#idk it's just so... appealing... so raw...

if your venus falls in their 2h your voice is it. thats it. they can get turned on by your voice, imagine your moans in their fantasies & often your lips and hands are the subject of them.

mars conj. lilith synastry is animalistic, raw, passionate sex. the type where both of you are the boss trying to turn each other submissive. the power play is super important here. think long eye contact, yanking, loud moans, guttural noises. all or the dirty talk, the filthy language.

but be careful because mars conj lilith synastry, women are very likely to be objectified and seen as transactional for mens benefit

their lilith in your 5h, you just want to let go, be free, without inhibitions. lilith is all about releasing taboos & others projections to find your authenticity. expect trying new kinks in bed, new toys, playing out new fantasies, positions.

lilith 5h native may also have an adverse reaction to pregnancy/breeding kink. hear me out. it isnt the same, one likes the idea of it being inside the other likes the idea of what comes after. lilith 5h native can either be adverse to pregnancy, or the idea of breeding really gets them going. or none. 🤷🏻‍♀️

i also think this is the same for synastry as well. the lilith person can be into breeding, but feel a type of way with pregnancy

lilith 1h native also oozes sex appeal, magnetism, and aura. If they are tapped into their power & potential, they really can use this for their advantage. some lilith 1h can also hide and shrink to avoid over sexualization from others.

mars-sun native has a strong don’t fuck with me vibe. its very attractive, and appealing as mars gives off hot energy.

but in synastry? think domination in bed, arguements and then more in bed. except yall are going to be arguing about who does it better. lots of energy between the two. i can imagine all that tension building in the connection & just needing a release. like a pressure valve. sex is the way to go

that mars person though, they’re very much into fast, punishing sex. if they give you an order and you don’t follow through they’ll definitely find a way to make you listen.

lilith 10h native is always involved in some kind of work scandal, but even if they weren’t. people gossip and try to tear sown these natives reputation, all because of jealousy! lilith 10h is a powerhouse yes, but oozes sexual magnetism and everyone wants a piece of that. reminds me of: idk if i want to be with you or be you

oh so you know how I mentioned Lilith 5h and pregnancy/breeding kink? in synastry if their Jupiter is in your 5h or vice versa, you’ll probably experience the same as well. if jupiter is well aspected possibly the conversation of pregnancy, contraception, etc can go well. people just get one another lol. jupiter also adds very harmonious fantasies, so its literally bonding if you two talk about your fantasies.

i can also imagine Jupiter 5h synastry just on the phone and talking about their fantasies on and on until it gets really steamy.

lilith in cancer men and looking for a mommy 😔

pluto 7h transit in your natal chart can indicate meeting unstable rocky relationships. if it was aspecting your venus, 5h, 11h, id imagine a hell of a time with sex. and…i mean it could go both ways. i don’t want to over sexualize this placement, but i do know the 5h is already linked to pleasure and such. i can see the 11h being more of a friends with benefit situation, or sex being transactional.

and the sex might be really good, especially if transit pluto is touching your natal venus, or 5h/11h. very intense and problematic when it comes to the emotional, romantic stuff, but the sex (if you’re putting yourself out there) is bomb

The 11h also—i want to add that i can see this as having more online sex rather than being in person, but it is possible too! more nudes, more videos. possibly doing it for money. if pluto makes an aspect to the 2h as well, 8h, 10h i can definitely see someone making money off of this

mars 3h, venus 3h natives loves being choked, their neck marked up, being held from their hair. literally. they love lips touching their neck, ears, they get simulated easily

mercury 3h native just loves a good dirty talk, a sexy playlist to get them in the mood. if the native had pisces, neptune aspecting mercury id imagine them smoking to get in the mood, but not always.

pisces mars native enjoys submission but for them it’s not going to come from force. they have to trust you and really know you to get to that level of full submission. if not, they’re just cosplaying it 😂

venus 12h native and sex life where? okay, some may definitely have it. they just prefer privacy. no one needs to know about it. and i also think if they were to have sex it would be something really important to them, and they’re less likely to share their body with someone else. bonus if it’s capricorn venus, taurus, scorpio, cancer, pisces.

neptune 5h synastry is…otherworldly sex. something you never thought could happen but it did. its like a foggy bittersweet memory. you leave thinking more about the way the candles smelled, the soft sheets, the light from the window. it makes you yearn for more but not in an aggressive way necessarily. its more of a delicate craving.

id also think of this synastry as two people possibly smoking, drinking, intoxicated by something. if not that, then drunk on each others energy. neptune has a higher octave than venus so, this really is deep. neptune just seeks to get under your skin and take away boundaries.

neptune 5h synastry touching venus makes the sex even more sacred. the venus person is dreamlike, and sex feels more then physical for the venus person. bonus points if its a trine, sextile, or conj.)

moon-mars synastry sex is ontop. fusing primal desire with need. emotional regulation through penetration 😭

okay but seriously, the mars person seeks comfort in the moon persons hold. they crave that energetic release but the moon person offers them a home in their arms. likewise, mars person offers moon adventure so they aren’t stuck in their head and feelings. gives them that release that makes them cry it out

if the aspects are positive i can see it playing out like this. aftercare and emotional bonding with a good fuck? yeah

but if conditions aren’t met, i can see this spiraling where the mars person is overbearing, aggressive without caution, and doesn’t consider the emotional aspects of the moment.

