✎ genre: smut, manon bannerman x fem!reader, switch!manon, switch!reader, possessive!manon, angst, smoking addiction, oral, fingering, choking, praise, dacryphilia, hickeys/marking, emotional sex, tension, guilt, miscommunication, strangers to lovers, denial of feelings, yearninggg, manon falls in love with you, she gives you reasons to stay away, but you stay anyway

✎ summary: Manon falls in love with a girl she doesn’t deserve. (16.4k Words)

✎ author’s note: to those who yearn, this is for you

men and minors DNI past this point

Manon walks into the convenience store with her hands stuffed deep into her jacket.

The familiar smell filled her lungs. That same scent of pure stale.

She walked in, eyeing the greasy hot dogs rolling continuously under the warmer, accidentally stepping on a chip that was forgotten on the floor, before taking in a hint of fresh-scented cleaner that lingered around the store. Her eyes fell onto the endless aisles of chips, instant packs of ramen, and sour candy.

None of them ever filled her appetite.

It was night, it was cold, too cold for her liking. Each breath she exhaled left a trail of fog from her mouth. And her lips were cracked, always forgetting to moisturize. The laces of her shoes untied, too lazy to lean down to tie them. Braids pulled into a ponytail, never even letting them loose around her face. That same old jacket she wears never leaves her body. Pants too baggy, the belt barely staying on her hips. And her eyes? Unreadable.

That’s all she ever was.

The man behind the counter didn’t even glance up from his magazine, sighing underneath his breath, murmuring something incoherent. He didn’t need to look. Manon came to this same convenience store more than the times she slept in her own bedroom. 

She doesn’t go for fun, doesn’t go for the food, but because she needs something.

She always does.

Her steps carried her with humiliation, her shoes scraping the floor as if it had just burned to stand where she was right now. She walked past the aisles, past the snacks and the drinks, all the way to the counter. 

Eyes were already locked onto the locked glass behind the man before taking a glance at the lighters in a box, displayed on the counter, until the line of cigarette packs took her attention as it always did. She felt like they were eyeing her back, pushing her to a deeper sense of guilt. It pulled her like a magnet, too strong to even tear her eyes away from. 

Manon hurriedly took out the crumpled ten-dollar bill that she already had in the palm of her hand and stuffed it into her pocket. She threw it onto the counter as if it stung to hold onto it any longer.

The ache never leaves, controlling her to a different mindset. She ran out just a few hours ago during a party she willingly attended. Went outside for a couple of minutes, cigarette pack all empty, and ran out to her car as if an emergency had just happened. Forgetting about yet another party that she won’t even remember by morning.

It’s a constant ache, one that never leaves, the one that always stays. It haunts, stretches no matter where you go. Every craving gnaws at her chest, scraping the insides of a weight that she knows nothing else can ever fill. The mind and body are at war—one half desperate for relief, the other screaming with shame for even wanting it. She hates how she feels more shame than relief, but the crave really never ends.

A surrender, a compromise that she didn’t choose herself, too deep to chase away. She tells herself that it’s like a heartbreak, one that isn’t loud, but one that gets her trapped, a prisoner. One that doesn’t allow her the pride and self-respect that she used to deserve. But now? She isn’t sure about what she deserves anymore.

The relief never lasts long, but it constantly drives you in further. And when she finally gives in, the relief is there, but it’s bitter with regret and guilt that settles into her skin, sinking its shameful mark. Until it slowly dies out, only the emptiness remains, already counting the seconds, minutes, and hours until the urge doesn’t last, already hating herself for it at the single thought. And when it’s time, she does it again, a continuous cycle that never seems to have its own ending.

And now she’s here. It was inevitable anyway.

As she was about to speak, the cashier beat her to it. Doesn’t even look up from his magazine, mindlessly flipping the pages like her presence wasn’t even there, and she’s beginning to think that way, too.

“Marlboro?” He says the brand name, dropping the magazine onto the counter, turns around without a look and mutters under his breath, “Same as always.”

Manon nods, her throat constricts with the same familiar feeling—a mix of relief and shame.

Maybe it was just in her head, but she swore she could hear laughter building up in his throat. The humiliation deepened at the thought. But she doesn’t care, or she pretends not to. There wasn’t really much of a difference to her anymore.

He drops the pack onto the counter. As he was about to pick up the bill, his eyes squinted, and then he looked back at her with this look on his face, like he thought this was some kind of joke.

“You gave me ten dollars,” He paused, the silence stretching out with a hint of judgment, “You know it’s twelve bucks.” The cashier places a hand on top of the cigarettes, making sure she doesn’t take them before paying the exact amount.

Manon paused and stared at the hand covering the pack. She hated how she felt the need to just snatch it and run away with it. The craving eats her alive, and it makes her fingers twitch as her nails dig into her skin. She forces herself to rummage through her pockets once more, only to find them empty.

“I only have ten.” She mumbles, head low, eyes daring. Her patience nearly snapping, she knows she has no right to feel that way when she’s the one wanting to scam him.

He knows it too, “You know the amount, it’s twelve dollars.” He repeats, beginning to take the pack away from her, the sight of the pack leaving her sight stings something inside her chest. She sighed, eyes closing with her fists clenched, knuckles straining her skin, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I need it right now.” She lies.

He doesn’t look convinced, her nails push in deeper at the sight. “You keep saying that,” he said, voice casual, bored even. “I see you here all the time, and you never pay me back.”

She feels the ache deepen within her bones, scraping the edges. The cashier doesn’t know her, and doesn’t plan to find out, but he sees her in this same store too much to know enough that this was a sick habit she kept performing.

The words get stuck until she forces herself to choke them out. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow. It’s a fucking two-dollar difference.” Bitterness forms in her mouth, and it wasn’t the cigarettes this time.

Silence stretches the air longer than it needs to. Her eyes never left the pack underneath his palm, as if the sight was mocking her. Out of her reach, something she wanted to selfishly take, even when she had no right to. The craving was eating her alive.

He began to glare at her, squinting his eyes, which made her stomach feel uneasy, twisting and knotting. Just as he was about to turn around to put it back onto the shelf, he froze.

The bell above the door jingled.

You.

Just a stranger, just another face.

The night carried the lingering cold that clung to your own jacket, a hint of that outside scent drifting through the door as you walked inside. Your shoes squeaked against dirty tiles. But for a moment, you didn’t look at her at all. You were just another customer, another stranger, soon to come in and go back out there like you hadn’t stepped inside at all.

