#m4a

[liberalsarecool]

Removing health insurance and using medicare for funding universal health care should be the obvious goal for any progressive candidate.

Blocking treatment costs more money than providing treatment.

[drafts-and-delusions]

Baby Saja as your lover

Tags: established relationship, fluff, emotional intimacy

mii favorite saja boy💗 i love all the guys but i clearly have a bias. saw his hair and immediately thought of Suga. I'm definitely losing my soul to them, heck i might just offer it atp

🎀 Masterlist 💄 Request Guidelines

Baby is dangerous in how well he plays the part of a sweet, doting boyfriend. He’ll nuzzle into your shoulder wearing that fuzzy pink sweater, pout when you don’t give him attention, and send you voice messages where he calls you “babe~” in the softest voice. But don’t be fooled. He watches you like prey. Knows where you are, who you're with, what you're thinking of. "You're mine," he says with a giggle, arms circling you like chains. "Don't make me prove it."

Baby doesn’t just fall in love. He claims. He's not interested in typical romance. He doesn’t date you. He takes you.

He’ll take you to abandoned rooftops at midnight. Carnival rides that mysteriously start on their own. Neon-lit arcades no one else seems to enter. He’ll feed you candy, then casually mention how it’s actually soul-flavored. Kidding, he says. Or is he? When he kisses you, it’s slow, playful, and a little too still. As if the air itself is holding its breath. "Does your heart skip," he murmurs, "because I’m cute? Or because you know what I am?"

He laughs when someone flirts with you. Until he doesn't. Then he gets quiet. Dangerous. The next day? That person has "mysteriously" disappeared. "You only need one fan, babe." And he means himself. Forever.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Austerity creates fascism

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2026/04/13/always-great/#our-nhs

I'm worried about AI psychosis. Specifically, I'm worried about the psychosis that makes our "capital allocators" spend $1.4T on the money-losingest technology in the history of the human race, in pursuit of a bizarre fantasy that if we teach the word-guessing program enough words, it will take all the jobs. That's some next-level underpants-gnomery:

https://pluralistic.net/2026/03/12/normal-technology/#bubble-exceptionalism

The thing that worries me about billionaires' AI psychosis isn't concern for their financial solvency. No, what I worry about is what happens when the seven companies that comprise a third of the S&P 500 stop trading the same $100b IOU around while pretending it's in all of their bank accounts at once and implode, vaporizing a third of the US stock market.

My concern about a massive collapse in the capital markets isn't that workers will suffer directly. Despite all the Wonderful Life rhetoric about your money being in Joe's house and the Kennedy house and Mrs Macklin's house, the reality is that the media 95% US worker has $955 saved for retirement. You could nuke the whole financial system and not take a dime out of most workers' pockets:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/955-saved-for-retirement-millions-are-in-that-boat-150003868.html

No, the thing that has me terrified about AI is that when it craters and takes the economy with it, that we will respond the same way we have during every financial crisis of the 21st century: with austerity, and austerity breeds fascism.

There's a direct line from every K-shaped recovery to every strong-man who's currently sending masked gunmen into the streets. The Hungarian dictator Viktor Orban rose to power after people who'd been suckered into denominating their mortgages in Swiss francs lost their houses when the currency markets moved suddenly, because the swindlers who'd sold them those mortgages took the position that wanting to live somewhere automatically made you an expert in forex risk, so caveat fuckin' emptor, baby.

Back in America, Obama decided to bail out the banks and not the people. His treasury secretary Tim Geithner told him the banks were headed for a catastrophic crash and could only be saved if he "foamed the runways" with everyday Americans' mortgages. Millions of Americans lost their homes to foreclosure as banks, flush with public cash, threw them out of their homes and then flipped them to investment banks who became the country's worst slumlords:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Americans were understandably not entirely happy with this outcome. So when Hillary Clinton replied to Donald Trump's "Make America Great Again" with "America is already great," her message was, "Vote for me if you think everything is great; vote for Trump if you think everything is fucked":

https://www.politico.com/blogs/2016-dem-primary-live-updates-and-results/2016/03/clinton-america-is-already-great-220078

"Austerity begets fascism" is one of those things that makes a lot of intuitive sense, but it turns out that there's a good empirical basis for believing it. In "Public Service Decline and Support for the Populist Right" four economists from the LSE and Bocconi provide an excellent look at the linkage between austerity and support for fascists:

https://catherinedevries.eu/NHS.pdf

Here's how they break it down. Political scientists have assembled a large, reproducible body of evidence to show that "public service provision is crucial to people’s perceptions of their quality of life and living standards." Good public services are the basis for "the social contract between rulers and the ruled" – pay your taxes and obey the laws, and in return, you will be well served.

