#so vulnerable and intimate 🤍

[go-go-devil]

This performance is so goddamn beautiful. Gets me every time T_T

[awkward-walking-potato]

I’m obsessed with how you write for Logan, like it’s becoming an addiction at this point. Maybe after a hard week for reader and for Logan, they finally get some time together. So Logan puts on some slow music from the 40s/50s and pulls reader into the kitchen of the apartment to slow dance together. So they just hold each other, maybe discuss some things, or get kind of vulnerable with each other. And it’s just cute and sweet. And then from the living room Wade speaks up, breaking their perfect moment together because let’s be honest, it’s Wade. I love your writing sooooooo much. Thank you🤍

Dancing in the Kitchen

The apartment was quiet, a rarity these days. The week had been long—brutal even. Missions, confrontations, sleepless nights—both you and Logan had been worn thin by the constant demands of a world that never seemed to give either of you a break.

But tonight, the world was far away. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed low. The only sound was the steady hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your feet. You leaned against the kitchen counter, letting out a deep breath. The weight of the past days still clung to you like a heavy coat, but at least here, in this small space with Logan, you felt some semblance of peace.

Logan appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, and you couldn’t help but smile. His usual scowl was softened, the lines of his face more relaxed than you’d seen in days. He held up an old vinyl record, its cover worn but still intact, and nodded toward the living room.

“Thought we could use a little music,” he said, his gruff voice tinged with a warmth that made your heart swell.

You nodded, watching as he moved to the old record player he’d insisted on keeping despite its age. The needle dropped, and soon the soft crackle of the record filled the air, followed by the smooth, crooning voice of a singer from long ago. The melody was slow, languid, like honey dripping from a spoon, sweet and comforting.

Logan turned back to you, holding out his hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s dance.”

You hesitated for only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm, but gentle as he pulled you into the center of the kitchen. There wasn’t much room, but it didn’t matter. In fact, it felt more intimate this way, with the small space making you press closer to him.

Logan’s other hand settled on your waist, and you looped your arm around his neck, your fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape. For a few seconds, neither of you moved, just swayed slightly to the rhythm of the music, finding a comfortable sync.

“I miss this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you began to move slowly, your bodies swaying in time with the music. There was something almost magical about it, the way the world seemed to fade away until it was just the two of you in this moment. The tension that had been coiled tight in your chest started to loosen, and you found yourself resting your head against Logan’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You’ve been holdin’ up okay?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling through his chest and into your ear.

You sighed, a little shakier than you intended. “It’s been hard. I feel like I’m running on fumes.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I know the feelin’. But you’re doin’ better than you think. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, finding them softer than usual. “You really think so?”

“Hell yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “You’ve been through worse, and you’ve come out on top every time. This week’s just another bump in the road.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the music or the closeness. Logan didn’t dole out compliments often, but when he did, you knew he meant every word. It was one of the things you loved most about him—his unwavering honesty.

“Thanks, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, darlin’.”

For a while, you both just danced, the music wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You could feel Logan’s breath on your hair, his strong, calloused hand still holding yours firmly, like he was afraid to let go. And for the first time in days, you felt safe, like everything might just be okay.

But then, as if the universe couldn’t resist ruining the moment, you heard a loud, exaggerated sniffle from the living room.

“Oh my God, you guys are so cute, it’s making me nauseous!” Wade’s voice broke through the serene atmosphere, full of dramatic flair. “Seriously, I’m over here trying to watch a movie, and it’s like a Hallmark commercial in there!”

Logan stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible to be mad at Wade when he was just being his usual self. You turned your head to see him sprawled out on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth.

“Wade,” Logan growled, though there was more exasperation than anger in his tone.

“What? Don’t look at me like that, Wolvie! I’m just appreciating the domestic bliss you two have got going on here. It’s inspiring. I might even write a poem about it later. ‘Ode to the Mutants Who Dance in the Kitchen’—has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Wade, do you ever stop talking?”

“Not unless I’m unconscious, which, thanks to this wonderful healing factor of mine, is pretty rare,” Wade shot back, grinning cheekily.

Logan sighed, shaking his head, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible, Wilson.”

“And you love me for it,” Wade replied, throwing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in his mouth.

You turned back to Logan, the moment interrupted but not entirely lost. You gave him a small smile, your hand squeezing his gently. “We can always try again later.”

Logan nodded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will. And this time, I’m lockin’ the door.”

Wade’s voice piped up again from the living room. “Locking the door won’t keep me out, Honey Badger! I’m like Santa Claus, I’ll find a way in!”

You and Logan both laughed, the tension of the week finally melting away completely. Maybe the moment wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—and that made it better than anything else.

[natsaffection]

Could you do a part 2 of Mine to Use where Natasha realises she's falling in love with Y/N and gets very protective. And something happens to Y/N and we see Nat being very comforting and caring but she's still incredibly stern to everyone else, like she's got a soft spot for only Y/N.

I hope this makes sense xx

🤍

Mine to Use. Pt. 2 | N.R

Warnings: mentions of sex, complicated feelings, Angst to Happy

Word Count: 2,2k

A/N: Sorry Anon that it took so long, but it was a big challenge to rewrite a... Rough, careless person into a caring and soft one, and I hope this all makes sense and you all can follow my train of thoughts..🙏🏻

Part 1

Natasha watched you from her office window, squinting as she noticed you limping slightly. The previous night had been tough, and although Natasha didn't regret her actions, she couldn't shake the unease that nagged at her.

Shaking her head, Natasha tried to dismiss the unusual concern. She was a mob leader, powerful and feared. She didn't have the luxury of vulnerability. Yet, something about you kept drawing her in, making her more protective. She couldn't pinpoint when it started, but Natasha was always aware of Your presence, and your well-being became an unspoken priority.

Unaware of Natasha's inner turmoil, you continued her duties with a sense of quiet resilience. You had grown accustomed to the harshness and even found a strange comfort in it. But recently, Natasha's behavior had changed.

Suddenly Natasha noticed you flinching as you lifted a crate. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a dark bruise on your arm.

"Y/n." Natasha called, her voice a mix of command and concern. You approached, your gaze fixed on the ground, discomfort radiating from you. Natasha gently took your arm, her fingers brushing over the bruise.

"What happened?" Natasha demanded, her voice deep and dangerous. "I-It's nothing..“ you murmured, trying to pull your arm back, but Natasha's grip was firm yet careful.

"Who did this?" Natasha whispered deadly, her eyes not leaving your face. You hesitated, fear flickering in your eyes. "It was just an accident.“ you tried to deflect, but Natasha's expression darkened.

"Who?" Natasha repeated, her tone brooking no argument. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. "It was Ivan. He..I had to swear not to say anything-“

She released your arm, her thumb possessively stroking your cheek. Natasha left the office, her footsteps echoing with determination. The confrontation with Ivan was swift and brutal, the complex buzzing with rumors about her ruthless efficiency. Ivan was quickly dealt with, his fate serving as a clear warning to anyone who dared to oppose her.

Back in her office, Natasha found you still standing there, confusion and fear in your eyes. Natasha's anger melted away as she approached, her demeanor softening. "Nobody touches you," Natasha murmured, her thumb gently stroking the bruise on your cheek. "Not like that."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't understand why Natasha valued you so much, but the possessiveness in her touch was unmistakable.

In the days that followed, Natasha's protective instinct only grew stronger. She became a constant presence, her behavior towards others becoming even more relentless while a subtle tenderness began to emerge in her interactions with you. During their intimate moments, Natasha's touch became gentler, a stark contrast to her usual roughness.

You noticed the change but kept your thoughts to yourself, fearing to disturb the fragile balance. Natasha's inner struggle was palpable. She was a woman who thrived on control, yet her feelings for you were something she could neither command nor deny. One day, as you walked through the complex, you overheard two men whispering.

"Have you heard about Ivan? He's not coming back."

"Yeah, She took care of him. Nobody messes with her, especially when it comes to her girl.." Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't known the extent of Natasha's actions, but now it was clear. Natasha had eliminated Ivan because of you. The realization left you equally confused and touched. Why had Natasha gone so far to protect you?

That evening, as Natasha lay beside you after a session, you couldn't hold back your curiosity any longer. "Miss Romanoff, may I a-ask you something?" you said quietly, your voice trembling. „Go on.“

"Why did you do it? Why did you take care of Ivan?" Natasha's body tensed. She struggled to maintain her cold demeanor. "Because no one touches you except me,.“ she replied, her voice firm and possessive. "You belong to me, and only I have that right."

Your heart pounded, Disappointment gnaws at you "I.. understand.." you whispered, snuggling closer to Natasha. That night, as Natasha lay awake, she was overwhelmed by her thoughts. She realized with startling clarity that her feelings for you went beyond mere possession. There was something deeper, something she couldn't ignore.

Natasha's mind raced with the implications of her realization. Her chest tightened at the thought of losing someone like you. Again. She drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams plagued with images of you being taken from her. The nightmare felt so real that Natasha woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she panicked, forgetting where she was. Then she felt your steady breathing beside her and calmed down a little.

Natasha lay still, her body tense, listening to your gentle breathing. The nightmare had shaken her to her core. She could no longer deny it. She was deeply and irrevocably falling for you. Something she thought she would never experience again.

To clear her head, Natasha carefully extricated herself from your embrace and slipped out of bed. She quietly stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the turmoil inside her. She lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and stared into the darkness, her thoughts a chaotic jumble.

She had vowed to remain tough back then. That nothing could hurt her again. Yet here she was, vulnerable and exposed because of another person. The realization that she could lose you scared her more than any enemy ever could. She smoked in silence, trying to calm her nerves, but the fear remained.

Back inside, Natasha found you still peacefully asleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching you for a moment, the emotions she felt battling with her instinct to protect herself from potential pain. In the dim light, Natasha's resolve hardened. She would protect you with everything she had. She lay back down, pulling you into her arms and holding you tightly.

Morning crept through the curtains, bathing the room in warm light. Natasha lay awake, her mind buzzing with the vivid nightmare that had woken her in the night. She looked over at you, still sleeping peacefully beside her.

Natasha quietly slipped out of bed again. She needed time to collect her thoughts for the day. She went outside for her morning run. The cool morning air bit at her skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the inner turmoil.

As she watched the city wake up, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that things were changing. Her feelings for you were growing stronger, and the protective instinct she felt was becoming overwhelming. She knew she would have to confront these feelings eventually, but for the moment, she focused on the present and found solace in the fact that you were safe.

You woke up and noticed that Natasha had already left. You didn't see her at work either. Later that day, you met with your colleague Emma at a nearby bar after work. Emma had become a trusted friend, someone you could confide in. They found a quiet corner and ordered drinks, the atmosphere relaxed and casual.

"You've got a lot on your mind. How's it going with her?" Emma asked, taking a sip of her drink. You sighed and swirled your glass. "It's... strange. She's been... different lately, distracted. I think something has changed, but I can't put my finger on it."

Emma nodded thoughtfully. "You know, it's hard to imagine, but Natasha wasn't always like this. Tough and grumpy, I mean. She used to be softer, more open. That was before everything happened with her wife."

Your curiosity was piqued. "Her wife?" Emma took a deep breath, her expression turning sad. "Yes. They were very much in love. But she was killed in a gang war. It completely changed Natasha. She became colder, more ruthless, to protect herself from the pain I think.“

You felt a pang of sympathy and sadness. Now you understood why Natasha was so aggressive and protective these days. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and it scared you even more.

"That's why she's like this now.." you whispered more to yourself than to Emma. Emma nodded. "Yes. She's afraid of losing someone she might love again. Like you, Y/N... maybe she feels the same way."

Meanwhile, Natasha couldn't stop thinking about you at her penthouse. Impulsively, she grabbed her phone and texted you, her message leaving no room for disagreement.

Come over.

You sighed, feeling the weight of duty. "Speak of the devil. I have to go..." During the drive to Natasha's house, your thoughts were a whirlwind of feelings and emotions. The conversation with Emma had stirred something deep within you, and you could no longer ignore it. When you arrived, you knew you couldn't just continue as before. Maybe there is a little chance?

Natasha met you at the door, her eyes scanning you for signs of discomfort. "Come in." she said, her tone softer now that you were there. You followed her into the house, your heart pounding. You felt Natasha's presence intensely, but tonight it was different. You didn't want to be just a toy, not when your feelings were so raw and confused.

As they settled in the living room, Natasha reached for you, her fingers trailing along your arm. But you flinched slightly, pulling your arm away. Natasha's eyes narrowed, sensing the hesitation. "What's wrong?" Natasha demanded, her patience already thin. You looked down, biting your lip. "Nothing. It's just..."

"Just what?" Natasha's voice grew sharper, her frustration evident. "What did you and Emma talk about?"

The fact that Natasha already knew about your meeting made you a bit nervous and even more hesitant to reveal the conversation, worried about Natasha's reaction. "It's... it's not important. Really..can we-"

Natasha's eyes darkened, her anger rising. "Don't lie to me. What did you talk about?" You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "It's... it's not something you want to hear!"

Natasha's patience snapped. She moved closer, her presence intimidating. "Tell me. Now." Tears welled up in your eyes. "She told me about your wife!"

Natasha's face hardened, her eyes flashing with anger. "That's none of your business." Your voice trembled. "It is my business if it affects how you treat me..you've been different these past few weeks. Something is..wrong!"

Natasha's jaw tightened, her fists clenching. "You don't understand anything. How dare you talk about her?" Your heart raced, tears streaming down your face. You were afraid of Natasha's reaction, but you knew you had to stand your ground. "Do you think you know me?"

You trembled, tears flowing down your face. "I don't want to be just something to you, N-Natasha. I have... I think... I think I'm falling in love with you and I can’t made this undone!“ The words hung in the air, thick with tension. Natasha's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise with a cold, dismissive look.

"Don't be ridiculous.." Natasha hissed, her voice laced with bitterness. "You don't know what you're talking about." You felt your heart break at her rejection. You turned away, tears streaming down your Face, and whispered, "I'm sorry..I shouldn’t have..“ You left the room.

As the door closed behind you, Natasha's façade crumbled. She sank onto the bed, her head spinning. The fear of losing you was too much, and the realization of her own feelings terrified her. Minutes felt like hours as Natasha wrestled with her emotions. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. She got up and left the room, finding you sitting alone in the living room, still crying.