But then your eyes flicked to the counter, to the scene you’d walked in on—the cashier’s hand still pinning the pack, the girl standing tense and small in front of him. Her jaw locked tight, her shoulders drawn in like she was bracing for something heavier than words. Face filled with something unfamiliar, but the eyes said it all.

You walked past the two. Their eyes still linger on your back. You’re unsure what was going on beforehand, and you didn’t really care to find out if you were completely honest.

You went through the aisles, grabbing a bag of Cheetos before walking up to the line of drinks at the back, opening the door, the breeze hitting your face like a punch as you reach out to grab a cold drink.

The glass door thunked shut behind you, the bottle sweating in your hand, almost slipping out. The light overhead beamed on top of you, filling the silence between the cashier and the girl you left behind. You could still feel their eyes on your back, tension slowly crawling up your neck. And when you turned, the scene hadn’t changed much. The cigarettes were still trapped under his palm, and the girl still stood there, her hands useless at her sides, a stiffness to her that spoke of desperation she tried to hide. But you knew that feeling all too well.

As you walked towards the counter, their eyes were locked onto each other instead. Daring for one another to admit defeat, you watched the way her eyes hardened at the sight of his hand gripping the pack as equally as hard.

But then you stood beside her.

You set your drink and the chips on top of the counter. For a moment, the cashier’s attention flicked to you, as though you were a welcome interruption from this tense situation. But the weight of his hand never lifted, and her anger slowly swarmed inside of her ribs.

And then it paused. Her eyes turned to your side, watching the way you took out your wallet from your pocket intently. Eyes still expressionless. You don’t look her way, somewhat afraid that if you do, something will burst out of her.

You felt her shifting at your side. Jaw locked, hands fisted, too cold that it was getting hard to breathe.

The cashier pushed the cigarettes to the side, away from her reach, to scan your items instead. The act has her eyebrows furrowing, biting her cheek, preventing her from saying something she might regret. She hated how easily she was affected by it. Like a child who had taken away their candy.

Just as the guy finished scanning your items, you said something else, something neither of them would have expected.

You placed ten dollars for your own things, and then a two-dollar bill.

Manon stared at it, then you–her eyes suddenly turned soft.

“I’ll pay for the cigarettes.” You said, lowly, eyes locked onto the cashier and then the pack, hidden on the side where he pushed it carelessly. He gave you an expression of disbelief, mouth parted to say something, but the words weren’t there. Too tired to fight any longer, he nodded, scanned the pack, and then your items.

The register beeped, the sound sharp in the atmosphere. You slid the bills across the counter.. The cashier snatched them up without a word, his earlier disbelief had now disappeared, back to his usual, careless state. He bagged your drink and chips, set the cigarettes aside like it was a burden he was glad to get rid of.

Her throat tightened. She loathed this—the way she needed it, the way she couldn’t even scrounge together twelve dollars without someone noticing her failure, the patheticness in it all. And yet, someone had noticed. 

You. A stranger.

Manon didn’t move at first. She couldn’t. Her eyes still lingered on you, searching for some trace of motive, some reason you’d even bother to help. They weren’t filled with gratitude, not exactly—more distrustful, delicate in a way that looked unfamiliar on her face. She reached for the pack only when it seemed safe.

The mask she wore so constantly cracked in that second. Something gentler, almost natural, slipped through. Her appreciation tangled with shame, like something as simple as a thank you was a debt she couldn’t afford to owe. Her lips part, but the words refused to come. She couldn’t say thank you. Not without a crack in her voice, breaking.

So she didn’t.

Her hands shoved deep into her jacket once more, shoulders hunching as though she could fold herself small enough to disappear from you. The cigarettes pressed against her side, heavy, damning, but still the only comfort she knew. The only thing that she sought.

You stare at her, not with judgment, but more so–something quieter. You weren’t expecting her to say something anyway, assuming that she wasn’t that type of person to do so. But your eyes still met hers, flashing with something unguarded hidden beneath the facade she tried to hide.

Until she nodded, just the slightest that if you blinked right as she did, you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did. She turned around as fast as she could, the door opened with a hit of undisturbed air onto your face. The bell above her head dings as she leaves, the sound short in the silence she vacates behind.

But she doesn’t leave, not completely. You observe through the glass windows as she kneels, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, knees drawn up, back hunched out. The cold doesn’t seem to bother her anymore. For a moment, nothing else seemed to matter to her besides the small box in her hands.

Her hands fumble as she unwraps the wrapper around the packaging. Finally, lighting one up. She raises it to her lips, the flame capturing with the wind as the first inhale draws sharply within her lungs. Her shoulders no longer tense, eyes closed just briefly as if the smoke could even erase the ache that could never seem to leave inside of her.

Manon exhales, and the smoke curls and twists into the night air, the same, bitter sweetness tattooed to her tongue. Relief washes over her, but then again, a hint of shame always comes after, it always follows.

You stay inside the store, the bag of your snacks loose in your hand. Head turned just to watch the curve of her back, hunching more with each exhale she made, the cigarette obvious in between her fingers. You don’t approach, you don’t leave just yet. Everything just seemed so dull compared to the girl on the other side of the door.

The streetlights framed the glow around her, highlighting her body as if the world itself had paused to watch this girl, the smoke stretching and pulling with each exhale. You painted her out, even when you don’t know her at all. You can’t help but wonder what type of girl she was. 

Your confidence suddenly grows in you, pushing past the door, the same sound of the bell rings as you do, your feet carried with something unrecognized, your heart thumping in you. 

The breeze wraps around you, clinging to your jacket, and you walk towards her. 

You sensed her head already turned towards you as you sat beside her on the sidewalk, wordlessly digging into the plastic bag in search of your drink, popping the can open, taking a sip as you swallowed in the taste.

The fizz crackled on your tongue, swallowing it up sharp and cold. Beside you, she drew on the cigarette again, slow, conscious, every one she dragged out was measured out to keep her composed. You smell it from her side, the wind pushing it towards your direction, its scent clinging to the breeze.

Manon doesn’t speak as you sat beside her, even when you sat too close for her liking. Doesn’t ask you why you came outside or why you sat next to her when you should’ve walked away. She doesn’t ask your name either. Her eyes were steady on you, but you could tell from her body reaction that she wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge her after she didn’t even thank you for paying for the same cigarette between her lips. You could tell she was nervous, maybe afraid.

The silence stretched, thick but not exactly uncomfortable. Just weighted. You sipped again, the aluminum cool in your hand, the carbonation scratching your throat. Her cigarette glowed with each inhale, her fingers trembling only when she thought no one was watching. But you were.

