the sigh you let out once you’re physically connected - the relief that your lover is again a part of you, if only in the transient moment of tender lovemaking, but still very real, very close.. you’re two warm bodies pressed against each other, intimate and together anew
mouth stretched obscenely around a shaft that is nearly too big for it while pretty little tears cloud your vision and he thumbs them away while assuring you you’re doing such a great job with his heaving chest and breathy moans
Thinking about daddy letting me be in control... him lying back, shirt off, promising to stay still and not touch me. Letting me feel his chest, kiss his mouth sweetly, lick down his stomach - avoiding his nipples, his cock, just playing with his body. Maybe i straddle him, wiggling in all the right places, until he can't take it anymore... throwing me over so suddenly, pinning me to the mattress and growling in my ear as I gasp and writhe, "daddy you promised!!" Me pouting with wounded eyes as he smirks, one of his huge hands running down my chest so slow, between my tits. "Should have gotten to the point, baby... its my turn now..." muffling my protests with a kiss and proceeding to show me how its really done <3
I want a man who will treat me like his daughter, his baby daughter. I want him to put a pacifier in my mouth when he's inside me so I don't whine. I want him to caress my face gently, soothingly. To sweet things like "look at my sweet girl so pretty”, "you like being with Dad, right? Of course you do, you're a daddy's girl”, with that silly overly bubbly tone adults use when speaking to toddlers, you know the one?
If I make a face like I'm about to cry, he'd coo, with a soothing voice “no, no, baby, it's okay, papa is not doing anything bad, don't cry baby, don't cry, everything's fine, little one”
It's so lovely, right? All while his hips keep rolling, thrusting deeply without stopping. A man as sweet as a father, while doing dirty things, imagining me as a kid…
words that convey my feelings about my special someone. Feast and enjoy....
I didn’t fall in love the way people usually do.
There was no right timing, no open path, no chance of something real and I knew that going into this. But we were sitting on the couch smoking and he was holding me and suddenly everything made sense....
It just… happened.
In the rare quiet moments. In our deep conversations that lasted too long. In the way you learned me without trying, like you actually wanted to know me. You remember how I like my coffee, which socks I like best, which plates and forks I want to use. You remember small details that I tell you. You remember big things that feel small.
You became my safe place without either of us meaning for that to happen. I never meant to feel like this for you, but it was 4 am and I was laughing harder than I had in so so so long and you smiled at me and it was all over. I knew I was fucked.
And that’s what hurts the most.
Because I found something in you I didn’t even know I needed—someone who sees me, who holds every fragile part of me so gently… and I have to pretend it’s nothing for both our sakes. We are both so damaged that I know neither of us are ready and probably will never be. I know you've already given up on love, but I so badly want to prove you wrong, that I can be the one to show you love.
I have to smile like I don’t my heart pounding a mile a minute when you walk into a room.
Laugh like it doesn’t ache.
Stand right beside you and act like my heart isn’t breaking in slow motion.
♤
If life were kinder, maybe we would’ve had a chance.
Maybe we could’ve been something soft and real and ours. Maybe we could have met before her and before she dug her claws into you.
Instead, we’re just a “what if” that lives in stolen moments on the couch and unspoken words in the smiles and stolen glances.
☆
And I know you said that you will never leave. but unfortunately I know better. One morning when I'm being too clingy and you feel suffocated by me. You can't take anymore and you either leave or you cut me off, both of which will destroy me, but I love you enough that I won't argue. I will cry and ask why, but I won't fight you because I know you will need it to happen, you will need me gone.
I just wish I could be good enough for you, but the truth is that I'm not her and you're not him. Neither of us want them back, but we miss them like hell and we look for them in each other. I know when you're thinking about her or another and I know that you know when I'm thinking about him. We are two broken individuals who miss people we can't get back, or at least I can't, I know you can with a phonecall and she’d be there. I just pray that I get a warning before hand, just so I can prepare myself for the storm.
