Hypersexual Disorder [muke]

I'm a addict, baby.

if  i could i would feel nothing by blackbear
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The look of many emotions crossed the woman's face when I tugged my jeans up, but I only cared to pick up on one; dejected.

That look almost made me want to stay with her. Almost.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" I ran my calloused fingers through my hair while I took my keys off the rather short nightstand, having to bend my knees a little to even reach the damn thing.

"C-can you stay?" Jasmine whispered hesitantly. "Just once?" Her voice held too much hope for my liking, the tone reminding me of a child hoping for more than one treat.

"You know how it is, darling." I spoke sweetly, hoping to make that naive heart flutter like I always do.

By the look in those doe eyes I know I haven't lost my touch. Good.

I lean down and peck her forehead while caressing her freckled cheek, letting my chapped lips linger a bit longer than I'd like. "I'll see you around, darling."  I mumble against her forehead before stepping back, watching a shy smile spread across her lips before I turn to leave.

"Goodbye, Baby!" She spoke sweetly as I pushed the dingy white door open, my eyes traveling across the chipped paint along the edges before stepping out without a goodbye.

I let out a sigh once the door shuts with a click. God I hated pet names. I didn't quite understand them, but it seems to let me get my way with almost everyone.

I let myself walk rather slowly out of the apartment building, too many thoughts bombarding my slow-moving mind. I didn't realize I was at my own apartment until I'm pushing the black door open and getting hit with a wall of stench.

"Ashton, I already told you to stop smoking weed in the apartment!" I groan and shut the door, glaring at the curly headed man munching on fruit loops.

"But you see Lucas, you weren't home and I was very bored and I wanted to spice up my day a bit." Ashton says innocently with a shrug before jumping up onto the countertop rather clumsily, squeaking as he nearly slips off the slick granite.

I snort and stroll into the kitchen, shaking my head in disapproval. "Get a hobby or get a job, okay? Maybe that'll 'spice up' your day." I nearly whine from how annoyed I am. I hate the smell of marijuana.

Ashton giggles like a child that succeeded in pissing off their parents, small fruit loop chunks falling from his mouth. "Baby, don't act like you're mad." He says playfully. "I never get mad when you bring strangers back here to fuck, do I?" He raised a brow while I rolled my baby blues.

"Ashton, that is literally nowhere near the same thing, alright?" I sigh and rub my face, trying to calm down before I tear him in two.

"But you call me a pothead and get mad when I call you a sex addict, how is that fair?!" Ashton shouts with a confused look on his face before shoving a handful of fruit loops into his mouth, looking at me for a answer to his question.

"I'm not a addict, I just happen to like sex. I'm good at it." I shrug and grab a orange out of the fridge, beginning to tear at the annoying peel.

"Well guess what? I just happen to like pot sooo." The curly headed man says sassily, seeming rather satisfied with his answer.

I didn't even waste my energy on a answer, simply rolling my eyes for the thousandth time that day and biting into the juicy orange slice, scrunching up my nose at the sour taste. I always liked my oranges sweet.

I set the rest of the Orange into the garbage with a huff, rather annoyed that my appetite is now ruined.

"I didn't know you were rich." Ashton scoffed while watching me drop the peeled fruit into the garbage. That was the last straw.

"Can you just shut the fuck up?! Stop commenting on every little thing I do! I don't care!" I snap, my eyes narrowed at the man across the island while I huff like a beast about to attack it's prey, soon gritting my teeth as he chuckles.

"Lucas, go get your dick sucked, alright? Maybe that'll make you stop being one." Ashton rolls his eyes and hops off the counter, slowly walking to his bedroom without caring to shut the door.

I stand in the kitchen on the verge of screaming, my knuckles turning white from how hard I'm gripping my hands into fist and I'm pretty damn sure the vein in my neck is popping out. He practically called me a slut.

The thought alone made me feel sleazy because no. I'm not a slut. I just like sex. A lot. Many people do and I don't see a issue with it, if you're good at it and enjoy it why should you be ashamed of doing it? I know Ashton didn't mean to hurt me like this, but it just pisses me off. Maybe I did need help, maybe I was a addict.

I shake my head with a sigh before walking over to look through the mail on the countertop, feeling my bank account drop just by looking at the bills in a perfect little stack. Lovely.

I huff and look through the magazines along with other useless items we don't ask for, not wanting to even glance at the bills at the moment. A certain paper catches my attention.

Addict Friendly Group Therapy
Concur Your Addictions While Making       Friends!
Monday-Friday 6-8pm
All are welcome!

I stare at the paper for quite sometime, the wheels turning slowly in my head before I pull out my phone and maybe, Just maybe, I put the number and date into my phone. And maybe, Just maybe, I planned on dragging Ashton with me.
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So this was kinda awful but aren't all my stories so far?? Please tell me what you think and all that good stuff! :)