saudade;

I just want to wake up sometime and feel her face buried between my legs, her mouth wet and wide, swallowing the morning whole. I want the raw, sliding suction of her lips to be the first thing I know, a deep and rhythmic pulling that makes the rest of the world a lie. No soft poetry, just the hard, slick heat of her tongue lapping at the musk of me and her throat taking me in, inch by heavy inch, until I’m nothing but a pulse in her hands. I want to feel that tight, velvet squeeze of her swallowing until my nerves scream and the room starts to shake, letting her suck the life out of me until the sun burns out and I'm finally coming apart in her mouth.

forgive the version of you that didn’t know any better

forgive the version of yourself that knew better but did it anyway. forgive every version of yourself. we are constantly learning from our mistakes.

forgive the version of you that didn’t know what to do and could not have foreseen what the right choice was, if there even was one. forgive the version of you that made a choice and regretted it.

Maybe fucking is a good idea. Not that empty, sweaty kind I’ve known too often. But the kind where everything's raw and slow—when moaning means something, when the skin talks louder than mouths. Where eyes lock and stay locked, even when bodies lose shape. The kind where you finish and collapse and don’t feel dirtier, just more human. Where it’s not just release—it’s communion. Maybe that’s what I want more than anything: not the sex, but the weight of you, real and warm, grounding me when the world feels like smoke.

just want to be fucked and loved well

Forever a "I understand" with a constant heavy heart.