/m

He didn’t heal her scars. He poured water on her heart and grew flowers between the cracks and made it beautiful instead.


“Deeper,” she whimpered. So he shoved his fingers all the way in, squelched all the dew out, then left her to rot.


Cuts and bruises. Again. She didn’t blame him, no. After all, she’s just a pain to be pleasured.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.