all night for?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You stuttered, still gulping for air. Normally, you would feel strange being in such a state in front of anyone, especially when they were as calm as he was, but it did not bother you now. You were perfectly content being at his disposal, ready to give him anything and everything his heart desired.

“Are you ready for more, or you can’t take it?” He asked, reaching down and running a thumb over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a human reaction to a sweet gesture.

“I can take it, sir.” You promised, your eyes flickering away from his stare and down to his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight, fantasizing momentarily about what it would be like to taste him. You wanted him in every way possible, and any shame about the need was long gone the minute he began to touch you. Your focus was torn away from the beautiful imaginative world you’d thrown yourself into when he spit on his hand, stroking himself for a moment before stepping closer to you.

“You think you can keep being good for me?” He asked, running the tip of his cock through the wetness that remained on your cunt.

“Yes, sir.” You said, confident in your ability to take whatever he had to offer. He rested himself against your entrance, pushing his hips forward only slightly so just his tip rested inside of you.

“That’s my girl,” he said, the possessive claim settling deep in your spine and weighing you down like cement. It felt so good to be called his, even if you did not really want to be. His lips turned upwards into a smile, misleading you only slightly. Then, without warning, he brought one hand to the back of your head. The sudden movement did nothing but confuse you, but when he used his hand resting on your hip to pull you towards him, it appeared there was a method to his madness. Your back landed against the countertop with a loud thud, sending a tingle of pain radiating through your spine, but he used his hand to cushion your head as you fell, ensuring it would not slam against the counter as well.

The mix of pain from the fall and the pleasure from him finally being inside of you was conflicting, but addicting nonetheless. Your hips were off the counter completely now, and once he knew you were well and recovered from the shock, he moved his hand from your head. He loved the accessibility of the new position, and he was eager to begin. With both hands holding your hips steady, he felt comfortable enough to begin moving at a steady pace, but steady did not mean gentle, and your toes were already curling from the sensation as you locked your legs around him.

“Fuck!” You yelped, feeling the tip of his cock slam into the same spot his fingers had been tormenting just moments before. You were more sensitive than ever due to the earth shattering orgasm he’d just given you, and the feeling of him inside you was overwhelming.

“I thought you said you could take it, sweetheart?” He taunted, delivering another sharp thrust to the same area. Your legs quivered from the sensation and your throat was raw from the moans flowing steadily through it. You could not respond, the pleasurable pain was so intense that it was impossible to focus on anything else. He wondered for a moment if he was giving you more than you could handle, but the thought quickly vanished when he felt your legs tighten around him and pull him closer. It was enough of an answer for him, but you pulled yourself together enough to fight back.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, honey.” You smirked. “You call this fucking?” His eyes blazed red in an instant, as if your words turned him into an entirely different entity. Your desire to fight never fled, and his antagonism was just enough to bring it back out.

“You’re gonna be a little brat after I was so nice to you?” He said, drilling his hips into you even more harshly. The feeling seemed to take your breath away, but you tried your best to stand your ground. “Or do you want me to treat you like a whore?” He raised an eyebrow, somehow unphased by the speed in which his hips were moving. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck, yes.” You whined, arching your back against the countertop to meet the thrust of his hips. You knew you could not handle any more, but you needed it all the same. Everything about him was conflicting and it only ever made you want more.

“You like being a little slut for me, don’t you?” He pressed further, letting his hands wander down your legs.

“I love it, sir.” You corrected, feeling his fingers tighten around your ankles as he pulled your legs apart, keeping his touch gentle as he tortured you with his hips. He brought your legs up, straightening them before pushing them upwards and into your chest. He leaned forward, locking you into position and slipped an arm underneath you to support your weight.

“Show me how much you love it, sweetheart.” He ordered, his expression stern as he continued to fuck into you. His movements were causing your knees to push back into your chest, constricting you in the most intoxicating way. “I want you to cum again, on my cock this time.” The vulgarity of his words made your walls tighten around him, making the sensation even more intense. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” you whimpered, feeling the pressure rising again. He was pushing you to the limit just so he could watch you as he drove you to insanity. Every movement was amplified by a million with the new position, and that wasn’t even considering how your skin was still tingling with the ghost of your previous orgasm. If his intent was to send you mad, he was doing a damn good job.

“How’s this for fucking?” He growled, looking down at your face. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could barely keep your eyes open, but that was exactly what he was hoping for. “Is this good enough for you, angel?” The pet name was laced with distaste now, showing his anger for your snide comment. You realized as you caught his eye that there was a whole other side of Jake you had yet to discover, and one night would not be enough for you to know him as much as you would like. You had no idea how a man so ethereal could turn so animalistic in an instant, and it only confused you further when you realized you liked that side of him more, because only you could see it.

You were desperate for him to slow down; the climax was barreling towards you at the speed of light, and you could not keep up with it. At the same time, you knew that if he stopped, you would be on your knees in an instant to beg him for more. The very thing you needed to survive would ultimately be the thing that killed you, and your relationship with the man between your legs had been vile from the very beginning. It started on lies and deceit, and carried on after betrayal and mistrust. Nothing good could ever grow from something so rotten, yet the two of you joined together in a pivotal moment of your lives; you would never be the same again, and neither would he. Despite the evil that forced the two of you together, you knew you would not change it for the world.

You were broken from your thoughts when a sharp sting flashed across your cheek. He was expecting an answer, and he was not willing to go without one, so he did what he could to regain your attention. Your eyes shot open, focusing in on the face glaring down at you. His hand had moved back to hold your hip, as if he’d never struck you at all. It took you a moment to clue in to what he had done, because you were too busy trying to sear the sight of his face into your memory for the rest of time. His hair was sticking to his skin, his shirt hanging off his body as the buttons came undone from the constant movements. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were lucky to have him, even if you did feel regret for using him in such a way.

“Fucking answer me.” He hissed, wondering if he would need to slap you again to pry the words from your lips. Under your foundation, the skin had already began blotching with redness at the forceful contact, but you didn’t seem to care. If anything, you wondered what you could do to get him to do it again. “Is this good enough for you, or do you still need more?”

“It’s good, sir. It’s so fucking good.” You rushed the words out, knowing that if you did not answer, his next punishment might not be so enjoyable.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.” His chest was heaving, trying to keep up with his rapid pace. You could feel his movements getting sloppy, but he would not give up until he got one more orgasm out of you.

Your hips began to ache from the position they were in, so you made an attempt to straighten one of your legs out to wrap it around him again. He noticed your struggle, moving back slightly to allow you to do as you needed. Once your legs are locked in place around his waist once more, he held one hand to your hip to keep you steady and snaked his other hand up your body, settling his fingers around your neck. Your stomach fluttered at the new position, excited for him to continue on with his work.

“I need you to cum for me, angel.” He said, carefully settling his fingers over your pulse points, looking over your face for a shred of discomfort. When he found none, it seemed to send him into a whole new frenzy. The knowledge that you would let him do as he pleased with you was driving him to insanity, and he began to regret not bringing you to the bathroom sooner. You were a mess, your dress bunched up around your ribs now, and your tits still free from the top of it. Your mascara was running down your cheeks and your hair was a mess, but he thought you were just as stunning as you were when he first laid eyes on you. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” You choked out, feeling his fingers tightening around your neck. Your eyes closed as you willed yourself to give in to the feeling. The need for a release was unbearable, and your stomach was ablaze with the threat of another climax. As his fingers continued to tighten around your jugular, your head began to spin from the lack of blood flow. The pleasure already coursing through your veins seemed to increase tenfold, and there was no more holding back.