"Y/n..." Natasha's voice was softer, vulnerable. "Look at me." You hesitated, fear and hope warring within you. You slowly turned, your eyes meeting Natasha's. "I... I can't lie to you any longer," Natasha admitted, her voice trembling. "I care about you too. More than I ever wanted to."

Your eyes widened, your breath catching. "You do?" Natasha nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes. And it scares me. I can't lose someone again."

"I'm scared too," you whispered. "I thought... I thought you didn't care."

"I care more than you know," Natasha said, her voice full of raw emotion. In that moment, all the barriers between them crumbled completely. Natasha pulled you into her arms, holding you tight. The vulnerability, the raw emotions were overwhelming, but neither of you pulled away.

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, whispering against your skin with a shaky voice, "Fuck, I love you too.." Your heart swelled with emotion. You snuggled closer to Natasha, feeling safer and more loved than ever before. Together, they lay in the silence, their hearts beating in sync. For Natasha, the darkness had finally receded, replaced by the light and love she found in your embrace.

[fun-loving-peach]

Soft Intimate Moments with Satoru Gojo

a/n: Hi guys I’m back :3, I’ve kinda been procrastinating on writing so took time for myself but now I’m back with more soft fluff (cause I miss my babygirl, the manga has me on my knees) love y’all my little peaches hope you enjoy 😚

Divider by lovely @plutism 🤍

Satoru always has to touch you. Whether it’s always holding your hand or on the small of your back. He always has to be touching in a way so he doesn’t feel you drifting off.

Satoru always holds your stare. He’s always looking at you even if you two aren’t talking. He enjoys being with you and looking at all your perfections and imperfections he wants to memorize them all.

Satoru always hugs you from behind when he sees you have your back turned to him. He hugs your waist as he gives you a kiss on your nape. A sweet soft kiss as he enjoys the warmth radiating from you.

Satoru holds your thigh whenever he’s driving. It’s a slight comfort to have you close to him. He definitely loves thick thighs because he can squeeze them whenever he feels off, more room for his hands to reach. (As a thick thigh girly I need this so bad 😭)

Satoru always shares his sweets with you. He wants to see if you like something as much as he does so he can buy more of it next time he brings you out for a date. Like imagine sitting in a cafe ordering the newest sweet he had in mind for weeks as he shares it with you. Seeing you like it makes him light up with joy as he orders another one.

Satoru takes your make up off whenever you fall asleep with it on. He knows how you get in the morning when your face is smudge with make up or staining the pillows with it. So he always makes sure to grab a tissue that he found in your bag of make up and wipe your face. You might still have a little liner or sparkles im your face the next morning but he definitely tried his best.

Satoru loves showering you and not like in a sexual way (at least not all the time) he loves being so close and intimate with you. Washing your hair and body with the softest touch. He loves being so vulnerable with you. Might also do funny hairstyles with you whenever he washes your hair. Sometimes it’s a Mohawk other times it’s Elvis.

Satoru loved talking about your guys future together. Where’d it be moving in together permanently or wanting to marry you. It’s always at the back of his head and he loves talking about it with you, knowing you feel the same and want to build a future together like you both deserve.

Satoru always wipes your tears when you cry. He can’t stand seeing your pretty face all upset. Thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he presses a small kiss to your forehead. Even when you guys argue he hates seeing you cry and immediately apologizes so he can stop you from crying to comfort you.

Tag��s: @ladythornofrivia

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

[sordidmusings]

Drown in You (Sanji x Reader)

Art by tsuyomaru

Prologue: It is no secret to the crew that you know soul magic. Robin was the first to understand what you were talking about - it is, after all, a practice from a far off island whose resident have all but vanished. While she would ask you actually engaging questions, almost all the others are just begging you to use it, but you refuse to budge and show them. You tell them about it though, wistfully and reverently. At first, Sanji would beg and wax poetic about it the most of all, but as you grow closer he learns to just listen. With your deepening trust and his lack of pushing, you decide it’s time to give him a taste of the heady bliss of brushing souls.

A/N: Getting this up quick before getting back to asks 👏🏻 This was written for me to practice using my magic stuff instead of just thinking about it lol I use it constantly in daydreams so why not try to actually get it down and see if others like it too 🤷🏼‍♀️ as far as this fic goes, visualization is used to control the energy of the soul then have it flow over Sanji then all his happy chemicals go ~W O W~

Word Count: ~3.8 k

Warnings: gn reader, just so much non-sexual intimacy, ✨magic✨, flirting, pet names (all gn), Sanji being down bad, reader finding it cute, it’s more opla down bad not anime down bad in this one, besides that I think he could be read as either

Hope you enjoy guiding Sanji through feeling a soul the first time 🤍🤍🤍

Suggested Music:

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“If you relax it will help,” you instructed.

Sanji was trying his best to relax but how could he? He had seen how dreamily you talked of your experiences with this, of how comforting and relaxing and intimate it felt. After somehow convincing his way into receiving the touch from you, he was ecstatic. Then the reality of it - of how vulnerable it would leave him - started to sink in and anxiety began to taint his excitement.

You laid a hand on top of his, stopping his fingers from tapping at his thigh. You didn’t have to reach far to touch him; both of you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, so close that your knees touched. 

“Really, don’t worry,” you soothed. “We’re only brushing so you can get used to the feeling, yeah? It’ll be a lot at first, but nothing entangling or invasive. And we stop if anything’s too much.”

Sanji’s shining blue eyes took their time examining your own before turning to the floor. He hoped that looking at anything else would help him think; whenever your eyes met, his mind went blank. The patterns in the blanket separating you both from the sleeping mat didn’t help him find his words. Neither did the pillows and extra blankets encircling your seats. As you started to pull away, he felt your soft skin trail against the back of his hand and suddenly the words came.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Sanji rushed out. It took only a second for him to adjust back to flirtation. “Just got tongue-tied looking at you.” 

You giggled at the cheesy line and how flustered he was. His practiced silver tongue didn’t seem to be helping him at the moment, which was probably making him even more nervous. You took mercy on him by not pointing it out.

Instead, you offered him your other hand and he quickly slid his into your upturned palm. He settled it so that your palms nestled into each other, giving you perfect access to run your thumb back and forth over the inside of his wrist. Sanji responds with a gentle squeeze. You pull your other hand away to resituate your hand-holding on that side to mirror the other. Sanji looked between both embraces with a soft affection that had your heart skittering. A deep breath helped steer you back on task.

“Okay. If we sync our breathing it will help the whole process and keep everything moving nice and slow,” you explained. Sanji  gave you a short nod and a shaky smile. “Watch me and follow.”

You started by breathing through your nose until you felt the air refresh every corner of your lungs. Sanji held your gaze and followed the action a split second after he heard the soft sound of your inhale start. You held that air for just a moment before gently pursing your lips and slowly blowing the air through them. His eyes shot down to watch your lips and his breath left him in a short quiet sigh. The gentle breeze you blew out brushed the back of his hands. You started your next inhale fast to exaggerate the sound and it snapped him out of his trance. He smiled in apology, squinting those shiny baby blues of his, and got right back to following you.

The feeling of your lungs stretching out your ribs, and the pressure of the exiting air tingling your lips, was soothing your mind and body. The effect grew with the sounds of your own controlled breathing and amplified with Sanji’s mimicry until there was a pleasant murkiness to the edges of your thought. Judging by how hooded Sanji’s eyes had become, he was feeling it too. Time to start.

“Now keep your hands in mine, it may feel destabilizing if you pull away suddenly,” you gently warned, voice quiet in your unwillingness to disrupt the tranquil air.

“Comforting,” Sanji responded, scrunching his nose. He resettled his expression to the flirtatious one you were much more familiar with. “Promise to nurse me back to health if anything goes wrong?”

“How else am I supposed to get my favorite treats if you’re out of commission?” you teased.

“Say that you’re mine and I’ll give you all the treats the world has to offer,” he promised, earning an enabling chuckle out of you.

“Well, we’ll see if you can handle that,” you said, voice affectionate instead of condescending. “Now less talking, more breathing. I’m going to start and I want you to save your words for anything feeling uncomfortable.”

At his nod, you began.

Sanji watched with curiosity as you closed your eyes and stopped all motion except for your breathing. He thought you looked absolutely radiant sitting in the warm afternoon light cast through the porthole, drenched in bottomless peace. Matching your breath became second nature surprisingly quick, making his mind free to absorb every beloved detail of you sharing this with him and to charge with anticipation for your next move. 

He felt but he did not see - no matter how hard he stared at the feeling manifesting on his skin, whatever was moving there stayed invisible to him. It started with your hands radiating warmth out, growing so gradually that he didn’t notice until it felt like his hands were shoved in laundry fresh from the dryer. The heat held steady for a moment, turning his grip lax as it melted any tension, before he felt the sensation change and grow up his arms. It felt both liquid and air against his skin; a summer breeze that swirled and toiled like an ocean current. A shiver crept up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Each place the sensation curled and puffed across was stuck between enlivening with an electric flush and sinking into the heaviness of a body deep in sleep. By the time it was encroaching on his shoulder, bleeding straight through his clothes as if they didn’t exist, his breathing stuttered to something of a gasp.

Your concentration faltered at the sound, offering Sanji a light reprieve as the energy lost its ability to ignore his clothing. You opened your eyes to check in on your companion and gasp too. His eyes were hazy and staring at you like you had given him his first sip of water in days. His blue irises  stood out even more above the light blush on his face, even with his love-blown pupils. You flushed at the look, but brushed it off; the first feeling is usually overwhelming and confusing and sets off many happy chemicals to douse the whole brain and body. You thought you hadn’t pushed out too much of your energy on him and it was all soothing and content, but his eyes told you that you had bombarded him with permeating affection. Too bad you couldn’t connect your energy to his to figure out precisely what he was feeling.

“Sanji, honey, talk to me,” you asked quietly, encouragingly. “What are you feeling?”

“I feel…” he started, but he trailed off and simply kept taking you in with his soft eyes. You squeezed his hands and bumped his knee with yours to jostle him a little closer to coherence.

“Sanji, is it bad?” He certainly didn’t look like it felt bad, but too much good can quickly lead that way.

“It’s… strange?” he offered. His brows scrunched from the difficulty he was having conjuring the right words. “Good strange. Breezy. Warm. It’s a lot though.”

“Too much?” you probed, already starting to lighten up the energy.

“No,” Sanji insisted, leaning towards you in his urgency. He caught the surprise in your eyes and forced himself back again. He cleared his throat. “Please.” He exhaled heavily. “Keep going, love.”

“As long as you're sure.” You took a deep breath yourself, needing to settle your own worry back into calm concentration. You gifted yourself a moment to caress his wrist with your thumb again, enjoying how soft the skin felt in comparison to his calloused fingertips. You gave one more warning: “It will peak before you adjust and it settles out.”

You did not wait for a response to continue. Shutting your eyes so sight wouldn’t battle you on your way back to your visualizations, you were back to your task. The way you’ve gotten success in controlling your own soul’s energy was with water imagery. In your mind’s eye, a lake behind your head leaked to the space between your eyes, where it poured down in a roaring waterfall. The majority of the torrent flooded down through your neck, into your ribcage, and along to the cradle of your pelvis. On the way, it bounced and flung off a boulder built of your heart and splashed to make trickles on your ribs, spine, and hips. There was, however, some water that took a different path. The highest rocks it crashed upon rested in your shoulders, making the water spray and rush its way down your arms. Its journey from rapids to stream took place along your forearms to control the flow by the time it reached your hands. There, the water became a gently swirling pool in each palm. By the time this vision had become immaculately clear to you again, Sanji’s grip had firmed back up on you.

Sanji’s nerves had worsened instead of smoothed out, but he'd be damned if he was going to back down from this. He needed to know that feeling you had tried to describe to him and the rest of the crew. And like he had said - it wasn’t bad, but it was.. startling? Unnerving? He knew the feeling was coming from his skin but it almost didn’t feel like it was his own skin; it felt like it was coming from a whole new body. It felt at once thrumming and alive as well as heavy and enveloping. He shut his eyes against the overwhelm.

With your own eyes closed, you had to use the strength and tremble of Sanji’s grip to guide you on when to pause and when to push forward. As you anticipated, the greatest reactions came when the mental water flowing from the pools in your palms up his arms snaked to wrap around his chest and then it inched further down still to dance around his waist and stomach. Through the process, he had shifted himself ever so slightly closer to you, seeking grounding and comfort in the flourish of feeling that threatened to puff his mind into smoke. Noticing his cute nudging closer, your heart burned with fierce affection for him. You had to hold yourself from releasing his hands to pull him into and embrace. That would be too much; he’s too unused to the process and you’re too unpracticed to keep the flow stable through that action.

Finally, you imagine the long journey of the water making its way over his hips and down his thighs to cover the remaining pieces of his body. All except the head. Saving it for last was generally the best idea for someone’s first time feeling the presence of a soul; the heart is where many emotions are held but the brain has the most ties to the soul. It was much better to prep it before the plunge.

“Sanji, are you doing okay? Ready for the last bit?” you checked.

“Anything you’re willing to give, love, I’ll take,” Sanji mumbled. He sounded pleasantly dazed like a drunk existing half in the waking world and half in dreams. You wished you could open your eyes to see him.

“It’s going to rise up over your head and then it should smooth out,” you explained. A lethargic hum resonating from the depths of his chest was his only response.

The conflicting reactions his body was giving to the river of air around him had begun to center slightly by the time you had spoken. All that progress went out the window when he felt little licks of wind flicking at his neck. He trembled under the electricity they buzzed along his spine, but found himself happy to be at their mercy. He felt so very alive and that in itself was stumping him. Had he been alive? Can you live before knowing a touch that feels so implicit after only a small taste? One of the few pieces of his mind that remembered the Before and that there’s an After to this experience was repeating the daunting fact that this is only the beginning of connecting to a soul. How beautifully terrifying.

More brushes of liquid air played off the skin of his neck and he found himself tilting his head back for more of it. The rise was steady, moving past the stubble of his chin, the ears peeking out from his hair, the ends of his bangs, his curled brows, and he was submerged. 

