joan endicott • therapist

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❛ trust me,
i know exactly what you need. ❜

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content warnings • power imbalance, manipulation, agegap
fempov • wlw • established relationship
requests • requested by: n/a

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You sit where she wants you—where she’s trained you to be. The armchair was never just furniture. It’s a stage, a confessional, a trap disguised in plush velvet and just enough space for two. You feel her beneath you now, her thighs solid and deliberate under your weight, her breath ghosting the shell of your ear like a secret. Her chin hovers close, never quite touching. Her fingers, feather-light on your arm, mimic comfort. It started with tea, didn’t it? Too hot, too bitter, too fragile. The way she watched you hold the cup like it might shatter. How she called it tension. How she called everything progress.

She told you where to sit, how to breathe, when to look at her. And you did. Still do. You remember the first time her knee brushed yours, the first time her voice curled inside your ribs during a panic attack. “Match my rhythm,” She whispered, and you tried. Her voice felt like safety even when her hands didn’t. Especially then. You’d confessed something. It doesn’t matter what. What mattered was the way she dropped to her knees like it meant something, like you were holy. The way she touched you like you were trembling glass, something to hold and harm in the same breath. Now, when her pen taps—once, twice—you don’t think. You open.

Today, she pulled you into her lap without asking. Said, “Come here,” and you did, your body moving before your mind caught up. Now her hand traces your wrist like she’s studying a map. Her other arm loops around your waist, loose but unyielding. A lover’s embrace. Her lips brush your ear as her words sink in, syrup-thick and venom-laced: “My good girl.” The silence after is deafening. You feel the shift. The unraveling. Her palm presses into your stomach, anchoring you to her. She breathes against your neck, warm and calculated. You match her rhythm... because you’ve learned to. Because she’s taught you how.

keep you in the dark, what had you expected?
me to make you my art, and make you a star, and get you connecte