Then, you placed the can on the pavement, shoving your frosted hands back into your jacket, slightly shivering from the drink and the cold. 

You spoke after a while, “You come here a lot? Don’t you?” You ask, careful, sounding a little too noisy for a stranger.

She pauses for a second and then exhales a smoke. “Yep.” Her tone was completely defensive, but there was no edge to it, just questioning. 

You nod, eyeing her face. She seemed more relaxed than when you first saw her inside the store. Her eyes weren’t as weary as they were, jaw loose, hands on the cigarette like she was only ever made to hold them. She faces back onto the concrete, eyes shying away from you like your stare made her tremble. You couldn’t tell if it was from you or the cold night.

“I didn’t mean to step in back there.” You eyed the pack in her hands, outlining the way she clutched it like it was sacred to her. “Felt like you needed it.”

Her mouth parts as the cigarette leaves her lips, registering your words. Her eyes go back onto yours, sharp, quick, and then she softens as if she was figuring out if she should trust you or not. But then she takes another slow drag, eyes locked onto yours like some kind of pull.

“You don’t know me.” She whispers, but loud enough for you to hear. Strained, not really controlled, but the shakiness was nearly there.

“I know that,” You respond, not as defensive as she was, eyes even dared to stare right back into her own. “But I didn’t have to.”

And then she leans back slightly, almost as if she were offended. You hear her scoff slightly, facing towards the road once again.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” She swallows, the bitter sinking through her throat, “But you shouldn’t go any further.”

Your eyes don’t leave when hers did, “Is this your way of telling me I should stop?” You questioned, testing out the waters.

Her lips part like she might argue, but instead she lets the cigarette rest between her fingers. She turns her head just enough to glance at you, the edge in her gaze gone, relaxing a bit, and the calmness seeps through her sight.

“No,” she says simply, and for the first time tonight, she sounds honest. The truth sinks in between her lips as the word falls out with ease.

Usually, the conversations never last this long for her to say no, or even respond. She’s used to the quick exchanges, the blunt words, the silence that lets her slip away without anyone else noticing. But with you, it’s different. And she isn’t sure if she should be okay with that.

You smile, and for the first time, her heart begins to beat rapidly at the sight, that isn’t for the cigarette in her hands.

She doesn’t know what this means, too scared to even find out.

Before her heart could get any worse, you spoke out again, “Good.” Your smile widens, her heart quickens, and you take out your phone, the screen glowing softly in the night. “You owe me two dollars anyway.”

Her heart stutters, quick and irregular, and for a second she doesn’t reach for it. The cigarette glows brighter as if in sympathy with her nerves.

She studies you out, and for the first time tonight, the usual walls she built so carefully feel thin, almost nonexistent. There’s something magnetic about you—calm, careful, offering without expectation—that makes her pulse spike in a way she can’t explain. Almost the opposite of what she is, and she’s sure enough that she doesn’t want to be the one to corrupt you.

Finally, after a long inhale, she lifts her hand, brushing her fingers over the screen. Something about your ease makes her pulse race even more. She slides her thumb over the keypad, typing in her number, the act feeling strange and daring all at once. She’s never reachable, barely hands out her number like it’s too precious to guard. But she’s doing this like it’s honest, without thinking.

You chuckle softly, feeling suddenly giddy about it all. You put your phone back in your pocket, your breath fogging with each laughter you exhaled as you stared at the road where she was overlooking.“When you ever need a friend,” Your smile softens, eyes lowering to the white painted line along the road, “Call me.”

She nearly laughs at that, already doubting it in her head. But what was filling her head much more was your contagious smile. It pulled her heart that she hadn’t felt in a while. You smiled like it was easy, like it was natural, something that you didn’t need to control or pretend. It was impossible to ignore, like being near you made the entire night different. Her chest tightened at just the thought of it.

More so, she feels seen by you. Like she wasn’t just another face to forget, someone to remember, maybe someone that could matter. She didn’t want to get her hopes up for someone whom she had met less than an hour ago. But you looked at her like she did, someone who didn't matter. 

She doesn’t get it, doesn’t quite understand this feeling. You didn’t look at her with judgment, not really with curiosity either. All she knew was that you made her nerves feel alive, made her throat dry up with the sound of your laughter. You just–noticed her. Not everyone did. And that, more than anything, unsettles her—because she isn’t sure she wants to admit how much she wants it. How much she needs it.

Manon should’ve known by then that your smile would haunt her for the rest of her nights.

The first time Manon called you was at a party.

You were at home, working from your desk, glasses set steady on your nose, the only thing lighting up your room was the laptop in front of you. Only your frenzied typing and the faint sounds of chatter from the outside of your home filled your ears.

Your sweater clung to your body safely, secured, and your sweatpants with equal comfort. You planned to order some food after finishing up your work, maybe go on a walk to grab a drink. All you were planning to do was rest by the end of it.

However, your phone began to ring, vibrating horrendously against the wood of your desk. 

Calls at this hour usually meant it was for work or scam callers. Either one made you frown anyway. You didn’t want to ruin your calm night with another load of work. You were already feeling too tired to even get out of your chair right now.

But then you flipped your phone, the screen highlighting the name, one that you hadn’t expected, and one that you wouldn’t guess would be the first to call.

Manon. You read.

The name alone has your breath hitched in your throat.

Without a thought in your head, you answered. Thumb hovering over the green button without another look, you instantly held it tightly against your ear.

At first, all you could hear was obnoxious music in the background, indistinct laughter hidden beneath it. Then a single pause, long enough to have you feel anxious, worried about her well-being, or maybe you wondered if she’ll hang up the call. The latter would have worsened your worries.

And then you hear her sounds becoming faint, as if she were walking further away from it. Now you could hear her better, the soft, quiet breaths becoming loud in your ear, the soft shudder in between, too easy to notice, too hard to forget.

You hear her shuffling for a bit, and then another nervous exhale, “Hi.”

Her voice has your heart freezing up.

“Manon?” You asked gently, already standing up from where you sat as if you already knew where this was going.

She shuffles again, before murmuring something delirious, and then becomes more stable, unable to pick between, “Could you come get me?” She asked, slurring her words. It almost sounds pathetic, and to her, it was. To you? Not even close.

Not once had she ever called for someone, never sought out another, even if she was put in a situation like this. She knew how to settle her own ground, to fight her own battles, and never felt the need to rely on another. That’s the thing, she makes sure she doesn’t. Too guarded, the walls she built up on her very own, the ones where she doesn’t want anyone else breaking them down for her.

And yet, here she was.