For a split second, the impulse to jump to his feet and run until he was unable to move almost overtook him. He was a lit fuze and needed to burst or surely there would be agony. But agony never came. What came was the comfort of a morning bed on a taskless day. He was surrounded by perfectly radiating body heat in a dark cocoon. The unfamiliar aspect was how he felt like he was sitting underwater, weightless and gently rocking at the whims of a constantly swaying current. He distantly thought that if he’d open his eyes he’d find the dark pits of the ocean yawning around him and all he could find in himself to think of such a haunting notion was ‘how nice’. 

Meanwhile, you were much more sure of agreeing to go through this whole thing because of how languid Sanji had become. His hands lay mostly limp in yours, except for the occasional movement of a finger to enjoy the feel of your skin. The little affections burst joy in your heart and made that path of water that your mind held flow richer and with more ease. Knowing he’d need at least several long minutes in this stage, you let yourself relax fully into your own meditation built on your rushing blue visions and his delicately moving fingertips. Just as he had learned to mirror your breaths earlier, your hands took to mimicking his own.

Time was a muddy thing from the moment he fell fully under until the moment his body was coming back to the world. It trickled in gradually, starting with the feeling of the blanket and mattress pad he sat on and ending with the brush of his clothes on his skin when he finally shifted. The great abyss around him shrunk back to the initial feeling of twirling winds over his skin. Unlike the initial feeling, this didn’t send his body and mind reeling; it left him warm and relaxed like a decadent hot oil massage. There was still a sense of being enveloped, though. It had him thinking back to the last time he had fallen asleep wrapped in the arms of another. Despite the easy comparison, there was no unsatiated hunger plaguing him from the closeness. He was at ease.

Sanji’s eyes began to blink open once they were ready, and he was glad they did. In front of him you sat as peaceful as he had ever seen you. Once he was able to move his gaze away from the little shadows your lashes cast onto your cheeks or the enchanting curves of your resting lips, he began fully taking you in. Slowly trailing his eyes over every detail, his heart swelled with love until it pressed a placid smile on his lips. The pieces he most wanted to store away in his mind forever were the content look making your face even more beautiful to him and the sight of his hands held so caringly in your own. He let out a happy sigh as he watched your thumbs trace him once more.

“Sanji?” you called softly.

“Yes, dear?”

“How are you feeling?” He almost laughed at your question.

“I feel wonderful,” he breathed out. You could hear the smile shaping his words and were struck with the bare emotion in his statement. He sounded just like he said.

“Perfect. You’ve done beautifully, sweetheart,” you spoke through your own smile. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell he was preening at your praise.

You lightened up your conscious control of your energy flowing around Sanji. It continued on its path with ease, enough that you were able to let the feeling of its circulation sustain itself instead of needing your imagery. The repetition of it over the long time spent meditating helped you to focus in on what your energy feels like. Usually, that was something too abstract for you to be able to call on straight away. It would take hours and hours more in that sensation before your brain could own and control it with ease. For now, you were good enough to latch onto it once it was there long enough so you fully release the envisioned control by blinking your eyes open.

Sanji was already looking at you. He was no longer flushed and fidgety; every roused edge of him had polished out to a serene shine. The smile stuck on his face was delicate, only pulling his lips to curl enough to press into his cheeks and threaten to crinkle his eyes. Those eyes were half-lidded but still glimmering as they looked back at you. You darted your eyes back to his smile, which now exposed a hint of his teeth between his gently parted lips.

“What now, love?” Sanji asked. He was loath to interrupt the moment, but truly needed to know what he was supposed to do now that he had reached the goal of this whole endeavor. Would you just suck the feeling out right away? Would you pull your hands from his? Would you leave him to process this whole thing alone? Leave him to starve for a taste he’d never get again?

You took one last moment to check him over before deciding to be a little self indulgent. Sure, this would help him ease back out to no soul contact more than just sitting there, but it also wasn’t absolutely necessary. You didn’t think he would mind though.

“I think we could both use a lay down and maybe a nap,” you offered, nodding your head to the side to gesture to the head of the sleeping mat. Now his smile split wide enough to scrunch his eyes.

“You’re going to spoil me rotten, love,” he jokingly admonished, already leaning himself in the direction you’d motioned towards. He wasn’t going anywhere fast though; his body felt as heavy and slow and syrupy as his mind did.

Deciding to expose more of your soft spot for him than usual, you respond, “Good. You do enough spoiling to deserve some in return.” 

The fondness in your voice let him know that it was true care offered instead of easy flirting. Hearing you send that tone his way had his supporting arm collapse under him, sending him down to his elbow. Were it any other time, he would’ve tried to hide the slip or recover quickly, but it wasn’t any other time and he simply went with it to finish crawling the short distance to the head of the mat. The movement to get to his side was more flopping than laying, but the shift to his back was at least smoother. Those lovely blue eyes fluttered closed and refused to open.

You kept close to him the whole way, smiling and snorting at his lack of grace under the influence of the new and potent headspace brought on by your own energy. Yes, you wanted to be close anyway, but it was functionally to make it easy to keep him within the swirl of your soul. Once he had surrendered to the position his body ended up in, you began adjusting him to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. An arm was saved from its strange angle, his head was raised and placed on a plush pillow, the most luxurious of your blankets was grabbed to place on him. The whole time Sanji was mumbling sweet pet names along with his thanks.

Ever since you had mentioned sleep, Sanji felt it pulling at him. It only got worse when he moved and laid down. He was existing so sweetly in a waking dream, stuck half-lucid in a body that was being tended by your very soul. He thanked whatever lucky stars were up there and shot a “thank you” to whatever past life had earned him this; he didn’t think it could get any better than the bone deep contentment that saturated him. 

That was until you laid down next to him and started snuggling into his right side.

The feeling of your warm and soft body shifting into him until you molded perfectly against each other had one more flurry of tingles and skipping heartbeats work through him. Your cheek was nestled against the top of his pec and you were happy to find that the fabric of his dress shirt felt soft against your skin. The arm that laid over him was reached out so that your hand could rest on the shoulder opposite your head. The whispering sound of your skin brushing over the fabric of his pants filled the air as you bent your right leg just enough to nestle in between his. You couldn’t help the deep, contented sigh that left you at the pleasant feeling of his thick thighs cradling one of yours. You had nearly forgotten to pull the blanket up over the two of you with how harshly the drain from concentrating and moving your energy had started to hit you. It didn’t help that Sanji was just as enviously comfortable as he looked.

Sanji drank in every touch you offered with satisfaction and serenity. Every single one seemed to solidify the heaven that wrapped his every sense in comfort and peace. His left hand managed to make its way up and hold the hand you had rested on his shoulder. His right was placed down lovingly on your waist. You mumbled something that could’ve been “sweet dreams” and he mumbled back with just as much clarity. 

With your last waking action, you gave him a gentle squeeze then fully relaxed your body into his. Sanji stayed conscious for as long as he could, basking in the feeling of being truly held.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

No Pressure Taglist: @click-and-flash-pest-captures @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @hey-august @schoute @feral-artistry @haveatthee83

Masterlist

[schemmentigfs]

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

[sminiac]

hi!! could you do showering with piwon? :] (either SFW or NSFW, whatever you prefer 🤍) love your work so much

💌 — Gotchu! Thank you sm my dear, you’re so kind <3

⋆ Y. Keeho

Has a specific playlist he often plays, when you start joining him you automatically become the shared owner of it, this wouldn’t be intentional, he just has a good ear and somehow always manages to remember your favourite songs atm. He’d secure that moment of time spent singing, gossiping, kissing you in his memory, when he’s in the shower at his place or in another part of the world with a bitter lack of your presence he can at least feel a faint sense of it, you.

The type to make fun shapes out of soap bubbles on your head, then bends down enough for you to reach so you can do the same. When you’re taking turns to be fully under the stream of water he lets you have a few extra minutes even though he’s freezing and starting to shiver, washes the shampoo out of his hair with one hand so the other can keep you close in an effort to keep you warm.

Remainder of members under the cut!

⋆ C. Taeyang

Clingy in general, clingier tenfold once you get him under the water and there’s not even a layer of clothes to keep him separated from your skin. Would hold you the whole time if he could, sticks to you like a leech. It’s hair wash day? His heads on your chest, arms wrapped securely around your waist, letting you do your thing, he’s okay as long as he’s got a feel of you. He’d have on odd thing for helping you wash your face, thinks it’s therapeutic, foaming up the cleanser between his fingers so he can gently move at your skin, will giggle if the bubbles make you look silly, but he’d allow you to do the same so you can understand why he’s laughing.

Frequently does face masks with you, like a little self care date, picks out your pyjamas, prepares little snacks for you like cut up fruit, does his best to make it look pretty too. I feel like he’d also do this with baths? You’re a little more stressed than usual and don’t want to lift a finger? He’s got you! Talks to you if you want him to, sings, even just silence, as long as you’re happy and he’s helping you relax.

⋆ C. Jiung

He’d be very intent on just getting in and out so the two of you don’t waste any of the hot water due to how many others are in line behind you— usually he doesn’t pay any mind to the possibility that sometimes you just want to relax in his arms with hot water running down your back, his body heat keeping you shielded from the drafts of cold air that creeps its way to you. When you ask of him to just stay with you for a minute longer he’s immediately accepting, turning back to you with a soft smile and a wet kiss to your forehead as he envelops you back up against his chest, the smell of his shampoo mingling with his body wash heavy in your nose, distinct enough for you to tell which is which.

Jiung’s such a hands on type of bf, he’s always working out tiny tight spots in your body, whether it’s direct through the tips of his fingers, sometimes even his knuckles, or it’s just the soothing firmness of his palm pulling and running against your skin. Lets you rest into him, especially if you had a stressful day that’s starting to make you weary, sometimes he’ll even offer to help with your routine, your hair too if the day calls for it.

⋆ H. Intak

I can only think of the sound of both of your giggles breaking past the steady sound of water when it comes to Intak, just getting so lost in each others company that the outside world and who awaits rather impatiently on the other side of the door may as well not even exist. He has a habit of snapping pics that aren’t quite scandalous as they are intimate, bare shoulders, smiles and wet hair together, my heart is crushed by domestic Intak, the photos growing in abundance as the months pass, the comfortability with one another in such a vulnerable yet loving state becoming more and more evident.

He’s such a groper. Always needs a good squeeze of something, but I also think he wouldn’t mind helping you shave your legs, hear me out cause this might sound silly but there’s just something so ???? Attractive about it ???? Wouldn’t mind that there’s body hair to begin with, it’s only natural of course, but he’d be so focussed in not nicking you with the blade, that he has a good glide, that he didn’t miss any spots. Helps you put lotion/oil on after too. Such an expert with using his knuckles to massage your calf’s as he rubs it in, probably even presses a few kisses along your legs in the process.

⋆ H. Shota

Most prone to getting soap in his eyes, but from his own doing. As soon as the faint sting starts he’s panicked, so dramatic about it too, reaching out for you acting like as soon as the tiniest bit of soap slips in his vision is at risk of being permanently damaged. Once he pats his eyes dry he’s curling into you, holding himself there, letting the warm water run down his back until he can finally blink without it burning— I think with this unintentional yet reoccurring habit he’d ask of you on a whim to work the shampoo into his hair one day, even if you aren’t in the shower with him and just awkwardly leaning into the shower with sore arms he’ll always ask of you to help again after he experiences the magic of your fingers on his scalp.

Becomes the same with massages, we’ve seen how structured his arms are, so if he’s hitting higher weights or doing more sets, soreness is going to be a hell of an excuse to have your hands working more pressure into targeted spots along his upper body with a thin emulsified layer of body wash between your skin and his.

ᰔ sminiac’s P1Harmony M.list

[milkb0nny]

The Aftermath of Intimacy

Ivar The Boneless x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 9: Aftermath

Summary: The shared moments after your intimate hours always were your favorite. His aftercare and love embraced you in Ivar's vulnerability. You loved it so much.

Note: Aftermath, but not violent. I thought of throwing in a different vibe after the rather sad 8th day. This one is sadly very short due to my very stressful week. Life was too much to handle this day, but I managed to create a very comforting prompt. Enjoy! 🤍

Warnings: aftercare, mentions of smut, slight nsfw

word count: 595

Ivar descended, lowering himself onto your body, his head coming to rest upon your chest. His breaths were deep and ragged and he was exhausted from the intimate moments you both shared before. Your hand traced soothing patterns up and down his spine, you enjoyed his weight on your body. The two of you were a sweaty mess, relieved yet exhausted. The air hung heavy with a heady mixture of shared desire and the intoxicating scent of your entwined bodies.

Both of you lay in the aftermath, a sweaty and tangled tableau of passion. Ivar’s heart pounded so strongly you felt his heartbeat on your lower stomach. It was a moment of vulnerability and closeness - a bridge between the raw intensity of your lovemaking and the quiet tenderness that followed.

Ivar, panting and visibly tired, slowly began to lift himself from your body, his blue eyes glancing at your smile. He reassured himself that you were okay, not hurting and alright. Soon his expression softened to a tender smile, as he dragged himself off of you. The room was filled with a gentle hush as Ivar, still catching his breath, shifted to rest beside you.

His fringes gently brushed against your face, an act of adoration. In times like these his anger vanished from the earth. No one else but you knew of his loving side, where not a single madness tormented him.

“Are you alright?” He murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. His questions was simple, but in that moment, they carried a weight of sincerity. Your eyes avoided his blue focus, looking down on his body. You rolled over, getting closer to his body.

Your voice hummed, “Yeah, Ivar.”

In this private sanctuary, away from the chaos of the outside world, he allowed himself to be not a warrior but a companion in the aftermath of shared intimacy. Leaning in, Ivar pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

His kisses after your shared intimacy were your favorite. His care and love flowed through your whole body, telling you how much he admired you. As Ivar deepened the kiss, the warmth of his embrace enveloped you. His arms dragged you closer you, pulling you on his warm body. Breaking the kiss, Ivar rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or unspoken need. He didn’t want you to hurt, feel used or being scared.

“Trust me, I feel good,” you reassured him, whispering these words in his ears.