The orgasm tore through you with an intensity that made your whole body tremble. The world felt like it was crashing down around you and your lungs ached for a breath of air. You tried to speak his name, but even that failed you. Your legs trembled around him, exhausted from being held in such a position for so long. You wanted to close your eyes, to give in to the feeling and let it take over. You feared you might die from it, and it was such a peaceful feeling that you felt no need to fight it.

As your body relaxed about the counter, he released his hold on your neck. The sudden rush of air seemed to force you back into reality, and your head slowly stopped spinning. You felt Jake’s hips stutter as he uttered a few curses under his breath. You opened your eyes in just enough time to watch him pull out of you, quickly stepping towards you as he stroked himself a few times. You quickly jumped to action, reaching down and knocking his hand out of the way. It took him by surprise, but when your hand wrapped around him and continued with his previous movements, his head fell back in bliss. It was fast enough that it did not make him lose the momentum, and he was grateful for you taking the control. His eyes squeezed shut as he let out a low groan, spilling his release on to your stomach. You let out a ragged breath, looking down at the mess he’d made, his cock still throbbing in your hand as you worked himself through the last few seconds of his own orgasm.

A shiver ran down his spine as you withdrew your hand. He straightened up, heaving a heavy sigh as he looked down at you, soaking up the last few seconds of having you like that. You gave him a small smile in return, another shred of evil making its way into your brain. You slowly brought your hand to your stomach, making sure to maintain the eye contact. Meticulously, you brought your finger to the cum he’d decorated your stomach with, still warm and inviting. You saw his eyes shift down towards your hand, watching as you ran your finger through it, delicate and soft. When you felt as though he had a good enough of an idea for what you were about to do, you brought your finger to your mouth, parting your lips slightly as you pushed your finger to your tongue. You ran it across the pad of your forefinger, letting out a soft moan as you let your eyes flutter closed.

A soft sound emitted from his throat, close to a whine but a little too deep to be classified as such. You had pushed him over the edge, and if he could have gotten away with it, he would have fucked you again right then and there. Instead, he reached for the paper towel dispenser, ripping off a few sheets and cleaning off your stomach as best he could, despite wishing he could witness you do it all over again. He tossed the used paper in the trash after wiping himself off, then pulled his pants back up.

“Get up,” he said, buckling his belt and adjusting himself to conceal the hard-on that was reluctant to go away.

“What?”

“You can’t listen?” He snapped. “Get the fuck up.” He repeated, clearly still feeding off the sexual energy lingering in the air.

“W-why?” You stuttered, almost expecting him to return to normal after you finished. The brash nature of his voice took you by surprise, but you certainly didn’t mind.

“Because I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to fuck you again.” He explained, stepping forward and landing a soft hand on your thigh. “And again… and probably again after that, until you can’t fucking walk and the only thing you know how to say is my name.” A flood of arousal rushed through you, making your heart beat faster once again. Usually, you would laugh at such a claim, but you knew he was not bluffing in the slightest. With that, he leaned down and grabbed your thong from the ground, looking it over as he held it in his palm. You figured he would give it to you, so you extended your arm out to grab it, but he sent you a sly look through the corner of his eye. Instead of passing them to you, he slipped it in his pocket as a trophy for his night’s endeavour and turned to face you. “What are you waiting for, sweetheart?”

‘Nothing’ was the only proper answer, so you scrambled to your feet to straighten yourself out, already excited for the rest of the night. As you cleaned your makeup in the mirror, you glanced at him over your shoulder, wondering if you could handle all of the things he had in store for you. As you watched him watching you, your stomach fluttered with nervousness, and your heart began to swell with adoration. You could handle whatever he wanted to do for you, but you hoped you could handle it well enough to entertain his brother the night after.

No matter how good he was, nobody was ever good enough to subdue a player like you. You would get your way, just like you did every time, but this time was different; it came with a cost too high to justify. Then again, you lived for a thrill, and there was nothing you weren’t willing to gamble for just a taste of what you desired. As he led you out the front door of the bar with a lingering hand on your waist, you revelled in the bliss of his touch all while fantasizing about what it would feel like to be touched by Josh instead. It made you wonder just how far you could take it before it became too much.

As the two of you walked hand in hand, the vicious cycle continued, and soon enough, you knew that ultimately, a punishment would be due. In your purse, your phone had already been ravished by drunk texts from the brother you had yet to entertain, but could not wait to have for yourself. You knew better, but the idea of having the both of them was too good to pass up. Greed was a wicked motivator, and it was plaguing you. You could only hope that punishment in the eyes of the devil, and especially given by the twin brothers, would be enjoyable more than it would be painful.

TAGLIST: @gretavangroupie @wetkleenex-gvf @edgingthedarkness @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @writingcold @dannys-dream @ageofbajabule @GVFstuddedmajesty @mackalah @watchingover-hypegirl @earthgrlsreasy @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog @Lyndz2names @gretavanomens @josh-iamyour-mama @gretavangirlie @cxffeecakez @stardustjake @highway-tuna @peaceloveunitygvf @dancingcarbon @kiszkas-canvas @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @just-ambam @jakeyt @joshym @demonrat444 @pattypanini @itsafullmoon (if I accidentally missed someone, please let me know 🤍)

[daeneryseastar]

someone sent me an anon ask about the anti rhaenyra agenda most rhaenicent shippers have and like a dumbass i accidently deleted it so i'm just going to try my best to re-answer it here (yes i wrote a whole spiel about it and now it's gone forever and i'm upset.)

from what i can tell there are only two reasons as to why people can't stand rhaenyra but love rhaenicent; and it's because they either have some heavy internalized misogyny OR that's the only way to continue and keep their uwu sad lesbian alicent headcanons semi-tethered in reality. alicent is a character that has next to no positive interactions with other characters, least of all any women. she has a 'good' (and i say that lightly) relationship with rhaenyra for 2 episodes in hotd, and then they are adversaries for the rest of the show. the only other women we see her interact with are helaena and her lady in waiting talya ( who regularly spied on her for mysaria) and minus talya, those are the same female relationships she has in f&b. she doesn't really have a good track record with anyone.

in the book she terrorized rhaenyra from aegon's birth up until rhaenyra's death. rather than teaching her son to rule and raising him to be an upstanding prince of the realm she instead spent her time calling rhaenyra, a literal child, a slut, she accepted criston into her service as her own personal protector in spite of his predatory behavior towards rhaenyra (which she acknowledges), and continuously tries to have rhaenyra and her sons disinherited and killed due to her own spreading of the bastard rumors. not to mention that she was eighteen when she married viserys to rhaenyra's nine. there's really nothing romantic about it. in the show almost everything is still the same except for her being the one to arrange helaena's marriage to her known degenerate and rapist son (in f&b viserys is the one who had them marry) and most likely told her the same rhetoric of rhaenyra killing them to secure her claim that she told her sons from when they were babies up until the coup. with rhaenyra she still antagonizes her because she (lemme check again, told alicent she didn't sleep with daemon and got otto fired because he was working against the crown to install his grandson as heir over her). don't even get me started on the villainization of rhaenyra in order to uphold alicent's constant victimization storyline. alicent is the one who abused rhaenyra, not the other way around, and the age changes in the show (which are so stupid omg) only serve to make alicent more sympathetic and rhaenyra an apparent privileged brat who doesn't understand what it's like to suffer because of the men in her life and therefore deserves her fate (i can literally see the entire galaxy with how far back my eyes are rolled rn.)

if the show wanted to include or focus on two women who were torn apart by the patriarchy and the men around them, helaena's blank character was right there for the taking (and would've been even juicier with the sister vs sister, queen consort vs queen regnant debacle.) she has no personality in the book or any relevance besides losing her children in violent ways and going mad, they definitely could have made her a more present character on screen in a manner that adds an actual emotional connection to her but alas, rhaenicent is top priority. furthering that, if the show wanted to include queer representation with their leading lady, laena had more hints in the text for that type of relationship than anything the show has given us for the rhaenyra/alicent dynamic, even with how hard they're trying to force it down our throats.

the entire relationship has made the story go completely off kilter because the show won't just let it be, and it's affected almost all of their other relationships. they're not going to convince me that rhaenyra cares about alicent more than her own children or even vice versa (though in an entirely different manner) and that reconciliation is possible in spite of aemond murdering luke. it makes both the characters and the writers look like delusional idiots. there's absolutely no reason for these types of glaring mistakes in a series where characterization and the relationships that revolve from them are the reason it's so popular amongst the masses. this lack of proper relationship building has caused hotd to feel a lot more shallow and lackluster than what you'd expect with how massive it's budget was when they created it, the amount of talented actors they casted, and the literal blueprint laid out of what not to do that got season eight is. someone should have taken accountability for these dumb decisions and realized how quickly they're streamlining straight towards what ruined game of thrones in the first place.