Manon slurs again, unfocused, but remembers the sound of your voice. And suddenly, everything felt a bit more quieter.

“This is weird, I know.” She pauses again, catching her breath, “I didn’t know who else to call.” She admits the truth burning out of her mouth.

The confession already has you throwing on your puffer jacket that was loosely hanging on the edge of your bed, you ran out of your bedroom too fast, your keys already in your hand as you opened your front door. The next thing you knew, you’re already in a car, driving to a place where you don’t even know the address yet, for a girl that you only met once. Maybe it was the nerves in you that heightened your ability to even think straight.

Or maybe it was this girl, the one you couldn’t read, the one you couldn’t reach.

She’s still on the call, breathing heavier than ever, and your hand grips the stirring wheel harder at the sound of her short breaths. “Can you text me the address?” You asked, not knowing why your voice sounded as unsteady as it did. You hear her murmuring a short 'yeah,' and a text soon comes after. Shortly, the words are barely legible, but you figure out the place easily.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can? Okay?” She doesn’t respond, your stress deepening, “Stay on the call with me.”

You should’ve known she wouldn’t.

Shortly after, the call hangs up without a response from her. The silence that comes with it becomes deafening, unbearable. Your hands grip the steering wheel, the skin on your knuckles nearly separates, and your heartbeat is the only sound that is apparent within the silence.

Panic arises in you. You know she didn’t mean to hang up on purpose if she was the one seeking help, and you guessed she wasn’t the one who often does. Her voice echoes in your ear, the hesitation in her tone, a familiar sense that you saw in yourself. You were second-guessing yourself about whether to call her back or if it was a waste of time.

Biting your lip, you stepped onto the gas, hastening your speed. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to be this nervous, this afraid of some stranger that never even said hello to you. You didn’t owe her your help, you didn’t have to go out of your way to find her. 

But you did.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the place. The house is all too familiar. Another night, another party, just one that you didn’t bother to attend on this particular night.

It was the same as all the other ones. Loud, careless music, alcohol, people. Just another replica of all the others that you used to attend until there were far more important things to worry about in your life that made you stop so suddenly.

You got out of your car in haste. People recognized you, calling out your name, some glared in your direction for reasons you didn’t really care to notice. All you could even really think about was her. If she was safe, if she was alright.

You searched left and right, squeezing past red cups and sweaty bodies. Every room in the house was utterly crowded, and the frustration slowly builds up from your stomach to your chest. You kept reaching out for your phone, calling her, sending her texts filled with concern. None were answered.

A small curse leaves your lips. You rushed throughout the house, looking for that same pretty face that stayed glued to your mind, that same voice pretending to seem fine.

When you ran up the stairs, the halls were somewhat empty, but enough that most of your senses weren’t overwhelmed. And by the corner of your eye, you saw the girl you’ve been looking for.

Manon sat the farthest down the hall, away from everything and everyone else. She sat near the open door where the balcony was, sitting down on the floor with her knees pushed up to her chest, arms lying on top of them covering her face. Her back was hunched like the first time you saw her. However, this time, she didn’t have her jacket safely wrapped around as it usually was.

As you walked over, you made sure she was physically okay, breathing out with a shaky exhale of relief when you realized she was. You knelt quietly, reaching out to lift her chin from her arms.

Her eyes were barely open, half-lidded, half awake. But the moment your eyes reach hers, it seemed that it was enough to sober her up. Her mouth opens agape, like she was about to speak, but the words weren’t there. You can smell the drink she had on her breath, usually covered with nicotine, now filled with alcohol. You didn’t want to assume anything, but maybe this was just the type of person she was.

You didn’t know what got over you, but your hand slowly reached higher to her cheek, rubbing it softly as if it would comfort her. And the way the trembling of her body vanishes in an instant, you knew it did.

“Sorry.” She mutters, eyes closing at your touch, like your warmth mattered to her. “I didn’t have anyone else to reach out to.” She finishes, the sentence alone sounded like she needed someone to pity her, but you didn’t. You won’t. She sinks her face deeper into your palm, too drunk, and doesn’t have a care in the world if her actions were too direct. Just needed someone, someone to reach out for.

“Don’t be sorry,” You don’t comment on the way she looks at you so intensely, like your touch was her oxygen, “I did say to call me, right?” You laugh, trying to hide your own tremble down your spine because of it.

And for the first time, she smiles.

A lazy one, but it was there. And it was real.

You matched her smile, pulling her up with her arm around your neck to hold her steady. Her weight was light, her clothes barely keeping her warm. You draped your jacket around her, the gesture warmed her heart, warming up just as your jacket did on top of her shoulders.

“Let’s get you home.” You say, carrying most of her weight for her as you lead yourselves down the stairs, walking past through the crowd, the fog breathing from your mouths as you step outside the house, leading her to your car.

The drive back to her place was quiet. Excusing the traffic noises and a hint of yelling from irrelevant strangers down the street. But it didn’t feel as awkward as it did when the two of you were alone before. Your eyes stayed glued to the cars in front of you, hands on the steering wheel, mind full.

But even then, you couldn’t ignore the way she's staring at you.

Manon sat in the messenger seat, head against the glass window, turned to face you. Eyes were obviously exhausted, drunk enough to even function properly. Her gaze lingered longer than it should have, as if the alcohol had given her the ability to show her actual feelings. You could feel it pressing against your skin, that quiet weight of being seen. It made your grip on the wheel tighten, not because you were uncomfortable, but because you didn’t know what to do with it.

You couldn’t help but take glances towards her, and you were obvious with it. You prayed that she won’t remember the way your face heats up from her gaze by the morning, hoping that your reaction was just all in your head. She looked like she was searching for something in you, something she hadn’t dared to say out loud. Something she hasn’t figured out altogether.

You pulled over to her driveway, helping her out of the car and into her home. She fumbled with her keys, sighing softly when you unlocked the door for her. She whispers where her room was, down the hall, she says. You try to ignore the way she holds onto you so gently, like she needed you to even stand, and she did. But it doesn’t help with the way her eyes never left you.

Even when you set her down onto her bed, handing her a bottle of water, she doesn’t close her eyes to sleep. Just watches you. Analyzing your features. Studying the outline of your jaw, the softness of your lips, the eye bags under your eyes. But even then, she thought you were glowing.

The water bottle steals away the warmth from your hands. She doesn’t take the water, setting it on her side table instead. You weren’t sure if you should leave or stay, but her eyes were making it hard for you to make your choice.

“You should sleep.” You set your hands back on your lap as you sat on the edge of her bed, leaning up to pull the covers over her body.