When public services go wrong, people don't always know who to blame, but they definitely notice that something is going wrong, so when public services fail, people stop trusting the state, and that social contract starts to fray. They start to suspect that elites are lining their pockets rather than managing the system, and they "withdraw their support" for the system.

Fascists thrive in these conditions. Fascists come to power by mobilizing grievances. By choosing a scapegoat, fascists can create support from people who are justifiably furious that the services they rely on have collapsed. So when you can't get shelter, or health care, or elder care, or child care, or an education for your kids, you become a mark for a fascist grifter with a story about "undeserving migrants" who've taken the benefits that should rightly accrue to "deserving natives."

(This is grimly hilarious, given that the wizened, decrepit rich world is critically dependent on migrants as a source of healthy, working-age workers who pay massive amounts into the system while barely making use of it, many of whom plan on retiring to their home countries when they do reach the age where they're likely to extract a net loss to the benefits system.)

Enter the NHS, a beloved institution that is hailed as the pride of the nation by both the political left and the right. The majority of Britons use the NHS, with only 12-14% of the population "going private," so when the NHS declines, everybody notices (what's more, even people with private care use the NHS for many of their needs).

Britons love the NHS and they want the government to spend more on it. There's "a broad public consensus that the government is not going far enough when it comes to funding." That's because generations of cuts to the NHS have left it substantially hollowed out, with major parts of the service handed over to for-profit entities who overcharge and underserve.

The most tangible and immediate evidence of this slow-motion collapse comes when your local general practitioner ("family doctor" or "primary care physician" in Americanese) shuts down. The UK has lost 1,700 GP practices since 2013.

Reasoning that a GP closure would make people angry at the system, the economists behind the paper wanted to see what happened to people's political beliefs when their GP's office shut. They relied on the GP Patient Survey, a longitudinal study run by NHS England and Ipsos Mori. The survey asks a statistically significant random sample of patients from every GP practice in the NHS and then weights the results "to reflect the demographic characteristics of the local population according to UK Census estimates." It's good data.

The researchers cross-referenced this with various high-quality instruments that measured the political views of Britons, like the U Essex Understanding Society Panel, drawing on 13 years' worth of surveys from 2009-2022, gaining access to a protected version of the dataset with fine-grained geographic information about survey respondents, which allowed them to link responses to the "catchment areas" for specific GPs' office. They combined this data with the British Election Study panel, which has surveyed voters 29 times since 2014.

Most of the paper describes the careful work the researchers did to analyze, cross-reference and validate this data, but what interested me was the conclusion: that people who see a severe degradation in the quality of the services they rely on switch their political affiliation to one of Britain's fascist parties – UKIP, the Brexit Party, or Reform – parties that have called for ethnic cleansing in Britain.

This is what has me scared. We can see the looming economic crises in our near future. If it's not the AI crash that triggers the next wave of austerity, it'll be the oil crisis created by Trump's bungling in the Strait of Epstein. And of course, we could always get a twofer, because the Gulf States that were pouring hundreds of billions into AI data-centers now need every cent to rebuild the LNG shipping terminals and oil refineries that Iran blew up after Trump, Hegseth and Netanyahu started murdering all the schoolgirls they could target. Once they nope out of the AI bubble, that could trigger the collapse.

This is a study about the NHS, but it's not just about the NHS. It's perfectly reasonable to assume that people react this way when they experience cuts to their road maintenance, their schools, their community centers, and any other service they rely on. Fascism – what Hannah Arendt called 'organized loneliness' – can only take root when people stop believing that their society will reward their lawfulness with an orderly and humane existence.