[hangingslothcentral]

Today is the fourth anniversary of the day I launched Spirit Box Radio, and it's also the last day of trans awareness week.

I have a lot of big feelings about SBR. If you've listened to the show, you'll know that I was medically transitioning through its release. I went on T at the show's midpoint, in the middle of S2, and my voice was changing throughout the rest of the show's run. I got top surgery two months after the show ended, almost exactly to the day.

Now. We're all big enough and daft enough to be able to have a grown up conversation about this, I think. So here's some stuff about that experience I haven't really talked about before.

1. I wish there had been media which had trans creators transitioning alongside a character who is transitioning when I was younger. The main reason for this is that it would have been representation of trans people, but honestly? The main thing I wanted was to see someone transitioning over a long period of time. So often, transition seems to happen behind closed doors. Unless you are lucky enough to have lots of trans people around you (I grew up in semi-rural Wales so no luck for me there) you just do not see it happening. People, understandably, want to hide the length of the process, the messy in between stages.

2. Transitioning and playing Sam transitioning simultaneous to me was one of the most mentally challenging and emotionally vulnerable things I've ever done. I do not say this lightly; I'm a survivor of abuse and I've seen a lot of shit in my life. I've come out as nonbinary at a corporate job and argued with a university about changing my name on my graduation certificate. As much as I loved it, and still love it, and I'm intensely proud of it and SO glad it exists, making SBR was fucking brutal. Hours of editing my own voice through a period where it sounded different on a near-weekly basis. Having no idea how I sounded anymore and posting episodes anyway. Dealing with the emotional fallout of people responding weirdly to me in my real, actual life whilst portraying a character who is outcast, isolated, and terrified of himself? Challenging as fuck.

3. Many people need to examine the way they're talking about trans men. The conversations around Sam shifted very violently as my voice dropped. This is in part due to the arc this character follows, but it's hard not to notice a shift in language as dramatic as this. It started as soon as the show came back from its S2 midseason break and my voice had shifted down a bit. People talked less about Sam being cute, and for the first time, I started to see people talking about him like he was sexy. These things aren't mutually exclusive, but it was very noticeable to me, especially in contrast to conversations about Oliver, Sam's hot, cis gender, florist boyfriend, who was categorised as sexy from the off. Before my voice dropped, even though they were using the right pronouns for them, people talked about Sam with very feminine, infantilising language, and this almost entirely stopped when my voice dropped.

4. I am so fucking glad I did this. Yes, it was brutal, emotional, and I really struggled through a lot of this process, and I am so glad I did this. I will have the immense privilege of medically transitioning in the way I have over the last few years exactly once in my life. I am glad I took that vulnerable moment and made art with it. I'm glad that my transition is captured and mirrored by this thing I was making at the time it was happening. I'm glad that thousands of other trans people have listened to the show and have heard me doing this as they are doing it, or before they do it, or after, or as they're deciding not to, or finding out they can't, or realising they'll never have the chance, or any one of the myriad experiences of transness that exist. I am, frankly, honoured to have been a part of such a vulnerable aspect in the lives of so many people.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for listening to the show, if indeed you already have. If you enjoy my work, I would love to be able to pay my bills and be able to keep making it. I have never made even minimum wage for the work I do on my shows. Please consider becoming a member.

[mellowswriting]

what we do in the dark pt. 2/2

pairing || Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

word count || 3.4k

summary || It wouldn’t be the first time, he reasons. He knows how much you like his little wake-up calls. Besides, an orgasm is much more invigorating than coffee, right?

content || smut!!!, somnophilia (Simon wakes reader with oral), cunnilingus, pleasure dom!Ghost, face-fucking, praise, aftercare, fluff, Simon is pussy whipped and so in love that it hurts

a/n || you don’t have to read part one to understand this, but I highly recommend reading it! also soft!Simon has my heart, soul, and my 🐱

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist

Simon likes watching you sleep. He always has, ever since you first joined 141. Each time he was up keeping watch, his eyes scanning every possible entry point into whatever safe house you all were hunkered down in, his gaze would never fail to linger on you. He would hold off on waking you up for your shift for as long as he possibly could; it never sat right with him, interrupting you when you look like the picture of pure relaxation. That’s why he started making coffee for you before shaking you awake. A little pick-me-up that only you were privileged to, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“Going soft on us, Lt?” Soap had teased, one eyebrow raised as he watched Simon place a steaming mug next to your head for you to wake up to.

“Only for her.” He replied before jabbing his elbow in the man’s ribs.

He just likes helping you start your day off right, that’s all.

That’s what he tells himself as his fingers trail over the curve of your hip. It wouldn’t be the first time, he reasons. He knows how much you like his little wake-up calls. Besides, an orgasm is much more invigorating than coffee, right?

He’s lucky you sleep like a rock. The two of you couldn’t be more different in that sense. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees is enough to wake him, but you don’t even stir when he spreads your thighs. You’re so still that he would be worried if he couldn’t see the steady rise and fall of your bare chest. Simon kisses the sensitive part of your inner thigh, his sharp gaze searching your face for any signs of waking. You just let out a soft exhale, your head shifting slightly against the pillows. Simon can’t help but smile.

You really are perfect, he thinks with a disbelieving shake of his head.

The familiar weight of your thigh settling onto his shoulder is comforting. This is where he feels most like himself: his head between your thighs, your body prone and vulnerable beneath him. It’s too good - you are too good. He will never stop wondering how the universe put you in his arms, but he sure as hell knows he’s never letting go. No one could pry you away from him. Anyone that tries ends up with a bullet in their head. You are his, just as he is yours.

The salt-slick of your body blooms across his tongue and Simon shudders. Some base, animal instinct that lingers in the back of his head loves you like this. Dirty, sweaty and still tasting faintly of him. It sparks this strange, feral possessiveness that makes his cock twitch against the sheets. A faint moan falls from your parted lips and it only encourages him to lick deeper, just to pull more of those sweet little sounds from you.

His tongue traces a light circle over your clit, gentle against the sensitive skin he abused some odd hours ago. Your sex is still tender and hot to the touch but your hips still arch into his face. You can’t get enough of him, even in your dreams, and he just knows you’re going to be the death of him. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stop himself from splitting you open on his cock right then and there - because this is for you. All that matters is taking care of his girl. Simon seals his lips around your clit and sucks lightly, and your thighs tremor. His grip on your thighs tightens, the blunt edge of his nails leaving little indents in your supple flesh. Every thought is clouded by his need to press impossibly closer, deeper until all he can see and taste and hear is his woman. He wants to lose himself in you.

