setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
PLAYBYS: Sims from the games Sims 2, 3 and 4 are used to visually represent player’s original characters (no characters from within the franchise are allowed). But, you do not need these games to join and roleplay! If you wish, you can post a thread in our out of character / general forum and list as many physical details about your character as you wish. The members of Index will happily try and make a character for you, and you can choose which one you feel best fits your vision.

AVATARS: Avatars should display your characters face clearly and should be at least 200 pixels tall, and 200 pixels wide.

THREADING & POSTING: When threading with multiple characters, it is important that you post only when it is your turn. This can be acheived by taking note of who has posted before you, and remember you are to always post after them. If you were the thread starter, then it is your turn after the final person has joined your thread.

When creating a thread you are required to place a tag before the title. Here are a list of types of thread you can create and how to tag each one:

[Open] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, with no limit on the number of characters.
[Open - #] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, but there is a limit on the number of characters who can join. Replace the # with how many extra characters you will allow to join your thread.
[Private] Only specific characters can join your thread.
[Closed] This tag should be used for threads that only involve your character.

ACTIVITY: To keep threads moving, people are encouraged to post within three days when it is their turn. If you do not post within three days, and you have not asked people to wait for you, it is possible you will be skipped. Keep in mind this is just a suggestion. While we'd love for everyone to be active every day, we understand that real life and other hobbies are just as important, if not more. We want you to be active because you want to be, not because a rule is telling you to be.

MATURITY RATING: Public threads should all be PG. If roleplayers above the age of 18 wish to post content that could be could be considered graphic then it should be hidden from view using the [hide] [/hide] code, which will enable only those in the threads and administrators to view the content.


 [Private] Fucking Irony - Page 3

[Private] Fucking Irony

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Re: [Private] Fucking Irony

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Sun Nov 15, 2015 9:48 pm

I have a couple marks myself that prove otherwise. Maybe I was both, and while sadism sounded the superior option of the two, masochism had it's perks too. Then again, a part of me might have moved on from the latter. The power that came with sadism was a little fucking intoxicating. Maybe the bottom line was, you needed to be a little bit of both if zombies got you hard... Or in her case, wet.



I laughed, and my face fell into my hand before it slid down to scratch my jaw as I shook my head. You're most definitely not my sister. Considering I couldn't look at this chick without having an instant mental replay of her getting eaten out by blondie or riding me as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, yeah, she was definitely not my fucking sister. And if she was, I'd probably just have to embrace the fucking incest. Fuck I could rock a mullet and suffer through a few hick songs if it meant I'd get to relive even a piece of that.

My jaw hung open for a minute, and it shouldn't have taken me by surprise but sometimes she just came out with this shit that obviously put her in the fucking lead of our little game. Are you itching for round two with Mike Tyson, Hawke? Because I gotta say, you at least gotta buy me another drink first. I tried not to grin but it was fucking pointless fighting it.

I was starting to feel like a fucking preteen again. It was only a matter of time before I'd need to find a binder to hold over my fucking crotch. Something as simple as the way she held her fucking pool stick or held the balls in her hands, and that was all it took for my imagination to replace those stupid damn objects with something else. Um. I swallowed, Milddle, yeah. I moved my way around the pool table, placing myself behind her but with a good few feet to spare so I could take in the view. Then just... Line up the eight ball with the dot on the table. My voice trailed off as I leaned my head to the side to get a better view. Was it on purpose? I mean if it was it definitely served a good fucking purpose, but the tears in her jeans... Fuck I didn't even know if it'd be hotter with them off or not.

Oh uh- I laughed, ...Just... I found myself behind her again, and I leaned in, forcing her to bend over the table as my hand reached forward to flick the ball further down so she'd have to stay bent over as far as her body would let her. You want the ball about center- For um, reasons. Which was bullshit, but at this point I didn't give a fuck. Then, it's all about- My hand sat at her lower back as my other reached forward to adjust the stick in her hands. Good grip in the back, and precision in the front. I tried to keep her focused on the stick in her hands so my other hand could slide lower, and yeah, I was looking for that one specific tear. I was looking for that moment when my hand stopped feeling denim and was graced with a moment of skin.

