𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔-°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

i want something gentle enough to hold my contradictions

where i don’t have to choose between being distant or too much

where i can just be. messy, quiet, and still remain welcome.

with someone older, wiser, steady in a way that doesn’t ask me to rush

i’m 18, she/her, fem

you can ask me what i look like in dms.

this is mostly a space for late night thoughts, random reblogs, writing, late night yearning, poetry, and whatever mood i’m in.

expect:

nsfw sometimes, lots of reblogs, poetry, and the occasional posts about tattoos, things i find beautiful and music.

i have a soft spot for older women… if you get it, you get it. They’re just so beautiful.

my dms and asks are open, feel free to send me anything

(if it’s nsfw, i’d rather you ask first)

no pressure here ᥫ᭡

i ache for conversations that stretch into the night,

where words are not rushed,

where silences aren’t empty

but full of understanding.

women who linger

in the spaces between sentences,

noticing the weight behind pauses,

the unspoken thoughts that hover in the chest.

a connection that isn’t fleeting,

that doesn’t demand or push,

but simply exists,

steady and patient,

like a quiet fire that warms without burning.

women who listen

not to respond,

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝔂’𝓼 𝓐𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓶𝔂:

i've outgrown connections that rush.

the right one won't pull me forward or hold me back

she'll meet me where i am

i crave understanding.

a woman who sees the small things,

who pays attention without being asked.

𝔦'𝔪 𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥.

Carol, 2015, dir. Todd Haynes.

i ache for a closeness that cannot be forced,

a space where vulnerability is safe,

where understanding passes between unspoken words,

yearning isn’t always about distance.

sometimes it’s about time

about waiting for the moment when your paths finally cross

and the ache in your chest finally has a name.

there’s beauty in women who don’t rush.

who let silence breathe,

i miss having someone to share the small, silly moments with

inside jokes that only we understand,

quiet teasing that makes our hearts feel lighter,

the kind of laughter that lingers long after the moment ends.

and still, beneath it all, a love that runs deep,

steady and patient,

it’s not always desire.

sometimes it’s just this quiet pull

toward the kind of woman

whose voice could calm the noise in me.

i want her stories,

her slow smile,

the way she listens like every word means something.

it’s not about being touched

i yearn for something real,

something that doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

a love that asks questions,

that listens,

that stays when things get quiet.

i want someone who looks at me and sees the whole story

not in passing, not halfway,

but deeply.

like someone tracing the edges of who you are

and seeing the shape of you clearly.

to be looked at and known,

not for what you show,

but for what you try to hide.

there’s something sacred in that.

a kind of love that feels less like being chosen

there is a presence in them that feels timeless, deliberate, unhurried,

a quiet gravity that pulls at the edges of everything i am.

their eyes carry memory, their hands carry patience, their voices carry wisdom.

i am fascinated by the strength they move with,

by a love that teaches, lingers, and leaves a mark long after the moment has passed.

i ache for a connection that is slow, steady, and deliberate,