You wake with a lightning-quick snap of your thighs around his head and a gasp of his name that makes Simon grin. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t allow you to recover from the suddenness of it all. His eyes lock with yours as his tongue rolls insistently against your clit, dragging you ever closer to the climax you deserve. There is nothing more perfect than the sight of you like this, still sleepy and grinding against his face.

He’s fucking obsessed.

Simon slips two fingers into your slick pussy without warning. His sharp eyes bore into your face to take in the way you gasp for him. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you desperately try to hold him close - as if he could ever leave you like this. His amazing, beautiful woman, using him for pleasure like you deserve. It sends a thrill up his spine. Those fingers curl up against that sweet spot that forces a broken sound out of your throat. Your thighs threaten to suffocate him as everything else falls away; not a single thought occupies your mind outside of the havoc his touch ignites within you.

That telltale tremble wracks down your spine and Simon knows. The way you sound crying out his name sends him reeling, so achingly enraptured it hurts. All he wants is this, forever. The sound of your voice cracking as you come, your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, the feeling of your wetness on his face. This is his heaven. Just making you come like this is enough to have his cock twitching and dripping against the sheets.

Simon doesn’t stop until you pull him back by his hair with an overstimulated whine. He plants kisses into your skin as you tremble - just above your pubic bone, up your belly, between your breasts. The urge to lavish you with attention is impossible to ignore. Every inch of your body within his reach is caressed and cherished until you pull him up for a real kiss. The lazy lick of your tongue along his bottom lip draws a groan from him, his cock twitching needily against your thigh. That greedy voice in the back of his head whispers for him to wrap your thighs around his waist and fuck you nice and sweet.

But he knows your body has to be sore and exhausted from everything he’s put you through in the last twenty-four hours, so instead he gives you one more deep kiss and slips off of the bed. He can feel your eyes on him as he stretches out his well-rested body, your gaze admiring as his muscles go taut beneath his skin. Simon pauses, too, and takes a moment to soak in how you look. He really has missed seeing you so relaxed and well-fucked. Sure, you look so damn sexy in your gear with an M4 strapped to your chest, but this… this is so much better.

“Are you really leaving me here all by myself?” You sit up, looking at him with an adorably pouty expression. “And I thought you were a gentleman.”

“A gentleman? Me? You’ve got the wrong man, love.” Simon sighs with a shake of his head. The soft smile he gives you contradicts his words but before you can point that out, he nods toward the bathroom. “I’m starting a shower. We both need one after last night.”

“But what about you?” You don’t show an ounce of shame as your eyes trail down his body. Simon can’t lie - it strokes his ego to see the way your tongue flicks out to wet your bottom lip as you eye him up. Your eyeline lands on his cock, still hard and aching against his belly, and the lust that glimmers in your eyes is almost too much for him to handle.

“You’d break if I fucked you like I want to. Just let me take care of you, yeah?” He tries to persuade you but before he can even finish speaking, you kick the sheets out of your way and slip down onto your knees. It didn’t take you long to learn how easy it is to ply him when you kneel so pretty for him: your feet tucked beneath your butt, your back straight, your hands folded neatly in your lap. You wear that deceptively demure expression that sends his mind into overdrive. The perfect picture of obedience. Simon murmurs your name, his tone almost a warning.

“So if I wanted you to fuck my face…” You say in a low, lustful voice that wears at his steadily weakening self-control. “You would say no?”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Simon sighs as he steps closer to you. Your eyes brighten and your tongue flicks out to wet your lips unconsciously - and he knows he can’t stop himself. “You know I can never say no to you.”

This morning is all about you, after all. If what you want is his cock in your mouth, who is he to refuse? You indulge in exploring his body, taking the time you haven’t been afforded for the last few weeks. His cock jumps as your fingers wrap around the base and give him those slow, tantalizing strokes that drive him crazy. Your eyes never leave his as your lips trail kisses across his lower stomach and it takes everything in him not to guide that soft mouth onto his aching cock. Every little touch has that pressure building in his belly, excitement and desperation all swirling into one storm of need.

The wet heat of your mouth envelopes his cock and every coherent thought evaporates from his mind. You’re too fucking good at this; you know his every weakness, every spot to lick and suck to make his knees weak. Simon groans, a low sound ripped from deep inside his chest, and the smile you give him is filthy. He knows how much you love this - being the reason he falls apart, the source of his pleasure. The way you crave him so deeply appeases some part of himself he had all but forgotten until you came around - the part that needs to feel desired, to feel loved. You ease that need with every caress of your fingers, every whisper of praise, every loving glance of your eyes. The love you have for him is the most overwhelming thing he has ever felt in his life and he can’t get enough of it.

It’s as if the first taste of his cock sends you over the edge. You take him as deep as you can, only three-fourths down his length until the head of his cock nudges your soft palate. Pride warms his chest. He knows he’s well endowed, that it isn’t easy to work with a dick as big as his - yet you never fail to swallow him down like a pro. His hand comes to rest at the crown of your head. Not to push or guide, but just to hold you close and rub your head for being so good for him. Simon isn’t a man of many words, not until his cock is buried in your throat. That’s when he doesn’t know how to shut up, couldn’t even if he tried. Praise falls from his lips like the dam has been broken.

“That’s it… takin’ my cock like a good girl,” Simon whispers in that smokey voice, his fingers petting your head encouragingly. The praise makes you melt. You look up at him with those bright, teary eyes as you take him deeper until your nose brushes the short curls at the base of his cock. Your throat constricts around his cock so deliciously that he can’t help the slight thrust of his hips. An apology is poised to follow, but you just moan so prettily. “Oh, is that what you want, sweetheart? You want me to fuck this pretty face?”

You whine an incomprehensible answer but Simon already knows. His fingers tighten in your hair to steady you, holding you in place so he can take you the way he wants. As much as he likes to pretend, Simon isn’t cruel. He rocks his hips slowly, just barely going further and further with each push. He wouldn’t dream of being rough with you like this. Not when you’ve placed so much trust in his hands. Your fingers lace with his against his thigh and he gives your hand a little squeeze, a little comfort as he fucks your face.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon groans as your tongue laves along the underside of his cock. Even when he’s in control, you can’t help yourself. You make those pretty sounds that feel so divine vibrating against him, and he can’t help but shove his cock even deeper. The sudden intrusion has you gagging roughly and whispers an apology so sweetly that he barely recognizes his own voice. His thumb brushes away the tears that roll down your cheeks as you recover. “Look so lovely cryin’ on my cock.”

The vulgarity of his words pulls a debased sound from you and fuck, he wants to destroy you. Every inch of you belongs to him, just as he belongs to you. That is the only thing he’s ever been certain of in this life. He wants to taste and touch and take, take, take. Being selfish isn’t in his nature, but you bring out something different in him. You spark something base, something possessive that he can’t quite control. Your eyes flutter closed with a contented hum and Simon groans at the feeling, at the sight you make.

“Fuck… m’close, love. Gonna let me come in this pretty little mouth?” Simon grunts, the roughness of his accent a stark contrast to how sweetly he coos those lewd words. You nod as best you can, your whimper making his hips jerk. Your desperation burrows beneath his skin, courses through his veins until he feels it like your need is his own. “Such a needy little thing.”

Simon cradles your jaw, a groan rumbling through his chest as that tight pressure in his belly finally snaps. His orgasm tears through his very soul, molten pleasure alight in his veins. You swallow instinctively as his cum spills onto your tongue, a honeyed moan thrumming from your throat, and he swears he’s losing his goddamn mind. The blend of stimulation, the warm wetness, the vibration, it’s all damn near too much.