moon conj mars. mars person wants to fuck the sadness out of the moon person. moon person wants to fuck to create connection.

mars trine moon brings harmony. mars doesn’t feel lost, or undesired. moon feels seen, heard, and balanced. both emotional and physical needs are met

mars is safe to perform in its primal state, and moon is nurtured along the way

moon square mars synastry—mars person feels defensive, vulnerable, and is in a flight state. But craves regulation and can’t find it. moon person feels exposed, desired but unwanted, vulnerable emotionally but met with force.

with square aspect there absolutely is a lot of growth meant to happen in the bedroom. communicating needs are something they both have to work on

moon mars opposition, mars person craves hyper independence, moon craves togetherness. moon clings and doesn’t know when to let go, and mars is too far away emotionally.

sex feels like a negotiation, a push pull, tug of war. one night you get it, the other it seems intangible.

All he could do was look up at you with that adoring look in his eyes, going non verbal. You had noticed it when he wasn’t stressed over talking anymore, just feeling. 

Squirming with the softest whimpers, his mind was in a haze. Heeseung was a beautiful mess under you. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, his eyes glazed over and unfocused, staring at the ceiling and back at you as if he was zoned out on a movie. 

You had spent the last hour reducing him to this state, he trusted you enough to take control. A collection of whimpers, pleas, and trembling legs. The ropes were gone now, put away after you’d pushed him to his limit with them. He came so many times, now just on cloud 9 where every touch of yours turned into pleasure. 

His wrists had pink marks of your earlier restraints, a temporary brand along with his pretty hickeys that made your chest swell with satisfaction. 

He was yours now. Completely.

But the scene wasn’t over, if he wanted to stop, he’d just mutter the safe word. And you’d drop the candle immediately. 

His chest flushed a pretty pink, decorated with the drips of hardened red wax. He was gone, floating in that deep subspace you had so carefully curated for him, mind quiet and pliant, his body completely yours to command.

“Say the word for me baby, do you remember it?” you tipped the candle just over his tender nipple, causing him to softly gasp.

“R-red,” Heeseung muttered out.

“That’s right, we can stop at any time.”

“Mm,” he went non-verbal yet again, only replying when you ask him a question. Eyes unfocusing as his mind only paid attention to the series of drips over his soft abs. Wincing softly at the rain.

Your hand then lowered, glancing at his flushed naked body just before you started dripping it on his thighs. 

Heeseung took in a shaky breath as he rubbed his sticky thighs together, his past release still painted messily across them. The pain made his cock leak non-stop.

“No, legs spread apart,” you commanded.

And he did just that. A soft, broken whimper was his only response as he forced his trembling thighs apart, exposing himself completely to you.

“Good job, Seungie,” his lashes fluttered at his favorite ever nickname, his eyes flickering to your lips. He craved your kisses so bad, but he knew he had to earn them.

You try to hold back a smile, but your lips twitched upwards into one anyway, “You’ll cum one last time for me won’t you? I won’t use my hands this time~”

You tilted the candle again, this time aiming for the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He watched with wide, hazy eyes as the first droplet fell. It landed just a centimeter from his balls, and the sharp, intense sting made his entire body jolt. A choked cry escaped his lips, his back arching off the bed. You knew just how far you could go, the pain was enough to sting, but not enough to leave a burn, you had bought these specific candles just for him.

“Ha…ha..” his breathing was the most gorgeous, uncontrolled mess, he wasn’t trying to react in an appealing way, it was just raw submission. And something about that carelessness turned you on.

His mind was free of thoughts, only conscious for you, still here..she’s still here. He tries to think, but loses his thoughts immediately, mind existing for you and the pleasure you bring him. 

You shifted and laid stomach faced down between his legs, face just inches away from his cock. He spread his legs instinctively to make more space for you. The red candle in your other hand, flame dangerously close. His thighs trembled beneath you as you licked a stripe up his messy cock. “Mm, so sweet for me.”

“You won’t hate me for this will you?” you cooed before giving him a chance to react, a sharp drip tipping down the shaft of his dick before it hardened.

His entire body seized, arching into a perfect bow before your weight held him down. His heels dug into the mattress. The pain was blinding, his subspace-addled mind instantly transmuted it into the most profound pleasure he had ever felt. You locked your fingers with his, he held on tightly. 

Heeseung went silent before breaking down into numerous sharp gasps. After cumming multiple times, his over-sentisized dick immediately translated any form of touch into pleasure. His vision went white, and for a moment, he was sure he had died. His cock pulsed violently, and he came, hard, white ropes of cum splattered across his stomach and chest without a single touch.

The prettiest sight you had ever seen.

You gave him a moment to mutter, or even whisper, the safe word. When you heard nothing, the play truly began.

The only answer was the ragged breaths tearing from his lungs as he shuddered through the most intense orgasm of his life. He didn’t say the word. Of course he didn’t. He was yours, and he trusted you to take him however far you wanted to go.

“You’ll take it all for me baby?”

Heeseung nodded repeatedly, lips quivering as tears ran messily down his cheeks. 

You didn’t stop. You let another droplet fall, this one on the sensitive ridge just below the head. Then another, and another, tracing a line of liquid fire down the shaft. His screams dissolved into desperate, choked sobs, body writhing uncontrollably. 

