Verse: A World Of Own Design - Tumblr Posts
"Tell me what you want. In details." (for Anne from Marin)
SUBTLE SUGGESTIVE SMUT PROMPTS :
Anne takes a deep breath in and lets it back out shakily. She feels a fool, eyes covered by a strip of cloth she's tied there herself, but she's...learned things about herself. Funny things. Things she doesn't like other people being able to take advantage of but which, for the sake of whatever's between Marin and her, she needs to at least share a bit of.
It's just easier to share with the stupid fucking blindfold on.
"I en't...--this is all theoretical, aye? I en't...had much...'experience,' as it were. Just lonely thoughts." Jesus, she's rambling. Unsure of what else to do, Anne takes a running start at things, going at it headfirst. "But I like bein tied up." She startles even herself with that admission, immediately going red under the blindfold, across her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Her hand clenches in an unconscious fist. "...I think. Like...bein told what to do, made to do it. Just a game. I like playin rough, sometimes. Sometimes...not." That's the harder one to admit.
All the ones left she can think of like this are the harder ones to admit.
"One said something nice 'bout me, once. He saw how I acted and kept goin on 'bout it, and eventually I came screamin for it. That...could be nice again. The, ah. The compliments and the...finishin first." For a change. "Been wantin to try usin my mouth, had someone's mouth on me." Now the worst one: "Be in the center of a group." It feels selfish. Cheeks burning hotter, she quickly adds, "Or...try a group again, least ways." She bites her lip for a moment, thinking. The blindfold makes it all easier. Breathing. Talking. Confessing. Going along with it. She's stopped feeling dumb in it a while ago, some distant part of her glad for the flimsy excuse it offered to go with the ebb and flow.
"I...want not t'be in control, 'cept when sometimes I do. Wanna learn how, for...if I choose to. And I like--adrenaline. Hate-fucking, or after a battle, or...," shamefully, this particular magnetism is so often upon Anne she can never quite parse its source, distracting as it is, "...what have ye. And I like...bein of service. Bein used for it, a' times, or figurin out how to...help get ye there. S'pose I want it both ways in that.
"Don't know what else. Like I said. Lack of experience." She sits quietly, but doesn't move to take the blindfold off. Not just yet. Not in case there's...more? (She can't tell if that's hope or dread unsettling her belly. Maybe both.)