“Good girl,” Simon whispers, his thumb rubbing soothing half-circles against your cheek as his cock softens in your mouth. You blink up at him with those half-lidded eyes, tears drying on your face, and it’s all strangely… idyllic. Simon is gentle as he helps you to your feet but the kiss he pulls you into is anything but. His tongue sweeps into your mouth as if he wants to consume you, unconcerned with the taste of himself that lingers. The delicate press of your fingers around his wrist, your palm against his chest… every touch only leaves him wanting more.

The words teeter on the edge of his teeth. His tongue caresses each vowel, each syllable of the declaration that has warmed his chest for months now - practicing, preparing for the moment he finally dares to whisper those three words. Simon aches to tell you if only to relieve the pressure from his chest, but he’s more sentimental than he’s willing to admit. The moment needs to be right. He needs you to feel it.

His lips brush yours as he whispers, “C’mon, pretty. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

----------

Sometimes, Simon is certain you’re just a dream, some sort of mirage conjured by his love-sick brain. How could he ever be lucky enough to have such an ethereal being in his presence? Let alone claiming your attention, your affection. It seems so impossible, and yet… here you are. Eyes closed, leaning back into the burning stream of water. Steam curls through the air and he swears you’re glowing. Simon watches the water run down your body in little rivulets and he can’t help himself.

His hand meets the curve of your waist and squeezes gently, his silent way of getting your attention. You blink up at him, droplets of water gathered on your fluttering eyelashes, and you smile. So soft, so gentle. It rocks through him like he’s been shot, bullet tearing straight through his flesh and burrowing into his delicate heart. Every beat makes it shift and flutter in his chest. A little reminder of your love. Of what he lives for.

“Come here, Si’,” You murmur, fingertips dancing along his jaw. The low rasp of your voice, roughened by the way he used you… it’s all more tantalizing than any siren song. He obeys without hesitation and lets you draw him close for a slow, deep kiss. Your tongue teases along his bottom lip and Simon gives chase until he has you pressed against the shower wall, his thigh pinning your squirming body. The sudden shock of the cold tiles makes you gasp, the perfect opportunity to assert his dominance.

“Simon,” You barely manage to get his name out between breath-stealing kisses, but it's enough to make him pause. “Hey, no shower sex! Remember what happened last time?”

Simon just grunts and dips down to give your neck and jaw some attention. He can’t help himself. You just look so pretty covered in his marks. Your fingers rake through his hair with a debauched sound and Simon thinks he’s in the clear - until you yank him back. He hisses, pain prickling along his scalp as he stares down at you. It should be an intimidating sight - a 6’5 man, broad, covered in scars, glaring with a look so sharp it could nick your skin - but you just grin.

“C’mon, let me wash your hair.” You ply him, your fingers rubbing his scalp soothingly. The two of you stare each other down for a beat until he concedes with a grumble and finally lets you free. Mischief is alight in your eyes and your voice as you give his hair one last ruffle and murmur, “Good boy,”

He’s lucky he can blame the flush of his cheeks on the burning heat from the shower. He retaliates with a playful smack on your butt as you step away to grab your bottle of shampoo, but you just shake your head at his antics. Leave it to you to make him feel all exposed and vulnerable, despite having been the one in control not seconds before. Simon doesn’t have long to formulate a better revenge plan because the second your fingers start massaging shampoo into his hair, he’s lost.

Your fingers are talented. He knew that long before the two of you became so close. Years ago, he would watch you work on tasks just to see how effortlessly you moved. Taking apart your gun to clean it with meticulous care. Braiding your hair back before a mission. Unstrapping the kilos of gear from your body. Your fingers are deft and quick, and he’s so grateful he gets to be on the receiving end of that care. He can’t take his eyes off your face as you scrub his hair. You look so… content. Happy.

The realization hits him like a truck that he is, too. It dawns over him, encompasses his entire body, and Simon can’t stop himself. The words fall from his lips softly, almost lost under the steady beat of water.

“I love you.”

Your fingers pause. His pulse roars in his ears and he waits for it, for your expression to morph into something else. Surprise, revulsion, anger - something. Anything. The bomb has exploded right in front of him before he even had the chance to defuse it and he hasn’t felt the sparks of panic like this in so long -

“I love you, too, Simon.” You chuckle.

You chuckle. Your fingers resume their gentle circles in the suds thick in his hair. You have that achingly fond look on your face, your features soft and doting. As if you’ve exchanged such pleasantries countless times before. As if you haven’t just rocked his entire world with one simple sentence. Simon moves like lightning, sparks crackling through every nerve in his body. His fingers catch your chin, pinching between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes meet his wild ones, ever patient and giving as you wait for him to spit it out.

“Say -” His voice breaks around the single syllable, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Say it again.”

The intensity of his demand isn’t lost on you. Your hand falls from his hair to cup his cheek, thumb brushing his cheekbone softly. You lean so closely that he can feel your breath ghosting over his skin, your lips brushing his as you give him what he needs.

“I love you, Simon Riley.”

Something cleaves open in his chest and he feels… warm. Safe.

Happy.

[jellyj777]

03; Freedom | THE PATIENT

THE PATIENT | Book | Ch03;Freedom

JungkookxReader (/fluff/angst/smut)

—Falling in love with a patient in an asylum might not be everyone's tea but you had a thing to fix something you never broke at first place.

Words: 2.8k+

TROPES:: One sided hate, Therapist Au.

SYNOPSIS:: —"Don't trust me, Believe in me"

WARNINGS:: Talk about abuse, Violence ahead, explicit language, Anger issues

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The date or whatever you want to call it with Taehyung went well, surprisingly. It wasn't a date being honest cause no way in hell someone has ever asked you to suck them off after meeting them for few hours. Additionally, after watching a freaking hockey match with innocent conversation.

"So?" He raises his eyebrows at you, the car was parked on the side of the road. Other cars went by as the whoosh sounds could be heard. This wasn't just an awkward situation but an amusing one too. You never expected a man like Taehyung would ask you to suck him off.

He was rich. Very to be exact.

That's the information you learned about Taehyung during the intermission of the match while he was explaining the game cause you went for a bathroom break and these washrooms are literally miles away. You both talked about your lifestyles, workplace, friends and basic stuff and the guy who was sitting in front of your eyes came from a rich and privileged family, his words not yours. Wasn't trying to brag but when his lifestyle was rich itself, he couldn't do a shit but brag about it.

"So..." you trail off thinking about the question that was proposed infront of you. It's been a while since you had any type of fun, certainly, sex and you knew giving a blowjob wasn't exactly having sex but it does lead to more things. Currently, only one thing stood there between the two of you. Silence.

"It's alright if you don't want to - sorry for making you uncomfortable." Taehyung breaks the silence, his hand grabbing the clutch again to reverse the car and go to the restaurant for the dinner he asked you before leaving the court.

His hand froze up in place when he heard the seatbelt clink on your side. He glanced over at you and saw you were unbuckling your seatbelt. Before he could say a thing, you were already making the first move with pulling your hair up in a ponytail.

"Are we actually doing it?" He asks, sounding more excited and surprised too at the sudden shift of the setting. Got him more horny, not gonna lie. He didn't think you'd be a type of girl for quickies. Heck! He didn't think you'd be a type of girl for a hook up either cause of how naive and innocent you sounded in the whole conversation with him at the Ice Hockey match.

The whole conversation was about your career and his career and how prestige you were to talk strictly about your normal life, something you didn't realize either. Career. That is what the topic was and how badly Taehyung wanted to switch the topics to dating life or anything interesting but didn't wanted to freak you off.

Your hands hook up with his button of the formal brown pants he was wearing, his budge was so visible. You eye up and down with a faint smirk. "When did you get this hard?" You ask, curiosity taking over your mind.

"Are you seriously asking that?" He chuckles, now helping you to unbutton him.