The man you shared your bed with hugged you, petting your head. His voice once again filled the room. “I worry that I am too rough with you, my love,” he admitted, looking down at you and meeting your sparkling eyes. Once again you reminded him of your angelic presence, of your strength and love.

You chuckled, kissing his collarbone as a response. Your touch comforted him and his body relaxed further, not needing to worry about your potential discomfort. Suddenly you shifted, sliding off of his body and slowly standing up. You covered yourselves in a long garment.

“I’ll get us something to drink and eat. Do you want something special, my great warrior?”

Ivar’s eyes lightened up, he nodded and smiled. Your pure, naked body in that see through garment charmed him, so much he almost wanted to drag you back into the bed.

Though, your sweetness was too kind and the young Ragnarsson wanted to feel loved and admired.

“Ale, and you as a dessert,” he replied to meet your chuckling laughter.

[paradisecouture]

I noticed that your requests are open, and I read your headcanon about Alastor in a relationship. I was wondering if you could possibly write something a bit more intimate on the same topic. But, if you're not comfortable with that, I completely understand! I just wanted to say that I love your blog, it's really lovely.

I'm thrilled you liked the few posts I've shared! It means a lot to me to connect with more people. I'd be happy to take on your request. I just wanted to mention that I'm not super experienced with suggestive content, but I've put a lot of heart into it. 🤍

In intimacy, Alastor transforms into a lover who exceeds all expectations, revealing a romantic facet so intense and detailed that it seems like something out of a dream. Although his dominant and theatrical presence is unmistakable, in these moments with you, he unveils an old-fashioned charm that feels as though he is reliving a golden age of refined and elegant love. Every action and word of his is imbued with a meticulousness that makes you feel like the protagonist of a romantic masterpiece created just for you.

Alastor combines ancient practices with a personal touch, elevating demonstrations of affection to levels of sophistication and tenderness that seem straight out of a fairy tale. He prefers gentle contact, slow and deliberate caresses, with each touch and gesture loaded with meaning. For him, intimacy is an exquisite dance, where each movement is part of a carefully rehearsed choreography, turning every moment into a sublime instance of emotional and physical connection.

Every kiss is an act of devotion, starting with a delicate brush on your hand, followed by a soft caress on your face, and culminating in an intoxicating whisper that envelops you in promises of eternal love. His voice, soft and melodious, fills the air with words of adoration and tenderness, blending old-fashioned compliments with declarations of love so deep and sincere they seem to transcend time. Alastor is not afraid to show vulnerability, revealing a tender and human side of himself in these shared moments.

His eyes, glowing with an almost supernatural intensity, lock onto yours, conveying a devotion so profound that it makes you feel like the only star in his dark sky. He gives himself entirely to the experience, creating a magical atmosphere with his power: soft lights float around the room like stars trapped in an eternal night, illuminating his face with a gentle and enchanting glow.

In every gesture, every word, every glance, Alastor manifests a genuine desire to make you feel loved and special. It seems that every action of his is meant to compensate for the darker aspects of his existence with passionate and dazzling love. In the end, he appears as not just a devoted and passionate lover, but one filled with mystery and charm. His playful nature and love for drama ensure that every moment with him is an unforgettable and magical experience, a true haven of warmth and affection in his infernal existence.

[trentsgirl]

— 🤍 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ (1.5K)

⟡ summary: trent has been your best friend since childhood, always doing everything together. however, he secretly fell for you, and you did as well. when trent finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings, it wasn’t the outcome he’d expected.

⟡ content: angst, fluff, tiny mention of domestic violence, insecurities, reader is insecure and self sabotages, first half is pure angst, he fell first and harder, confessions, kissing, reader rejects trent.

⟡ notes: thank you so much for the request. and part two would be released in a bit, couldn’t leave y’all hanging like my last fanfic. 😭

⟡ streaming: fallingforyou by the 1975.

⟡ masterlist, request, request.

“he’s done it again, hasn’t he?” trent inquired when he discovered you in his doorstep, bawling your eyes out.

throughout the years, he had witnessed countless partners enter and exit your life, inflicting both physical and emotional pain. as your best friend, trent had been there by your side through it all.

he observed you waste your life, pursuing men who didn’t have an once of regard for you.

he loathed it.

he couldn’t comprehend why you never seemed to notice him. he had always been there for you, ready to lend a listening ear and provide support. unlike those men you encountered on random dating apps, he never let you down.

if only you had looked his way, it would have been a straightforward case of unrequited love.

“let it out, sweetheart. cry all want,” trent whispered, his voice barely audible, as the two of you sat on his couch.

you held him so tightly that it became difficult for him to breathe.

nevertheless, he didn’t mind. he cherished the fact that despite the countless men who had caused you harm, you still sought solace in him and placed immense trust in him.

you sobbed, your face buried in trent’s chest. he continued to plant gentle kisses on your hair, providing solace despite the discomfort of remaining in the same position.

after what felt like hours, the tears finally stopped as you couldn’t get anymore out.

trent’s fingers stroked your hair as you calmed down and pulled away from his chest, your eyes red and swollen.

“i’ve ruined your shirt,” you sniffled, glancing at the tear stains on his clothing.

trent shook his head, looking at you affectionately, his shirt being the last thing on his mind. his sole focus was on your well-being.

“don’t worry about it,” he reassured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that felt intimate more than it should be. “feeling better now? would you like me to make you some tea?”

trent’s voice resonated with a tender and charming tone that never failed to make you feel like the only woman he’s ever had eyes for, even though you doubted it was truly the case.

despite your love for him, you were well aware that he would never reciprocate those feelings as he simply deserved someone better, as you claimed.

“yes, please,” you nodded with a subtle smile, sniffling.

“you still got the cinnamon flavor one?” you asked with a sweet tone, causing trent’s heart to melt at the sound of your voice. and not to mention the look in your eyes, filled with both a plea and a dazzling allure.

trent always made sure to have a variety of tea flavors in his kitchen cabinet because he knew how much you loved tea. whenever you introduced him to a new favorite flavor, he would add it to his collection.

after giving you another kiss on the forehead, trent released his hold on you and got up from the couch. “of course. i’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared into the kitchen.

as trent brewed your tea, he contemplated whether this moment was opportune to finally confess his feelings that he had harbored for you all these years.

however, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that the outcome may not align with his desires. he was aware that you had recently ended a relationship and were in a vulnerable state, making it unfair to burden you with his feelings at this time.

a few minutes later, trent returned and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of you.

“it’s still hot, so give it a few minutes,” he informed, taking you into his arms once again and wrapping one arm around your shoulder. he sought your touch as much as you did his.

“thank you,” you whispered quietly, trying to hold back a sob, but it managed to escape. trent’s caring actions alone brought out all your emotions again.

trent gently stroked your hair, trying to comfort you. “hey, it’s okay. no need to cry anymore. he won’t hurt you again.”

you gently shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke, “no, it’s not about him.” you were well aware that your ex could no longer inflict any harm upon you, not with trent right by your side.

“i’m just grateful to have you in my life and i don’t think i’ll ever come across someone like you, who truly sees me for who i am.”

trent was deeply moved by your words, to say the least. before he could respond, you continued expressing your thoughts.

“i mean... all guys ever seem to want is sex, and it’s exhausting,” you vented with a hint of frustration in your voice. “it’s just so scary that there’s no guarantee i’ll ever be loved.”

trent, who has loved you since childhood, leaned in closer, his comforting brown eyes meeting yours. “but you are loved,” he reassured, his voice a soothing balm to your fears. “you have your family, your friends...”

although his voice remained calm and soothing, a fire ignited within him for all the men who had caused you pain, who had made you believe that you were not enough.

“but not by the person i want,” your voice cracked, "in the way i want to be loved. fiercely. passionately. a love that makes me feel like the only woman in his universe.”

trent’s hand delicately brushed against yours, a silent gesture that sent a thrill through your body. his usually serene eyes flickered with an indiscernible emotion.

starting to speak, only to hesitate and close his mouth, as if carefully weighing his words to preserve the bond of your friendship.

he understood that confessing his feelings now would be a mistake, jeopardizing the relationship you had.

however, he couldn’t suppress his desire, his need for you to comprehend that there was someone in this world who loved and truly saw you for who you are.

“i…” trent started, his voice trailing off as he glanced down at your intertwined hands.

a weighty silence enveloped the air, pregnant with unexpressed emotions.

finally, he lifted his gaze, his eyes bearing a raw expression. “i love you, y/n.” he confessed.

your breath caught in your throat. the world suddenly felt askew, your heart fluttering like a trapped hummingbird within the confines of your ribcage.

had you heard him correctly? could this just be a cruel trick?

trent’s voice quivered with emotion as he confirmed, “i’ve always loved you,” his words faltered, “with every sunrise, every shared joke, every tear you shed, my love for you grew, silently and steadily. you are the only woman in my entire universe, y/n.”

tears welled up in your eyes. the ache in your chest transformed into a blossoming warmth.

you hadn’t been that oblivious… right?

the signs had been there, woven into the tapestry of your years together - the lingering touches, the inside jokes, the way your laughter harmonized.

however, instead of embracing his love and listening to your head as you should have done, you hesitated and withdrew, a tempest of doubts swirling within you.

no matter how much you loved and desired trent, your insecurities seemed to overpower your emotions. comparing yourself to the beautiful girls that always surrounded him and sought his attention, you never considered yourself one of them.

in your mind, he deserved someone like those models, someone who could effortlessly complement him.

not you, the girl who was always overshadowed whenever a group of guys flirted with your friends.

not you, the girl who constantly looked for validation from other men, only to be met with disrespect.

not you, the girl who remained in abusive relationships because all you wanted was to be loved, even if it meant enduring pain in the process.

“trent,” you whispered, your voice choked, “i’m so sorry, but it’s not a good idea for us to be in a relationship.”

his world splintered, the once-familiar sofa beneath him feeling treacherous. “not a good idea?” he managed to choke out, disbelief etching lines on his forehead.

“we’ve known each other our entire lives. we’ve shared everything, supported one another, and been there through thick and thin. you can’t say you haven’t something for me. you just can't.”

trent struggled to contain his frustration. he longed to yell, to shake some sense into you, and make you realize that he was the perfect man for you.

however, your own insecurities were overshadowing everything else.

you shut your eyes, hot tears streaming down your cheeks like glistening trails. “it’s not that simple, trent,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

a deep divide formed between the two of you, the weight of his shattered hopes lingering in the air. the silence stretched, disrupted only by the rustle of wind coming from outside and the frantic pounding of his heart.

finally, trent, his voice strained with anguish, nodded. “alright, i understand.”

rather than a genuine understanding, it was an acceptance tinged with resignation.

he comprehended your rejection and your need for an invisible boundary between your friendship and the confession he had just made. he understood that pushing further would not dismantle the wall, but rather deepen the divide between you.

you tentatively reached out, your touch questioning and uncertain, seeking connection. however, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, fearing the reflection of his shattered hopes in your eyes.

trent withdrew his hand cautiously.

despite your intense longing to stay and pour out all the love you have harbored for trent over the years, the words remained trapped within you, unable to escape.

it felt as though a heavy ball had lodged itself in your throat, rendering you unable to speak the truth.

“i’m truly sorry, trent.” you whispered, rising from the couch and leaving his home.

trent patiently waited until he heard the front door open and close before allowing his tears to flow. he couldn’t believe it had come to this.

he had officially lost you.

[laynefaire]

Found on Facebook -

"When an artist leaves this world, an irreplaceable silence follows….echoing in the hearts of people around the world. There's this indescribable power in music, a magic formed by the hands and the voices of those who create it. But….it's not just about the music. It is something that touches our soul and helps mend the pieces of our broken hearts, fixing our wounds with their music.

These artists that we cherish aren't just people on a stage or voices behind a record…..they are our companions in the most intimate parts of our lives.

It’s a connection. It is genuine, deep, and it’s alive with appreciation. Through their music, these artists serve as muses, storytellers, and healers. They give us pieces of themselves with their lyrics. In their vulnerability, we find strength. In their honesty, we see truth. And through their art, we meet them.

When an artist leaves us, it isn't just their silence we hear, it's the quiet mourning of millions who knew them not through words exchanged directly, but through the timeless conversations held in the symphonies of their art.

To grieve an artist is to grieve a part of ourselves….a part that felt seen, known, and understood through the gift of their vulnerability.

In grieving, there grows an understanding that their legacy isn't finished. It lives on every time a note is played, a song is hummed, or a lyric is quoted. This lasting presence exists in every heart they once touched, speaking to us long after their voice has fallen silent.

Embrace the sorrow that you feel. In doing so, we honor their legacy. The immortal gift of music that will forever be with us. Each time we press play, we restore a piece of them and a piece of us.

They may have left the stage, but their melody will live on forever.

🤍🕊️In memory of Liam Payne, 1993-2024🕊️ 🤍"

-Olivia Johnson

Your Favorite Neighborhood Swiftie

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 4: The Air That I Breathe - The Hollies

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, (sweet and lazy) morning sex, praise, biting, simultaneous orgasm, cockwarming if you squint, sadness, heartbreak, breakups, fighting, arguing, crying, frustration/anger, miscommunication, high school breakups, unrequited love, estranged parent/strained parental relationships, angst, depression, anxiety, self doubt/self consciousness, swearing, flirting, fluff, angst, mentions of hookups/casual sex, sorry if I miss any!

hi everyone. remember i love you!!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍😌

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Jake’s POV

“If I could make a wish

I think I’d pass

Can’t think of anything I need

No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound

Nothing to eat, no books to read.”

Rays of sunlight scattered across the room, the flowing curtains sheer and allowing the golden hue to fill the space around you. You were half covered with the sheet, the cool air in the room unable to bother you as you turned on your side. You knew exactly where the comforter had disappeared to, and despite the nagging chill, you felt warmer than ever before. The sweet smell of a million memories danced around your head, laced with orange blossoms and vanilla. As you leaned in closer, jasmine and pear joined the crowd. It was a perfect match, things you’d come in contact with plenty of times in her absence, but not even true plush petals of blossoms on trees nor vanilla beans wore it as well as she did.