Manon doesn’t say anything, only a slight shake of her head. Doesn’t even blink either. Just watches. Mesmerized, fascinated even.

“I don’t want to.” She whispers, eyes clearly tired as yours, but somehow–too stubborn to close them.

Something inside your chest tightens.

You inhale quietly, “Why’s that?”

She’s quiet again, mouth parting and then closing like she’s conflicted in spitting out the truth. Eventually, she does gather the courage to do so.

“Because if I close my eyes,” Manon breathes with uneasiness, “You’re gone.”

Her words never fail to surprise you.

The room settles into another pace of ease in silence. Air freezing up as your chest did, unsure what she meant by her words, what hidden meanings are behind all of them, you kept wondering. 

You study her face, trying to find a clue–a hint of what she meant by that, but you couldn’t figure it out. And she made sure you wouldn’t, not yet, maybe not ever.

Your hands moved before your brain could catch up. A hand trails on top of her blanket, reaching up to find her own. The first touch nearly makes you flinch, her hands were so cold, frosted even. But that doesn’t stop you from intertwining them. And for the first time that night, she looks away from your eyes–just briefly–to watch your warm fingers interlace with her cold ones. You watch how her eyes soften even more at the sight, her hands gripping harder onto yours.

“I’m only gone if you tell me to.”

Manon looks back into your eyes. Her posture finally relaxes into her sheets, her eyelids fluttering, surrendering her will to the sleep she desperately needed. You stay seated at the edge of the bed, careful and still, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

You sat there until you knew she was fully asleep. The tension between her eyebrows erased, and the sound of her quiet breaths told you all that you needed to know that she was in her deep sleep.

The last thing you remembered to do was place another extra set of water bottles, three to be exact, on her nightstand. Painkillers tucked away right next to them, her phone right in front of the two–like a small hint that you wanted her to call you as soon as she wakes up.

Her door shuts behind you with a quiet thud as you leave her home, and the drive back home silences you, your head filled with thoughts you didn’t know you could even think about.

You just knew you couldn’t forget how her touch seemed so right against yours.

The second time Manon calls you, it’s at night again.

This time, she was sober.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t met with each other again after that night, because you did.

You remembered the way you woke up the following day, called her just in time as she was swallowing down the painkillers you left for her on that particular night. Laughing softly at the way her voice rambled in your ear through your phone as she repeatedly apologized for her behavior. You didn’t mind, you didn’t care, you were just glad that she was okay.

Manon offered lunch that day, her way of apologizing. You were trying to decline such an offer, but she was persistent, her natural stubborn self preventing you from even thinking about refusing. So you didn’t.

She brought you to a diner, the one that’s open all day and night. You soon learn some parts of her. She lives alone, hates loud areas, but always finds herself stuck in between them. She loved to cook, but never really did. She had a few tattoos, her most recent one on her hand. The same hand you held just as tightly as you did on that night.

You remember the way she sat across from you in that booth, fingers carelessly holding her fork against the plate like she was keeping time with her nerves. The smell of oil, grease, and coffee clung to the air, the conversation filling the gaps between you.

The story fell out of her mouth in pieces, not with words–not at first–but the way her shoulders tensed up as she began to talk, the way her hand clutched against the utensil before setting it down as if it was too heavy to keep holding. Smoking had been more than a habit—too far deep to even escape the ache that only a cigarette could fill. It filled the void of its edges when the world sank her in deep, filled the silence when it was unbearable, gave her something to hold when her hands trembled, no one there to hold her through it all.

There was no pride in it, just relief and shame. That was all she could feel every time she took a hit from it. This was the one thing she clung to, the one thing she knew would both carry her through and pull her under.

And even as she smiled faintly at you from across the booth, her eyes gave her away—because the smile that was plastered upon her face never reached her eyes.

But then, suddenly, you reach out to her from the opposite end of the table, finding her hand in yours as you did before. And this time, her smile does reach her eyes. Her sight bore deeply into the hand that carried her own.

You noticed the pain that was so easily overlooked. Saw her the way no one else even tried. Talked to her like you knew her from way back. Felt her in the way that it touched her heart.

Since then, another lunch followed the next day, and then the next, and another, until you lost count because of it. It wasn’t only the lunches either. You went with her to go out, watching every horror movie out there in either your home or hers, cooked each other's favorite meals, went grocery shopping, even. It was just natural. It became a routine that neither of you ever expected.

At times, it wasn’t just that. She would stay longer than needed, talks to you like you were the only one who could understand her in such ways. The hours would pass by when neither of you realized, her words spilled out in pieces that were never meant to be said out loud, but she didn’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to. There was comfort in your presence, a rare softness that she unknowingly kept searching for. As if being near you faded every worry, every single fragment of fear, shrinking away just by the look in your eye that you kept giving her.

Manon knew she shouldn’t have dragged this out for so long, taken you deeper into her life, where nobody had gotten this far enough to see the realness in her. The nights she couldn’t silence the thoughts in her head, no matter how many cigarettes she burned through. She knew better than to let you sit there in it with her, to let your presence linger too long when needed. Terrified of letting you get tangled in the mess she created herself when she knew you didn’t deserve that.

She knew it was selfish. She knew she was prolonging this, she only owed you the same two dollars that night when you first met. She had the money, it was only two simple dollars, but she couldn’t find the will to give it to you. Not when she knew that if she did, you’d leave.

And she couldn’t give you up, as selfish as it sounds.

Now you stood at the same spot where the two of you met. That memory seemed to be a long time ago, after how much time you’ve spent with her. Your back leaned against the glass windows of the convenience store, hands stuffed into your jacket like they always were. The pavement is flat against your feet, humming to a song that’s been stuck in your head.

You hear quiet steps going towards you, your head lifts, eyes already shining at the sight.

Manon runs to you breathless, a knowing smile stretched up her face as the sight of you gradually comes bigger, your figure, your presence, already made her night. Her chest heaved and fell as though she had been carrying the weight of the whole day just to bring it to you, and now covered with a true smile that only you seemed to know the sight of.

She slowed just before you, feet just a few inches away from yours, laughter caught in her throat, as if she couldn’t believe you were really there, waiting for her in the very place it all began. It was a view that you know you won’t be able to forget, no matter how much you try.

She takes a huge source of her confidence, grabbing your hand into hers, trying to calm the nerves in her system when your smile widens at the feeling. “Come on,” Manon says, tugging your hand inside the store with ease.

