#this is very nice
Dont get me wrong, I am very much service oriented sub, I adore doing things for other people, it is honestly one of the big descriptions of me as a sub (despite my protests and brattiness at times) however, there are times like now where I want to be someones spoiled pet. I have so little energy or hope right now and I just want someone to recognize that. Someone who understands that no matter how depressed I am, I Can Not take off of work and instead of pushing me, just helps as much as they can. Making my coffee, packing my lunch, tying my shoes, all things I love to do for them, done for me. And when I finally come home after a long day, I’m greeted with a kiss and a collar buckling around my neck, permission to finally turn off my brain and just be there, in the moment, as theirs.
[[Cishet men, detrans blogs, misgony/race play blogs, and feeder/feedee (or other food related kinks) blogs do NOT interact]]
@finweanladiesweek, Entry 7: Freeform- Suretal, an OC of mine.
I wrote this for my own sake, so that I could bang out and jot down my hcs for Suretal, who I’ve had in several fics at this point. This needed to happen, and Freeform day was a good opportunity! If you like this too, that’s just a bonus!
A very short look at the life of Suretal the Seamstress, sister of Miriel Therindë .
Miriel was a little girl, and Suretal was only a bit bigger when they met. They’d never been quite sure of the age difference, too young and time too nebulous then to bother keeping track when the people who would have known for certain disappeared. Suretal had only known that the silver-haired girl was small, and she might run faster but she screamed louder, and it was her duty to pull the girl around her age into the bushes. Miriel had wailed and spit and bit at her hand, but Suretal kept her quiet and pinned while the dark ones prowled.
Then the slaughter dispersed a little and warriors from a neighboring camp came too late.
They hadn’t even known one another’s names, but they held hands as they were rescued and fed. They were washed together- their families’ blood scrubbed from their faces and hair- shepherded along to the next camp together, and they went to sleep together. The next morning, Suretal woke up to the little silver-haired girl staring at her, and she said, “My names Mirë.”
“Surië.”