The crisis is coming, but whether we do austerity when it gets here is our choice. Everywhere we turn, political leaders are rejecting generations of failed austerity in favor of "sewer socialism" – the idea that you get people to trust their government by earning that trust. Zohran Mamdani is fixing 100,000 potholes in the first 100 days, despite the multi-billion dollar deficit that outgoing Mayor Eric Adams created by "running the city like a business":

https://prospect.org/2026/04/10/zohran-mamdani-getting-new-york-city-believe-in-government/

In Canada and the UK, party leaders like Avi Lewis (NDP) and Zack Polanski (Greens) are vowing to fight the coming crises by spending, not cutting. Compare that with UK fascist leader Nigel Farage, who says that if he's elected, he'll create a "paramilitary style" British ICE, building concentration camps for 24,000 migrants, with the hope of deporting 288,000 people per year:

https://www.thenerve.news/p/reform-deportation-operation-restoring-justice-data-surveillance-palantir-uk-labour

"Socialism or barbarism" isn't just a cliche – it's actually a choice on the ballot.

[oatboy]

Visit Original Link

Was jerking off with my fleshlight and decided to record myself for the first time.

[dioxaspikes]

NSFW/+18 AUDIO! MINORS DNI

"Baby... Baby...! Baby! Oh, I love you!"

✧⁠*⁠。SMUT AUDIO - V/Kim Taehyung (BTS)✧⁠*⁠。

Category: Sub!Tae, M4A, hand job, completely consensual, both speaker and listener are adults.

Audio: 2:15 / BGM: arreglo floral - AKRIILA ft. Kidd Voodoo

DISCLAIMERS:

Even though this post mentions V, this is a 100% fake scenario, and the audio was made by another person. This has zero intention of defacing, nor trying to create any rumors regarding this artist. This has no intention of offending any viewer of this post either.

It would be very appreciated to keep things civil and respectful in the comments. There is a block option in case you don't want to see my content and it's completely okay to use it. Hate comments will be deleted.

The original audio was made by Emptysigh/Leo, and he has two Twitter accounts (with the same name) that you can find for more audios!

He covered his eyes with the pillow while you beat up his dick, leaving him breathless. He knows he can always count on you if he needs an act of love.

Enjoy!

[fairyprincessteaa]

Hey!! I've been reading your fanfics for quite some time and I saw that you are looking for requests... So I was thinking, could we maybe get another Jax x reader fic but I'd love to see kinks involved this time... for example dacryphilia?? I'm grateful for anything and frankly just you taking your time to read this is more than enough, tysm! <3

Jax x reader (rqst)

Warning: 18+, dacryphilia, M4A, explicit content, pure smut, smut

You looked up at Jax as his hips aligned with yours, bracing for him to push into you. His eyes were trained on you, watching your every movement. For some reason, you felt yourself growing sentimental at the thought that he was watching you so intently while he fucked you. You can't remember a time where you've ever felt so…loved before, despite the situation. His hand grasped beneath your hip before he slowly slid his cock in, only half way though, before pulling almost all the way back out.

Your eyes began to well up with tears from the feeling, before he thrust himself into you. Deep. You gasped, your hands reflexively reaching out to the bed to anchor yourself. Not that you needed to, with how hard Jax was gripping you right now. His eyes were dark, hungry and all-consuming as he repeated his movement, inching out of you before thrusting again and again. You let out a languid whimper feeling him so deep inside of you, you eyes pricking with premature tears, before a few fell from your eyes.

Suddenly, you felt his dick twitch from deep inside of you. Your eyes flickered upwards, only to see him staring back down at you with even more focus. The expression on his face was one you couldn't quite define. Like he was torn between wanting to make sure you were alright, and wanting to pound you into the mattress. His free hand reached up to your cheek, wiping a stray tear away, before thrusting harder into you. You couldn't help it, the intimacy, the sensations, all your emotions decided that this was the perfect time to let themselves be known.

The tears flowed before you could even comprehend them, reaching up to softly hang onto Jax's arm, your hand draped across him with a gentle grip. His hips snapped forwards suddenly, the grip he had on your face hardening slightly.

"@#!$, you look so good like this…"

He thrust in again, this time, setting a steady pace that rocked you back and forth against the mattress. You felt his cock press into one of your most sensitive spots, causing you to cry out and your brows to angle upwards, your tears slowly rolling down your cheeks as you looked up at him.

