Chapter Text
“You’re definitely way cuter when you’re sad,” he says. “Nice and pliable.”
“...”
What was Gangle supposed to say to that? He’d get mad if she let out a word of protest; leave her anxious and confused again. She just wants him to like her.
It’s hard for her to call not saying anything the right choice– she knew what would come of it. Still, she can’t bring herself to dissent, knowing Jax’s temper. It’ll be over eventually, she tells herself.
He’s got one arm resting against the wall she’s backed against, the other playing with her satin ribbons, which she’s almost ashamed to admit charms her. Reminds her of the kind of thing she'd read in a romance manga.
Gangle tries not to look up at Jax, tries not to see anything in his face that might indicate disinterest. Although this was his idea– it always was– she frets that she’s on such thin ice with him all the time, that at any moment she could veer off course and anger him.
She just hopes she’s good enough for him. That as long as she remains nice and demure, he’ll keep wanting her. She knows he likes her that way. That’s why she lets this happen.
His gloved fingers wander down her avatar’s body, rubbing the silky fabric in a way that makes Gangle so worked up she’s ashamed of it. He pulls at her, sometimes rough and inconsiderate, sometimes gentle and caring.
There’s nothing there for him to kiss, just porcelain where her lips should be. Regardless, Jax leans far down to press his face against hers as a matter of course, a poor mockery of a display of affection.
For a moment Gangle wonders if he really loves her, even though she knows it’s probably not real, or at the very least not healthy. As long as she has something to hold on to, to let her keep convincing herself that this is okay. She thinks she might love him too.
“That feel nice, Ribbons?” Jax says, though it’s not really much of a question, more like an observation on his end.
“...Yeah,” Gangle responds anyway. Her voice comes out shakier than she anticipated. She knows he wants to hear that.
“Heh. You’re so easy.”
Jax quits leaning against the wall with his arm in order to get more of a grip on his Gangle, grabbing one of her lower ribbons and pulling at it in opposite directions, stretching it.
That was one of his favorite things to do to her because it always garnered a reaction from her. And to Gangle’s embarrassment, it became particularly erogenous.
It’s not that Gangle dislikes intimacy. It’s not even that she dislikes it with Jax, actually. It’s just… always his idea. Always his way. Whenever he wants, however he wants. That’s fine, she thinks, she can make that sacrifice.
She tries to want it as much as she can. She had pushed down most of the shame when this became a regular thing, for her own sake. If she could get pleasure out of it, it wouldn’t be so bad, even when sometimes she felt so miserable at his disposal.
She learned to stop saying no when he’d punish her, be extra cruel to her, or worse, give her the silent treatment.
When Jax treats her like she doesn’t exist, that’s some of the worst of it. Makes her wish she could go back to being bullied and having her mask broken every day just so that he’d pay attention to her.
Makes her desperate.
Something, anything at all is better than the cold shoulder.
He brings her up so high only to bring her back down even lower.
Gangle clings to him, winds around him for security as Jax coaxes more out of her by playing with her ribbons, tangling them up in the process. It’ll serve as a reminder of what he does to her after they’re done.
He gives a chuckle, one that makes Gangle’s chest tighten as if she’s forgotten the kind of man he is. He’s got her wrapped around his finger, until he pulls away to admire the mess he’s made of her.
Before Gangle can let out a whine in response to losing his touch, Jax grabs her by her torso and easily shoves her to the ground. If she still had her comedy mask, it’d break at the force.
The way he looks down at her makes her feel as physically small as she metaphorically does when around him. She knows she must look pathetic. His face is obscured by shadow, unreadable.
“Y’know, I love you like this.”
He isn’t lying.
“...I love you too.”
Neither is she.