The two of you walk together with such ease, and you follow behind her, grabbing a couple of cheap sodas that fizz too quickly, and she pays for the drinks before you can fish out your wallet. Her laughter echoes as she sees your reaction, you scoffing lightly at her. The same cashier was still there, but this time, a light smile fell on his face as he observed the interaction quietly, scanning your items before the two of you rushed out of the convenience store.

The night leads you on at the moment the doors swing shut behind you, the same bell ringing above you as your laughter becomes louder by the second. Manon runs in front of you, her hands freezing around her drink while the other doesn’t let go of your own.

You couldn’t help but follow her lead, her own laughing side by side with yours as your steps begin to feel uneven against the concrete floors of the sidewalk your feet land on. Your drink stings at the back of your throat when you take a sip, choking on it slightly when Manon turns around to face you mid-run, and her laughter only ever becomes more uncontrollable at the sight.

The same feeling in her heart never fails to quicken up its speed at the way you smile for her. Like she’s the only one worth setting your eyes on. Maybe it was all in her head, perhaps it was just her own delusions confusing her further. Or maybe it was just the feelings in her chest she can’t seem to admit out loud, not to you, not to even herself.

She knew you weren’t good for her heart. Every time she sees you, everything else just stops, like the world was revolving around you, depending on the way you spoke or even breathe. She hated the way she had no control over it, how easily you invaded her mind, she spent years trying to close them off from others. Until you came and broke your way through like it was that easy.

A single glance from you and the smoke, the fears, the restlessness—all of it seemed to disappear, leaving only the terrifying truth of what her heart wanted. 

Still, her heart couldn’t seem to push you away, no matter how much her mind begged her to.

Manon slows down her pace, leading you to an area where the two of you could just sit and watch the outside fade around you. She sat on the edge of the concrete bench, her hand letting go of your own just to reach into her pocket, grabbing a cigarette and a lighter, holding it up to her lips as she lit it up. You stare as she sighs in relief.

She feels you watching her, but never says anything. For a moment, she seemed guilty, outright smoking in front of you, and for a second, she wanted to hide it, wished she could take back all the moments like this and paint a perfect image of herself for you. The kind of person that you deserved to be around, someone who wasn’t afraid, someone who didn’t feel the need to hide.

But you didn’t leave. You just sat there beside her, letting the night settle in between the two of you, her smoke drifting into the air like secrets she wasn’t ready to admit out of her mouth.

You cut the silence, “Does it help?” The question sounds odd from your lips.

She wavers, registering your question in her mind before nodding with humiliation stuck deep within her lungs, filled with the smoke she couldn’t erase. “Yeah, it makes things feel,” another pause, “peaceful, quiet at times when I need it to be.”

And then her eyes meet yours, somewhat regretting it when she sees this same look you give her every time. Not with pity or embarrassment, like you knew what type of pain she was feeling.

“It never fixes anything, but it helps, even if it's short–even if it’s only for a little while.” She admits that her honesty burned within the words.

You don’t move, don’t say anything at first. You thought carefully before you could. Everything else just feels heavier, as if it’s listening, holding its breath along the line between the two of you. 

“I know,” you murmur, voice almost trembling with hers. “And that’s enough. I understand how you feel.”

She laughs, finding that hard to believe, “Do you really?”

You’re the one who pauses this time, the words hanging in the air.

“No,” A smile breaks through your frown, “But I’m willing to if you let me.”

Your smile has her heart tugging at it again, “You make it sound so easy. Like I could actually just be myself without wasting my time pretending to be someone else.” She admits, a sense of vulnerability breaking through its cracks, something you haven’t seen before.

“With you, it feels easy.” She adds, the flare of her cigarette flows in your direction.

“I can’t even put it into words, but you feel–safe. You make me feel safe.” Her eyes land on her hands, she wouldn’t even dare to look into your eyes with the truth falling out.

Even now, your eyes never leave her face, even when hers aren’t on yours anymore. And you’re starting to believe that it was becoming this unhealthy habit of yours. The image of her face in your head already carved its mark onto your mind, that for a second, you knew, there was no bother in denying it any longer.

You watch how her other arm holds herself together, like there was no one else who would. She shrinks further into herself, somewhat in disbelief, she’d admit something so straightforward just like that right in front of you. It wasn’t much, but to her, it was everything.

She can hear her own heart beating loudly as if it were right next to her ear, a part of her wants it to stop, to make it feel that this was just all in her head. The other half wants it to keep pounding against her chest, the only way to tell that this was all real. She can’t even remember the last time she was this honest with someone, didn’t even think before saying the truth out loud. That’s what scared her, you made her lose all ways of thinking, every ability to rehearse her words or actions in her head. That was gone too.

You take her attention back the only way you knew how.

Your fingers gradually went towards hers, her body nearly flinching at the contact, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she just watches intently, letting the contact electrify her skin. Eyes locked onto your movement.

The cigarette leaves her fingers, catching them in between your own. Manon finally looks at you, not because of the cigarette, but because it attaches to your own lips.

Without another thought, you draw it in slow, a deliberate hit. The smoke gradually fills your lungs, but you don’t exhale.

Your other hand finds her chin, and you immediately feel the tension in her jaw, clenching up from the feeling of your hand on her skin. You try to rub the ache, the hard line where her jaw follows, but it doesn’t loosen. It can’t.

Not with the way you lean it, your heart thumping inside of you like it was timing the seconds of this very moment. Your head tilts just exactly as you wanted it to, angling her chin just in time as her mouth parts, a shaky breath falls off of her lips.

Instead, your own mouth parts, releasing the smoke.

Her eyes widen just for a fraction, startled. But she inhales it in from your lips like it was the only one that really mattered, even after the countless times she does it. This one was different, and the only one that had her chest tightening.

The taste lingers on her tongue, a familiar taste. Her fingers twitch, trembling against her own skin, eyes half-lidded as she stares at your lips. The sight–the taste, all too addicting. She can’t tear her eyes away from you, fascinated with the way you breathe, the control you own, the way you’re so close that you didn’t even care to move away.

Manon loses all control and leans in.

The tip of her nose brushes yours, watching your eyes flutter closed before she does the same. Letting her know that you weren’t going to pull away, that maybe, just maybe, you needed this as badly as she did.

Her lips hover, hesitant, afraid, that everything else didn’t matter except you. Until her lips finally meet yours.

She tastes like cigarettes, you taste like everything she’s been wanting.

It’s soft and it's slow. It wasn’t desperate like with the way she wanted this so much, but it gave her the comfort and warmth that she needed. Like you were the air she needs to breathe in, your taste in her mouth, your smoke in her lungs. She won’t be able to forget your touch upon her face, your lips on hers.