His skin was slick with sweat and tears, his cock a mess of hardened wax and fresh, leaking pre-come. Another orgasm rising up. You had lost count of how many times he had come already, but felt excitement crawl up every time you watched him get hard again. 

He was gone, completely submerged in the feeling, his mind a blank slate. The candle was burning down quickly now, the pool of wax growing larger. You decided to finish it. Instead of individual drops, you tilted the candle further, letting it steadily drip down all at once. It took him a moment before it registered to his brain. 

That’s what broke him.

The continuous, unrelenting heat was too much. His eyes rolled back into his head. Abs tightening as his fists clutched the sheets. 

“Fuck..fuck..it..mmh!—”

His cock, trapped under the hardening shell of wax, pulsed violently. A shattering orgasm ripped through him but this time, there was nothing left to give. Just plain dry, a spasm of pure pleasure, limbs trembling which left him utterly limp and panting beneath you.

Heeseung’s trembling hand reached out to grip yours, “R-red.. Red– please..”

And then you blew out the flame, tossing the leftover candle away off the bed.

Tears streamed down his face, his body wracked with shudders. He was deep, so deep in subspace that he was barely conscious, his mind a quiet, peaceful void after the sensory storm.

“We’re stopping. I’ve got you,” you murmured, your voice soft and urgent as you reached up, thumbs brushing away the tears. 

He wasn’t just crying from the intensity, the first tendrils of subdrop were already coiling in his gut. The harsh comedown from the chemical high of subspace and adrenaline, the pleasure was fading and all he could feel was the exposed nerve of vulnerability. 

You knew you had to treat him right, when he’s coming down from his high.

“Open your eyes, I’m right here.”

It took a moment, but his lashes fluttered, his adoring eyes now held a hint of fear. 

Maybe you went too far.

“Sit up for me, can you?” your hands gently caressed his arm. He blinked at you for a moment.

And then he clung to you, so tight. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He shook his head, his face still hidden in your neck. “I..I feel..empty,” he choked out, his voice hoarse and fragile.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his expression so vulnerable it made your chest ache. You cupped his cheek in your hand, stroking his skin with your thumb.

“It’s a drop, the feeling will go away, Hee. You want me, I’m here mm?”

Your thumb traced slow, grounding circles into his back until the space inside him didn’t feel so hollow anymore, just open. He finally felt conscious of the sensation, mind clearer as he focused on grounding himself. 

Somehow you made it so easy, his heart swelled.

He pulled away minutes later, his expression warm with a tinge you couldn’t place your finger on. 

“Can you do this more often..?”

You tilt your head, studying his face. “Like, the candles?”

“No..holding me. I like you next to me when I feel like this,” his fist softly clutches your shirt as he studies your eyes with his sweet ones.

“So cute this way, wanting me in your arms as you come down baby.”

“Always want you.”

-- assumed it's the body safe candles specifically made for wax play

-- i still might not have the concept of subspace down completely idkidk lmk but these reqs are fun keep them coming

By 30

You hadn’t known where you were going until the silence of the elevator engulfed you. You watched as the numbers lit up, rising one by one, and with each floor, you felt less certain about what would come next. When you finally reached his door, you knocked softly. It was late, he’d just returned to the city and you felt horrible for showing up like this.

When the door opened, his eyes met yours. Red and puffy, tears still occasionally slipping down your cheeks. His heart dropped at the sight of you, immediately swinging the door open wider and gently cradling your face.

“What did he do?” Drew asked with worry in his voice, though you could still hear the simmering anger he was trying to hide. This wasn’t the first time but it sure would be the last.

You shrugged, attempting the best tight-lipped smile you could muster. “Surpriseee,” you rasped, your voice raw from crying and arguing.

Drew shook his head and pulled you inside, guiding you straight to the kitchen. He poured you a glass of water and set it in front of you as you perched on a kitchen stool. He looked down at you with such intensity you couldn’t bear to meet his gaze any longer.

You sighed. “I told him to leave,” you whispered.

You could almost see Drew’s shoulders sink in relief. “What happened?”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “‘What happened?’ What happened is that I’m done. I can’t… I’ve wasted six years of my fucking life on that guy,” you said, swiping angrily at your tears. A pause followed as memories of the past few years flashed through your mind. You were twenty-two when you met him, back then he was exactly what you needed, but he soon got lazy, maybe even bored and you overcompensated. Even after all that effort, this was how it ended. You weren’t just tired… you were exhausted.

“I caught him texting a girl,” you said quietly, barely audible as you looked up at Drew. Your frown deepened as another tear slipped free. “He went into the shower, and I had his iPad for a second. The notification came through and I read everything…all of it.” You swallowed. “They’ve been fucking for a year.”

“Y/n…”

“I stormed into the shower and confronted him,” you said, nodding to yourself. “Told him I was done, that he needed to get out… . He started packing his things, complaining about where he’d stay tonight, and I just… I couldn’t take it. So I left, because I’m a coward and now I’m here.”

“If you think I’m going to let you talk about yourself like that, you’re mistaken.” He wiped your tears and gently tilted your face up so you had to look at him. “I’m proud of you.”

You sniffled.

“Do you hear me? I’m proud of you,” he repeated. “Stay here as long as you need. When you’re ready, we’ll go to your place together and do whatever you decide.”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t come here for that.” You glanced around, noticing his suitcases still near the door. You rose from the stool, but he stopped you quickly.

