No purpose

Why? Simple. They gave us 7 wonderful characters and basically did nothing but drag them through a bunch of meaningless plot (which wasn't even executed that well). Sure, they fleshed out their characters and I appreciate that they each have their individual trauma that gets brought up every so often (*cough* besides S4 *cough*), but I think they handled the relationships between them poorly, despite trying to shove down each of their dynamics down our throats. I'm not saying I didn't like how they tried showing us a new dynamic each time, that's not my problem. My problem is that this whole family is so shitty to one another and it never gets addressed.

There's not enough apologies, not enough acknowledgement of certain events that happened that would otherwise make someone normal hate you. The whole moral compass of the series is skewed imo (wdym Allison acted like a total bitch and also killed Viktor's kid, then says she's in the right and that she doesn't need to apologies and she gets the best ending, with Ray and Claire??? Also Diego has this hero complex and tried literally going against Lila's wishes and locks her tf up in a room when they're fighting the guardian and he gets slapped then kissed for it??? And then they MARRY and decide to have KIDS???).

Not just that, but there's so many characters and such little focus on them. They're just dragged through the story like puppets, acting only in a ways that are convenient to the plot. They don't get a breather (Klaus gets SHIT ON, man 😭) and it's so fast-paced that some things simply don't make sense (Sloane and Luther decided to marry after like, 5 days? Seriously? Then there's Peabody and Viktor, who basically ran away together in a very short time span, as well. We barely got to know the Sparrow family; Marcus is obliterated immediately, then the venom girl and the chin guy whose names I don't even remember just die randomly; these are just some examples).

I think that instead of putting so much focus on shit that doesn't matter, they could've fleshed out the dynamics better and created a family that slowly learns to get more functional. That's the beauty of growing up in an abusive household with siblings, isn't it? That you grew up with the only people who will truly understand you and your experience. It should be a reason to bond, to grow stronger, or to ultimately break apart. Problem is, neither of those things happen. They stay together and remain just as toxic and uncaring about each other as usual (no one wonders where Klaus is when he's missing from important family matters, they still pretty much outcast and overlook Viktor, no one really cares Five is back beyond being surprised and demanding answers, plus so much more I won't talk about because this will get even longer). There's also the 'sisters stick together' shit they tried pushing down our throats before Viktor's transition which was forced as hell. Realistically speaking, Allison's done nothing for Viktor to warrant some sort special treatment. She also only cares about her kid when it's convenient (and she's extremely stupid abt it lol, wdym she knew they were in a different timeline and she still broke into someone else's house expecting to see Claire?).

I didn't like the way Klaus treated Ben and how he didn't tell his family about him (the old one, obviously). Luther got dumbed down soooo much that it was painful to watch. He basically caused the first apocalypse, let's be fr. Diego and his hero complex annoyed the hell out of me, because they made him this sort of 'role model' for the men, this 'macho man' who is nothing but a man raised in the patriarchy with a savior complex and who wants to be the leader so bad even though he has shown no qualities of it. Seriously, every time he tried being a leader either no one listened to him or he failed. He also has the lamest power and him and Lila were clearly not meant for a family life.

Speaking of which... Can we talk about how all the main women fall into some dumb trope? Allison is the worried mother, Lila (SOMEHOW) becomes the mother with three children that needs 'protection' (mind you she's considered a 'bad mother' because this life isn't fulfilling enough and she searched for a bit of excitement with the 'book club'). Hell, even Viktor had a kid before his transition. Why did all the women need to turn into mothers? Lila could've been just fine fighting crime with Diego or something without having kids. Sloane immediately married a man and he kept saving her, then Jennifer is also just a girl to be saved by Ben... Do you see the pattern? Sure, there was Fei, but she never got to rule or anything and then she got killed off. Abigail was just... There. I guess she won in the end, but she still got 'rescued' by Reggie. Gene was cool lol. Didn't like the way she died. Don't even get me started on Eudora Patch. Diego kept disrespecting her wishes yet he was still always in the right, somehow, and it's portrayed as banter rather than Eudora actually trying to establish boundaries. Fuck me.

Why does Allison, in the new universe (S4) get back Claire as well as Ray??? As far as I'm aware, Diego didn't get Patch back and neither did Viktor get Harlan or Sissy back. I know Ray ultimately left her, but still. Not even Luther could keep Sloane, and also Dave didn't come back either. I don't fucking get it. Why does the backstabbing bitch Allison get everything she wants?

Let's talk Ben now. I loved him before the Sparrows. After? I truly thought they were setting him up to be better, to change from the asshole he was into the old Ben as he got closer to the family, but nope. He remains the same asshole that sometimes cares. Very rarely. He didn't even seem too bothered by losing his whole other family, either.