"Nngh…Jax—"

He pounded his hips forwards, watching the cascade of salty warm tears trickle down your face, your eyes now reddening and lachrymose, your lip quivering from emotions way bigger than you.

"AaHhh…ngh…Jax wha—"

Thrust.

"NNGhh…" You whined out, holding onto him tighter, feeling your cheeks heat as the pleasure overwhelmed you, wanting to pull him close and bury your face against his chest. You reached a hand up to wipe your face but he stopped you.

"Don't wipe them away. I wanna see your face like this."

"But I don't want to look a mess while we—"

"You don't look a mess. You're the hottest goddamn thing right now…@!#$….you don't know how hard I'm holding back from just…wrecking you…"

Your felt your stomach flutter at that, and apparently Jax felt it to. He groaned feeling you squeeze tighter around him as he said that.

"You like that too, don't you?"

A/N: To the anon who requested this, first of all, thank you for the request. And I hope that this was okay, I have to admit I've never written about this specific kink before but it was really interesting and fun to do. (I did know about this kink though.) Anywho, please let me know if you liked it, or if there's anything I could imporve. I love to learn new things so I'm open to constructive critisism, Thank youuu :3

[odinsblog]

Trigger warning: death

Question: How does someone as moronic as her keep getting elected?

Answer: “A people that elect corrupt politicians, imposters, thieves and traitors are not victims… but accomplices.”

[anjeliquesworld]

Thaddeus x Reader

Note: this is a gift for my Thaddeus lovers‼️🌚 This will be the last update for the time being, I'll be back soon. Love you all💋

*Inspired by chapter 59*

Cw: slow burn,nsfw,mdom,mdni

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Steamy Lesson

The cold breeze envelopes you into the timeless nights of Kowloon Hell as your mind races back to the events that led you here.

It all began on that island—an isolated stretch of land where the D-rankers were gathered for testing. The mission was simple: survive or be slaughtered. But it was there, between the chaos and bloodshed, that you and Thaddeus crossed paths.

It was on that island that you asked Thaddeus to be your teacher. Watching him fight stirred something deep within you—his combat skills were both terrifying and mesmerizing, leaving you in awe while also sending a chill of fear through your veins.

You glance around. The training area is secluded, hidden beneath the shadow of a ruined building. The growing darkness of dusk makes the atmosphere unsettling.

The name of this city, after all, is spot on. It does look quite like hell.

"Are you ready, little one?" And there he is, with his annoying little smirk.

You couldn't stand him. How could you?

He's an asshole pretending to be a goody two-shoes. You can't wrap your head around the fact that everyone finds him fun to be around.

He's just a little brat, walking around like the world belongs to him.

That smile of his, the one that always lingers on his lips, as if he's holding some secret he refuses to share, makes your blood boil. It's as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, teasing you as if he finds your irritation amusing, as if your every reaction were a game to him.

You hated how effortlessly he seemed to get under your skin. It's maddening. If only he'd stop dragging you into his twisted games. But no, he's always there—the more you try to ignore him, the more it feels like he's just waiting to prove you wrong.

And now that you've spent even more time together, as if it were possible, Thaddeus seemed even more irritating. The tension between you two is palpable, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air, charging every movement, every breath. The training sessions were a constant reminder of the fine line between hate and desire.

Several weeks had passed since your first lesson together. You remembered his words:

"I won't be a gentle teacher," Thaddeus said. "I will push all your limits. You'll learn discipline and perseverance."

And it was very much the truth. He did, in fact, break all your boundaries and limits—not that it was a bad thing. He's a good teacher; he just has a very unique and questionable way of teaching.

But it was worth it. You made great progress.

"Today you'll fight me," Thaddeus snapped you out of your thoughts, throwing some bands at you to wrap around your hands. "Should we make a bet, doll face?" His languid smile threw you off. You were startled by this sudden change of behavior; his eyes sparked with mischievousness.

"What kind of bet?" you asked cautiously. It was obvious that this was just another one of his twisted mind games, where he is the only one to take pleasure from ruining others.

"If I win," Thaddeus continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "you'll have to follow my orders for the next week. No questions, no complaints."