“Sit back down.” His tone was firm, he didn’t move until you complied. Something fluttered in your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in years with your partner. The one who made you carry all the weight, all the masculine energy, for the both of you.

“You–you just got back. I can’t do that. You must want some peace and quiet–”

“What I want is for you to stay put and recover somewhere you’re loved. I was going to come find you in the morning anyway,” he said, walking away towards the guest bedroom once he was sure you wouldn’t leave.

You snorted. “Missed me?”

He scoffed. “Always do.”

There it was again, the flutter. You fiddled with your hands in your lap, kicking your legs gently. It was only then you realized you were wearing one of Drew’s old hoodies.

“What?” he asked when he returned and saw your face.

“Nothing.” You sniffled again. “Your place looks nice, Drew Starkey.”

“Stop,” he replied softly, making you chuckle. He was rarely just “Drew” to you, most often he was “Drewbear.” You’d met before acting was ever a career path for him, and though you’d never accept his thanks, you were a big reason he’d found the motivation to pursue it.

“It does look nice,” you whispered timidly, offering him a small smile. He was just glad to see you smiling at all.

He nodded, glancing around. “Why don’t you go shower? Wash the day away,” he suggested gently. “You’ll sleep better.”

He was right. After spending some time under the hot water, you did feel better. Emerging into a dimly lit apartment, you followed the only light you could see. His clothes hung loosely on your body, warm and smelling faintly of him, providing you with all the comfort you could ask for. 

You found him in his room, unpacking his suitcase and putting things away. When he noticed you, he straightened up and walked over with a soft smile until you both leaned against opposite sides of the doorframe, just like two young adults again, dancing around feelings too big to chase.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and strangely so, you struggled to meet his gaze, something you’d never done before. You could feel his eyes on you, intense…gentle.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to ask a thousand questions?”

“There’s nothing in there,” you mumbled.

“C’mon.”

“No, I’m serious, there’s—” Then you met his eyes. There had been…nothing.

It came out as a whisper, your eyes blinking in confusion as you tried to identify this new something stirring within you. Your stomach fluttered, your breath felt hollow and he looked different. Drew stepped toward you then, cupping your face in his hands with his fingertips threading gently through your damp hair.

“Whenever you’re ready to talk, even if it’s at three a.m., you come find me,” he whispered, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. As you looked at him, It felt like only a second had passed, except it was more. Whatever he saw in your eyes was that something you could almost name now.

He leaned in slowly, as if he didn’t realize he was moving closer. Your eyelids fluttered shut, lips parted as his nose ghosted across yours. He was so close you were sharing oxygen, your senses peaking along with your heartbeat.

“Tell me this is wrong,” he whispered. And you should, you knew what he meant. Of course you did. You, in distress, at 1 a.m. at his door…this could only go one way.

“What is?”

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “You don’t need this right now.”

Your hands gripped his arms, afraid he’d step back.

“One more second like this and I won’t be able to pretend anymore,” he continued, his forehead pressing gently against yours.

And then, out of fear, or maybe desperation, you pressed your lips against his in a kiss that didn’t take your breath away, but revived you. Lips wrapping yours in warmth you didn’t know you had been looking for, dancing a slow dance you still remembered.

He fought hard against his desire to pull away, but he did just enough to speak. Your lips chased his with a soft desperate gasp you wished you could’ve kept in.

“You’re confused.”

You shook your head, still pressed to his forehead. “I still think about it,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “The way you loved me. I regret not trying. I regret not letting myself love you and—”

When the first tear fell, he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand to see you cry for that man, much less for him. His lips claimed yours again with an intensity that matched your very first kiss all those years ago. Feelings you thought had disappeared were only dormant, buried beneath the weight of a relationship that had taken away your spark.

He kissed you slowly, with care, as though he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he'd been alive. Eventually he pulled back, needing you both to catch your breath.

“Why the past tense?”

“Huh?” You were lost, floating somewhere in the clouds. He pecked your lips gingerly to bring you back.

“I still love you,” he confessed softly, “that never changed.”

You blinked, pulling back enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of a lie. All this time…

“All the ‘I love you’s’…”

They hadn’t been reminders of what you’d let go but persistent signals that the first boy you ever loved was still here.

He studied your face for a moment, eyes searching, hands gentle on your jaw, thumbs lightly stroking your cheeks. His forehead still rested against yours, breath mingling in the small space between you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice a low, careful rumble. “I want you, but only if you want this too. I need you to tell me, baby.”

Your lips trembled, slightly stretching into a soft smile at a nickname you hadn’t heard in so long. “Always wanted you, just thought it couldn’t happen,” you whispered, letting yourself finally admit it to him and to yourself.

He smiled softly, reverently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, then another… slow, savoring the moment. His hands drifted down your sides, resting at your hips as he pressed your body back against the doorframe, molding his warmth to yours. He kissed you deeper now, tongue flicking teasingly against yours, coaxing a soft moan from your throat. The sound made him smile against your mouth.

He broke away to brush your hair behind your ear, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. “If you want to stop, anytime, just say the word, okay? I need you to promise me.”

You nodded, breathless. “I promise.”

He led you to his bed walking backwards, the room as softly lit as the rest of his apartment. He took his time undressing you once you were on the bed, pressing light kisses to each new inch of skin revealed. His hands were so gentle, reverent as he slipped off your hoodie and then your shirt, his lips trailing a path down your neck and collarbone.