You roll your eyes with a faint chuckle you press his semi-hard budge with a little pressure wanting am answer. "Just answer." You state wanting to say 'stop being a smartass' cause it was general curiosity.

"It was when you accidentally buried your face in my lap when the puck came flying to us." He hisses with a low gruntal moan as you cupped him through his boxers. He lifts his hip up lightly for you to lower his boxers.

You remember perfectly now, to defend yourself and your face, ofcourse, you dogged the puck that came flying to your seat by the powerful hit of a player. Not really big perks of sitting in the front row. It was a general hockey match so the protection against the ring wasn't the best to begin with.

The dogged move led you to burry your face in Taehyung's lap with a small gasp, his hand wrapped around the small of your back to make sure the puck didn't hit you. Yet, when he sat up to ask if you were okay, he paused. Paused at the sight of your head burried in his lap, strands of hair on one side of your frame showing off the back of your neck, the thing that ran in his mind was how would you look while sucking him off.

Would you be a tease or be a good girl for him? He thinks and soon was left out of his thoughts.

"Mhm, Just like that." Taehyung groans when he felt you licking long strip from the base of his dick till the tip while keeping the eye contact. He closes his eyes, throws his head back and enjoys the sensation you were providing him with your mouth.

Warm. Sucking. Not teasing. Just like a good girl you were.

"No way!" Hoseok exclaims putting his coffee down, your face flushed with embarrassment. "So, you're telling me you just sucked him off? Just like that?!" Hoseok asks again, for the nth timein the last fifteen minutes of your conversation.

"Yes, what do you want me to say?" You sigh sipping on the green tea. At this point, the regret was coming up being honest. Not the regret that you sucked Taehyung off but the regret of telling this thing to Hoseok out of all people.

"Mun finally let off her dry sex life curse." He laughs swirling on the chair making you glare at him with a 'seriously?' look.

"Shut the fuck up, Seok."

"What? As if you had sex in a while. Blowjob was a step up in this curse, hun." He shrugs. He was honestly happy that you finally had something. With countless times of trying to put you up with someone who was eligible for you -according to him- he finally got a good news of you giving Taehyung a blowjob. He knows Taehyung is a great guy, just because he was a silver spoon that doesn't mean he's an asshole like most people might imagine.

"He invited me for the auction party on the weekend." You change the topic not wanting to talk about how you randomly sucked a guy off just cause he was nice, innocent and respectful towards you. Handsome too.

"Oh, did he?" He sips on the coffee leaning his back more on the chair of your office. "You must've entertained him quite nicely." Another tease left his mouth but this time it made you frown in confusion making your eyes divert from the desktop on which you were typing the updates for your patients to him.

Upon seeing your confusion, Hoseok takes a long sip of the coffee to clear his dry throat cause of the explanation coming up is long. Long enough.

"I mean, he doesn't invite anyone, y'know." He shrugs. "You must know by now how rich his family is - not that I'm trying to brag his lifestyle but if I was him, I would've bragged it a lot. The auctions he holds is not for everyone, especially not the people you meet first time. I knew you both would be amazing friends and I'm sure you gave him a good blowjob for him to invite you."

"Seok." You warn him with an eye roll to not bring the topic again.

"What!" He exclaims. Slumping back on his chair he raises his eyebrows playfully knowing he'll tease the shit out of you every darn time.

"I denied."

"You denied?" He frowns.

"Yeah, I've shift this weekend." You murmur and sip on the green tea which is starting to get cold. "I denied him politely at the dinner." You correct your words and  Taehyung gladly understood how not everyone is a silver spoon. He's thankful and glad to his parents for making his life easier and having enough money to do what he can right now. Follow his passion.

"Ugh, Mun, you should've just skipped work!" He whines like a freaking kid.

"As if!"

"Oh please, you skipped it on your five hours situationship guy's birthday."

"I was young back then!" Even the thought makes you cringe now. How young and stupid was it for you to skip your day of the medical internship for a guy who you don't even know the name of know.

"Shit." Hoseok stands up with his coffee after hearing the notification on his phone. The notification about the meeting with his senior for the hospital powerpoint on Friday. Powerpoint about one of the mental disorders to teach new staff (mostly nurses) about. Next week is your turn and you still haven't chosen the topic.

A topic which was interesting according to you was Schizophrenia. Still researching about it tho. "Gotta go, Mun. I'll see you after work." He murmurs rushing out of your room. You give him a wave and watch him walk out. Standing up you fix the chair he was sitting on to typical 30° angle. Just how you like it. Everything to be in order.

"Why are we here?" He groans. You look over his side profile, he sounds irritated by all of this bullshit you were providing him with. Bullshit. According to him Ofcourse yet his eyes showed something else, something you haven't seen in a long while.

Warmth. Maybe it's the sun glowing in front of you. Maybe.

"I thought it's a good idea for you to have freedom-" you turn your face back to the view in front, view of the sun slowly hiding away, patients from hospital walked around in their hospital gown with their given nurses. "-isn't this what you wanted? Freedom?"

He doesn't reply but just hums back. You're right. He did indeed needed, wanted this taste of freedom. Hasn't been to a park in a while due to the asylum he was admitted at before. Hasn't been to a park since his childhood because his mother wouldn't let him out to a park as punishment. Was only allowed to go once or twice a year.

"Parks are for kids," he murmurs under his breath, sounding not interested but his eyes told otherwise which you didn't notice cause you were too busy to look at the beautiful sunset happening. A frown creases your eyebrows but you don't turn around to look at him.

"Why does it matter?" You shrug, "Enjoy yourself till' you can."

"It does matter." He states. "You can't have this much fun at one time, worse when you're in a place like this."

You knew he was talking about the hospital but the comment of 'not having this much fun at once' made you frown. You turn to face him, he does the same. "What do you mean that you can't have this much fun at once?" You ask, confused.

Confusion appeared fully on the creepy dolls face. Makes him want to smirk and tease you but doesn't. "I mean, you're allowed to be at park at all the times?" He asks back.

You nod, "Of course, the park is a public place. You can be here for hours and no one would say anything." You state the obvious fact.

"Well, Ms.Doc, not everyone has a happy life you do." Makes you want to argue that your life wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns but you stay quiet remembering he's your patient not your friend. He folds his arms across his chest and raises his eyebrows at you.

"My bad," you apologize, quick than he intended. Wasn't expecting an apology anyway. "How was your past two days?"

"Like usual, the doctor was nice tho." He tells you making you smile. Happy that he found the doctor nice. Kim Seohoo. The new doctor that you weren't aware of until this morning when you were looking at the reports of your patients. It was clear that Dr.Kim would take over your patients when you weren't here and vice-a-verse.

"That's good to hear." You speak fixing the button of your coat at 25° angle. "I heard you listened to him?" You lie a question with curious eyes. You needed a good report about Dr.Kim so that Jungkook wasn't uncomfortable with him.

"I can work with him when you're gone." He shrugs. "Anywho, he's less annoying than you."

"I'm glad to hear that being honest."

"Good,"

"Good."

Why would he want to care about your expectations when he can't even match his own. How can yoi be so okay with the idea of him calling you annoying. Now that was annoying to him. This also reminds him of how his mom made a big fuss when he'd cry for help from her. Before he even realized, words fall quick from his mouth. "You know if I told the same thing to my mom back then, she would've punished me."

"Punished you?"

"Punished me." He nods, voice getting a little tense. "I wasn't allowed to eat dinner and breakfast for the following day. She'd punish me." The anger in his voice was evident which made you listen to him fully, keeping your attention to his words. Having a thought to remember them to put in his file.