Your mind racing as you weighed your options. Thaddeus wasn't the type to lose, and the thought of being under his orders unsettled you. But then again, you had no intention of letting any weakness show

"And if I win?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing tension.

Thaddeus’s grin widened, a glint of something darker in his eyes. "If you win, I'll leave you alone for the same amount of time. No games, no tricks, just peace."

It sounded alluring .Too good to be true.

A rare opportunity to be free of his manipulation, but something inside you told you it was a trap.

"What’s the catch?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled softly"No catch, doll. But you'll have to earn it."

The Apostle assumes a combat stance, smirking quietly to himself.

He revels in your reactions; they ignite a dark, dangerous fire within him that he can't quite comprehend. That relentless, stubborn attitude of yours drives him to the edge, making him eager to break you—body and soul—in more ways than one.

"Let's see what you got, doll face," he says mockingly.

This will be interesting, he thinks to himself.

--

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound being the soft, rhythmic thud of your shoes against the ground.

Thaddeus’s eyes gleamed with that familiar playfulness as he took his stance once again.

"You can’t even keep up with the basics," he remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as you struggled to block one of his kicks.

"Still think you’re ready for this?" His gaze pierced right through you.

"Shut up, asshole." With a fierce grunt, you lunged forward, aiming to land a punch.

"Oh~" he chuckled. "You shouldn't run your mouth. I'm your teacher, doll face," he said, dismissing your attempts to hit him.

Thaddeus came closer, positioning himself behind you. You could feel the heat emanating from his body.

"Here, let me help you." His lips brushed against your ear, his whisper low and husky, his hands landing on your waist to correct your form.

The heat from his touch seared through your body, as if it burned you. You flinched but didn’t pull away.

"Relax... you're too tense," he murmured, his breath warm and tickling against your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Thaddeus noticed your reaction and smiled to himself, pleased. He relished the power—even if minimal—that he held over you.

He enjoyed toying with your senses—he squeezed your waist, light yet possessing, before letting go.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge how his proximity affected you.

"Let's try it again."

---

Your body was on fire, every muscle screaming from the relentless pace. You knew Thaddeus was toying with you, deliberately letting you get close enough to think you might land a hit—only to dodge at the last moment. But his movements were smooth, almost predatory. You were both breathing hard, drenched in sweat, but neither of you was willing to admit defeat.

But just as you lunged one last time, your movements faltering for a split second, his hand shot out, catching your wrists.

In the blink of an eye, Thaddeus had you pinned against the wall. As you looked up at him, time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

"Looks like I won," his tall figure towering over you, making you feel tiny and vulnerable.

"Get off, weird glasses," you said, trying to sound indifferent, as if you weren't at his mercy.

He leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nope, I don't think I will."Thaddeus's voice was soft, but the challenge in it was unmistakable. His grip on your wrists tightened, and you could feel his pulse beating against your own, matching the erratic rhythm of your heart.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing for a way to escape his grasp. You tried to shift, to use your body weight to your advantage, but it was futile.

"Let go of me, Thaddeus," you spat, venom lacing your voice, though even you could hear the uncertainty beneath it.

"Tch, tch, tch," he murmured, lowering his head. "I'm the one who won the bet, pretty little thing."

It was the confirmation you’d dreaded: all of this was a trap. He had you exactly where he wanted.

Thaddeus traced a finger slowly down your jawline, then lifted your chin with deliberate tenderness. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours. You closed your eyes, feeling the light brush of his lips against yours, and for a heartbeat, you wondered if he might kiss you. The mere possibility twisted your stomach.

But no. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours.

Thaddeus, clearly delighted by your reaction, let out a soft chuckle—a mocking, dark sound.

"You're a challenge, doll face," he whispered, his voice low, a dangerous edge to it. "And I like challenges."

His gaze searched yours, seeking something you couldn’t quite name.

Hate? Desire? Hunger?

"I’ll kiss you," he said abruptly.

Your eyes widened at his words. You turned your head, as if the movement could banish the turmoil rising inside you. "No," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. You wanted it—and the thought maddened you.

Thaddeus raised an eyebrow, savoring the sight of your flustered expression. "Yes," he said, and before you could protest further, his lips crashed against yours.