He cupped your breasts with both hands, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peaked beneath his touch. The sensation shocked a gasp out of you, so sensitive after so long untouched and he grinned, catching your reaction and leaning down to wrap his lips around one nipple, sucking gently before rolling his tongue against it. This was nothing like the first time with him, he was much more confident and comfortable which allowed you to turn off your brain and trust him enough to take the lead.

You shuddered beneath him, fingers tangling in his hair. “Drew…oh god” Your body arched up into his mouth involuntarily.

He looked up, pupils blown wide. “You like that, baby?”

You whimpered, nodding, unable to form words. He lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading, mouth switching from one nipple to the other, alternating between soft licks and firmer sucks until your hips were rocking up against him without thought.

At this, he slid his hand down between your bodies, over your stomach and down to the band of your underwear, pausing to look at you. “Is this okay?”

“Please,” you breathed, desperate.

He slipped his hand inside, fingers sliding through your slickness, warm and wet. You gasped at the contact, thighs spreading apart for him. He was so careful, gentle, exploring you with patience and no rush, like he remembered exactly what you liked. When his thumb found your clit and circled it just right, you let out a wanton moan that surprised even you.

Drew grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you…so much.” He kept his attention on your clit, fingers working slow circles, coaxing more shameless sounds from your lips all while pressing kisses all over your face and neck.

In return, you buried your face in his neck, almost overwhelmed with some worry creeping in. “Drew, I–I haven’t…” Your voice faltered.

He pulled back slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it? Too much?”

You shook your head. “No. God, no, it’s not that. I just… I haven’t… had an orgasm in years.” You forced a shaky laugh between moans. “My ex…he didn’t really care about that or never could. I’m kind of… broken, or something. So… don’t worry if nothing happens.”

His expression softened completely. He kissed the very edge of your jaw, slowly making his way to your lips. “Hey. You’re not broken, not even close. Let me take care of you, yeah? We don’t have to rush anything.”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes for a different reason now. Two fingers pushed into you slowly, curling up and out as he watched your face twitch in pleasure, walls fluttering around his digits as moans escaped your parted lips. He wanted to say so much. How he didn’t understand how that man didn’t worship you everyday of his life, how you didn’t know you deserved to go to sleep beautifully blissed out and drunk on sex as much as it was humanly acceptable. He also wanted to apologize for not doing something, anything, to get you away from him sooner but you’d argue, rightfully so, that it wasn’t anyone's choice but your own. 

When your whines became louder, more shameless, he pulled his fingers out, pulling his hardened length out of his boxers and coating the tip with your slick, making his breathing hitch in anticipation. He then stripped off his shirt and boxers with you watching, his body familiar and safe, grabbing a condom from the nightstand and rolling it on slowly, catching your stare with a soft smile. “Are you okay?”

You nodded sheepishly as he kissed you again, tender and deep, settling between your parted thighs. He lined himself up, pausing one more time to look you in the eyes. “Anytime,” he murmured. “You can stop this at anytime”

“I want you,” you said again, voice strong with certainty.

He rubbed his tip along your folds before pushing in slowly, stretching you in a way you hadn’t felt in so long it was almost foreign, except for how right it felt with him. He moved inch by inch, watching every reaction on your face and pausing if you tensed or gasped too hard all while your nails dug into his arms.

When he was fully sheathed inside you, he stilled and kissed your cheeks, your eyelids, your lips again and again. “You feel incredible,” he whispered. Reassurance, something you hadn’t heard in so long, caused your walls to pulsate around him, making him groan. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, it feels…” you sighed, “It feels great, overwhelming but great”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to move in a slow, rocking rhythm, deep and loving but still sending shivers of pleasure through your whole body. He kept one hand twined with yours next to your head, the other splayed on your waist as he moved. You moaned wantonly into his ear, each deep stroke tugging a knot tighter in your core.

His mouth found your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth while he rolled his hips just right. Your nerves felt raw, every sensation multiplied as for once in years you only had to concentrate on him and every sensation bubbling within you. You couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your throat if you tried, every moan, gasp, and whimper echoing in his ears, even when it felt foreign to let them out.

“That’s right, let me hear you,” he urged, nipping at your shoulder. “I want to know how good it feels.”

“It’s–ugh fuck, I think I..uh!” You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure sharper and deeper than anything you’d felt in years and it was hard not to hyper focus on it. He shifted his hips one more time and his thumb finding your clit again.

That was all it took.

You came hard around him with a cry, back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You called out for him as you did, moans muffled by his shoulder as you hugged him as close as you could. It was so intense you sobbed with relief, your whole body trembling, shaking apart in his arms, and of course, he held you through it, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair that meant everything, eventually slowing his thrusts until you could breathe again, making you forget how ashamed you felt at falling apart so fast.

As you came down, tears slipped from your eyes and he brushed them away gently. “See?” he whispered softly. “You’re not broken, baby.”

He shifted to kiss you again, never leaving you empty or alone. With the aftershocks still trembling through you, he rocked into you gently, his own moans joining yours as he worked towards his release, eliciting another from you. It was slow and it took time, time he had for you, along with patience and respect he communicated not only with the way he looked at you but with his words. You weren’t an object anymore, you never should’ve been in the first place.

When he finally came with a low groan of your name, you felt it everywhere. In the press of his body, the tight grip of his hand in yours, in the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered and in the “I love you's" he told, where you finally could hear and feel the love fueling them.