I wish the relationship between Viktor and Five was fleshed out more. Again, there was so much potential, yet their relationship goes nowhere. They keep abandoning each other and honestly, was the threat from Five in S3 necessary? (Watch out watcha do or imma kill u myself woooo 👻). They would've had such a good dynamic, too. Viktor had been outcast his whole life from his family and Five's lived alone for 45 years. They could've both bonded over the loneliness they felt and how they're both outcasts now. Maybe Five could've helped Viktor with his powers?

Viktor and him playing the violin barely gets brought up after S1. We don't even know if he plays anymore. While yes, you could argue he doesn't play anymore because last time he destroyed the world, 1. We're not explicitly told or shown that and 2. It would've been beautiful if we heard him play again and had him overcome that trauma. Maybe he could've learned to control his powers better through it. Also, if they wanted to give Reggie redeeming qualities so bad, they could've had Viktor and him bond over the fact that he plays violin just like Abigail, right? Maybe have Reg listen as Viktor plays? Have him give him a compliment? Whatever.

I hate the fact that Viktor is blamed for killing everyone and destroying the world when clearly it isn't. He apologizes, feels bad for it and yet it's not enough. His family acted like dumbasses and handled the situation very poorly, locking him up just like Reggie (seriously, by this point haven't they learned that they should do the opposite of everything that man does when it comes to these matters?). It's unfair to blame him when he was clearly goaded into it (by Peabody at first) and he was highly unprepared for so much power, seeing as he never learned to control it. Anyway, I'll move on from the rant on Viktor because I could talk about how much everyone's wronged him for hours lol.

There's also the fact that Allison could've used her powers so much to solve so many things, yet it was just overlooked for the plot. So annoying. Yes, I understand she's hesitant to use them because of how they ruined her life, but c'mon. I'm talking about saving people (INCLUDING your family) here. And saving the world, y'know. But no, her power was only used in the lamest ways (also to downright attempt raping Luther, which was never really addressed, either. Fun.)

Right. Onto the subway. How come there's all these Fives in the restaurant/cafe, yet none tried sacrificing the family before? Wasn't he all about making sacrifices for the greater good? Also, if he's so intent on saving his family, I think a little montage of him trying all these other options in which he tries saving the family would've been nice before his final decision of sacrifice. To at least, y'know, show he's not a heartless bastard? Idk, either way they botched his character in S4 beyond repair. (Honestly, to think that as soon as Aidan (Five's actor) was of age they had to give him a love interest is just... Icky. Boo director).

Don't even get me started on how it ended. Wdym they have to die and it's their fault the Universe got messed up? It's NOT. If anyone, blame Reggie or Abigail, FFS. They ultimately had to pay for the mistakes of two fucking aliens who couldn't just sit on their asses on Earth and live peacefully among humans. It's such a shit resolution and it's unfair. I thought all of what happened would have a greater purpose, would tell some sort of meaningful story, not just be entertaining. Where's the morale of the story? Where's the justice for the characters?

Maybe it's just a lot of wishful thinking on my part, but this show had so much potential. Instead it just feels like they went through plotlines just to check off every trope from the list. Seriously, the only thing they were missing were dragons or some shit. Otherwise they have it all.

They just kept throwing things at a wall, seeing if they would stick and then never go through with them. Diego? He could've actually grown to be a good leader. Klaus should've stayed sober and cunty, trying to get a new purpose in life, maybe. Allison could've had a fucking redemption arc, but no. Or, you know, they could've made her a full antagonist. Just pick a damn side. Viktor should've stayed mad at her. He was way too civil with her imo. Hell, they could've developed Lila and Five's friendship WITHOUT making it a romance. That would be been nice, too. Maybe to teach Five that he doesn't need to do everything alone to save his family. I already said my piece on Ben.

And Luther? I feel like he got the most development, somehow. He got smarter in S4, he became a damn stripper and a damn proud one (fucking slay holy shit) and he's ultimately the glue that ties the family together. He was honestly great. Sad that he couldn't leave his old home behind and move somewhere else to discover himself now that he's not tied to his father, but oh well.

One more thing I want to address: the stupid 'family should stick together no matter what' narrative. Again, something that gets shoved down our throats without really having a good point besides for the plot. Why SHOULD they stick together when they treat each other like shit? Haven't we learned that family isn't everything? That you should let go of it if t doesn't bring you anything good? Isn't the point supposed to be that you can choose your family? I would not choose the Hargreeves as siblings EVER. I have siblings. If they ever treated me like the Hargreeves treat each other, I'd have cut them off long ago.