Her hands tremble as they land on her neck, slowly, gradually trailing them up to your face, holding your cheeks, thumbs caressing your skin like she couldn’t believe that you were allowing her to hold you like the way she dreamed about at night. She deepens the kiss, just enough to have the taste stained on your lips, ones you won’t forget, the touch that you’ll remember.

The cigarette is long forgotten, dropping it on the ground. Your hands fall on top of her own, your other hand on her waist, holding her securely, the tight grip as she sighs in relief into your mouth.

Her body molds into your own like it was always meant to be. Your breath shuddering into her mouth, she swallows it down. Every tremble, you consume it all in. And you knew it wasn’t from the cold that made the shakiness in her unmistakable, but it's the way you held your hands that were so steady on hers, that took every ounce of control from her skin.

Manon’s fingers began to trace small patterns along your jaw, memorizing every angle, every line of your face, engraving it into your head as if she were trying to hold onto every little detail you gave her. Your forehead falls on top of hers, the closeness exceeding. 

Despite the wind breezing through it all, you’ve never felt this warm.

A slow shiver runs down her spine when she feels you letting out another soft sigh, a certain sweetness in your own vulnerability. That she couldn’t think straight, not once had she ever felt this safe in letting herself even need someone, that the closeness even allowed her, maybe this was what she carved for all alone. That this was more than enough for her, she believed it to be.

Her mind and senses slowly fill up with you between the gentle kiss. All the memories, every moment, the touches, the looks. She didn’t know what she did to deserve it.

The warmth of the kiss lingers on her lips, and for a moment, she lets herself stay. But then, a tiny knot begins to form in her chest, small at first, almost unnoticeable. But still there, the same twist and pull of denial strangles in her throat, and then into her mind.

Her fingers tremble slightly, not like from before, not with security. There’s this quiet thought in her head, a second guess, questions slowly storm into her mind as if she were asking herself if this was even okay. Did she even deserve to have you in such a way? 

It was undeniable. The strangle of doubt circles in her stomach, a sickness at the idea of even hurting you. Even if it was unintentional. She knew she was the person filled with too many regrets, too many mistakes that were far from being forgiven. She was full of chaos, anger, with the only skill of hurting others with words she might not mean, but had said out loud. 

And you were the complete opposite, at least in her eyes. You treated her with care, kindness, things not everyone did for her, but you did. And you did them without even batting an eye at all of her flaws, even if they were too intense to handle.

She couldn’t rely on you like that, to be another thing to seek comfort from.

You weren’t an addiction, you were a person.

You thought of her with things she wouldn’t dare to think of about herself.

She couldn’t hurt you.

She promised herself that, and maybe pulling away, separating herself from you, was keeping that same promise. Even if it’ll hurt her during the process. That hurting herself was far better than the idea of hurting you.

Carefully, Manon leans back, her heart already sinking in her chest at the sight of your brows knitting up, your eyes once filled with warmth–now with confusion. And that was her fault, she knew it.

Her hands fall onto your shoulders, pushing you away.

The act has pierced your heart through your chest.

“Manon.” You whispered, even when you knew there was no point in reaching out–she was always too far away to begin with. It was hopeless.

Her head was low, too afraid to meet your eyes. Until the grip on your shoulders loosens as she begins to tremble heavily. Chest rising up and down, and for the briefest second, you thought you heard the quietest noise, a soft whimper, delicate, nearly pathetic. But even now, you don’t pity her, you just want her.

She lifts her head at the exact moment. Your eyes shed tears at the realization of what she was trying to do. Her tears reflecting your own, her lips that you once kissed trembled at the fear of losing you, knowing that leaving you would be her own fault to blame.

She knew that running away from her feelings, running away from you, would be the most cowardly thing to do. Something that she was familiar with doing, she just didn’t know that it would cost this much of the entirety of her heart to go through with it. 

“I–I should go.” She hesitates, the tears building up in the corner of her eyes all too quickly.

You shake your head. Terrified, scared, but you knew she was going to do something like this. It was either now or then. You just hoped she would’ve given you more time to prepare yourself for the heartbreak.

Her hands clenched in between her fists as the ache grew in her chest. Not the once-empty ache, a void, something it could only imagine to be filled with. No, it was only ever filled with you.

“Please.” You begged. “I know you’re afraid. I am too. But that doesn’t mean you should run from this.” You tried to get a hold of her hands, the skin of her knuckles nearly breaking apart, ot was almost unbearable to watch. She pulled away before your touch could reach, another act that had your heart aching.

“Manon.” You repeat her name, a hint of something unfamiliar within the taste of her own name lingered inside your mouth. You didn’t know if it was because you were hurting, or you couldn’t even think properly. “Please.” You begged one last time.

She doesn’t respond. The words hidden in between her throat, afraid that she’ll never be able to let them out after this. That leaving you would haunt her, no matter how much she tries to deny it. It’ll be her own fault to blame.

But she knows she could live with that, if it’ll save you from the pain of being with her.

Manon got up anyway, you remain seated.

She looks elsewhere from you, your eyes still sealed onto hers.

She begins to walk away, but you stay.

You sat with such agonizing silence, watching the way her body becomes smaller from her view before finally disappearing from a distance. When you know she’s gone, that’s when you let it all out. Your tears broke through before the feeling could register in your thoughts.

The sound of your own breathing turns ragged, uneven, and the world around you falls apart until nothing feels solid anymore. The daze in your mind blurs something through you, your heart shattering in the middle of it.

But you couldn’t blame her, couldn’t hate her even if you tried. You don’t know why she leaned in just to pull away. Maybe you were just like the cigarettes that she’s taking. A moment of relief and pure bliss, the regret that falls soon after.

And even then, your heart still longed for her name that remains stuck in your throat.

Manon doesn’t call you anymore.

Days turned into weeks, and soon after she left you alone that night, you lost hope that she would call back.

You hated how you always kept the phone within reach. You left it near the nightstand, on the kitchen counter, even in the pocket of the jacket you wore the night she left. Each time it buzzed, a small, foolish hope sparked up and died almost instantly when it wasn’t her.

The moment kept replaying in your head. More than a hundred times, to be exact. Especially with the way she looked when she pulled away from the kiss. That same kiss that haunts your dreams, the taste that lingers. You replayed it through every little detail as if it were a punishment you set upon yourself for letting her leave. You should’ve fought for her, told her that she was worth it.