Afterwards, he stayed wrapped around you, kissing sweat from your forehead and whispering how proud he was, how beautiful you were and how much he loved you. He also wasn’t afraid of not hearing it back in that same tone, letting you know that you could take your time and that you’d be the one deciding the pace and direction this would take. 

And for the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Your mind screamed at you to say it back, those three words, but deep down, you knew there was still healing to do from something you didn’t break. The difference now was that someone finally cared enough to help you piece it together, someone who wasn’t going to leave just because you weren’t whole yet.

Time moved slowed now and as you cuddled, Drew sighed happily beneath you and with your head on his chest, you could hear the way his heart picked up speed before he even spoke.

“I’m thirty-one,” he said simply.

You let out a tired, quiet laugh. “I know. I’ve been going to your birthday parties for the past twenty years.”

He paused. “No. I mean…I’m thirty…one.”

You lifted your head slightly, brows knitting together as you stared up at him. Maybe good sex made you a little stupid. “I heard you the first time. What’s your point?”

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at you, really looked. After a moment, without shifting much, he reached over and opened the drawer in his nightstand. From it, he pulled out a single, neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to you. You sat up slowly, a blanket tucked under your arms to cover your bare chest and began unfolding it, all while his fingers grazed your spine as he rubbed lazy, grounding circles on your back.

You recognized the paper instantly with your scrawny handwriting next to his, and at the top, in bold pencil scribble, it read:

Marriage Agreement.

The rest of the contract was vague and mostly illegible, a half-joke between two kids who didn’t know what love was yet but wanted to promise it anyway. The only clear condition was “we’ll get married by thirty”.

You smiled. “This was mine! I thought I lost it.”

“I stole it,” he admitted. “The day I helped you pack your first apartment, right before you moved in with… him.”

Your laugh was soft, disbelieving. “What? For leverage?”

He ran a hand over his face, the moment heavier now. “I don’t know. I don’t remember much from that day. I don’t know why I took it and I also don’t know why I didn’t stop you.”

Your gaze dropped back to the paper, to your childish signature next to his. You were probably nine, secretly in love with him and overjoyed that he humored you by signing.

“You’re thirty-one,” you repeated, quieter this time, now understanding what he meant.

He nodded. “Unless… unless we meant you turning thirty. Which means…”

“We’re two years away,” you finished for him, your voice nearly a whisper.

He let out a breath. “Yeah. I don’t know if contracts like this expire, so… I thought I’d ask.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Not to me,” you said, folding the paper again with care. “Definitely not this one.”

Say you do

Two years had passed since that night, though sometimes it still felt suspended in time, like something fragile you both handled carefully, aware of how easily it could have shattered if either of you had pushed too hard too soon. 

The original plan, if it could even be called a plan, had been to slow everything down, to keep things gentle but intentional, to give you space to heal without the pressure of immediately rebuilding a relationship on the ruins of the old one. Of course, life rarely followed tidy intentions and while you had both promised to keep certain things at a minimum, affection had a way of sneaking in through the smallest cracks…quiet kisses in doorways, lingering hugs that lasted just a little too long, nights where conversation stretched into morning and you both realized you had fallen asleep tangled together on the couch without ever intending to. What mattered more than the rules, though, was the patience between you, the silent agreement that nothing had to be rushed, that time itself would do the heavy lifting.

One of the first changes had been the apartment. You couldn’t stay in the place you once shared with your ex, the walls themselves too saturated with memories that had soured over time and for the first time since you were barely out of college you realized you had never actually lived alone. There had always been someone else, roommates in cramped early-twenties apartments with mismatched furniture and takeout containers everywhere, then the long years of sharing space with someone who slowly stopped showing up for you. So Drew helped you look, patiently sitting through open houses and scrolling through listings with you late at night, offering opinions only when you asked for them and never once trying to push you toward something that wasn’t fully yours. When you finally found a place, it was a bright apartment with tall windows and enough empty space to make it feel like a fresh start, you signed the lease with a strange mix of terror and excitement buzzing in your chest.

Drew had keys, of course, because it just felt natural, like something that had always been part of the arrangement between you even before the label of dating had ever entered the picture. He never showed up unannounced unless you had specifically told him he could but there was something comforting about knowing he could walk through the door at any time, that the distance between your lives was never more than a simple turn of a key.

Even with that closeness, though, you kept certain boundaries in place. Sleepovers stayed occasional rather than constant, not out of hesitation about him but because you were learning, sometimes slowly, most times painfully, that healing required solitude too. Some nights you needed your own space, your own bed and quiet where the echoes of the past could settle without an audience. Drew understood that instinctively, never once making you feel guilty for it. If anything, he seemed proud of you for it.

Dating him, however, came with a world you had never truly stepped into before.

Before, you had simply been Drew’s childhood best friend, the girl who had known him since scraped knees and bike rides down sun-bleached streets, the one who appeared in old photos and hometown stories but somewhere over the past two years, quietly and without your permission, the internet had rewritten that role. Suddenly you weren’t just the friend anymore, you were “the alleged girlfriend,” the person fans speculated about in comment sections and blurry paparazzi photos. Drew remained as private as ever, rarely feeding into the attention but that didn’t stop people from watching.