I'll address the Five/Lila thing a bit, but not too much because everyone's talking about it anyway. First, Lila technically didn't cheat because she asked for a break from Diego (very much justified, considering how bad their married life was going). Whatever, let's say that under the circumstances, it made sense for Five and Lila to fall in love. Five's been alone for very long and they both got stranded for seven fucking years. They both felt lonely and there was no one else to rely on. I guess it's plausible. Doesn't explain WHY it had to happen, but oh well. Not like it contributed to the plot with anything. Plus, after seven years you can't tell me Lila came back, Diego gives her one good phrase and suddenly she wants him back??? I thought she was only coming back for the children?? Ugh. I dunno guys.

There's many more things I could talk about, but this is long as hell already lol. It's all jumbled because I haven't proofread it and I'm not planning on it. It's a rant and I didn't want to go through the effort of making it more fancy. If I get to organizing stuff I never finish it lol.

I may be wrong on certain points because I obviously can't remember every detail in the show. I'm happy to have civil discussions in the comments if anyone disagrees with me. Please keep in mind that all I've written here are just personal opinions, though. No need to get heated, right?

The operation would cost a lot. You were already looking into ways to make more money, like taking on side jobs or taking out a loan from the bank--all while driving your van. In retrospect, it probably isn't the best idea to stress about such things while driving.

You nearly miss the stand at the side of the road with the big sign, offering 1 dollar per... Click? Strange. It sounds like an absolute scam, but you're desperate enough to check it out.

You pull over, park in the most careful way possible and make your way to the colorful stranger--and what a sight he is: all pastel colors and sharp features. His eyes are that shade of blue that's equal times mesmerizing and creepy.

He perks up at as soon as you arrive, putting on a salesman smile. Pretty charming. Those teeth could blind a man.

"Hey there! My name is Harvey Harvington and welcome to my booth! Each time you click on me, you get a dollar! Sounds like a sweet deal, doesn't it?"

You quirk your brow, unimpressed by the animated man. He bats his eyelashes at you as if pleading for you to try this ridiculous scheme out. He grows nervous under your stare, his charming smile beginning to falter.

"Too sweet," you say suspiciously, eyeing the sign above him. What does 'one click' mean, exactly? "Do I just..." you poke him in the hand lightly. The counter at the corner of the sign goes up. "Ah."

He doesn't flinch, but the tendon in his hand twitches. "Just keep clicking!" he encourages, rolling his shoulders and trying to relax.

You shrug internally. If this thing is not an actual scam, it might just be worth it. You keep tapping his hand, the silence stretching on and making things awkward. You weren't in the mood to talk right now and he seemed content on just uncomfortably watching, so...

After about twenty 'clicks', he encourages you some more. "C'mon, you can do it!" He offers another dazzling smile, like he really means it. You counter it with a dry look. What's there to be so happy about? This guy is weird. He falter immediately, looking sheepish. "I, err, I'll shut up."

You poke him some more, distracting yourself with more stressful thoughts. What second job could you even get? You're already burnt out as it is. Maybe you could be a babysitter, though you absolutely do not have the patience for a child. Maybe some retail work? You don't have patience for dealing with random people, either...

"Um, one more thing, actually..." he interrupts your train of thought, chuckling nervously. You look up at him, bored. "There's the, um, shop button. When it glows yellow, it means you've unlocked a new item!"

You turn your gaze to the said 'button'. It says the next item costs 100 clicks. You furrow your brows, looking back at him. "How do I get my money if I give my clicks away for stupid items?"

"I think the items are supposed to help you achieve your goal faster...? It's sort of like a game!" He sounds way too confused for his false confidence to fool anybody. Suspicious, given the fact that he owned the booth, presumably. "For example, I think if you use the next one, you'll get more money per use."

You stare at the price. You were pretty close, so why not. At this point you're in too deep.

The bottom of the stand opens up and you bend down to see the item: a feather. You pick it up and inspect it. Harvey seems just as surprised by the discovery. He doesn't object as you brush it against his knuckles, though his fingers do twitch.

"Hehe, that tickles," he flexes his hand, but puts it right back where it was. "Keep going!"

You check the counter. He'd been right--now the currency went up by two points, rather than one. There's also a next item you could purchase, its cost 500. Huh, this is pretty motivating.

You keep tickling the back of his hands, but boredom quickly ensures. 500 was a hefty goal and the sun hit your back just a bit too hard. You needed a distraction.

You take his hands and lay them out, palms facing upwards. He watches curiously, not interjecting with any annoying comments. Gently, you run the feather over his skin. He keeps his giggles in, but he can't hide the way his fingers itch to curl.

"Uh, ahem, this is a bit... I mean, not bad, certainly, but..." he feels the soft bristles of the feather brush against the insides of his wrists, causing him to shiver, "...strange," he finishes. He waits a moment to regain himself. "... Keep going, though!"

Your eyes flick to his reaction with interest. "Sensitive?" you murmur, nearly a tease if it weren't for the genuine intrigue in your expression.

