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I don’t fucking get it, I don’t understand what I’m feeling, but I like what’s happening.
“I think you have a fucked-up past, Vibe Girl. And I do think you’re crazy.” She speaks honestly, and while my heart sinks at her words, I appreciate them. But then her lips dip down to my ear and I feel her warm breath as it grazes across my cheek. “But lucky for you, crazy is my favorite.”
The heat between us, it’s fucking magnetic. I can’t get enough of it and now that she’s touching me, I want to drown in her ocean.
My heart is racing, my head cloudy with confusion and uncertainties. Everything fell from its axis last week and I'm working to keep it all together. I just want to breathe again. I want to feel alive again. God, she's like my fucking drug. One hit and I was already addicted. One breath and it was like my lungs felt full for the very first time. One touch and I now I'm imagining her every time I'm with someone else.
“Oh wait, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? You want me to give you another orgasm and make you feel better? Because I love secrets, and you know I’m your filthiest one,”
Lies are like water, they flow easily from your lips but are much harder to hold on to with your hands.
I’m taking the innocence and breaking it’s mold, recasting it into a darker blend of ruin. Give me purity and let me claim it, make it mine and shred the strands into something beautifully nefarious.
"I'll kill you if you fuck her. Or anyone else for that matter," she whispers, and the deadly threat of her words only turns me on more. "You're mine, Vibe Girl. Always have been." "Will you? Because if I find out you're fucking any of them behind my back, your blood will be on my hands," I say as drag my teeth along her jawline.
Reminding me that I'm not that small, fragile wildflower. I'm the entire fucking forest, and I'll light this bitch on fire before I ever give into The Nation again.
Maybe the things I've done aren't perfect, or wholesome, or good. But I'm okay with that, because I believe we all deserve a little bad. A little darkness and corruption to remind us that living life is so much more than falling in line with the person behind you. Experiencing life is greater than listening and agreeing to all of the deafening noise that constantly buzzes in our ears.
Her vibe is that euphoric height I’m constantly climbing toward, always being drawn to. Her energy is continuously my clean air, refreshing my lungs with each heady breath I take of her.
"I think I'd lose myself to you. Get lost in every ounce of your energy. I want to devour you as much as I know you'd consume me."
Some of the decisions that feel right, the most perfect choices, are the darkest. Sometimes, it's the corruption that fulfills us."
I can't get enough of it, of her sounds blending with mine. We're making music in what's forbidden. Taking these preconceived molds and shattering them to pieces. Fuck forbidden, fuck taboo. We'll take all of it and make it ours.
I think once you find that person, you work your ass off to keep them. Even if it's dangerous. Even if it's wrong. Even if we don't make it through this.
That's what hurts. Thinking you have a connection with someone—even platonically—that doesn't really exist. Realizing that they'll turn their back on you in a second, without a thought to how it hurts you in the process. One second she's there, the next second she wasn't.
I'll always fight for her, and I think that in this moment where our fears were plastered right in front of our faces, we've learned to cling to each other. Always fighting for each other. Even in fear. Even in chaos. Always each other.
"I'm always going to want you. Always dream of you. You've ruined me for anyone else.
Is there a way to know when you’ve truly lost it? Lost all inhibitions and consumed every bit of power? Because that’s how I feel right now. Powerful. Free. Finally fucking free. My skin is electric. My blood a constant vibrating current flowing through my limbs and sparking my fingertips. I don’t feel the fear, or the hesitation, or the concern over what I’m doing.
while he thinks he’s in charge. Remember those butterflies? They’ve expanded in my chest. They’re stronger, larger, more than just a simple beauty with wings. They’ve evolved into a tornado of thrashing gusts, whipping through every ounce of my body while I let it devour me.
She’s taking everything, fucking me in a way I could never get from anyone else—man or woman. Because it has nothing to do with her gender and everything to do with her. She’s my everything, my fucking demise and seduction. She’s my awakening, my flash of hope when I thought I had none.
Our own happiness and strength is derived from ourselves. No one else.
and I lose myself to the idea of her body against mine, her own marks on my flesh, because if anyone owns anything— We own each other.