Your eyes landed on her, cocooned in the expensive duvet as she slept away the early morning. Her hair was a mess, covering the white cotton pillowcase below her. Her eyes were closed, peacefulness encasing her features as deep breaths moved her shoulders. Her dark eyelashes dusted over the barely-there freckles on her cheeks, casting a small shadow over the bridge of her nose. Her lips, pink and parted ever so slightly, allowing for soft snores to escape made it difficult to sit by and watch the scene, rather than lean forward and kiss her, but you abided by the rules, deciding it was best to admire her than wake her and let the moment pass.

Goosebumps raised on your skin, not because of the coolness of the air conditioning seeping through the woven threads of the sheet, but because waking next to her was an otherworldly experience that you were lucky enough to be a part of yet again. Your mouth was dry, your lungs devoid of air, your veins depleted of the blood that once ran through them, and your heart barely beating in a fruitless endeavor. In the moment, you did not survive off the flesh and bone that carried you to twenty-five, but off of the woman beside you, granting you every desire and wish you’d ever dreamed of.

Waking next to her had been something you longed for since the last morning shared with her, vaguely remembering her sweetness as sleep begged to draw her back in and the tired smile that fought its way onto her perfectly crafted features. She slept so soundly, like trouble had never touched her and pain feared to disturb her. She embodied every single trait of the sun shining in the sky, the light emitting from her even when she was not awake to encourage it.

She was the most precious thing the world had ever created, and she was here with you, trusting you enough to let her guard down and show herself to you in the most vulnerable of ways. Sex was good—great, even. It was intimate, invigorating and fulfilling, and you had dreamed of it a million times, but this was something entirely different. This was the best moment of your day, the highlight of your life as you took the opportunity to admire her when innocence and effortless beauty radiated from her. Sex was great, but waking up to the sight of her beside you was something even greater than that, something you had dreamed of a million and one times in the six years you spent apart.

No matter how much you enjoyed the activities of the night prior, loving her so wholeheartedly for no other reason aside from love itself was always better.

You placed your elbow on the pillow, propping your chin in your hand as you studied her, the constellations of dots decorating her smooth skin, the youthfulness of the girl you loved when you were eighteen and the elegance of the woman you were lucky enough to love now combined all in one. It was a picture you never wanted to lose, one you would spend a lifetime dedicated to remembering in pristine detail, and one that you could survive off alone. You would stave off hunger until it was nonexistent, ignore the thirst until you forgot what it was like to drink water, wither away to nothingness so long as she was there for you to admire. You didn’t need any other entertainment, never wanting to sleep again, never needing to play a guitar or hear the sweet melody of a song again, because she filled you with so much love there was no room left for anything else.

Even if there was, it would pale in comparison to her.

The air flowing in the room, perfectly controlled as it tousled the strands of hair falling over her forehead, could not even disturb her from the slumber she found herself in. It made you wonder if she slept as good as you did, if going to bed while the two of you were apart was as torturous to her as it was for you. Six years of nearly sleepless nights had taken its toll, leaving you exhausted and dreading to fall into bed when the day passed by. Last night, you finally found relief that no aid could match. You tried whiskey, above recommended doses of cold medicine and melatonin, company from another, lesser woman than her, and even Josh’s ridiculous guided meditations, but nothing could cure the nightmare plagued sleep or the relentless tossing and turning.

Nothing until she laid her head on the pillow next to you, her fingers twisting locks of your hair around her finger as her warm breath tickled her neck.

Nothing until you closed your eyes, surrounded by orange blossoms, pears, jasmine, and the faint whisper of vanilla.

Nothing until the warmth of sunshine itself wrapped around you, glowing bright despite the looming moonlight and twinkling stars.

This morning, you awoke with a new lease on life, well rested and with a full heart. The heaviness that constantly weighed down on your shoulders disappeared without a trace, and the storm clouds that forever followed you cleared, allowing for a long awaited taste of blue skies.

You were home again, and Michigan had little to do with the warmth you were experiencing. The woman beside you was many things, but more than anything else, she was the biggest comfort you had ever encountered. She made the world turn with ease, the flowers blossomed as she walked by, and the birds sang a song curated just for her ears. She made all the previous pain worth it, and any bad thing to come obsolete, because when she was loving you, nothing could hurt.

Your breath caught in your throat as her eyes fluttered, her eyelashes tickling her skin as she broke from the blanket tightly wrapped around her. Slowly, her arms stretched above her head, a long breath of air filling her lungs as she prepared to face the world for another day. You wondered how she made it look so easy, how perfection was second nature even when she couldn’t notice it herself. You wondered how everything she did, no matter if it was mundane or grandois, stole the air straight from your lungs and left your head spinning.

Her eyes fully opened, slowly blinking as she tried to pull herself out of her sleepy state. Once she registered where she was, her gaze slowly turned to you, watching silently with a smile on your face. It didn’t take long for her lips to turn upwards, too.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You whispered, giving her ample time to come back to earth before you spoke.

“Good morning, bug.” She said, pushing the blankets away from her face as she turned her head towards you. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Only for a little while.” You confessed, slightly sheepish about it. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” She agreed, reaching forward and letting her fingers graze over your blushing cheeks. “I would have done the same thing. Kinda sad I can’t, honestly.”

“I can pretend to be asleep, if you want?” You grinned. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at your ridiculous need to please her all of the time.

“Think it’s okay, honey. Would take the charm out of it.” She giggled, her eyes turning down to the flimsy sheet covering your legs and stopping just below your navel. “Sorry I stole the blankets.”

“Are you kidding? Been waiting six years for you to steal the blankets from me again.” You stressed your point, ensuring she understood that this was all you ever thought about.

“You’re cold.” She stated, her fingers trailing down your frigid arm. “Come here.” She said, lifting the blanket for you to join her. You slid over, noticing her turn on her side away from you once the comforter was covering you. You slipped an arm around her waist, turning on your side just the same as her while you pulled her into you.

In an instant, you were surrounded in the familiar perfume still clinging to her skin, the soft strands of her hair tickling your face as you buried your head in her neck. Your hand talked upwards, a natural reaction to holding her in such a way. Your palm landed on her still bare breast, cupping it as her arm settled on top of yours. She pushed herself backwards a little further, her back completely pressed against you and the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against your hips. You placed a kiss to her shoulder blade, your stomach twisted with nerves and your entire body tingling with pleasure just from the simple position.

Holding her was your favorite thing to do, even if you knew it had to end eventually. Although the loss of her was debilitating, the few moments you had her all to yourself made up for the pain it caused when she pulled away. If it were up to you, you would hold her just like this for the rest of your life. If she allowed it, you would never let her go.

“You sleep okay?” You asked, your words muffled from your mouth lingering against her skin.

“Better than ever.” She whispered, without a doubt in her mind about it. “You?”

“Me too.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you breathed her in. There was nowhere in the world you’d rather be, the surplus of emotion coursing through you so unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You fell back into silence, neither of you needing to explain any further because you understood exactly how you both felt. The cloud of sleepiness was still hovering around the two of you, begging to pull you back in. It was tempting, but you fought it with everything in you, knowing you didn’t want to miss a single second of loving her.

Absentmindedly, you let your thumb drift over her nipple, hardened from the cold hair combined with your touch. She shuddered at the feeling, her hips pushing backwards into you as a natural response. The movement sent a flood of adrenaline through you and a sudden rush of blood straight to your dick.

“Careful, sweetheart.” You warned, letting her know the consequences of her actions were imminent. She could feel you resting against her ass, catching on to your intent immediately. Instead of heeding your advice, she arched her back slightly, pressing herself against your length even further. Your fingers tightened on her and your hips moved forward to meet hers, in search of relief already even though she barely did anything at all. “You want more already?” You smiled, relieved to know you weren’t the only one tormented by need.

“Been so long, baby.” She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Been so long since someone could do it right.” She corrected herself, just as eager to make up for all the lost time. You let your fingers trail over her bare stomach, the touch light and tickling her as you advanced toward her hip. You could only imagine she was sore, bruised and still tired from the night prior, so you promised to be gentle with her from your touch alone.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want, angel.” You assured her, knowing that your statement did not even scratch the surface. You would do anything for her, even if it was a hindrance to yourself. You would move heaven and earth to see her smile, you would spend every dollar and every minute of every day in an effort to make her happy. You would do anything, be anything, and give anything for her. You hoped that she knew, that she understood just how important she was and how much you cared about her. You hoped that in a single day, you were able to show her the love you’d sworn to give her when you were fifteen asking her to be your girlfriend in the park, all over again at twenty five.

Slowly, your hand drifted down to her thigh, snaking around to the front of her. Before you could go any further, she reached down and stopped you, turning her head back over her shoulder as she shook her head ‘no’. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what caused her sudden change of heart all whilst you admired the softness and beauty in her still tired eyes.

“I don’t want that. I want you.” She whispered, hoping you understood her meaning. At that, you swallowed hard, feeling your dick throb at the intent of her actions. She was not in search of pleasure from an orgasm, but rather the pleasure of being close to you. She missed it, just as intensely and deeply as you did, the feeling of belonging to each other.

“You have me, sweetness.” You promised her, but abided by her wishes and instead used your hand on her leg to prop it up. You slid down on the mattress a little further, holding her thigh as she steadied it in the new position. “Used to dream of waking up like this every night.” You couldn’t help but feel a smile pull at your lips, almost unable to believe that she was there, beside you and wanting everything you hated yourself for needing all of the time.

“Don’t have to dream anymore, bug.” She breathed, arching her back a little further as you reached between your bodies and lined yourself up with her. You wondered if she thought about it as much as you did, if she craved the feeling of your hands on her skin with such a ferocity that it nearly brought her to her knees. You wanted to ask, to know if she daydreamed about tangled limbs and lazy Sundays in bed together, but a small part of you knew she did, or she wouldn’t have come back.

Your tip was settled over her entrance, already slick with arousal just from the thought of fucking you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling forward as your forehead rested against her shoulder blade. You pulled her down just a little further, letting your hand hold the underside of her thigh so she did not have to exert her energy keeping the limb locked in place. As she moved down, you pushed your hips forward, letting out a hiss of pleasure through your clenched teeth. You pushed forward the rest of the way, hearing her let out a sigh of relief at the feeling as you brushed against the sensitive spot you knew so well.

“You always feel so fucking good, sunshine.” You muttered, taking a moment to rest inside of her. Your heart drummed against your chest, pressed against her back so she could feel the rhythmic beat that depended on her love alone. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.” You followed up your statement, still in disbelief that you had the opportunity to hold her so close again. Still, as you said it, you felt an unfamiliar tug of uncertainty twist your stomach.

Was she yours?

You hadn’t discussed that—in fact, you hadn’t discussed anything. You woke up, still stuck in a cloud of euphoria from life’s turn of events, still living in the fairytale world you had worked together to create. She wasn’t yours in any truthful manner, but rather just the fallacy you had created in your head. The plague of heartbreak continued consuming you, eating away at any bit of sanity that still remained, begging you to air out the unspoken fears that you still had. You couldn’t move forward without addressing what had already happened, which led you to a lazy morning hookup after a successful second first date. You hadn’t addressed the reason for the second first date at all, and if you continued to neglect the fact, it would leave you both at the very beginning again.

Not yet. Not now.

You shoved the feelings down, swallowing them as they got stuck in your throat. They were desperate to be spoken, but you couldn’t allow them to be. You had no idea where they would lead you, and you weren’t risking the end already, not when you just got her back, and not when you were sharing the intimacy with her you’d been craving so badly.

Soon, but certainly not now.

“Fuck, Jake.” She whispered, moving her hips further down in search of what you were holding back. Your name falling from her lips was like summer rain, washing over you with warmth as it relieved you from the irritating burn of the blazing sun. You wanted to hear it again, for her to say it over and over again until she could speak no more and your ears were ringing in the static silence. You never wanted her to stop saying it, never again giving her the chance to speak the name of another.

“This is what you wanted, sweetheart?” You asked, beginning a slow pace with your hips. Your fingers tightened against the flesh of her thigh, a whole new spot to leave a mark on her, ensuring she would remember the moment as the days passed her by.

“Yes, baby.” She breathed, leaning backwards so she was flush against your chest.

Your head fell to the crook of her neck, the sweet scent of her perfume invading your senses as your lips attached to the delicate skin. She was already littered with love bites, her skin sensitive as your tongue traced over her. You didn’t care, and she didn’t either; the state you had left each other in was childish, similar to the way you used to act when you were younger. Even if you would face ridicule at the hands of your careless actions, you were just happy to feel like you were hers again, for others to believe she was yours again.

To feel and to believe, but never in certainty. Even if it was true, you wondered for how long this time.

Although you would promise forever, and you longed to hear it from her too, you did not know. You weren’t even sure if she wanted forever, or if this was a passing moment that would leave you both alone again, with even less closure than before. The idea hurt, and it hurt achingly bad, taking over your entire body with such a devastating effect that it even seemed to overshadow the pleasure that came from being inside of her.

Why did it hurt so bad when everything seemed so good? When perfection was all around you? When the world seemed right for the first time in six years? Why now?

Perhaps it never stopped. The hurt did not go away when she broke the silence, not even when you showed up at her door. It subsided, covered up by the excitement and joy from the reunion, but it was never resolved. You never expected it to come back so soon, when she was still with you, but maybe that was the problem itself.

Being with you and being yours were two entirely different things, and although having her by your side was what you craved, it was not what you wanted. The uncertainty made it hurt worse, just like it did when she was packing up her childhood bedroom with tear stained cheeks and promises of everlasting love. The uncertainty made it worse when you spent those first few days texting, hoping she would change her mind or you would find the courage to speak your truth. Uncertainty was your entire life, never changing her contact name and always hoping that every notification was a ‘hello’ or an ‘I miss you’.

Uncertainty was right now, wrapped up in her and closer than you’d been in a long time, but not knowing what it meant.

But the sounds falling from her lips, strikingly beautiful and oddly haunting made it easy to forget about it, to draw you out of the cloud of doubt and back into the moment with her.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” She said, her head turned back to catch a glimpse of your face. Her eyes were heavy, tiredness still lingering on her features, but it made her all the more beautiful. The intimacy of having her in the state, no guard up and all of the walls broken down, was almost too much for you to bear. Words were failing you, the only thoughts in your head revolving around the same, undying love for her that forever existed in your heart.