He flushes slightly. "N-no! No, not at all! You're doing a great job!" he adds as an afterthought, like he has encouragements scripted out.

So he is ticklish. Very ticklish. Now you want to find out just how bad it could get. You lean over the stand to reach closer, brushing the feather against his cheek. He jolts back, surprised, but then settles back into place as he's reminded of what his job is.

You drag the thing down to the side of his neck, watching as a muscle in his jaw twitches. Then you bring it just under his chin, flicking it gently. His Adam's Apple bobs up with the effort of holding his laugh.

"Hey, now, you're getting a bit..."

He doesn't get to finish as you trail the feather down his neck, right under his bowtie. A strangled noise escapes him, sounding like a suppressed, airy giggle. He rights himself soon after, pink dusting his cheeks. "Right. I suppose as long as you keep it friendly..."

It doesn't take long until you achieve your 500 'clicks'. You peer down to see the next item, actually a bit excited. Nevermind the weird circumstances--this guy is pretty entertaining if you know what buttons to push.

You, personally, press the button that gives you a needle. You hold it up to your face, frowning. It blurs as your vision focuses instead on Harvey, who doesn't really know what to think of the item, either.

"A needle? Well that's... Um..." he offers a not-so-confident chuckle, scratching the place where you tickled his neck earlier. "... Be gentle?" There's a quiet plea under his jesting tone. Okay, maybe not so quiet. It's clear he's a bit unsure of the business he's gotten into, as well.

You test the object, lightly pricking your finger in it like an idiot. Yup, that's an honest-to-god, sharp needle. Now, because you have common sense, you're not about to poke a random guy with a needle in the middle of the street. You wouldn't even do that regularly, in fact.

You turn the thing around. Maybe you don't even have to prick him. You try touching him with the other end of the needle. The counter works.

Harvey, for one, seems to be relieved. "Ha, for one second I thought you'd really..." he fixes his bowtie, squaring his shoulders. "Anyway! You're doing brilliant work! Keep it up!"

You drag the wrong end of the needle across each one of his fingers. The money seems to gather nonetheless, which is very convenient, because his reactions are fun. He shivers as you trace the lines on his palms or the veins on his wrists. His breath hitches as you trace the curve of his lips, the shell of his ears...

"T-this is getting a little weird..." he announces through his forced smile, yet he does nothing to stop it. He tries keeping his composure. After all--this is just one strange customer, right? Just smile through it.

You find your lips twitching upwards at how tense he is. Sure, the situation is weird, but he must've lived through this before, right? How does he deal with other customers? Do the items change every time?

Against your better judgement, you find him cute. You're no fool, though--you saw the ring on his finger. It'd catch in the scorching sun each time he'd twitch. A most fascinating object, though, because he kept trying to cover it up with his other hand whenever he had the chance. Hm...

You find you don't care much, as long as he lets you get your enjoyment out of this. At one point you tire of being so cautious. You grab his hand and hold his finger between your own, scratching it lightly with the sharp end of the needle. He freezes, watching you like you were about to kill him, not just slightly prick him.

You don't break through the skin, though. You just leave some faint, pink marks that itch.

"Okay, not so bad," he tries telling himself, running his hand over the marks, trying to get the uncomfortable sensation to leave. You decide it's time to actually test if this guy has normal-looking blood instead of some pastel pink liquid, like the rest of him.

You prick his finger gently. To his credit, he doesn't flinch, but he does wince. "Ow. I don't think that was entirely necessary," he complains faintly, but at this point you tune him out.

A bead of crimson blood gathered on his index finger, looking shiny and perfectly human-like. You've been testing reactions out of him left and right, but it's all been pretty tame stuff. Maybe if you try...

"H-hey!" he jolts as you lick his finger, going red. "What the--t-that's weird!" he stammers, but he remains perfectly still. Like a little puppet.

For what it's worth, his blood tastes like normal. It keeps trickling out the tiny wound, but you don't let it stain anything, keeping the tip of his finger in your mouth. He has no idea what to do with you, so he just avoids looking at the whole fiasco, pretending you are normal. His other hand, the one bearing the ring, drums nervously against the wood.

Surprisingly enough, for each kitten lick you did, you got your money's worth. You get to 2500 clicks, allowing you to purchase the next item.

"... A hammer?!"

He said your thoughts out loud.

You look at it, actually growing concerned. What are you supposed to do with this? Why on Earth would the next item be a hammer? First the pin, now this... You don't like where this is heading.

Still, the more you stare at it, the more your creativity grows. An idea pops into your head, which has you grinning. You lay his palms flat on the stand, fingers as far apart as they would go.

"Don't move, whatever happens," you instruct and you see him gulp.

