yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Everywhere he touches her, thought disintegrates. Jack’s hands are not just familiar, they’re devastating, tracing over the curves of her body like he’s reclaiming something no one else ever had the right to touch. The moment his mouth finds hers again, it’s like a match struck too close to oil, and everything inside her ignites. It’s not soft—not gentle—and gods, it shouldn’t be. There’s too much hunger in her already, too much wildfire in her blood, and his kiss fans it higher until all she can taste is heat and fury and salt.
She hums against his mouth, not just in approval, but with need—pure and aching—threaded through her bones like tension drawn taut to the point of snapping. Her thoughts don’t merely spiral, they collapse entirely, scattering like petals torn from the stem such that it's impossible to even think of anyone else. There is only Jack: Only the weight of his body against hers, only the impossible way he knows where to press and where to pull, the relentless accuracy with which he steals the air from her lungs and gives her back nothing but want.
And even as he walks her deeper into the dark—his palm firm at the small of her back, his other hand already sliding under her dress like a promise about to be made—Flora’s fingers fumble for her truth-ring, slipping it free without ceremony. She finds the pocket of her skirt and lets it fall in without a second thought, her mind far too busy with the captain’s teeth and tongue and the delicious friction of his arousal against her hips to care about what’s true anymore. Truth isn’t what she’s chasing anyway.
When her spine brushes against the bark of a tree—rough and unyielding—it steals a gasp from her mouth, shivering through her lips and into his. A plume of heat coils low in her belly and bursts outward in waves, racing along her skin and right into the arch of her back as she breathes the words directly into his mouth. "Make me feel good." Her voice is ragged velvet, laced with lust and defiance, her thigh curling around his hips as if to drag him closer, to press him into her, to prove that whatever’s between them isn’t gone, and for better or worse, never has been.
She hums against his mouth, not just in approval, but with need—pure and aching—threaded through her bones like tension drawn taut to the point of snapping. Her thoughts don’t merely spiral, they collapse entirely, scattering like petals torn from the stem such that it's impossible to even think of anyone else. There is only Jack: Only the weight of his body against hers, only the impossible way he knows where to press and where to pull, the relentless accuracy with which he steals the air from her lungs and gives her back nothing but want.
And even as he walks her deeper into the dark—his palm firm at the small of her back, his other hand already sliding under her dress like a promise about to be made—Flora’s fingers fumble for her truth-ring, slipping it free without ceremony. She finds the pocket of her skirt and lets it fall in without a second thought, her mind far too busy with the captain’s teeth and tongue and the delicious friction of his arousal against her hips to care about what’s true anymore. Truth isn’t what she’s chasing anyway.
When her spine brushes against the bark of a tree—rough and unyielding—it steals a gasp from her mouth, shivering through her lips and into his. A plume of heat coils low in her belly and bursts outward in waves, racing along her skin and right into the arch of her back as she breathes the words directly into his mouth. "Make me feel good." Her voice is ragged velvet, laced with lust and defiance, her thigh curling around his hips as if to drag him closer, to press him into her, to prove that whatever’s between them isn’t gone, and for better or worse, never has been.
some real big things I still gotta figure out
