RISQUé

The neon lights flickered above the seedy nightclub as Jake swaggered in, looking like a solid ten in his designer clothes and chiseled jaw. He scanned the crowd, his eyes immediately drawn to the sultry e-girls in the corner, their faces hidden behind neon hair and heavy makeup.

Jake was no stranger to toxic women, in fact, he sought them out like a moth to flame. He relished the challenge of taming their wild spirits and molding them into something more refined. And the ones with daddy issues? Those were his absolute favorite, the ultimate challenge.

He had been through the cycle enough times to know the patterns: the initial sparks of attraction, the toxic fights, the make-up sex, and ultimately, the explosive breakup. But he kept going back for more, like a masochistic gambler who just couldn’t resist the thrill of the game.

Jake had a system, a twisted way of tracking his own personal growth by how much he could endure before calling it quits. He would analyze each interaction, like a scientist studying a petri dish, searching for the telltale signs of toxic behavior.

But deep down, Jake knew he was just a womanizer looking for the next fix, a thrill-seeker who craved the drama and chaos of toxic relationships. And he was damn good at it too, like a pro athlete who had honed his craft through countless hours of practice.

This was his playground, his domain, and he was ready for the challenge. But little did he know, this time, the game would be different, the stakes higher, and the consequences far more dire than he could ever imagine.