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Won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?

I saw her in the most perfect light, the kind that made her look like a dream, like something pulled from a scene starring Anne Hathaway. She was laughing, carelessly, in that effortless way that made me want to be near her forever. The smoke from her pen hung in the air, curling around her as she coughed and laughed through it, like nothing mattered but this moment. Her laughter, though delicate, filled the space between us, a sound that lingered even when the air grew still. And as the smoke faded, she caught my eyes again, the kind of gaze that stopped time, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. Then, without warning, she came closer, dropping to her knees, eyes wide and pleading. Her voice was soft, but the words hit me hard, “Baby, would you please do the things you said you’d do? To me?”

She didn’t need to say more. In that instant, I was hers completely. I couldn’t resist her, not with that smile, not with the way she looked at me like I was the only thing in her world. The way her lips curved into a smirk as if daring me to make the first move. She leaned in, teasing, her lips just inches from mine, “Won’t you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?” Her voice was low, almost daring. Everything about her was a challenge, and I was always ready to meet it. How could I say no? Her taste lingered on my lips long after, a flavor I couldn’t place—something addictive, something that kept pulling me back.

I’ve kissed her a thousand times, but each one feels new. Every time I lean in, it’s like diving headfirst into a whirlpool of sensations, a rush that takes over. She always knows just how to keep me on edge, to make me wonder what comes next.

“I don’t believe in God,” she whispered, her breath warm against my neck, “but I believe you’re my savior.” Her words stirred something deep inside me. It wasn’t just the way she said it; it was the conviction behind it, the way she made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. My mom always said she worried about me, but I didn’t care—not when I was wrapped in the warmth of her affection, dripping in the favor of her love. In these moments, nothing else mattered. The world could fall apart around us, and I wouldn’t notice. When we were together, when our bodies pressed close and her touch made everything else disappear, I could forget everything that was wrong. I could forget everything.

There were nights when it felt like the universe stopped just for us. The silence outside, the way the world faded into the background. It was just me and her, lost in our own little world. Those nights, they felt endless, but in the best way. Time stretched out, each second spent with her felt like a lifetime, and I wished for nothing more than for those moments to last forever.

I live for the nights with her, for the moments when I can close my eyes and let sleep carry me back to her, because the waiting kills me. When I’m not with her, it’s like time stretches, dragging painfully until we’re together again. The days feel endless, but sleep—sleep brings her back to me, and it’s the only thing that makes the distance bearable. The anticipation, that need to see her again, to feel her next to me—it drives me crazy. But it’s worth every second of waiting.

There’s a certain pride in the way she touches me. When she took my fingers to her lips, it felt like something profound, like nothing else had ever come close to this. It was as if her touch had a way of rewriting the past, making every failure, every heartbreak, fade away. And though I’ve tried to find meaning in other things, nothing has the same bite, the same electric sting that she does when she’s close to me. Her venom—the way she says my name, the way she teases with every word—there’s nothing like it. I’m completely caught, completely hers.

She knows it too. The way she plays with me, the way she pushes just enough to make me crave more. Once again, she pulls me in, her lips brushing against mine, “Won’t you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?” There’s that smile again, the one that leaves me guessing. But it’s not a question, it’s a demand, and I’m more than willing to answer. Every kiss, every touch, pulls me deeper, and I’m falling harder than I ever thought possible. She might not believe in God, but she’s convinced I’m the one who can save her, and in moments like these, when her body is pressed against mine, it feels like I could.

It’s funny how someone can make you feel invincible. She always worries, but there’s no need. I’ve got her covered, wrapped up in the safety of my love. We lose ourselves in each other, and in those moments, nothing else matters. The world could be crumbling outside, but as long as she’s in my arms, I forget everything. I forget what’s wrong, what’s broken, because nothing else matters but her. It’s a feeling I can’t quite explain, that sense of complete and utter surrender when she’s near me.

We talk about running away sometimes, escaping to the walls of her house where no one else can touch us. In those fantasies, she’s the mouse, and I’m the cat, forever chasing, forever close. We laugh about things we don’t really understand, things we don’t need to know because we have each other. The laughter between us—it’s what holds everything together. We laugh off the pain, the things that don’t make sense, because as long as we’re laughing, everything’s okay. And maybe, just maybe, we could keep this up forever—until the day she’s ready to stop. Until she wants to sit out.

But for now, we’re lost in the moments that are ours, in the space where nothing else matters but the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she makes me forget everything else in the world. Those fleeting moments of closeness, of intimacy—they’re what I live for. I don’t need anything else, just her, and the way she makes the world seem so small, so insignificant compared to what we have.

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The desire to love and be loved, to share toughts and days, have light in the heart for a pure affection, but again, the urge to be alone with my rage, with my egoistic tendencies, to be my own dispotic lover. No one ever knows you like your dark side does, no one loves you like your dark side does.

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lighthouse study. started in sketchbook and finished in procreate

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Norway D’Rockstar (18+, ENTP, any pronouns).

Hi! As you can see, I’m Norway D’Rockstar, but you can call me Nor/Norry! Or my fav—Gia. Besides those nicknames, feel free to come up with a new one if you like. I’m of legal age and always up for keeping things playful and exciting, making every day feel like a little adventure. Oh, since I’m an ENTP, I also love exploring new ideas and jumping into fun conversations!

I’m really passionate about arts—I love drawing, painting, and anything that involves creativity. I also enjoy writing songs. Additionally, I like reading both fiction and historical books, and I have fun writing on Medium. Even though I think my writing is just okay compared to my talented writer friends, I truly enjoy expressing my ideas in writing, especially when I’m feeling inspired! I can also speak a bit of Japanese and German (Deutsch), so you might see me tweet in both languages now and then.

In my free time, you’ll often find me watching movies and anime, especially in the action, fantasy, and sci-fi genres. I absolutely love Harry Potter; it’s my go-to comfort movie. I also enjoy a wide range of music, including Metalcore, Alt Rock, R&B, Pop, and Hip-Hop, depending on my mood. Some of my favorite bands and artists include Pierce The Veil, BMTH, ONE OK ROCK, Bad Omens, Kiss Of Life, NCT, Yves, Sabrina Carpenter, Ariana Grande, Tyla, etc.

If you’re under 15 or fall into the common DNI/DNF categories, I ask that you respect my boundaries and not engage with my page—no hard feelings! If you notice that I’ve removed your account from my list, it could be due to inactivity, limited interaction, or something I didn’t vibe with on your profile. If you’re interested in getting to know me better, feel free to DM me—I’d love to chat!