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Re: [Private] Fucking Irony

Michelle Hawke | Human; Citizen

Posted on Mon Nov 16, 2015 7:18 pm

So maybe it wasn’t the intention, but being called Hawke was definitely giving me the game vibe, and that in mind I was really starting to like it. I was diggin’ everything about the way he was talking to me. For the moment, all I could do was grin at him, and I turned my head away once I realized I was biting at my bottom lip. But before I turned away to return to the pool table I shot him another quick glance with a smirk. That all it takes, huh? A drink? Not sure why I’m bothering with this pool table, here, then. I can get impatient sometimes, you know.


It had been my plan for it to take much longer for this to happen. I mean, if I was admitting here that I had a plan. I thought I could at least try to look hot while I took a few shots, whether I actually had any success or not. I’d had this fantastic plan of seeing how long he could hold out with me lifting my ass up in the air, but…  I was too lost even to hold the stick, and I wasn’t complaining that he was ready to show me. God, it was terrible innuendo, but I couldn’t even make myself care.


With him behind me, I did what I set to do before, and arched my back slightly so that my ass was against him and instead of the denim of his jeans I felt the skin of his hand. I grinned smugly, and goddammit, I wasn’t already lost. I let the stick fall onto the table and turned slightly in the small space I had, tugging on his shirt to pull him back against me so that I was wedged between him and the table. And my intentions were always different than what actually happened, because instead of grinning up at him smugly, my breath was already short and I was simply slowly bringing my gaze from his mid-chest (where we met) up to his eyes.

Sorry, like I said, I’m impatient sometimes.

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Re: [Private] Fucking Irony

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Mon Nov 16, 2015 8:42 pm

Yep, that was it. And really, after the first time we fucked I didn't really need her to give me some kind of confirmation that, that's what she wanted anymore. And that was for one simple reason, because the nervousness was gone. There was still some embarrassment to be had if she said no, but, in the end it wasn't nearly as bad because I'd already had a taste. My only problem, which I didn't seem to have with this one, was women flirting. Constantly wondering if they were just fucking teases that would freak out if you made a move or not.

She was fucking terrible, and I meant that in the best way. At this point I couldn't remember who started it, but I could probably make a damn good argument that her presence alone started it. The lip biting, the jeans, the arched back... Those. Fucking. Jeans. I practically had a case built against her already. I don't know, I guess I had a thing for the ''cool'' women. The ones that either played modest or genuinely were. Because it made little things like this, I don't know, better. Maybe I was just into the whole ''chill'' thing about them, and the surprise that came when they were fucking mental in bed. Fuck, I was actually into the fact that she was a little fucked up. Did that make me just as fucked up? Or more?

This place wasn't packed, but there were still people around, and I just didn't give a shit. When she turned around I was almost disappointed, I was looking forward to watching her bend over this table again, and again... And again. This isn't how you play the game Michelle. I said it, but I was already reaching down under her thighs to lift her up and put her on the table. Unless you wanna play something else... I propped my hands on either side of the table and waited for as long as I could, and I fucking mean that, I really did try to hold out but there was a tension with her. And it'd only increased when we moved over to play a game of pool. I should have saw it coming, playing pool with women always turned me the fuck on.

I leaned in with intent to make her meet me half way, but I only hovered for a minute before whispering a quick Fuck it. And going in the full one-hundred percent. My hands ran over the tears in her jeans and it was in that moment when I realized what sent me over the edge. It was a combination of everything she'd done, really, but it was that short breath I heard come out of her when she turned around. A fucking breath, and I was toast.

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Re: [Private] Fucking Irony

Michelle Hawke | Human; Citizen

Posted on Sat Nov 21, 2015 9:07 pm

I was starting to learn the power I had, and I hoped that wasn’t an obvious fact. The idea that I could make him lose it here, on his turf in front of his guys was a little intoxicating. Don’t worry, it wasn’t lost on me that I felt like I was actually the one who had lost it first. I think? Shit, I wasn’t keeping score but we were likely even. All I had to do was have one little memory of the other night and I’d pretty much kill to relive it. And yeah, the opportunity was there. Quoting one of my fave online cartoons, “Hell yes, you take the carrots!”


My breath caught as I felt myself lifted up onto the table, and fuck, that was his other weapon against me. That strength to lift me up like I was a fucking ragdoll had me in pieces all over again. Now if only he could have the ability to make the rest of the world disappear while we had a little bit of fun. (Technically, he did make his buddies leave the table. Was it so much more to ask that they step outside for a little bit?) Yeah, my mind was already on how I could take my clothes off and have his literal claws all over me. Then again, this was his territory, and I figured if I asked really nicely, he’d make something happen.