You wanted it to last forever, to hold her in your arms until you turned to dust and the wind swept you away. Even then, you would find her again, whether it be in real life or something greater. Every part of you would be tied to her forever, no matter if death tried to get in the way.

“Show me how fucking good it feels.” You growled, your voice low as you held her gaze. Neither of you dared to look away, your arm still holding her quivering leg as you felt her walls flutter around you. She craned her head backwards a little further, just enough to connect her lips with your own.

You met her action, your eyes closing as you focused on all of the sensations at once. The slow, steady pace was almost too much for you. Feeling her all at once, enjoying and appreciating every second of it, all while holding her so close to you was overwhelming in the best possible way. She felt so good, so intoxicating, just like she always had. It was a relief to know that the distance nor the time had any effect on the chemistry existing between you, even if you had both changed so much.

The kiss was sloppy, messy and needy as you tried to hold onto it. The moment was pure bliss, more euphoric than anything else you’d ever experienced. The taste of her on your tongue and the feeling of her wrapped around you was sending you spiraling, still riding the high from the previous night all while getting to experience it all over again. She was more addicting than the sting of a cigarette at the back of your throat, burning stronger in your chest than a shot of whiskey as you swallowed her down, and more thrilling than playing on a stage before thousands.

Perhaps you were so caught up on the unknown because you knew living without her had never been worth it.

She let out a moan into your mouth, letting you drink down the sound as if you were dependent upon it for survival. You slammed your hips forward, a little sharper than before, causing her to repeat the action. You were dependent upon her, not the noises or the pleasure she could grant you. You needed every little bit she could give, and you feared that not even that would suffice. She was everything you’d ever wanted, more than you ever needed, and you were desperate to hear her say that she was yours, not because of a momentary high or a surplus of emotion.

The early morning hours left your willpower greatly depleted, the sleep still weighing heavy on your shoulders and the euphoria you had endured the night before still lingering under your skin. The feeling of her, so close and so intimate, was enough to push you over the edge the minute you felt it. The taste of her on your tongue, the desperation in her movements as she strained to ensure you would not break from the kiss. The scent of her fucking perfume, suffocating you and leaving you happy to die at her hands.

It was all too much. She was too much, and you didn’t deserve a single thing she was offering.

The pleasure was coursing through your veins, depleting your previous life source and creating a new one. Your heart ached from the strength with which it was beating against your chest, your stomach twisted with desire as you held yourself back. She was quickly becoming the only thing you could think about, the only face you could see and the only voice you could hear. As much as you wanted to believe it was a good thing, you felt that same nagging, grating self-doubt as you feared the fallout.

Could you survive her walking away a second time?

The fear was pushed from your mind once again, a rush of pleasure flowing through you more intense than the last. You broke from the kiss, letting out a shaky sigh as you did your best to pull her closer to you.

“Wish I could fuck you like this all day.” You muttered, your fingers digging into the skin on her thigh even further. “Keep you like this for the rest of my life, if I could.” You watched as her hand snaked between her legs, the blankets strewn across the bed and barely covering the two of you now. Her middle finger settled over her clit, tracing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as she held your gaze.

“Nothing stopping us, baby.” She replied, her eyes speaking louder than her words ever could. She wanted it, and she was asking you if that’s what you truly wanted, too.

You don’t know why, but your eyes fluttered away from hers, unable to withstand the emotion existing between you.

Of course you wanted it, but it was never that easy. She might want it too, but it didn’t make up for the million things that had been left unsaid. It didn’t make up for the sleepless nights and the tears shed, not the pain you endured or the sadness that still plagued you, even with her beside you.

She was asking if you wanted to love her just like that forever, but you were too much of a coward to say yes. You couldn’t handle the thought of agreeing, to telling her the truth only to have it ripped from your grasp again.

“I love you, sunshine.” You whispered, your lips finding her neck again as you held back everything you wanted to say instead. Your statement was true, you loved her deeply and more dearly than you loved anything else in your entire life, and you always would, but you couldn’t promise her forever if you did not know the tellings of her heart, too.

Enjoy the moment, worry later.

“I love you, Jake.” She whined, desperate for you to kiss her again. In an instant, at the sound of the sweet words, the turmoil disappeared, replaced with a growing sense of pride in your chest to be loved by someone so fantastic.

That was the danger of letting her in; she took the pain away with little effort, and caused a million times more when she inevitably turned and walked away.

“Cum for me, sunshine.” You pleaded, your voice hushed and your words muffled from your lips still pressed against her skin. You were eager for her to reach her climax, and worried that if she did not do so soon, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back.

You could feel how close she was, the flutter of her walls around you, pulling you in further. You could hear the desperation in her tone, her moans shaky and breathy, always a clear sign that she was close to the edge. She wanted to, she just needed a little extra encouragement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Being so good for me.” You whispered, your tongue tracing the love bites still littering her skin. She tasted sweet, lingering on your tongue like poison as you succumbed to the sickness of loving her. She continued tracing circles into her clit, pushing herself closer to the edge as she leaned her head back against you for support. You loosened your grip on her thigh, hooking your arm underneath her leg and pulling her back on you as you slammed forward into her.

The laziness in both of your actions was apparent, but it made the moment all the more addicting as you relied on each other to keep up the pace. You let your lips trail down to her shoulder, your teeth gently sinking into the flesh as you applied slight pressure, just enough for her to notice. The sensation sent her spiraling, your name falling from her lips like a hymn, praising you when she was the one who deserved the commendation.

“Fuck, baby.” She whimpered, her body trembling as the pleasure became too much to withstand. With a long slur of curses, you felt her descend into the cloud of euphoria, continuing to sing your name and only ever causing you to fall further for her.

Before the night prior, you did not think it was possible to love her any more than you already did, but she seemed determined to prove you wrong with every passing chance.

“That’s my girl.” You groaned, a pathetic little cry falling from your lips as you felt the same feeling wash over you.

You did not care if the title was fleeting, because there in that moment, she was yours, and you had to appreciate what you had rather than mourn a potential loss in the future.

You pulled her down on you, letting her completely surround you as you spilled your release into her. Her perfume hung like a haze around your head, the ends of her still curled hair tickling your skin and the warmth of her body giving you more comfort than ever before. Together, the two of you rode out the high breathless and happy just to coexist together again.

You wondered, even if this moment must come to pass, why could life not be so beautiful all of the time?

As you relaxed into the mattress, you noticed she did too, searching for the comfort she could only find in your arms. You eased your hold on her leg entirely, gently letting it fall without withdrawing from her. You snaked your arm around her torso, pulling her closer to you as you soaked up the last few minutes of intimacy the scene would allow.

“That’s a great way to start the morning, I think.” She hummed, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the pillow. She wasn’t protesting your prolonged stay in the position, because she was enjoying it just as much as you were.

“The best, actually.” You corrected, dusting a few kisses over her warm skin. It was torture loving her so completely, because no matter if she was yours forever, life would not allow you to hold her like this every minute of every day.

‘Making love with you

Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired

What more could I ask

There’s nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep.’

“This feels the same as it did before.” She whispered, her tone low and slow like she was fighting a slumber with all of her energy. She didn’t want to succumb to sleep, terrified of missing out on a single second of your company. “I thought… I thought it would be different, I guess. That because we’re different, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. I was worried that we would wake up and realize it wasn’t real, that we only felt this way because we never had enough closure to move on.” She was strung out from the pleasure, still riding an emotional high as she confessed to her own fears.

“It’s always been real, sunshine.” You assured her, tracing shapes into her skin as you held her. “Always wanted to be with you.” You muttered, slightly ashamed of the undying love you always carried for her. You were tired too, your eyes heavy as the world continued to wake. Sleeping away the day with her by your side was tempting, and you would have fallen victim to the peacefulness of her presence if you were less stubborn.

“I guess there’s just so much… shit we never talked about.” She trailed off, losing her confidence the longer she thought about it. “From back then and now.” She wanted to talk too, wallowing in confusion and self doubt just as heavily as you were and nearly drowning in the sorrow that still surrounded her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, hoping that she did so you could air out your own relentless thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tone was near solemn, the sound making your stomach sink and regret begin to form. If she didn’t want the same thing, would you spend the rest of your life regretting asking the damned question?

“Okay.” Your voice was soft as you bargained with the anxiety beginning to take over. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad—maybe she was afraid of all the same things and desperate to hear you assure her otherwise.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, okay?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the sight of her sleepy eyes and blushed cheeks, making you wonder if you would see it again in the morning, or waste your day trying to forget about it.

“Okay.” You repeated your earlier words, finding that the easiest thing to say when dread was crushing you. Then, she leaned back a little further, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. Your fingers tightened on her, the action alone prompting a sudden wave of relief that seemed to cure all of your earlier ailments. When she pulled away, the smile turning the corners of your lips helped you to relax, forcing you to believe that the conversation wouldn’t be nearly as bad as you thought it would be.

Carefully, she climbed from the bed and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as your heart continued to speed against your chest. The ghost of her kiss still lingered on your lips, the feeling electrifying as you desperately tried to find some common sense and calm yourself. You reached for your phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen to catch a glimpse of the time. It was nearing the afternoon, the entire morning spent in a bubble of love and joy that nothing could penetrate. You didn’t care about the time wasted laying in bed, because when you were beside her, no time felt wasted.

You ignored the plethora of notifications sitting below the time, tossing it back down on the mattress just as the bathroom door creaked open. You shot a smile in her direction as she approached the bed, taking an extra second to admire the entire picture before you. Her cheeks darkened as she realized what you were doing, and instead of taunting her for her embarrassment, you climbed out of bed and landed a gentle smack on her ass as you passed her by. Light, playful, confident. The more normal you made this seem, the more likely she would be to go into the conversation with a clear head and an open mind.

“My turn. Be right back.” You looked back over your shoulder, watching her pull your shirt over her arms from the night prior, buttoning a few buttons to keep it closed.

That was a good sign, right? Wearing your clothes, climbing back into your hotel bed, a smile on her face and joy still shining in her eyes. She wanted to make it work, just like you did. She loved you, still after all this time. It had to be a good sign.

Right?

Her POV

You watched as he walked around the corner, holding your breath as the bathroom door fell shut behind him. You felt like your head was going to explode, your entire body vibrating with nerves as you climbed under the still warm blankets. You had no idea what you were doing, no idea where the conversation would lead you, but for the first time in six years, you felt happy. Pure, uninhibited joy that could not even be overshadowed by your own dramatics. You wanted him—you never stopped wanting him, and you were going to tell him. You were going to tell him how sorry you were, how terrible it was to be without him, and hope so desperately and deeply that he would be willing to give you a second chance.

He wanted it too, right?

Right?

He was so loving, so attentive and kind as he planned such a thoughtful date, down to every last detail. He had to want it too, and for once you didn’t think you made it up in your own head, that the hope was correct rather than misplaced this time. He had to want it too, because you couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting your apologies and sending you away.

He was withdrawn during sex, and it didn’t take long to notice. You knew him better than you knew yourself, even if you’d spent so much time apart. What was he thinking about? Was he not enjoying himself? Was he regretting it?

You were working yourself up, your heart aching and your stomach sick as you thought of all the possibilities of what could happen next. You were trembling, vibrating with anxieties. The feeling was grating, irritating as it—no, it wasn’t you.

It was his damned phone beside you in the bed, vibrating nonstop with incoming messages, so constant and steady that you had convinced yourself it was something else.

What the fuck—who the fuck was blowing up his phone?

It wasn’t your business. You knew that, and you tried to distract yourself so you could ignore the temptation. If he had something to hide, he never would have shared his screen on the FaceTime calls, nor would he have left his phone sitting so openly and invitingly on the bed for you to see.

But who the hell was messaging him? Who needed to get through to him so imminently on his days off?

Just a peek, you bargained. Just to assure yourself it was Josh being his normally overbearing and invasive self.

Just a peek.

What could it hurt, right?

Right?

You reached over, slowly grabbing his phone and bringing it closer to your face. You tapped the screen, immediately noticing the surplus of notifications. It wasn’t just from one person, but rather a flood of emails and texts combined. A momentary sense of relief washed over you, but you couldn’t pry yourself away even with the reassurance it wasn’t a secret girlfriend. Instead, your eyes scanned the words that you could read, seeing a lot of rescheduled meetings and chains from what looked to be labels and managers.

Wait, rescheduled?

You looked a little further, your stomach dropping when you gathered the main idea from the surplus of messages.

He had moved his entire life around, canceling meetings and rescheduling interviews that were supposed to be done today, yesterday, and the day before that.

He put his entire life on pause for you.

What should have been a sweet realization was instead evil, ugly, and cruel.

Six years later, you were doing the exact thing you were trying to avoid when you left in the first place. You were standing in the way of his career, and he was doing what he always had; putting you before everything else, no matter the consequences. Putting you before himself, before his dreams.

You left to ensure he wouldn’t do that, but you couldn’t stay away and ended up forcing his hand anyway. It was only a few meetings, an interview, but you knew him well and you knew it wouldn’t stop there. With you permanently in Michigan and him halfway across the world, he would only try harder to see you, and it would only get worse from here.

You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t be the very thing that stood in the way of him and his entire life. You wished you found texts from another girl, from a girlfriend or a wife so you could be angry and upset with him for doing such a thing, but that wasn’t who he was, and it never would be. Jake would never let you down, and would do anything he could to make you happy. In doing so, he would sacrifice his own wants and needs, and you couldn’t be responsible for him disregarding everything he’d worked for his entire life.

God, he made it so unbelievably hard to stay out of love with him, even if you knew it was for the best.

Just as you were about to put the phone down, to bargain with your foggy mind and hurting heart, another chain of texts pulled your attention back in.

Amelie - 11:48am

Here’s that sneak peek you asked for. Saving the best for when you get back, so don’t even bother. 😉

*Attachment: 4 images*

“God, what the fuck does that mean?” You whispered to yourself, tossing the phone back on the mattress without even looking at the preview of the pictures as you tried to swallow back the panic you were feeling. It seemed like the world was mocking you for believing the two of you could be together, mocking you for believing that you could have someone as perfect as him.

