[ if she wasn't trapped between sharon and the mattress, she'd jump out of bed in pure exhilaration, scream, and then fling a middle finger at every single ghost/hallucination she'd come across. but who's to say she won't do that on her way home after this?
because all of the negative feedback, the doubts, and the boulders of low self-esteem that her voices had sprung onto her since day one have finally been disproven. someone in this dark, wicked, and cruel world likes her, not just an ordinary like, but a real like. the kind that her sister has with caitlyn, the type her biological parents had for one another, the way she wanted to have with ekko but life wedged them so far apart that it became almost damn near impossible to gain.
to be somebody's someone was a pipedream, something she never thought could happen to her given her personality, her physique, and her past. mylo had made her feel as if she was the ugly duckling in the group and that a way to a lover's heart was to have an hourglass figure with a lustrous chest, hips, and rear end. jinx has two out of the three, but that somehow didn't feel enough.
but now? now she is enough for someone, and she is doing all that she can to not let the sting that's building behind her eyelids develop into tears. not out of sadness, but out of gratitude. sharon could have marked anyone else in manhattan, someone with more experience, somebody gentler, kinder, or better looking—but she wandered to her out of the horde of someones and jinx can't fathom what she had done to deserve something so lovely, to have sharon.
her heart is inflating way too quickly, and she knows her voices will peck at her brain later about all the dangers of having it exposed like this. but she doesn't care, and she wants to unmask herself to her. they're each other's now—this is proof, and there's no doctoring this (even though her voices will undoubtedly try). her muscles twitch slightly when sharon's thumb caresses over her nipple, the floodgates of her arousal burst through, and a sharp gasp with another moan flows off her tongue. without thinking (how can she?) a hand scrambles off her shoulders and onto her own top—tugging it up to her chin to expose her right breast. ]
You can touch me.
[ she thinks to their tether, finally letting her eyes flutter open but half-lidded.]
I'll stay quiet, I promise. ... Or I can... touch myself later and you can watch? When you swing back by.
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cw: btw it's nsfw now
because all of the negative feedback, the doubts, and the boulders of low self-esteem that her voices had sprung onto her since day one have finally been disproven. someone in this dark, wicked, and cruel world likes her, not just an ordinary like, but a real like. the kind that her sister has with caitlyn, the type her biological parents had for one another, the way she wanted to have with ekko but life wedged them so far apart that it became almost damn near impossible to gain.
to be somebody's someone was a pipedream, something she never thought could happen to her given her personality, her physique, and her past. mylo had made her feel as if she was the ugly duckling in the group and that a way to a lover's heart was to have an hourglass figure with a lustrous chest, hips, and rear end. jinx has two out of the three, but that somehow didn't feel enough.
but now? now she is enough for someone, and she is doing all that she can to not let the sting that's building behind her eyelids develop into tears. not out of sadness, but out of gratitude. sharon could have marked anyone else in manhattan, someone with more experience, somebody gentler, kinder, or better looking—but she wandered to her out of the horde of someones and jinx can't fathom what she had done to deserve something so lovely, to have sharon.
her heart is inflating way too quickly, and she knows her voices will peck at her brain later about all the dangers of having it exposed like this. but she doesn't care, and she wants to unmask herself to her. they're each other's now—this is proof, and there's no doctoring this (even though her voices will undoubtedly try). her muscles twitch slightly when sharon's thumb caresses over her nipple, the floodgates of her arousal burst through, and a sharp gasp with another moan flows off her tongue. without thinking (how can she?) a hand scrambles off her shoulders and onto her own top—tugging it up to her chin to expose her right breast. ]
You can touch me.
[ she thinks to their tether, finally letting her eyes flutter open but half-lidded.]
I'll stay quiet, I promise. ... Or I can... touch myself later and you can watch? When you swing back by.