"I'm not sure about..." but you start tapping the hammer between his fingers in a little, familiar rhythm. He barely holds himself back from yelping. Thankfully, you're good at this game and you don't crush any of his fingers, no matter how many times he expects to feel the pain of it.

He eases up eventually, starting to tap on beat. Somehow, all of this counted as clicks.

"This is pretty fun!" he hums to the beat. "You're keeping up so well--where did you learn to do this?"

Of course, you don't offer the satisfaction of an answer. You need to focus on the rhythm, otherwise you might actually crush a limb (not that you're putting too much force into your hits). 3000 wasn't even that tough of a job. You reach down without looking this time and you pull up a pair of scissors.

Oh.

Once again, you test its edges. Sharp. You look at Harvey, but you can only think of cutting two things: either his hair or...

Your eyes flick down to the shirt under his costume. He seems to follow the trail of your gaze, because his eyes land on the same place and he blushes. He hugs himself as if that would keep you at bay.

"I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but I feel the need to mention that I'm happily married!"

You stare at him, nonplussed.

He gulps. "... And I have a kid?"

Nope. You beckon him closer with one finger, elbow on the stand and scissors at your hip, in the other hand. Agitated as he is, he leans forward, a few drops of sweat forming at his forehead.

You give him an unimpressed look and he drops his arms with a hint of indignance. "Alright, fine, but--" you don't let him finish, hooking your finger under his bowtie and pulling him closer still. He stumbles over the stand, using his hands to brace himself.

You bring the scissors just below the bowtie, making him promptly swallow whatever else he was going to say. For a tense moment you keep him there, suspenseful, until you make your first cut. Then the second, then the third. He shudders each time the cold blade accidentally touches his skin.

You make an opening in his shirt which reveals his abdomen and stomach nicely. You'd have thought this man to be a twink before you made the discovery of how absolutely shredded he was. He also lacks any sort of body hair, which, to be fair, fits him and his doll look. Maybe that's what he's going for. Maybe his partner likes it.

"S-stop staring like that!" he whines, the flush having spread to the tips of his ears. He's terribly shy, it seems. It makes you smirk.

"Or what?" you ask, taunting--testy, even. You're not trying to be too mean, but you can't help yourself. He's so deliciously reactive. You trail the tips of the scissors down his abdomen, too light to leave any sort of injury. He trembles like a leaf in the wind and this time you can see the way his skin gains goosebumps.

He gulps. "I don't know... But I don't like it!"

Boo-fucking-hoo. You continue with the scissors until they hit something solid. He tenses.

It's his belt.

He holds his hands up, quivering slightly as if that would change anything. A slight breeze hits the newly exposed skin of his stomach, making the tattered material of his shirt flutter. He doesn't notice any of it, instead looking at you, pleading with his eyes to not do something reckless.

Fine. You put the scissors away for now, letting them linger just out of his reach. Instead you find you want to caress his pale skin just like the wind. The muscles in his abdomen coil with tension as soon as you brush your fingers against his bare torso. You let your palm spread out slowly, your touch surprisingly warm. He exhales through his nose sharply, gripping the edges of his stand.

"No, seriously--I have a wife and she wouldn't be too happy about, um, this."

His words are lost on you as you trace his ribs with feather-light touches, moving up to his pectorals. As soon as you discover one nipple, he jerks away.

"Okay! This has been fun, but--" he looks around and regretfully finds no one. His teeth clench, but he goes right back to pleading. "This isn't a game anymore! Please."

How could you deny him when his eyes are so wide and beautiful and when his voice is so whiny? You cup his cheek, bringing him close yet again. He doesn't fight it, instead his Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallows back more of his pathetic whining.

Your thumb traces his lower lip, making it quiver. "You like begging so much..." you whisper, right against his cheek. His eyelashes flutter. "Tell me, would you beg for a kiss?"

"W--are you out of your mind?! Of course n--" but you tug at his bowtie sharply, cutting him off. He chokes on his words.

"You wanna be able to feed your kid?" your voice is low, a warning. "You have to play along."

The look in his blue eyes is now conflicted. Angry, defiant, fearful--but ultimately defeated.

"Fuck, fine--" he grits his teeth and sucks up. "I... Please, give me a kiss."

You grab his chin, tilting it up so he couldn't hide the defiant look behind the pathetic facade. "You can do better than that," you murmur, condescending.

He debates with himself further, a storm going on behind those icy eyes, but it dies out soon enough. He gives in with a sigh. "I need--" he swallows, "I need it. Please. I need a kiss so bad. I want to--" his mouth clamps shut, realizing a hint of actual desperation crept in. Heat rushed to his face. Is he really this needy? Sure, things have been rocky with his wife ever since he lost his job, but surely he couldn't be craving affection this bad. Not from a stranger, at least.