This was no gentle kiss. It was rough, hungry, possessive—an expression of all the unspoken tension between you.

Thaddeus held you with one of his large hands, pinning you in place, while the other slid down to your waist.

Every instinct in your body urged you closer to him.

Thaddeus softly pulls away, his lips brushing gently over your lower lip before he breaks the kiss.

"I knew you wanted this as much as I do," he murmurs, the words lingering in the air between you. A shiver runs through you at his certainty, and it makes you painfully aware of the truth you've been hiding—how much you've pretended not to feel, how much you've denied the pull of his presence.

You meet his gaze, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effects he has over you. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"I hate you," you snap, the words laced with frustration—anger not just at him, but at the burning, forbidden desire that threatens to unravel you.

Thaddeus's lips curl into a knowing smile, a low chuckle escaping him. He sees right through the mask you’ve so carefully constructed.

"Hate me all you want, doll face. But you’re still here, aren’t you?"

He didn't need you to say it out loud:the kiss has told him everything he needed to know.

This wasn’t just a fleeting game anymore.

"Show me how much you hate me," he says, smirking knowingly. But you don’t have time to respond before his lips meet yours once more.

He lifts you effortlessly, without breaking the kiss—everything about him is too easy, too confident. It feels almost natural to be in his arms, as if this is exactly where you belong.

He sets you down gently on the weathered table, positioning himself between your legs.

A surge of irritation courses through you, and before you can stop it, your teeth sink into his lower lip, biting down with enough force to draw blood. The sharp, metallic taste fills your mouth, but it’s quickly drowned by the heat of his mouth on yours.

Thaddeus hisses, his breath sharp and shallow but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightens around you, his body pressing closer, his heat seeping into every inch of you. “You have no idea how much I love it when you’re like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark...sending a shiver of something you refuse to name spiraling down your spine.

The words vibrate through you, igniting a hunger that you try desperately to suppress. But with each movement, each breath, you feel yourself unraveling further, helpless against the pull of his touch, the ache in your chest that makes it harder and harder to remember why you hate him so much.

With a kiss that mirrors the intensity of his passion, he takes a handful of your hair and tilts your head to expose the soft curve of your neck. He whispers in your ear, his voice low, "You drive me insane," before pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, biting, suckling—marking you.

Thaddeus hums softly to himself, savoring the sight of his marks upon you—so innocent,so delicate. It stirs something primal and visceral within him, a deep, aching hunger that refuses to be ignored.

In the back of his mind, clouded by desire, a thought urges him to stain you further, to make you submit to him. Only to him.

Thaddeus stands over you, breathing heavily.You’ve both crossed a line now. His touch, his words—there's no escaping it.

"You're mine now," Thaddeus murmurs, his voice dark but oddly tender as his gaze softens just enough to make your heart skip.

"Open your mouth," he commands, his voice low, almost a whisper, but heavy with authority.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze on you; however, your head tells you to follow his instructions to please him.

Slowly, you part your lips, looking up at him as if you were a puppy waiting for its owner's praise.

He smiles, pleased with your obedience, his eyes tracing every subtle movement you make. Then, without warning, he slides two of his fingers into your mouth. A small, almost inaudible whimper escapes your mouth as you take in the thickness of his fingers.

"That's it," Thaddeus murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. He begins to move, his fingers deepening inside your mouth. "Yes, good puppy," he praises, his tone dark and laced with dominance, amazed by how effortlessly you submit to him.

His breath quickens, each inhale sharp and shallow, as the heat between you intensifies.

The warmth of your mouth, the sight of your complete submission, and the way your tongue swirls around his fingers—it's almost too much for him to bear.

He pulls his coated fingers from your mouth, bringing them slowly to his lips. His eyes never leave yours, dark with lust and intensity, as he licks them clean, savoring the taste of you.

You almost whine in protest but then,realization hits you.

What the fuck just happened?!

You push him away with all your strengths

The pull between you is undeniable. You're tangled up in his world, in his games.

You turn around facing him once more.

"I hate you," you whisper, but the words feel empty now.He already knows the truth.

And with that awareness you storm out the training area.

The kiss, the tension, the games—this isn't over. Not yet.

.

.

.

.

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