Who was she, and what did she mean she was saving the best for when he got back? Why had he never mentioned her? Was she a girl he was trying to keep secret? She was close enough to him to have his phone number, comfortable enough to text him on his days off, and cheeky enough to send a winking emoji of follow. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Your mind was a mess, your chest aching and your head spinning. The message in itself wasn’t exactly incriminating, but you were so caught up in your own emotions from earlier that you wanted to believe it was, so your justification for running wasn’t because he loved you too much. You were jumping to conclusions, desperately grasping at strings to pull together an excuse to leave, but it had nothing to do with him rescheduling his meetings and the oddly worded message from the mysterious ‘Amelie’ (who sounded like a woman you could not even begin to compete with). It had everything to do with your own fear and your inability to see the brighter side of things.

You were doing everything you could to avoid getting hurt, and right now, you were already hurting. Instead of owning up to it and getting to the bottom of it with him by your side, you began to shut out the possibility of loving him in hopes of stopping the hurt before it grew any larger.

Caught up in a whirlwind of grief and a surplus of love, you did not even have time to straighten our separate the two before Jake stepped out of the bathroom, naked and beautiful as ever as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase. He slipped them on, his eyes trailing to you, expecting to see the smile he’d left on your lips when he walked away. Instead, he was met with an expression that told him nothing good, his palms breaking into a sweat and his stomach tied in knots as he tried to decipher the look in your eyes.

He had seen the look once before, and he spent the equivalent to a hundred lifetimes trying to rid the memory from his brain. He was praying it was different this time, that he had it completely misunderstood.

“Sunshine,” he warned, cautiously approaching the bed as he tried to defuse the bomb he knew was waiting to explode.

Afraid.

That was the only thing you were, feeling it so violently and aggressively as you shied away from his outstretched arms, silently pleading with you to reconsider. You were afraid of being hurt, afraid of hurting him, afraid of holding him back and standing in his way. You were terrified of everything, and most of all, unable to comprehend how dearly you loved him. You longed to be a teacher, spent years with your nose buried in a book and working so hard to get a degree so you could help someone else understand better. Not knowing was hard, and not understanding something was your biggest downfall, because you had made a life out of facts and working constantly to make sense of challenging things.

This didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t make it appear clearer. The longer you thought about it, the more confused you became, and it was killing you.

You pulled your legs to your chest, feeling tears shine in your eyes as you looked over his face. He was so beautiful, so perfect and so kind, which is why you had to walk away. He was too good, and you weren’t ever going to be enough. Back then, when you went your separate ways the first time, he took the sacrifice of losing you so you could follow your dreams. You were moving too fast, chasing after a life you couldn’t find in Michigan, and he stepped away to allow you to take the leap without worrying about him.

His actions were valiant, completely selfless and done in an attempt to ensure your happiness, and done without a single care about himself or his own breaking heart.

You had to do the same for him. You couldn’t hold him back or drag him down—he deserved someone in control of their life, certain and calculated with every move they made, stable and fun loving with a carefree spirit, and that would never be you.

Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

“Don’t do this. Not yet.” He sat on the edge of the bed, knowing what you were thinking before you said a word. “Let’s talk about it, please. We have to talk about it.” He was right, but you didn’t want to. The longer you talked about it, the worse it felt. You didn’t talk to him last time because it hurt too bad, and right now as you stared at him, facing the same situation as you did when you were eighteen, you understood that leaving Jake would always be the hardest thing you could ever do.

“This was a mistake, Jake.” You blurted out, immediately realizing the extent of your words when a pained expression crossed his beautiful face. You never wanted to be the reason behind his pain, and in that moment, you knew you were causing all of it.

“A mistake, huh?” He raised his hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger closing around his cheeks as his palm pressed against his chin. Deep in thought and clearly bothered by your choice of words, he could no longer look you in the eyes. “You said you loved me.” There was a slight snide drawl in his words, like he was fighting every part of himself so he would not respond with the hurt he was feeling.

“No, Jake, that’s not—“ you cut yourself off, feeling your chest tighten with panic as you raised your hand to his arm. The gentle touch pulled him out of his internal brooding for long enough to look back in your direction, to see how much hurt you were suffering from too. “You are not a mistake. Loving you is not a mistake, and I do. I love you so much that it hurts, and I could never feel this way about anyone else. I don’t want to love anyone else, Jake.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, reaching out and cupping your cheek in his palm. His stare was overwhelming, so much emotion in his gaze that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “If you love me, and you don’t want to love anyone else, why are you trying to leave?”

“I just…” you started, losing your composure as the million reasons flooded your mind. Your voice cracked, your eyes falling to the pristine threads on the comforter as they welled with tears. “Six years, and nothing changed. We’re still in the same situation, trying to love each other and knowing it won’t work.”

“Who’s saying it won’t work, sunshine? I would do anything to make it work—“

“That’s the problem, Jake!” You cut him off, closing your eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling. “Anything. You would do anything, even if it meant throwing the rest of your life away!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He argued, his temper growing as you continued to raise your voice at him.

“Did you really have all this time off, with nothing to do? No meetings, no interviews, nothing to attend to?” You asked, watching his face as his expression faltered ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it answered your question without him having to say a word. “You moved your entire life around just to come and take me to dinner, Jake. Without a promise of anything, without even knowing if I would say yes. If we keep this up, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to get in the way of everything you worked so hard for.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything, sunshine. I chose to do that. I wanted to do it.” He tried to get you to see his point, to get you to understand that it wasn’t you forcing his hand on the matter.

“That’s the problem, bug.” Your cheeks were damp as you drowned in your own sorrow. “You would give up everything, just like you would have back then. That’s why I had to go. I had to leave so you wouldn’t waste your life chasing after me. Look at what you’ve accomplished since I left. Look at the life you built, all on your own.” You pleaded with him, begging him to see reason. “I’m going to take away from that, distract you from the only thing you’ve ever wanted. I can’t be responsible for that.”

“It’s not the only thing I’ve ever wanted!” He snapped, stronger than he intended to. Still, he continued on, desperate to be heard after six years of silence. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. You are the only thing that’s ever mattered. You sat and listened to me talk about this life, encouraging me to chase after it, made me believe I could do it. It means fuckin’ nothing without you there beside me.”

“Jake, listen to yourself.” You cried, your head pounding and your chest tight as you tried to draw in a shaky breath. “You stepped back, you took that burden when I left and tried to make a name for myself. You didn’t want to stand in my way, and now you have to let me do it for you. I’m the one stuck in Michigan, not knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going. It won’t work, and you know it.”

“Don’t use that against me, Y/N.” The lack of a nickname was like a stab straight to the stomach, making you understand that this was more serious than it was when you were kids, because you were still hurting from it. It was all coming out at once, the fear and the anger and the regret. It was mixing together with your current situation, making for a deadly conversation that the two of you would carry with you for the rest of your lives. “Don’t use that as an excuse to leave now, because it’s the stupidest thing I have ever done. I’ve spent six years regretting it, Y/N. Do not make it seem like it was some courageous sacrifice—it was stupid and wrong, because I was afraid and I was hurt.”

“Jake—“

“No.” He cut you off, calm and collected with a grievous look in his eye. “I let you leave. I didn’t fight for you. I was eighteen and stupid, and I thought it was for the best at the time, and I know now that it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I am not letting you leave without fighting for you, Y/N. I’m not losing you again. I waited this long to get you back. This can’t be it. I won’t let this be it.”

“You think I don’t regret it?” You exploded, overwhelmed with the memory of the last time you saw him. “You think I enjoyed driving away, watching you sit at the end of my driveway waving goodbye with tears in your eyes? I didn’t want to, Jake. I hated it, and I hated myself for it. I cried that whole fucking drive, and then three days later I had to tell you to stop texting me because it only ever made it harder to move on. Guess it never would have mattered, because I never did, anyway! Six years later I sat in that bedroom, sorting through that box that held memories from the best three years of my entire life, and I had to swallow the fact that it will always be you, even if I don’t want it to be!” A grimace crossed his face, his heart aching at the harshness of your words.

“I hated looking for you in every man I’ve ever met, wondering if they could even come close to the boy I left at home. I hated staying up at night, listening to the same eight songs and wondering why we couldn’t be the ones who ended up together. I hated coming home and back to that house, just to realize that you were the only thing that made it feel like home in the first place! You weren’t here Jake, you moved to Nashville and you were traveling Europe, touring the world and playing music for thousands of people. You made it without me, and I drowned without you. I ended up here, back in the house I swore I’d never live in again in a town that’s missing the only good thing it ever had. You made it, Jake. You did it, and I will not drag you down again. I love you too much to hold you back. You have to let me do this for you, because you’ve done everything for me!” You finished your rant, barely able to see straight from the tears blurring your vision. Your throat was raw, your voice shaking as you tried your hardest to keep it together for long enough to make him understand.

“Sunshine,” he took your face between his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “This isn’t doing anything for me. You leaving isn’t helping me, and staying won’t hurt me. Loving you is the only thing that I know how to do, and the only thing that I need. You give me everything just by being here.”

“Baby, please.” You closed your eyes, the pain in your chest only worsening as you stared at him.

“No, Sunshine.” He shook his head, holding your face tightly so you couldn’t look away. “Please, don’t do this. I just got you back.”

“Jake, I can’t.”

“That’s it?” He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his own eyes. “It’s over? We’re done, just like that?” He tried to blink away the pain, but it only worsened his feelings on the matter. “After everything we talked about over the last few weeks? After everything we said last night? That’s it?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head against his hold. “I guess so? I don’t know, Jake! I don’t know what to do or how to make it better. I'm trying to do the right thing. This happened so fast, and I didn’t have any time to think about it, but now that I have, we both know it won’t work! You’re going back to Nashville and I’m stuck here. You’re going to travel the world and meet so many people, ones that are way better than me and have so much more to offer. I'm going to tie you down and hold you back, and you’re going to realize it too, and I can’t get hurt like that. Not again.” You bit down on your lip to stifle the sobs begging to escape.

“You don’t get it, sunshine. There is nobody else; only you, and it’s always been that way.” There was a quiver in his voice, his cheeks wet with his own tears and he pleaded with you to see reason.

“I have to, Jake. I don’t even know if this is where I’ll stay. I could be halfway across the country again by this time next year. I don’t know, and I can’t force you to change everything because I’m still a mess.”

“I want to, sunshine. I love you.” He whispered, breaking under the weight of his grief. You shook your head again, too overcome with emotion to speak but still as stubborn as you’d always been. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Just not right now Jake. I’m not saying never, but not now.”

The words were worse than a slap in the face, making him choke on the fact that you would never be his, but he would always be stuck on your hook with nowhere else to go.

“So what, friends?” He scoffed at the word as if it were ridiculous, scowling as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yes.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “I want you in my life Jake. I always have. It’s horrible without you here, but the time still isn’t right. I need to get my life figured out. Give me some time to be what you deserve.” He watched you, his eyes casted down upon your saddened face as he digested the words he never wanted to hear again.

How, after so long and so much suffering, could the time still not be right? How could you still not see it?

But, he loved you, and in that moment it seemed like the worst curse of all. He was willing to do whatever would make you happy, even if it meant agreeing to something that would be equal to torture.

“Fine, sunshine.” He breathed, unable to resist you with you so close to him. He could never say no to you, anyway, no matter the distance. “If that’s what you think is right, I’ll be your friend, but I’ll never stop telling you how wrong I think it is.” A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain begging to kill you.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You joked, tears still free falling as you breathed him in for what might be the very last time.

“I’m going to suck at being your friend.” He warned, still holding you close while he still could. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I’m not going to stop, either.” You promised.

“Which is why this whole thing is stupid.” He tried again, desperate for you to understand.

“You’ll understand, bug. Maybe not right now, but you will. I promise.” You whispered, fighting every urge to kiss him.

“If you say so, sunshine.” He muttered, too far gone within his misery to worry about hiding it anymore. “Can I kiss you, one last time?”

“I might not be able to stop.” You confessed, feeling the gravitational pull forcing you towards him, the universe doing everything it could to force you into his arms forever.

“Could think of worse things.” He hummed, his hand sliding backwards as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Me too, bug.” You whispered, closing your eyes and leaning forward.

You closed the gap between you, the kiss soft and sweet, the saltiness of your tears lingering on your lips as you did all you could to savor the moment with him. He dropped one hand to your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap without parting from you. You accepted the new position, melting into his arms and letting your guard down one last time. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you wondered how you could ever give up the feeling of peace that came with his company. He felt like home, more comforting and inviting than anything else in the entire world, and you wished you could hold onto it forever.

Eventually, you broke free from the kiss, but made no move to leave. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder as another, more aggressive wave of sobs racked your body. The smell of his cologne surrounded you, his gentle hold comforting despite knowing it would be the last time you had him in such a way. He always made everything feel better, even if the hurt came from the love he gave in the first place. He held you tightly, his strong arms making it harder to convince yourself to leave. You calmed down enough to rest comfortably with him, only the occasional tear leaking from your eye as he rocked you gently to calm your mind. Then, so softly and so quietly, you heard the soft melody that tore your heart in two all over again.

He was humming, not singing, but carrying the tune enough that you would notice and understand why he was doing it.

There were no lyrics, but you could hear them clearly in your head as you clung to him and wondered why you would ever even think about letting him go.

‘Peace came upon me

And it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you.’

His shoulders shook as he tried his hardest to keep the tune, tears falling down his face as he did his best not to imagine you walking out the door. You felt ridiculous, completely idiotic as you cried and listened to him, wondering how the hell you were in the same position now as you were when you were eighteen. Back then, he put the song on the mixtape to tell you how dearly he loved you, so you could hear it from someone else’s tongue instead of his own. Now, he reinvented the song with a heart just as heavy, hoping it was enough to make you stay this time.

There was no need to retell the story, to recount all of the mistakes you made that led you to the fourth song so long ago, because you had done it just the same that day. You woke up that morning with love delicately intertwined in every aspect of your life, happiest with him by your side, and you would leave him behind with the same love in your heart, just the same as you did six years ago.

When you were eighteen, he loved you. He sat before you at twenty-five, still as desperate to show you how strongly he felt, but you still weren’t ready to receive it. You loved him the same, but you were too foolish to accept it and too fearful of enduring the same hurt. Instead, you convinced yourself that it was for the best to walk away, that the pain now would spare you from worse in the future, even if it wasn’t true.