The tip of your nose brushes his cheek as you lean in. Your hand finds itself at the back of his head, gripping the pastel strands and holding on tight to keep him in place. "Good," you praise, your breath hitting his lips. You graze them just barely and he shuts his mouth, frozen in place. He's restraining himself out of guilt, fiddling with his ring.

"L-listen, I don't know if I..."

You don't let him talk, taking his breath away by pressing your mouth fully to his. He doesn't jerk back (yes, you would let him if he did), but he doesn't respond, either. He lets out a trembling breath through his nostrils, uneasy and yet...

He finds your lips don't feel that bad. You're quite experienced, too, the way you were coaxing him to reciprocate rather enticing. Lord, Eun-Mi will never forgive him for this.

Slowly, hesitantly, he parts his lips. You stop and wait for his next move, wanting to accommodate him. You nearly pull back, until he finally starts putting his mouth to good use. His style is shy, curious--and maybe a little bit hesitant, given that he's ridden with guilt. Even so, it's a bit late to turn back now.

You part from him just when he's getting a little more into it and he nearly follows your lips. He catches himself, closing his mouth tightly in embarrassment.

You can't help but smile, letting go of his hair and brining your hand up to his cheek instead, leaving a dull throb in his scalp. "More?" you tease.

He looks anywhere but at you, shameful yet wanting. "... Please."

This time, you offer him all. Your lips dance with his gracefully, matching his pace and urging him to break free from the shell of guilt he's put himself in. The deed is already done, he might as well enjoy it.

As if sensing your thoughts, he whines and parts his mouth, asking for more. You give it to him willingly, licking into his mouth until you find his tongue--a real struggle, given that it seems just as shy as he is. Even so, as soon as they meet, he slides it against yours like he hadn't tasted someone in a while. How sad.

The kiss gets sloppy as you pull him closer, making him bend over the stand. He hitches one knee on it to reach you better. What a desperate, little thing.

Your hands snake around his shoulders, pushing the remaining layers off. He's left in his pastel bowtie and pants. He shivers at the change, now feeling the sun burning his skin. A light sheen of sweat makes him nearly glow.

He doesn't dare touch you yet, like it's a boundary he's not ready to cross--like he'll somehow cheat on his wife more if he dares to use his hands. ...Or perhaps he's just shy. Either way, you don't care. You reach to purchase the next item without really looking what it is. You pull out a box of matches, which finally tears you away from his pretty mouth.

He's dazed for a few seconds before his eyes land on the same thing. "What...?"

You light a match and bring it close to one of his nipples, which snaps him out of whatever trance he was in. He jumps back, clasping his chest. "Wh-what are you doing?!"

He watches with wide eyes as you climb over the stand and tear his hand away. Swallowing thickly, he waits for the inevitable pain to hit, face turned away and eyes squeezed shut.

There's pleasant heat. Then, as she brings the fire closer, it gets hotter. His nipple gets engulfed by the tiny flame and he yelps before he could really feel anything. You're not discouraged.

He feels it--the flame gets too close and it burns his sensitive skin--except you take it away before it could really start getting painful. This way it had just been... A lick of flame. A tease. It sends a pleasant tingle right down to his groin, unfortunately.

"This is--insane," he pants, but he doesn't pull away when you do it to his other nipple, as well. The effect is the same. You blow air on them after, too, making him feel even more sensitive.

After enough of this game, you envelop one sensitive bud in your mouth, running your wet tongue over it soothingly. He has to grip the edges of his stand to keep upright.

"Nghh--fuck," he whispers breathlessly as you lick over the other nipple. "Hah-haven't you tormented me enough?"

You pull away, matches long forgotten as you take in the sight of him: hair disheveled, bowtie askew and chest glistening with your saliva. His lips are slightly swollen and, despite all his protests, his pupils are wide-blown. He looks needy.

You step closer, caging him in as you reach for another item over the counter. You have no idea how this game goes, but your best guess is that the stronger his reaction is, the more money you get. Maybe that's why you could afford...

... A knife.

Harvey looks at it, still panting. His gaze lands on you next, not surprised anymore. He instead seems curious about what you'll do with it.

You twirl it in your hands, getting a feel for it. It's a standard kitchen knife, nothing out of the ordinary. You let the blade run down his torso lightly enough that all he feels is the cold of the metal and not the sting of it. It doesn't fail to get a shudder out of him.

Once again, you stop at his belt. There's a tiny but noticeable bulge growing beneath it. You meet his eyes again and he looks away in shame, squeezing his thighs together as if he could hide it. You let the blade run across it, too, and you hear his breath hitch. It twitches under the attention.

"P-please," he breathes, sweat trickling down his neck. "Tear them apart, I don't care anymore," his accent is thick as he begs like a sinner for mercy.

