Four years in, and you are still the most beautiful thing my heart has ever found.
Even when you are frustrated, irritated, or completely done with everything, I love that I am the person you let it all out with.
The softness on your face, the little positions you curl into, and how impossibly adorable you look when the whole world finally becomes quiet around you.
Sometimes sweet, sometimes teasing, and sometimes dangerous enough to make me forget how to behave.
That soft change in you when the attitude fades, your guard drops, and you become all warmth, affection, and mine.
Through distance, arguments, chaos, and every strange phase of life, my heart still settles when it reaches you.
Khushu, my luvv, my bbbyu,
All this time together, and I still haven’t learned how to behave normally around you, my luvv.
You still make me want to pull you against me, grab your face, kiss you until you forget where you are, and keep going until everything surrounding us disappears completely.
I don’t love you quietly or politely.
I love you greedily, selfishly, possessively, and with absolutely no intention of pretending that my thoughts about you are innocent.
I want your attention, your time, your sleepy voice, your dramatic reactions, your stubbornness, your softness, your anger, your affection, and every private, cute, sexy , vulnerable version of you that the rest of the world never gets to see, my godddesss.
You live in my head far more than you probably should.
You appear in my plans, my memories, my dreams, my fantasies, my random thoughts, and almost every version of the future I imagine. Sometimes I miss your voice. Sometimes I miss your face. Sometimes I so so miss holding you, my most beautiful luvv.
And sometimes I miss touching you so badly, that being far away from you feels physically unfair.
I miss your body pressed against mine. I miss your skin, your smell, your lips, your thighs, your reactions, the way your breathing changes, and the sounds you make and fail to keep quiet.
I miss the moment when teasing stops being teasing.
When I have kissed you long enough that neither of us is pretending to be sensible anymore. When your hands stop behaving. When my mouth is exactly where you want it. When every bit of distance, patience, and self control between us finally disappears.
I want to kiss every inch of you slowly enough to drive you insane, then love you hard enough to make you forget that I ever know how to be gentle, my godddesss.
I want to hear you say my name when you are no longer trying to sound composed. I want to watch that confident attitude dissolve when I touch you exactly the way I know you like. I want to make you wet, make you impatient, make you beg, and then keep teasing you because your frustration is far too fucking attractive, my goddess.
I want your nails in my skin. Your legs around me. Your mouth against mine when neither of us can breathe properly. Your body trembling underneath me while I remind you exactly how obsessed I still am with you, my godddesss.
And afterward, I want all the softness too.
I want you curled against me, stealing the blanket, pretending you are not tired, talking complete nonsense, and eventually falling asleep close enough that I can still feel you breathing, bbbyu.
Because that is the problem with you, my prettiest. I don’t only want your body.
I want everything.
I want your sweetness and your attitude. Your affection and your anger. Your adorable smile and the dangerously attractive look you give me when you know exactly what I am thinking. I want the woman who argues with me, laughs at me, worries about me, gets annoyed by me, and still allows me into the parts of her life that nobody else gets to touch.
We have survived distance, arguments, uncertainty, terrible timing, frustration, and approximately four years of my nonsense.
Yet somehow I am still obsessed with you, possibly more than before.
And no, I don’t want to become less obsessed.
I want more of you, my godddesss.
More memories. More nights together. More mornings in the same bed. More stupid conversations. More stolen kisses. More filthy whispers. More clothes left on the floor. More moments where I make you blush in public because you know precisely what I plan to do to you in private.
I want more times when we lose control of ourselves. More times when “one kiss” becomes an entire night. More times when I get to worship you, tease you, taste you, fuck you, hold you, and then wake up still wanting you again, my luvv.
I don’t want a calmer version of this love.
I don’t want polite affection, reasonable desire, or some comfortable version of us where I stop craving you.
I want to keep loving you loudly, wanting you shamelessly, touching you greedily, annoying you deliberately, and fucking you like four years have done absolutely nothing to reduce the hunger.
Because they haven’t, my godddesss.
You are mine to love, mine to annoy, mine to desire, and unless you have somehow forgotten, the woman I intend to keep choosing again and again.
Happy Girlfriend’s Day, Dr. Khushbu Soni, my bbyy, my prettiest, my most beautiful luvv, my godddesss.
Yours, completely in love, shamelessly horny, and obsessively yours,
Fenil ❤️
Dr. Khushbu Soni, my bby…
Let every rose lower its head when you enter the room,
For even spring looks unfinished beside the way you bloom.
Let the moon spill its silver and the stars gather bright,
They still could not borrow the warmth of your light.
You are the hush after thunder, the fire through rain,
The beautiful trouble I would welcome again.
You turn ordinary evenings to hours outside time,
And make even my chaos fall softly into rhyme.
So wear that smile that sends all my good sense astray,
And let me steal a little of you this Girlfriend’s Day.
No grand destination, no perfectly staged view,
Could matter for a moment when the reason is you.
Give me your hand and let the evening agree,
That nowhere feels sweeter than wherever we’ll be.
So, my prettiest bby, let the whole world wait and see…
Will you go on a Girlfriend’s Day date with me?
It’s a date.