It was strange at first, the realization that strangers felt entitled to pieces of your life you hadn’t offered them. Drew handled it with his usual calm, reminding you gently that the only truth that mattered was the one you both shared, not the stories people built around it and yet, for all the changes, some things stayed the same.

You still hadn’t said the words. Not the three that seemed to hover constantly in the air between you, waiting patiently like they understood they would be spoken eventually, just not yet.

Instead, you said things that lived right beside them, things close enough that Drew always knew what you meant…like on Valentine’s Day.

The restaurant had been small and warmly lit, the kind of place where the candles flickered against the windows and everything smelled faintly of wine and roasted garlic. Drew sat across from you with that familiar, quiet attentiveness he always carried when he knew you were about to say something important or ridiculous.

You fidgeted with the stem of your glass, staring at it for a moment like it might help you find the right phrasing.

“And I’m like…I’m very, very…happy that you breathe and are alive in my, uh…vicinity,” you finally said, the words tumbling out awkwardly as your eyes darted anywhere but his face. “Whatever…that means,” you added under your breath.

For a moment he didn’t say anything then he laughed, the warm, soft kind that made his shoulders shake slightly as he leaned back in his chair, looking at you like you had just handed him something incredibly precious disguised as a joke and even though you still hadn’t said the words, the way he reached across the table to squeeze your hand made it clear he had heard them anyway.

Tonight, the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the rumpled sheets of his bed. It was late, the kind of hour where the world outside had faded into silence, leaving only the intimate rhythm of your bodies filling the air. Drew hovered above you in missionary, his strong frame pressing you gently into the mattress as his hips rolled with a steady, insistent pace that had been building for what felt like a quick second. Sweat glistened on his skin, his muscles flexing with each thrust as his thick cock slid deep into your pussy, stretching you in ways that still sent shivers of disbelief through your core.

You'd been at it for a bit now, the initial urgency giving way to a deeper, more consuming connection. Every time he drove into you, hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl, a strange mix of pleasure and wonder washed over you. For the longest time, you'd convinced yourself that this kind of release wasn't possible for you. Your ex had never bothered, never cared enough to explore beyond the surface, leaving you doubting your own body but Drew was different, attentive and now, as his cock plunged deeper, grinding against your walls with measured strokes, the tension coiled tighter in your belly, threatening to unravel you completely.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as the pressure built relentlessly. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, murmuring soft encouragements that only heightened the sensation. “That's it, baby,” he whispered, his voice husky with his own building need. His thrusts grew firmer, faster, the slick sounds of your bodies joining echoing in the quiet room. You felt him everywhere, from his weight pinning you, to his heat enveloping you and his cock throbbing inside your clenching pussy.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave you couldn't outrun, starting deep in your core and radiating outward in intense, pulsing waves. Your pussy spasmed around him, gripping his cock in rhythmic contractions that milked him without mercy. It was vaginal, pure and profound, the kind that shook you to your foundations. Tears welled up unbidden in your eyes, spilling hot down your cheeks as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming. You couldn't hold back the sob that tore from your throat, your body arching beneath him, legs trembling as the climax stretched on, longer and more intense than anything you'd ever felt. It felt like you were shattering, pieces of doubt and fear fracturing under the sheer force of it.

Drew groaned low in his chest, his own release triggered by your tightening walls. He buried himself deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he came hard inside the condom, hot spurts filling the latex barrier while he kept thrusting through it, riding out your shared peak with gentle, rolling motions. The sensation of him still moving inside you, prolonging the aftershocks, made you feel like you couldn't breathe, like you might explode from the intensity. Your chest heaved, vision blurring with tears, making every nerve alight and raw.

As the waves finally ebbed, leaving you boneless and spent, a louder sob escaped your lips. 

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle it but it was too late. Drew stilled immediately, his hips halting mid-thrust as he lifted his head to look down at you. His eyes, dark and concerned searched your face, widening when he saw the tears streaming freely now. He knew you sometimes teared up during hard orgasms but this was different, it was real crying, raw and vulnerable. Worry etched his features, his brow furrowing as he stayed buried inside you, not daring to pull away yet.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words tumbling out for the first time since you'd started dating, born from the emotional floodgates the orgasm had ripped open. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears but they kept coming, your voice cracking as you continued. “And I'm sorry I couldn't say it before, but I get really confused lately–” A sob wracked your body and you swiped at your wet cheeks with trembling fingers. “This–this big part of me is saying that you don't love me, that it's just words you want me to believe...but my heart knows you're not him. You wouldn't lie about that.”

Your brain screamed warnings from the past betrayal, the one time you'd trusted and been proven wrong but your heart ached with a different truth, one you were terrified to fully embrace. The fear gripped you harder now, making your whole body shake as fresh tears poured down your face. You hiccuped, curling inward slightly even as he held you close.

Drew's expression softened with a mix of tenderness and alarm, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away tears. “I'm gonna pull out, but I'm still right here, okay? We're gonna talk,” he said gently, his voice steady and reassuring, making sure you heard and understood every word. He shifted carefully, easing his softening cock from your sensitive pussy with a soft, wet sound that hung in the air between you. The sudden emptiness made you whimper but he didn't go far, his body stayed pressed close.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his eyes locked on yours, full of concern. “I'm just gonna clean up real quick…throw this out and be right back.” He said, only moving when you nodded, then he kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment before slipping off the bed. True to his word, he moved fast, disposing of the condom in the bathroom and returned in seconds with boxers on, grabbing a glass of cool water from the nightstand pitcher before sliding back onto the bed and helping you sit up against the pillows even as you shook. 

