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Tess's Trifles

 
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Chills.

"Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold, and that we had rubbed it before the fire, and it had lived."

— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Diary Entry March 1815
 
I am not what I am. (AKA let's write a better Iago!)

https://66.media.tumblr.com/599b7678bd2f3b6aca9f4bb39f67f371/tumblr_nghwkjEhal1u1fycbo1_500.gif

https://66.media.tumblr.com/1372eb0d74f7b61b7c57dbb1a9b57573/tumblr_ochc2jaCVh1vd0u3ko1_250.gif https://66.media.tumblr.com/4b929774d2da7ceb247c26ef384dec7a/tumblr_ochc2jaCVh1vd0u3ko3_250.gif

After these violent days
You still love
And I still take

Stay with me
I think you could save this beast
But I'll leave you in an empty room
Honey, that's what takers do
 
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thestruggle said:
Baaaaaabe, this was PERFECT. I want to write a femme Iago in the worst fucking way.
Click to expand...

I thought you might like it. The Pretty Reckless, Halestom, and In This Moment are all pure win. That one just screamed you, though. I had to let it know you existed :)
 
IvoryTigress said:
I thought you might like it. The Pretty Reckless, Halestom, and In This Moment are all pure win. That one just screamed you, though. I had to let it know you existed :)
Click to expand...

I've loved the ITM you've sent me! The Pretty Reckless one makes me think of Clancy. Oh, Clancy, my darling. Sigh.
 
Small Sacrifices.

"Just put you on a pyre, somewhere."

"You'd sacrifice me? I think you'd sacrifice to me."

The bite is harder this time and I squeak.

"I like the ones... you know the ones? Milk and honey-"

"Oww!"

"-they'd amputate a leg, or something, slather the place with milk and... honey, sticky."

"Oh."

He laughs in my ear and angles my neck away from the soft places he wants. He always wants the soft places.

"Put 'em in a boat and send it off."

"What for?"

The rain is continuing outside. Has been all weekend, and he gestures at it, lazily.

"Rain? Victory?"

"Mmm."

"Now you tell me."

I'm quiet. I'll stretch it out until he makes me, and he knows it, which is why the clench of his fingers on my right rib make me gasp. He used to treat me like a present that could expire, or a paper sculpture. He's the first person that had ever been inside of me.

"Tlalo--hey! Tlaloc!"

"Who the hell is that?"

"The Aztec god of rain. I think, anyway, Aztec. Maybe Mayan..."

"What'd they do?"

"They would pinch the intended sacrifices on the way to the altar, to make them weep."

"For?"

I dig my nails into his back but he just keeps looking at me, his fingertips scooping the neckline of my nightgown. I feel a pang of disappointment that he's not gripping tender points with his thumb and forefinger. He smiles at me.

"For fertility, I guess. Crops, future rain. I read that they would paint glue over their noses... mouths... drop them in tanks of water."

All this time the air in the room has been shifting - the blankets on our legs are getting close, even though we're so sprawled that it can't possibly make a difference. A small change. A different taste. He'll breathe differently and faster. His mouth will open mine instead of just the merest of brushes against it. It frightens me. I keep giving it up.

"Suffocation."

"Right. No water would escape. But I don't know if that's true. That could be sensationalized."

But he's found his point now. I leave these things as unexpected breadcrumbs, that no one ever followed before, and he picks them up. He doesn't devour them, though. He transforms them, sculpts them. Permeates my sense of them. And now he bends over, darts his tongue between my breasts.

"Do you think I need something to suffocate you?"

His teeth flash out again, too hard, into the skin underneath.

"Why would you want to?"

"Scary for you? Breathe for me, princess."

And later, when he pulls out of my cunt, stretching pink with his fingers, he lifts them back up to my tongue. He holds my hand to his briefs to feel the mess I've made on him. All over him.

"Feel how soft you are in there."

And I know that I've been praying for this, praying for rain. His spit on me that I read as an augury, I trace it now. He fucks me in temple. Cum banquet.

Feast me, Daddy.

And he does.
 
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Looking through this thread today has been interesting. What a crazy five years. There were times when I was all over the map and worried about what defined me. There were relationships and breakups where I stifled things I should never have erased, because my partner didn't want something that I did.

Cat is right, as ever - never compromise yourself. I'm proud of this silly little corner and silly little me.
 
thestruggle said:
It is, gorgeous. I think for me it's the constant process of growing up... I've confirmed that the "up" portion doesn't have a conclusion.
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Truth, pretty lady. I'm always amazed when I go back and look at characters and how I can make them much deeper because of experiences with growth in my personal life. Almost like removing a filter you didn't know was there.
 
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