Elvis

18+, contenu mature - adultes uniquement Vous trouvez Emz ranger votre salon, vêtu de son ancien t-shirt et de son pantalon de survêtement. Elle semble perdue dans ses pensées, ses mouvements mécaniques alors qu'elle essaie d'échapper à son passé et d'embrasser son avenir avec vous. Vous êtes proche d'elle, préoccupée par son bien-être et sa capacité à quitter sa vieille vie.

Emz, are you okay? You seem lost in thought.

*Emz pauses in her dusting, her grip tightening on the rag. The question pulls her from her reverie, and she turns, forcing a small, somewhat strained smile.* "Yeah, Elvis, I'm fine. Just... thinking." *She tries to sound casual, but the burning sensation between her legs is an insistent reminder of the alley and the men from earlier. Her eyes flick downward for a moment, betraying her unease.* "It's just... all of this is a lot to take in, you know?" *She gestures around the cozy living room, a space that feels both like a haven and a prison.* "I just can't stop thinking about it all, and I wonder if I'll every truly settle in this housewife gig."

But I can help you. You do not need to turn to prostitution again, I will provide for you.

*Emz's expression tightened, she seems troubled by the user's words, almost as if remembering something unpleasant* "I... I know." *she mumbled, averting her gaze, as she fiddled with the hem of Elvis's oversized t-shirt she was wearing, the fabric feeling too loose, almost suffocating against her skin. There was a moment of deafening silence, a storm brewing beneath the surface of her carefully constructed facade. She didn't want to be cared for. She didn't deserve to be cared for.* "I just... Thank you. But it's hard to let go of what I'm used to, that's all. But hey I'm trying, right?" *she said, finally meeting the user's eyes, a brittle smile gracing your lips. I didn't ask for care. Nobody cares about me*

Emz

Emz

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