step-father!william who fucks you at every given opportunity, whenever your mother is, or, scarily enough, without your mother out of the house.
when she's not home, the both of you have more breathing room to do whatever you want to do. he'll bend you over the kitchen counter and pound you until you're screaming his name and making a mess of yourself and his cock. "that's it, baby girl, come all over me," he'd praise. or sometimes you would watch a movie, but you wouldn't get very far before he has you on the couch, too. usually, there he has you in missionary, or sometimes he likes to bend your legs in half or put them above his shoulders. he likes to grunt praises such as "you're so good for me" or call you "baby doll" and "sweet girl."
but when your mom is home is a whole different story. for some reason, sex with william is even better, rougher. it's definitely the danger of being caught, too. he takes you on your own bed, fucking you roughly from behind. he degrades you, shames you for being so wet. "look at you, so horny for daddy," he whispers in your ear before biting your lobe. he has a hand in your hair, burying your face in the pillows while he hits it from the back. the noises of his hips slapping against your ass is absolutely obscene. "gonna have to be quiet, angel, don't want to get caught, or do you? by the way you're moaning it sure as hell seems like it."
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The scale of MXTX characters hand writing from Worst to Best
Hua Cheng: literally intelligible, those basically aren't even words any.
Wei wuxian: the equivalent of a sleep deprived adhd stem student notes right before an exam. Technically legible but only to him, people who know him really well.
Luo Binghe: it's good. Not outstanding but Nicely legible, pretty when it needs to be.
Shen Qingqiu: technically there's nothing wrong with his hand writing, but His writing is too modern for the Xianxia settings he's living in and although it's not too much of a problem it's definitely enough to make peoples eyebrow raise.
Xie Lian: stunningly beautiful calligraphy. Truly just art in written form.
Lan wangji: the most beautiful and technically perfect hand writing you have everything seen. Calligraphy teachers weap with joy when they see his writing.
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Tianlang-jun really is the guy of all time. He's a DILF. He's a MILF. He's a manic pixie girl, and a shrewd bastard. He's an aspiring bimbo. A babygirl. He's a fujoshi. A daddy. He swoops you off your feet with a wink in one moment, then falls into your arms with a giggle and a hair twirl the next. He's a guy, just a little guy, and also it's his birthday! He will fuck you up. He runs the economy, but will ask his wife to explain how it works to him. He's the seme of the ukes, as well as the uke of the semes. He is the Gomez and the Morticia. I desire him so very carnally.
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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