The cool glass pressed into your hand, condensation beading against your fingers as you tried to steady the tremor running through them. Your sobs had softened into uneven breaths now, the kind that still caught in your chest every few seconds, like your body hadn’t quite decided whether it was safe to calm down yet. For a moment it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, the intensity of everything that had just happened settling into a strange, dizzying clarity and that was when the shame crept in.

It always did quietly, sliding into the fragile spaces after the storm had passed.

You pulled the blanket higher against your chest without really thinking about it, curling slightly inward as if you could fold yourself smaller, less exposed. Your gaze dropped to your lap and you sniffled, wiping the corner of your nose with the back of your hand before taking a careful sip of the water.

The silence stretched between you, though it wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with things you hadn’t figured out how to say yet.

“We can…maybe forget about this,” you murmured finally, your voice still rough as you lowered the glass back into your lap. You avoided his eyes as you spoke, staring instead at the faint patterns in the comforter. “Convince ourselves it was a…collective hallucination.”

Your mouth twisted slightly as you said it, the humor thin and fragile.

While you spoke, Drew shifted beside you, reaching toward his bedside table again. The familiar motion didn’t immediately register in your brain, though some distant part of you noticed the quiet certainty in the way he moved. In your mind, that drawer had become a place where good things came from…like the late-night snacks he forgot he’d hidden, old photos he kept tucked away and random little keepsakes from years of knowing each other.

So when he opened it again, you barely looked up until he pulled out a small velvet box.

Your voice died mid-thought. The words you’d been about to say simply vanished somewhere between your lungs and your throat as he flipped the lid open and held it between you.

You swallowed. “Uh-kay,” you said quietly, the word leaving your mouth in that strange half-syllable he knew so well, the one that appeared when your brain had too many emotions and not enough language to organize them.

Drew watched you carefully, the nervousness in his chest fighting with the determination in his eyes. He hadn’t planned to show you like this, not in the quiet aftermath of tears and vulnerability but he also couldn’t sit there and watch doubt tear through you again, couldn’t let your mind convince you that what existed between you was fragile or temporary.

“I do love you,” he said softly, then he tilted the box just slightly so you could see the ring better. “I do.”

The words landed with the quiet weight of something sacred, spoken with the same calm certainty he imagined he’d have one day standing in front of you at an altar.

“And if we’re collectively forgetting anything,” he added gently, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile, “it’s that I’m showing you this before the big day.”

He glanced down at the ring briefly, then back up at you.

“I’m trusting you’ll be able to pull off your most surprised face when I actually get on one knee,” he continued, warmth creeping into his voice. “I’ve been practicing. I’m hoping I can really impress you.”

The sound that escaped you was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, both emotions tangling together as your hand flew to your mouth.

It wasn’t really the proposal. He hadn’t asked the question, hadn’t dropped to one knee and hadn’t even placed the ring in your hand. He just wanted you to see it, to know where his heart stood.

Your eyes drifted back down to the open box, studying the ring nestled inside. It was intricate without being overwhelming, delicate lines of metal wrapping around a stone that caught the soft lamplight in quiet flashes. It was…perfect, unsettlingly so.

If you hadn’t given up on the idea of marriage somewhere in your early twenties, if you had ever allowed yourself to imagine what your ring might look like it would have looked exactly like this.

“I’ve never really thought about my wedding,” you admitted softly after a moment. Your thumb brushed the edge of the velvet box but you still didn’t touch the ring. “Not after I realized they don’t make Princess Peach dresses in adult sizes,” you added with a small, breathy laugh.

Drew chuckled under his breath, the memory instantly pulling him back to childhood afternoons where you ran around the neighborhood wearing that ridiculous pink costume dress far longer than any normal kid would.

“I’m sure we could find someone willing to make one,” he said easily.

You shook your head lightly, the movement slow. “I don’t…” you started.

The moment those two words left your mouth, Drew’s chest tightened despite himself. He tried not to react, tried not to let the fear creep into his expression but you kept going.

“I don’t think I could do the huge party thing,” you said carefully. “And I want you to know that I still have work to do.” Your voice softened as you spoke, your fingers finally curling around the box itself, holding it gently though you still didn’t lift the ring. “I’m not nearly ready to quit therapy,” you admitted quietly. “Even though I like to pretend I am sometimes.”

Your eyes lifted to meet his. “And silence still makes me uneasy.”

Drew shook his head immediately. “I’d never ask you to pretend,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering.

You nodded slowly, taking in that reassurance before glancing back down at the ring again.

“I’m still not convinced I’m doing the love thing right,” you murmured then you paused. “But I’m up to do it.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the velvet box, like you couldn’t let it go. “With you.”

For a moment Drew just stared at you, relief washing over him so suddenly it almost made him dizzy. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for two years without realizing it.

A quiet smile spread across his face. “Then I think,” he said softly, “you might already know what to say when I ask.”

You looked up at him again, this time there was no confusion in your eyes, no hesitation either just the steady certainty that had been slowly growing between you since the night everything changed.

“I do,” you said.

When Drew leaned forward to press his forehead gently against yours, the room felt impossibly calm, like the world had finally settled exactly where it was meant to be.

It was only the beginning of the rest of your lives.