"I was ten when it all started," He continues. "and I know I was the problem cause my dad would never stop her. He was powerless under her gaze for some reason. What's even worse was that they were in love. He was - still is - in love with her. It hurts me."

"You're not the problem, Jungkook. Every child deserves a parent but not every parent deserves a child. Your parents loved you, your dad lov-" You reassure him but his anger was getting the best of him. Frowned eyebrows, he scoffs aloud cuttig you off.

"Love? Bullshit. If he really did love me, I wouldn't have to go with the bullshit his wife did to me." Hard to believe for him that his dad actually loved him. Hasn't seen his dad for a long time now and hates to see his mom who drops by every now and then.

"Believe me, Jungkook." You remind him the promise of yours, "I mean it when I say that every child deserves a parent. I'm not excusing your parents behaviour towards you, never will, but you have to let it go."

"Let what go?" He scoffs. "Fucking bullshit." He groans under his breath with a tsk.

"If your parents can't forgive you, you need to forgive them. What you went through was sickening and the result for all of it didn't come out too right or good either." You pause, forming words that would make better sense for this situation. "Let them go for your own freedom."

"What freedom? Huh?" His hand forming into a punch as he slaps the front of his thigh, anger waking up giving you a warning to fuck off amd stop giving him knowledge for this so-called 'freedom'.

"Freedom to what you have in future." You sigh, "They already ruined your past. Don't let them ruin your future either. Let them go."

"You're all bullshit." He mutters finally looking away from your eyes, the truth behind your words were big for him to understand yet. He knows you're correct about letting them go. He had to let them go or he'd go more insane day-by-day.

Knock on the wood thrice, or you'll die.

You knock on the bench thrice, the voice in your head was pretty loud to ignore and potential risk was even louder in those noises. Your mind is distracted upon hearing the announcement through the speakers, faint noise of the staff telling the patients to come out of their respective places to come and eat in the cafeteria.

"C'mon, let's go in." You stand up from, the bench as Jungkook does the same not wanting to talk with you anymore. His med time was also near and you were aware cause the way his face settled with a frown was clear enough that he'd go insane any minute.

A mission that you made in your mind was to make sure he knows the taste of freedom every now and then. You're sure that the moment you step in your room, you'd open the bucket list that you made for him to discover and then tick the 'park' box off.

And sure you do that. The first thing when you enter the room after dropping Jungkook off with another nurse and biding him bye, you tick off the 'park' box. It isn't easy for him to travel around and you'd need to ask for permission from authorities but you're more than ready to do it for him. For his taste of freedom.

Grabbing the purse which was resting on the table, you unzip it and pop a pill in your mouth with water in your hand to gulp down. You're aware that freedom costs much more than it intends to.

Yours costed your health and his will cost his youth. He already paid and is waiting for the product while you got the product with your payment due.

Payment to freedom. Road to freedom.

wattpad: CH03 (read on wattpad)

A/N

taglist; @seokout @khadeeeeej ‘to be added in the taglist : 🏷️’

Sorry for the late update, enjoy Jellies! This chapter is available on Wattpad & Tumblr. Links are included.

[moonspirit]

Need more if Annie dropping trama without realising it is bad.

“My dad used to not feed me dinner when I made mistakes in training”

“Once I shouted back at my dad and he took away my mattress privileges”

“My dad didn’t have any baby stuff for me so I was left to sleep in the kitchen sink for the first 18 months of my life”

She says if so casually then also says things like, “my dad wasn’t abusive just a big tough”

Everyone else just stares at her like how do h not see it, how are u still in denial

Hi anon!

Hahah I remember there was a similar ask like this sometime back~

I think it's quite fascinating (obviously not in a positive tone) to see how Annie's perception of what is abusive behavior or not can be warped by her desire to receive affection from the very same person who's being abusive.

I think some people perceive Annie as hating her father when she kicked him before leaving Marley, but I don't feel the same; sure she kicked him out of fury, but that wasn't 'hate', that was pent-up anger on her part for having her nose put to the grindstone like that. All it took after that, on her father's part, was to speak a few nice words and hug her - she was instantly touched by that and craved more despite ruining his knee just moments prior for the exact opposite treatment.

This warped affection (and I won't call it wrong, per se) clouds much of her judgement of her father after this and her sole driving force turns into reuniting with her father who's "lovingly waiting for her" in order to try and live in a way that has some semblance to a peaceful, quiet life for the lifespan she's got left.

So no, I don't pit Annie as less intelligent (quite the opposite actually), but when it comes to human relations, I don't believe she's equipped to make what could be considered "healthy" decisions (because she's barely got any healthy experience with this in the first place).

So it does come as a shock to the others when she speaks of her abuse so lightly, like it's something normal. The Paradis boys have known more love in their lives than the post-rumbling Warrior trio; it compels them into shocked silence when Annie goes "well I was starved if I didn't meet my best performance" like she's talking about the day's weather T^T Reiner and Pieck get it, somewhat, but the other boys... oh bOI, good luck trying to get them to calm the fuck down after being told something like that. *sigh*

[gracemain919]

(The Fungus universe)

Tw: Yandere, mentions of abuse

What happens if you insult them?

Just imagine you told them a hurtful ass insult. The insult depends on what the leaders find hateful.

The Liar: He tolerates or mostly ignores anything that comes from you. He has heard it all yet this particular comment stung. Oh, when did you get so smart with words? Did you learn it from him? He almost feels proud, but no matter, such behavior shouldn’t be ignored so expect you will be reprimanded. Either by words or force since you indeed did well, but he is better…

Poison: What? You dare insult her? Pathetic. She doesn’t allow disrespect from anyone. You will be no exception, disobedience should be eradicated. Maybe a bit of a burn to shut your pretty lips or a long entrapment that will make you regret using your voice for anything that isn't singing praises. Why waste the privilege that is the ability to speak for such vile? Disgusting.

The Cannibal: Oh you insulted him? Fine. He really doesn't know what to do next so it’s fine.

Doppelganger: Oh, that was very hurtful… dear. Whatever he does will be a gamble. He can either be more enraged than a drunk celebrity or cry away his feelings secretly. Truly unpredictable but either way if he’s feeling really petty he can simply get the Illusionist to mess with you. Keep you guessing on what’s real or not.

The Illusionist: They will probably laugh it off. Oh, you humans always take everything so personally. Unless if the Doppelganger says otherwise they will just find it amusing.

The Eye in the Sky: Hmm… Ouch. Too bad your family's bank accounts have now been hacked. How can you fix the problem? Apologize. He is a master of blackmail so tread lightly if you want the people you care for to be safe.

The Priest: Why would you say such a thing? After all he has endured for you and this is how you repay him?! No, no. You are probably just in a bad mood, and you don't know the sacrifices he has done for you so how could he blame you? Henry will take it but try to not let it happen again.

[iamjucie]

Pet (18+) pt. 3 of 4

photo credit: @astarionposting

Ascended Astarion x f!reader

Chapter Three: Full

I suggest reading the first two of the series before this, there is a bit of a plot in the porn. Just a little.

Summary: You are finally granted the privilege of being filled with your master.

WARNINGS: Smut, Extremely dubious consent, Mind control/manipulation, Orgasm control, Abusive relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Physical Abuse

I do not say this lightly- Astarion is evil in this. This is an extremely toxic relationship. You have been warned!

(AO3 Link)

Your gaze remains fixated on Astarion, your pupils so dilated with lust that he can hardly see the red in them. 

“Ok my pet,” he coos at you, “what do you desire?”

“I desire to make you happy, master”

“Tsk, you know that's not what I mean.” he begins, putting his feet on the ground and meeting you at your level. He reaches between your legs and grazes his hand over your folds, back to front. He leans into your ear and purrs, “What do you desire?”