I felt his lips on mine and I reached up feeling the stubble of his face. My fingertips almost scratched at it and instead of the way I usually liked it, teasing with the lips, I decided instead I was begging. I begged with my raging kisses as one hand gripped his jaw and the other climbed up his shirt, pressing into his chest. I never even dreamed I’d be with a guy so fucking ripped, let alone twice, so I was going to fucking appreciate it, right?


I felt the cord of his necklace, and in my mind it was just another way for me to physically beg. My finger tugged, pulling playfully until I felt the cool metal of the ring. I stopped kissing long enough to look at him and catch my breath.


Where can we go? I asked, my voice raspy and hushed, and my hand still on the cord of the necklace I started to pull him back to me, my finger sliding into the ring.



….
…..


And then it happened.


…..
….



My view was different and I was right in his fucking face, and my wings were flapping frantically. Wait. What the fuck?!?! Wings? Since when did I have fucking wings? I could feel them flapping against his face and I tried to get away, but my foot… no. What the fuck!??! What the fucking shit was happening? I had a fucking talon, and it was stuck in the ring on his necklace. Of course I was too frantic to realize this was the actual problem. I had suddenly turned into a goddamn bird. Nothing made sense and all that was in my now tiny little head was getting my raging wings away from Vincent’s face. Finally, I closed the claws of my talon and fell onto the pool table as it slid back through the ring

But I was me again, a person, and I rolled onto the table, my back hitting the group of balls. At first, I looked around, panicked, my eyes as wide as the goddamn pool balls that were now scattered on the table. Then, I looked at Vincent, and I couldn’t stop it. Laughter. I fucking laughed. In fact, I was literally wheezing. I spoke, I actually spoke, but it was a barely recognizable spit of “The fuck?” in between wheezes and silent, breath taking laughter.

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Re: [Private] Fucking Irony

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Sun Nov 22, 2015 5:30 pm

Was it fucked up that I didn't give a shit who was watching? Was it even more fucked up that I wanted her to be forced to beg me to get rid of our audience so we could continue? And even more importantly, was it most fucked up that I wanted the audience to hear her beg me before I sent them on a walk to Bennigan's? That was a rather specific sequence of events, and yeah, most likely it wouldn't happen that way, but the idea was hot as fuck and I was holding out hope I'd hit that point zero one percent chance of hitting the jackpot.

I felt her hands on my skin and I reached under her legs, and they slipped to the place behind her knees before my hands slid up the back of her tights, slithering over the tears that no doubt would be used to shred those jeans off of her inch by inch before the night was done. It was too fucking convenient to pass up. You're not goin' anywhere. I grinned, They are.

-

I had no fucking idea what happened. I couldn't even explain it, except the obvious, that being the fact that Michelle had just vanished, and some fucking black feathered thing was right in my fucking grill and I instinctively tried to back away from it despite knowing it was connected to me somehow. The bar had been silent for the first few seconds, but it only took those first few seconds before laughter began bouncing off of the walls. Yeah, fucking laugh it up clowns, don't help, just laugh. That laughter morphed into hysterical laughter and I closed my eyes, trying to spare them the wrath of this fucking thing flapping in my goddamned face. What the fuck?! This wasn't real, no fucking way this was real. I'd seen some pretty fucked up and unbelievable shit in my time, but this topped all of those by far. How the fuck did this even-?

And then it stopped, and Michelle was sent across the pool table and I knew there was only one logical explanation, but the fucked up part was that wasn't even fucking logical let alone fucking possible. Now she was laughing and I was still trying to process what the fuck just happened. What was the last thing that happened before... I scanned my memory, which was fucking hard because I remembered having some fantasy about tearing her jeans off... And I remembered feeling her hands on my skin... And the warmth of her legs when I- Wait... ''Keep it safe, keep it close, and never put it on.'' I remembered her tugging on the chord, but- Maybe it was something else, maybe Michelle was keeping some fucked off secrets from me, but I couldn't help but connect the dots, I couldn't help but assume because I knew fucking witches were nothing but damn tricksters.

I finally looked to Michelle, realizing that what had just happened, happened to her too. Fuck, I'm sorry- I rushed over to her to help her off of the table, You okay? I asked, but I wasn't really listening for an answer. What the fuck just happened?

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