No matter the time in between the two stupidest versions of yourself, one thing remained true even after all of the pain and all of the years; you loved him the same, just as unapologetically, completely and as wholly as he loved you.

All you needed was the air that you breathed and to love him. Sometimes, you didn’t even need the air and could survive solely off the latter. You spent all your life searching for him, wandering aimlessly while he was gone and wondering when he would come back, just to find the quickest way to throw the opportunity in the garbage as soon as it presented itself to you.

Why were you so eager to walk away when you had been awaiting the day he would return?

Why were you so keen to suffer when he was right in front of you, promising to make it all better?

Worst of all, why, if it was supposed to be the right thing to do, did it hurt so fucking bad?

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon @gvfmarge @takenbythemadness

[fairysluna]

May i please request prompt 46 for jace? After their first time maybe and she'd want to do it again :)

hi, love!! im so sorry it took me so long to fulfill your request but it's finally heeere. I did it sliiighty different, but i still hope it is to your liking. thank you for your request and pls enjoy!! ily🤍✨

NON PROOF READ

The eye contact was killing you, your thighs laying on top of his as he brushed his fingertips in your soft skin. Nothing but your thin nightgown was covering your nudity as he hungrily stared at your body. You were nervous; hands shaking, sighing breathlessly as your heart beated faster with anticipation. His brown eyes were digging holes in your skin with that longing they reflected, yearning to finally have a taste of you, and begging for you to nod and give him the green light he so desperately wanted.

Your hands were on top of your mound, holding the piece of fabric in its place so you can be covered and feel less exposed. You knew this was going to be embarrassing for you, having him kiss such a private part of you felt wrong and sinful… and some part of your mind was scolding you for merely considering it.

As his touches reached your hips under the gown, your cheeks felt warm and your mouth agape. Jacaerys smiled softly at you, giving you that feeling of comfort that you needed at that moment.

"I will stop if you don't want it," he whispered, tracing invisible circles on your skin. "Do you want it?"

You bit your lip thinking in your answer as you slowly released the pressure you were putting on the part of the gown that was covering that intimate part of you. Jace smiled softly, expectantly looking for an answer behind your pretty eyes. You wanted to please him, be a good maiden and please your prince; and, as Jace said, you may as well enjoy it as much as him; the only thing you needed to do was to open your legs to him.

So without saying a word, that is what you did. The gown was lifted by innerce, leaving your core exposed to the hungry eyes of the man that was ready to devour you. You closed your eyes as an instinct, not liking the feeling of vulnerability you were experiencing with this. However, you heard a soft moan leaving your lover's lips and that was enough to make you feel a bit more comfortable in your position.

Your body yelped when you felt the pad of his thumb softly rubbing your pearl, it was a teasing touch that almost made your legs shake. It was merely nothing but a taste of what was about to come for you. It felt weird to be touched like this, but it did not feel bad at all either.

Your eyes opened at the exact same moment that he took his thumb inside his mouth and licked it as he groaned. His eyes closed for longer than a second before he decided he could not wait any longer. Jace shifted his position on the bed, now with his head right on top of your heated core. You looked at him as he looked up at you with a grin that made you sigh; so devilishly handsome he was.

He started to kiss your inner thighs, leaving gentle bites and licking the spot afterwards. His fingers started to brush against your folds with the cruel intention to tease you. You forced yourself to bite back a moan that threatened to escape, already getting soaked over small touches.

"You need to promise me," he started, speaking between kisses, "that if you feel uncomfortable, you will make me stop."

You nodded, but that was not enough of an answer for him. He wanted to hear you.

"Say it," he commanded.

"I promise," you breathlessly reply, for he never stopped moving his fingers on you.

Next thing you knew, Jace's nose started to rub against your swollen lips, breathing you in as if he was torturing himself before having the taste of you he craved. You started to get inpatient too, but you were too shy at that moment to even dare to say a word. The only thing you did was to put your right hand on his thick, brown curls, and wait.

"You're so perfect, my love," he whined, almost muttering on the low as he kept teasing you shamelessly. "Thank you for letting me do this. Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

His words were interrupted by his own whimper as he sank himself in you. His tongue did not waste any time and soon was lapping your folds and sloppily moving all over your warmth. Your back immediately arched at the same time your thighs closed around his head and moans left your mouth. Your eyes widened, experiencing this new and pleasuring sensation that was way better that you expected.

Suddenly all the nervousness in your chest was replaced by the lust inside your lower belly which made your mind go blank and only think about him and the immense pleasure he was making you feel. You could feel his tongue wondering all over you, making obscene sounds that only made the heat between your legs grow with each passing second.

It seemed that not only you felt pleasure in these actions, for Jace was desperately gasping and whining as he devoured you like a starving man. He would flick his tongue on your nub to then lick the whole way down until finding your entrance and tease it with it as his nose rubs against your pearl. It was mind-blowing, almost making you desperate for more.

Whenever you would lift your hips as an involuntary movement, he would press them back against the mattress in order to keep you in your place. It still, however, managed to be messy enough thanks to his own despair to taste your release. The man was aching for it, hard and leaking already; the only solution to this, was to start humping the mattress beneath his body as he attended to your necessities first.

Soon you turned into a moaning mess, throwing curses and praises at the air while your hands would pull his hair unconsciously; an action that seemed to have caused something in him, since his moans became slightly louder each time you would tangle your fingers with his dark brown locks, sending vibrations to your core that only multiplied the pleasure you were feeling.

His name was all your lips would say, begging to not stop as you were now close to reach your peak. His slurping noises echoing in the room as his hot breath reached your heated folds and made you shiver, leading you to that sweet moment you both were expecting for so long.

A wave of warmth hit your body as you whined loud enough for the hallway to hear. Your back arched as your eyes clenched closed and your hands tried to push him away from you. Jacaerys, however, kept licking your slick, now collecting your release in his tongue and drinking from it as he let out a loud groan. Your legs were shaking at each side of his head, your breathing trembling as some tears of pleasure fell down the side of your eyes.

Once he felt satisfied, he sat back, staring down at the mess he made out of you and tracing a path with his eyes down to your cunt; his thumb reached for a small touch before he leaned towards you and kissed you slowly but passionately. You were in awe with what had just happened, still feeling numb to think about anything else.

"You taste so delicious, my love," he praised as he started kissing your cheeks, your chin, your neck. "Thank you for letting me do this," he repeated again.

"It- it felt good," you confessed, your voice being unsteady and shivering.

"Did it?" Jace teased, smiling as his lips reached for your ear.

"Yes," you sighed. There was a small pause, where he leaned back a few inches just to see your face with your glistening eyes. He had this infatuated look on his face that made you feel butterflies each time you looked at him. A small smile from him was all you needed to ask, "would you- would you like to do it again?"

Jacaerys smile widened, showing a rose color on his pale cheeks as he softly laughed. He pecked your lips and then he nodded.

"Yes, please…" he replied, excitedly.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy @padfooteyes

JACE TAG LIST — @ganymede-princess

[pretty-toru]

Can we have some headcanons on Gojo having his first time with his darling? Like both of them inexperienced and in their early 20s or something? 😊🙏

✧ ⎯⎯ 18+ minors dni. may i also offer this imagine from my dear anon too? 🤍

Satoru's a bit clumsy but gentle during his first time with you. He needs to make sure you're ready and you want this too, and when you give him your consent he's beyond excited yet nervous where his cheeks a subtle pink and his hands shaky when he touches you. His sunglasses are long gone the moment your kisses deepens and become heated, and he's addicted and lightheaded from the way your tongue caresses his and how soft your lips are.

You and Satoru came to an understanding that he's going to be your first, and you're going to be his first and something about waiting until you both found each other feels incredibly special to him. He takes the lead by pulling his shirt off and you help him by tugging it over his head, your sweet gaze and shy smile makes his insides flutter as you discard your top after him. His pants goes and so does your bottoms until it's just the intimate wears left to unravel.

He's shameless with his staring when you're left in your matching bra and panties and it drives him a little insane because you look so beautiful and hot and sexy. Your lips meet again and he's touching you all over that feels sensual and playful, then he goes to unclasp your bra and ends up fussing over the metal hooks which elicits a soft giggle from you and you offer your assistance. You're so breathtaking to him, and you know he wants to feel so you take his hand to cup your breast. He blurts out that you're so perfect, absolutely perfect.

Satoru places kisses on your body where his lips never tasted before, his hands reaching areas that he didn't know could draw such lovely sounds from you. His fingers move in slow circles on your clit before sliding his digits inside you and mouth sucking and swirling his tongue around your nipple has pre-cum leaking from his tip. He's earnestly listening to every pretty moan and gasp that escapes you and feeling your body squirm at his ministrations. He only wants to make you feel so good and transcend you to the stars.

He takes his sweet time warming you up, with you coming on his fingers in the process and he's obsessed with your cute o-face that when he's slowly stretching you out with his cock, he brushes the strands away from your face because he wants to see you and all of you. Of course, Satoru asks you every now and again if you're okay and to let him know when it gets too much. After you adjust to his girth and length, his thrusts are shallow and slow so you can get used to the feeling. The initial pain quickly turns into pleasure for you.

Swollen lips finds yours again when you wrap your arms around him and he loses himself into you, his pace quickens and he buries his face into your neck as his pants grow heavy. He moans and softly utters your name in broken syllables against your ear about how you feel so amazing and you mean so much to him. He meets your gaze again and his hips stutter as he groans loudly when you clench around him, and he comes shortly after that and kisses you hard you when he does. His body growing slump against you.

Satoru carefully slips himself out of you and rolls onto his back, his hand searching for yours to hold and press kisses on your knuckles as he fondly looks at you while you both catch your breath. He has the most adorable and dopey grin that makes you smile too, and he can honestly say his first time was everything he imagined but better, and he has you to thank for it and for trusting him when you were at your most vulnerable. You both end up doing it four more times throughout the night.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄. + 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. the lovely feelings Gojo would experience knowing just how vulnerable he was to your roughness.

✧. ┊    notes. everyone thank @ouchthathurts for getting me back on my writing grind, lord knows I need to start posting fics again. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | drabble | slight sub!gojo | hair pulling | strength kink | established relationship | body worship | oral sex(f receiving) | cunnilingus | pussy eating | fingering | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | pain kink(?) | title Inso by this song.

IT WASN'T SHOCKING that everyone thought that Gojo was significantly stronger than he had ever shown anyone.

It was also just the fact that he never really felt the need to flaunt the mass extreme of his abilities in front of others out of the pure amount of boredom he would feel being all serious and how tiresome he would feel wasting his time fighting all the damn time, surprisingly, including over performing in front of you as well.

Because of this, it was only logical to assume from an outside perspective that he was the "strong" one in your relationship. Even if the blue-eyed man did not have an unfair advantage over you with his supernatural abilities, he would still be the one to carry the weight of having the most powerful legacy within his bored, lengthy fingertips from his hidden lean build.

Gojo frequently outshone you in strength, and that was just a result of your extreme inability to even remotely compare to the godlike level of power he possessed. However, as the saying goes, behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.

Gojo can recall the number of times your influence has caused him to feel genuine fear, even though you weren't unable to destroy demons with the snap of a finger, and that you have not shed a few tears after stubbing your toe on something.

Despite all of this, Gojo would openly admit that you were the only living thing to ever manage to strike genuine fear into his heart, as well as the only living being to actually harm him in any way.

There were times when you weren't even aware of your strength. Gojo would still wince when you would find something just too funny to the point where your body would react on its own, playfully slapping him on the shoulder or whacking the front of his chest, too caught up in your fit of giggles to see that you would manage to catch him off guard enough to knock some air out of the poor man's lungs.

So sure, Gojo had his powers, but you were strong in your way. And the mere idea of it would be enough to get your boyfriend worked up all by itself.

When you're with Gojo, you don't even bother to hold back, and he admits that he adores that about you a little too much on his part.

His silvery white hair was caught between each of your knuckles, Your nails not letting up from their death grip, and your fist balled up at the front of his scalp as his mouth parted, leaving wet kisses between your inner thighs to let out a needy vocal reaction from the tug you had at his scalp.

The raw, intimate feeling of Gojo’s mouth teasing at your sensitive clit made it impossible for your hips not to jerk against your soft duvet bedding, even despite his locked-in hold around the bones of your hips. the small indents of his fingers already leaving small marks that you both knew would mix with the warming brown of your skin into a bruising color later.

Even with his hands holding you in place, your hips somehow still managed to buck against his hold so easily, the newfound strength building from the promise of your third orgasm of the night fighting against the man with impossible ease.  

You don't even realize that your hips are rolling involuntarily to the clouded thoughts littering your thoughts as you eagerly press Gojo's face closer between your legs, a low moan of impatience escaping from your throat, wanting him to do nothing more than settle the building orgasm that rudely threatened the proper wire of all your nerves.

Without embarrassment, his long finger's piston inside of you knuckle-deep, pairing almost too perfectly with the warmth of his tongue. The lewd, wet sounds reverberate through your shared master bedroom, making your body flush with a sweating sense of heat.

He made you feel so good that it almost started to hurt. Convinced at the thought of your bones having melted into some type of putty in Gojo's grip, and yet the sight of him lying on his stomach between your parted legs, with one knee bent lazily over his shoulder—the muscle tremor was barely noticeable if it weren't for the twitch of your toes, with the other one folded up—could barely be made through the tears that clung to your lashes.

Your breath was almost heaving at the piercing blue eye contact you had gotten back, and the flutter of his long white lashes almost tickled you as they brushed against the plush of your inner thighs. You could tell he was smiling with the telltale crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he would squint, despite his mouth being all too preoccupied with eating your pussy.

As he coaxed another orgasm from your poor, trembling body, you felt as if he was holding you captive. The whimpering release tensed you farther into your euphoria, having you lean your head back against your pile of pillows.

Your fist clenches tighter into Gojo’s locks at the slight slapping noise of your thighs squeezing together with Gojo’s face smothered and caged between the thick of them.

It takes a few moments along with a few breaths for you to come down from your climax, your legs unsensing and shifting quickly to something comparable to jelly as Gojo frees himself from your plush prison, wanting to laugh at whoever would consider you weak with a deep sigh accompanied by an all too happy famous beaming smirk.

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