A shudder rolls up your spine. You don’t know how he wants you to respond. Your initial response was honest. You sit with a distressed thinking face on as you calculate your next response.

“Don’t hurt yourself now, darling. I would like to have you filled with me before our night ends.”

You look up at him with eyes that tell him all you need to know.

He takes your stare at him as a clue to the answer he seeks.

“Is that what you desire?” he’s leaning into you, slender fingers caressing your cheek. He continues with a whisper, “To be filled with me?”

You stare longingly into his eyes. Fuck he’s beautiful, your lost for words. All you can do is lean your head into his hand and nod.

His gentle smile is stripped from his face as he swiftly removes his hand from your face and connects to it again with a slap, causing you to shriek and place your hands on your cheek where he made his impact.

“What did I say about using our words, hm?” he snaps, tone no longer loving but that of a parent providing discipline. 

You get small and grovel before him. “I am so sorry, master. I did not mean to offend, I-'' you look up at him, connecting with his gaze falling upon you, sopping in pity. “It’s been so long I just don’t know what I- what you want. I don’t remember what to ask for, my mind is not the same as it once was, I fear.”

He sighs, putting his hands onto his knees as he stands up. He rubs the bridge of his nose in thought for a moment. “I suppose I’m partially to blame for that. I wish it wasn’t the case but keeping you in here is the only way I know you will be safe from harm.” He starts to fiddle with the sheets of the bed. “Lack of stimuli for as long as you’ve been in here will begin to dull your mind." his gaze is avoiding yours. Does he know why your mind is slipping? Is he hiding something from you?

No, you think to yourself. You are his Dark Consort. Lovers for eternity. He would never keep a secret from you.

“Maybe I can start making decisions with you again? Like I used to?”  You stand up and approach him with a seductive saunter. “Maybe that would make me sharp and cunning again? Like when you fell in love with me?”

He caresses your cheek and coos, “You are truly adorable, my pet.” he turns from you, beginning to take off his boots. “Help me undress, I’m feeling quite…” he scans your naked body up and down, “...overdressed at the moment.”

You nod your head- then remember your lesson on using your words. “Yes, master. Of course.” 

Once his shirt was removed and he could feel your skin on his, it’s like something awoke inside of him. He shoves you onto the bed, kissing you hungerly and greedily, like he has the hunger of a spawn again- and your kiss is your lifeblood.

Gods, he’s so magnificent. You don’t know how much longer you can wait for him to be inside you. Once you have the opportunity, you blurt out, “Fuck me master.” The desperation in your voice is palpable. So much so that even you might feel bad for yourself if you were an onlooker. “I need to be filled with you, I can’t wait any more.”

He grins ear to ear and sighs proudly, “That’s a very good girl. Great job using your words.”

His praise sends a warm, vibrating sensation to your core and throughout your entire body. You are so happy to have pleased him you can just explode.

No exploding, however. Not yet.

He begins to undo his now modern trousers with several buttons cascading his mound, much different than the ones you once saw him wear so very long ago. The style of clothing changes so quickly when you live forever.

His flawless erection springs free, asking to be attended to. A pearl of precum formed at the head.

“Do you see what you do to me darling? My beautiful pet being so very good is enough to make me hard as a rock.” You feel yourself starting to salivate.

“And you…” he trails his hands down your body, assessing the details of your form. “Are absolutely perfect.”

Of course you are. He made you this way. The absolutely ideal love for the Vampire Ascendant. He deserves no less than perfect. He can’t have anything less than perfect. You would never allow for it.

Your thoughts are halted as he possessively grabs you by the hips. Focusing his attention on positioning his beautiful member to your entrance. He grazes his tip on your folds, moving up to rub it on your clit, drawing a moan from your lips.

He looks at you with a smolder, glad to see you so ready for him. If your moans weren't enough of an indication, then the amount of spend you have coming from your cunt did the job. 

I exist for this.

This is why I was put on this earth.

I exist to serve my master.

The thoughts cycle in your head over and over, unrelentingly loud in your mind until you say it out loud:

“I exist to serve you master, that is why I was put on this Earth”

He leans into your ear, “That’s fucking right you do.”

He pushes into you with the force of a God, quickly pumping in and out of you. Gods, he is huge. You are so full of love and obsession and his- his cock You feel like you can die again. So overwhelmed, so overjoyed, so- full.

You lie on the bed as he brutally fucks your cunt, pumping with unrelenting vigor, leaving your mouth hanging open. His actions draw lewd sounds from your throat. You feel so utterly fucked. 

He stops for a brief moment to flip you so that you are on top of him. You squeak and giggle at the motion, drawing a smile from Astarion’s gaze.

“I want you to ride me, pet.” He hikes his hips in a way that allows his cock to hit the spot that he knows drives you crazy. “I am going to make you come enough times for a lifetime.”

“Oh master I-” you feel yourself losing yourself to pleasure. “I’m so close, master. I’m so close” He reaches his hand to your clit while pumping his cock into your g-spot.

“That’s a good girl” he growls intently examining your reaction to his pleasing you. “Now, be a doll and come for me”

The command slipping from his lips filled your body with white light and heat beyond comprehension. You scream his name and moan as you come positively undone. Your body goes limp, crashing down onto him.

He wraps his arms around you soothingly, rubbing your back. You feel as though you may fall asleep. You are fucked beyond thought, basking in the embrace of both your beloved master and the afterglow of your climax. Astarion’s cock still hard and throbbing inside of you. He is not finished with you yet. Not until his spend is leaking from your cunt and he is empty.

Last chapter: Boots

Next chapter: Pink

[macontheweb]

Today, Australia is voting in a referendum on the Voice to Parliament: an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander advisory body, enshrined in our constitution, that will give our First Nations peoples a say on policy that affects them. A Voice would be the first step in Australia reckoning with its history: a history which has so far ignored and silenced — often violently — the voices of the oldest living culture on the planet.

It is not lost on me that I am a non-indigenous person being asked —again — to weigh in on the future of indigenous Australians. I don’t take that lightly, nor am I sure whether a referendum is right for this. I would have felt perfectly comfortable with a Voice being enshrined without my input. Maybe that would have spared my indigenous friends the emotional toll of begging for political recognition.

But it is the way it is, so I’m voting Yes. I’m voting Yes on Wurundjeri land. Stolen land. Land where I live the kind of comfortable life out of reach for many indigenous Australians.

I’m voting Yes because it’s time for real reconciliation.

And I’m voting Yes because here hasn’t been a single argument from the No camp that I could square with doing the right thing. They say the Voice will divide Australia, but Australia is already divided. They say it will give indigenous Australians an unfair advantage. It won’t, but it will hopefully start undoing the years of unfair privilege white Australians have had in deciding their fate. The No camp has told us, “If you don’t know, vote no,” as if that’s an acceptable thing for our country’s civic discourse. As if the answer to not knowing is not to find out, not to ask questions, not to make an informed decision weighed by evidence.

They say indigenous Australians don’t want it. The polls say eighty percent of them do.

In all areas related to quality of life, non-indigenous Australians are leaps and bounds ahead of the people that lived on this land first. Indigenous Australians aren’t living as long as non-indigenous Australians. They are being incarcerated in disproportionate numbers. They don’t have the same access to high quality education. Domestic violence and sexual abuse rates are disproportionately higher in indigenous communities. The economy, housing, employment…the list goes on and on and on and the stats remain dire.

We are already living in a No world. It isn’t working.

It’s time for a change. I don’t know if we’ll get it. I’m fearful that we are too conservative and too selfish a nation to take this one small step, but I hope desperately when I wake up tomorrow we will have said, “Yes. Have a seat at the table. It’s long overdue.”