You huff, not finding the idea half bad. You undo his belt (you're not delusional enough to think that slicing through it would be easy), then use the knife to pop the button on his pants off. You push the tip of the weapon against the zipper and it surrenders under the weight, going down. He jerks as it goes over his bulge.

"Easy," you hiss, pinning his hips in place, "unless you want your balls cut open."

His traitorous body twitches at the thought and he whimpers in embarrassment. "Please, no."

A most peculiar reaction. You stop to consider him, eyes narrowed. He squirms uncomfortably under your stare. Hm. You file that away for later.

For now you're content on tugging his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles. He has pastel pink briefs that match his hair--because of course he does--and thighs that could cause a small catastrophe. You let the tip of the knife trace the hard muscle, making it react. He swallows back a noise, trying instead to keep himself steady on his feet.

"You're killing me here," he hisses through his teeth.

"Am I?" your voice borders on cruel. You bring the knife to the waistline of his briefs, making it catch lightly on the edge. "I'm not hearing your pleas for mercy..." The blade tears through the material easily, lightly grazing the skin below, which has him gasping.

"C-careful where you put that." He tries to keep from trembling, but to no avail. His underwear falls off, his erection finally springing free. You forget the knife, content on checking out what you have to work with.

He's not big by any means. Eight centimeters at best, give or take. Still, it's just as cute as the rest of him and he seems more embarrassed about the fact that he's cheating than his size. That's fine by you.

You let the metal glide over his spine, trailing down until it pokes one of his ass cheeks. He tries to stifle his yelp, but you use your free hand to grab the other cheek and he can't quite hold his reaction back. His hips cant forward as he gasps. How adorable.

"Get on the stand," you order and he swallows down his protests as he looks around. There's no one on this deserted street, but anyone could appear at any time. He hops on it and you spin him around so he's facing the road in all his naked glory.

"I-is this really--" he doesn't get to respond as your hand comes from behind him and finds his erection. You curl your fingers around it and stroke once, twice, until he lets out a moan.

You snigger as he thrusts into your hand. "Don't worry about others. There's not much to see, anyway."

He doesn't register your comment as you keep toying with him from behind. You cup his balls, graze your fingernails all the way up to the tip and you pinch, making him jolt and close his legs with a whimper. He doesn't complain anymore, though. You continue his torment until precum gathers at the slit. You run your finger through it and leave him aching as you redirect it towards his mouth.

"Don--mmnhh," you push past his lips and he purses them around your limb out of reflex. He whimpers as he sucks, his tongue hot and slick under your finger.

"Good boy," you murmur, digit leaving his mouth coated in saliva. You use it to circle one nipple. He's on the verge of breaking.

"Ph--please," he nearly sobs, "I need you to--I'm so--" he can't even finish his sentences, too embarrassed to speak dirty. Cute.

"Not yet," you taunt, taking your hands off of him. He panics at the loss, quickly turning his head around to see what you're doing.

You're undoing your pants. He flushes further, enraptured by the way they fall to your ankles, revealing your plain, but wet underwear. You step out of the pants, grinning as you offer him the knife. His hands are trembling around it.

"What do I..." you guide the tip of the knife to the hem of your panties and he freezes.

"Your turn."

He gulps. He doesn't really know how to handle the thing, but after looking at your face to check he wasn't hurting you, he applies more pressure, tearing a bit through the fabric. He does precisely what you did and your panties fall away, leaving your bushy cunt on display.

The knife clatters to the ground as he observes the wetness cling to your curls.

"On your back," you instruct and, for once, he obeys without question, nearly giddy. His fingers keep drumming against the wood.

You climb up as well, hovering over him. However, instead of settling in his lap, you go higher until his breath tickles the inside of your thigh. His eyes keep flicking from your core to your face, hands gripping your thighs just to have something to hold on to. He looks like he needs it.

"Hah, you want me to...?" he chuckles airily, nervous. "I mean I can, of course, um..."

You tangle your fingers into his hair, intent on ruining it. "Lick me like your life depends on it."

He doesn't need to be told twice. The look on his face is rather dazed at your words, actually. He strains his neck so he can finally glue his lips to your pussy, dragging his tongue through your folds and all the way up to your clit. You sigh, getting some action at last.

"Keep going," you grind against his mouth without an ounce of shame. "Don't get shy now."

He opens his mouth wide to accommodate your whole heat, kissing and suckling sloppily, the tease. He flattens his tongue against your clit, pushing against it and making your toes curl. You don't have to instruct him much--clearly his wife had him trained. He even drags two fingers to your entrance, tracing your opening slowly. You clamp down against nothing with anticipation, which motivates him to push in.

It doesn't take long for him to find that sweet spot. As soon as he does your back arches and you moan, nearly suffocating him. He doesn't seem to mind, continuing to slide his fingers in and out as he flicks your clit that's sucked between his lips.

The heat in your gut builds up at an alarming rate, but you don't have the heart to stop him. He's so good and you get the feeling that this is going to be one of those mind-shattering orgasms. You let him go on until you feel that familiar edge approach. Your hips grind against his face more desperately and he takes it all with no issue. He makes a muffled noise and redoubles his efforts.

You come with a silent moan, eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Hot liquid gushes out of you, some endind up in his mouth, but he chokes in surprise, making the rest spray all over his face. He sputters and coughs, pushing you away enough to be able to get some air into his lungs.

You don't mind, needing a bit of time to recover, anyway. You sit back on your arms and close your eyes, letting the spasms of your inner walls subside.

It's only once he calms down that you crack an eye open to see the state he's in. Oh, if you could eat a man up. His hair is a mess, face red and glistening with the evidence of your release. Beads of moisture cling to his eyelashes as he tries blinking them away. His bowtie is still on, soaked and askew. Even his stand didn't get spared from your squirting.

"Ah..." he tries his voice out, finding it faint and hoarse, "A warning would have been nice." He clears his throat.

You don't deem his words worthy of a response. Instead you continue watching him squirm as you sit on his chest. He's still achingly hard. He lets his eyelids fall shut, knowing there's no easy way out of this. A bitter chuckle leaves him before his face twists.

"Please," his voice breaks. "I need you. I can't--"

Oh, how he longed to say those words to his wife. To go crawling back to her on his knees, grovelling and begging until his vocal chords give out. She deserves so much more, so much better than a man who lost not only his job, but also his faithfulness. He loves her, of course he does, and yet here he is, lips coated in the release of someone else. He'd dug his ringed finger into someone else's cunt like their marriage meant nothing.

His brows come together, struggling to hold his tears back. How dare he still want this stranger? How dare his cock still twitch at the thought of this damned person putting their hands on him?

"Take me," he holds back a sob. "Take it all and leave. I have nothing else."

You lean in to press a swift kiss to his moist lips, offering him a tiny comfort. He chases after you, blinking a few tears out of his eyes when he finds you won't give him any more.

You turn around, still sitting on his chest, his dick staring right back at you, erect and ready. How naughty. His legs are dangling off the edge of the stand, pants still hanging on his ankles.

You lean in, deciding you've tortured this poor man enough. You lick up his shaft and he jolts, mewling at the sensation. You continuously flick the tip with your tongue, making him writhe. He keeps blabbering mindlessly, pleading and begging as you torment him slowly. It won't be long until he cums.

You use your free hands to fondle his balls, scratching them slightly, which nearly has him undone. Not yet. You pull away, leaving him twitching and aching. Before he could protest, you take him into your mouth, easily fitting the whole thing. Not like there's much to throat, anyway.

His whole body coils, right on the verge. You can't really do much about his release, because as soon as you bob your head once, you feel a trickle of liquid seep out of him and his wrecked cry right after. He cants his hips up until he rides his high and you help him as best as you can.

The tension seeps out of his muscles and he falls back onto the stand with a soft thud, boneless. You swallowed all of him, tasting his slightly bitter and salty release on your tongue. Not much different from the other people you've had.

You turn back around, watching him try to catch his breath as tears spill over his cheeks, mingling with your own release. How pitiful. You feel bad enough to kiss some of them away. He puts a hand on your chest, a weak attempt to push you away.

"No more," he sounds broken. "No more, please."

You've thoroughly wrecked him. His wife will never want him back. He'll get thrown out of the house, he'll lose custody of his kid and he'll end up broke on the streets, begging for just a dollar. He's utterly miserable.

All because of this stupid booth. All because of you.

Are you proud of yourself? He's crying now, an arm over his eyes to try and cover his shame. He won't let you help, either. He just wants you off of him.

You obey, for once, hopping down and finding your pants. You use your shredded underwear to wipe your wet thighs, then pull your trousers on. You sleep commando all the time, so this is no biggie. Because you have a little sympathy for the man, you search through your van for some tissues. You leave him a whole pack on the side of the stand that's not, er... Wet.

Your eye catches on the last glowing button. Seems there's an item you haven't unlocked, though there's hardly any need to do it now. You've gained more than enough money for the operation. The counter says '99999'. There's a place under the booth where the dollars are laid out for you to take. You do, shoving the stack of money in your pockets. You think of leaving Harvey some, too, but you don't want to make him feel like some cheap whore.

There's not much more you can do as he lies on the stand, spent and resigned.

"Go," her urges, nose stuffy. "I don't want to see you again."

With one last glance, you grant him the smallest mercy of today and you leave. You climb back into your van and start the engine, driving off as he stares at the sun.

You wonder if the last item would've been useful at all.