Everything about her still stayed. The same scent of smoke on her jacket every time you were in her proximity, the rare smiles she gave you when she thought you wouldn’t notice, the relief in her voice when she told you that she felt safe when you were near. It took everything from you to not be the one who calls, that she left for a reason, even without a word, no explanation. 

You wanted to respect that, no matter how much it pained you to stay this far away from her.

But at night, it only seemed that the dreams you had of her began to worsen. Every time you walk by the same convenience store where it had started it all, the ghost of her figure hallucinates you into thinking she was inside, ordering the same pack, same brand of cigarettes.

At the bench, sometimes you sat there, just thinking. Other times, you walked by it as if the concrete alone burned your eyes to even stare longer at it. 

And when the days became long and the nights began to haunt you. You picture her smile as if it were the only thing that could heal you, even when it was the one that caused you all this hurt in the first place.

Distractions never worked. When you’re at work? You stayed late. Hanging out with friends? None of the conversations made an impact like hers had. Meals are hardly ever eaten. All the songs you listened to reminded you of her. The only reminder that she even existed was her name on your contact list. The one that never pops up on your screen, the one that only shows up when your thumb hovers over the profile picture of her soft smile glowing on your screen.

You told yourself to let go, that you shouldn’t bother waiting if you knew she might not come back.

But you had hope. Even now.

It was just another late night. You were getting ready for bed, your white tee hanging loose around your shoulders, your shorts that barely kept you warm. You shut your laptop and set it aside, getting ready for another restless night in your bed that didn’t really feel warm either. Your phone lay silent on your nightstand, untouched for hours. You told yourself you were finally done waiting, even when you knew it was just another lie.

Right as you stood up, a knock fell upon the entrance of the door. 

It sounded urgent, and then another knock with the same force.

Your heart froze.

You walked out of your bedroom, down the hallway, and to your front door. No one ever came this late. It was unusual. But there was this pull in you that made you open the door anyway.

There she stood.

Manon.

Her hair was loose around her face like she hadn’t bothered to tie it up in days. Arms limp by her side with the same jacket she always wore, still wrapped around her body. But not even that same jacket could keep her warm as your arms once did. Her eyes were tired, as they always were. Just this time, not even the moon could reflect its light inside of them. Even now, her eyes were locked on you as if they starved themselves with this moment she craved.

You didn’t say a word, nor did she. Just stood there.

The silence stretched as did the ache in her heart. She hasn’t seen you in so long that even in the moment she might’ve thought you must’ve hated her after leaving you alone on that night, she was relieved to know that at least you seemed fine. That even in the pain of your heart, you still looked as beautiful as the day you met.

And then suddenly, her lower lip trembles. 

An even exhale falls from her lips, and then her eyes begin to tear up. This is not what you wanted. You wanted to see her, yes. But not like this. Not when she shows up in the middle of the night, cold, miserable, nearly breaking down just at the sight of you. Because God, you were dressed so simply, your face stayed the same, she could even feel the same warmth radiating off of you, and you still looked like something like, home.

Manon forces down the sob back into her throat, not wanting to seem more pathetic than she already is. She shoves a hand into her pocket, fishing out something. You watched the movement carefully.

Two dollars.

Doesn’t say a word, just lifts the piece of paper towards you, and you immediately feel the rage in you burst something out in your chest. You knew what this meant, what she was trying to finalize. And you weren’t going to accept that.

It was all just too quick.

The cash in her hand ripped from her hold as you threw it on the floor like it was a piece of trash. You yanked her arm inside your house, grabbing a hold of both of her shoulders before slamming her back against your door. A gasp leaves Manon’s mouth, eyes widening at the harsh movement. She pushes you back, the same rage builds up in her own body, taking a step forward as you took a step back.

“So that’s it?” The words burn from your mouth, “You show up now? For what? To hand me two stupid dollars? Did you think I stayed just because you owed me two fucking bucks and nothing more? Is that what this is?”

Manon shakes her head, eyes cast on the ground, too ashamed to meet your eyes. She looked so defeated, miserable. But the fact that she wasn’t giving you the energy that you were giving her? That somehow angered you.

“You just left me. You didn’t call me either, and that all seems fine to you? You kiss me and then you leave right after, and you just expect me to be okay with that?” You grab her wrist, and she doesn’t bother pulling away.

“Did you really expect me to be okay once you left?” The words fall without a thought processed through your brain. “Was I that easy for you to leave? Is that it?”

“Fine. Go ahead. Leave. If you want me to stay away, then fine.” It wasn’t fine, it was obvious that you hated the idea of that, especially when tears strained into the corners of your eyes. “But I deserve to know the truth. Tell me the truth, and we can go back to the way things were before. If that’s what you want, so be it.” A tear falls anyway, the fear invading your head.

She looked so defeated. Every word you let out, she was listening. It was impossible not to. All your words hit her like a brick to the head, hard–and true. She hated the fact that leaving you only ended up hurting you even more. That’s not what she wanted, that was the last thing she ever wanted for you.

Manon shakes her head again, a sob falls from her mouth. You swore not to let it affect you, but it did anyway.

“No.” She whispers, tears falling down her cheeks with ease. It takes all your strength not to pull her into your arms, your chest heaving with the same rhythm that each tear falls from her eyes.

Your throat dries up, not expecting that out of all words she could admit out loud to you after nights you spent without her. Days without speaking to her, and all she could say was no.

“No?” You repeat back, just with more bitterness behind it. You let go of her arm, and the act has her whimpering from the loss of your touch. Like she needed it to even survive.

She swallows, exhaling shakily. You were right, you deserved to know the truth. She kissed you first, made you feel things that you never felt with anyone else. It’s the least she can do if she was going to leave you.

“I don’t want to leave.” The words were barely audible, but the silence was so loud that you heard it easily.

Your hands flexed, stretching your fingers as her words whispered through the thin air. As much as you wanted to yell at her, curse her out for leaving you, you stayed silent. But it was becoming nearly impossible to stay that way.

“I told myself to stay away, that being friends is enough.” She admits.

“But it isn’t.”

You stayed frozen at your spot, your eyes blurry from your tears that matched her own face. But she was beautiful, so fucking beautiful that you wouldn’t even dare to look away from her.

“I don’t think I could ever just be friends with you.” Another sob falls from her lips, the truth was finally out there. But her heart had never felt so afraid from the rejection that she was expecting. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the denial that she wasn’t prepared to hear from you.

Her breath trembles as the words leave her, too late to take them back, and for a second, the hallway feels too small for everything in between you. You stand there, stunned by the confession and the truth beneath it all, the kind of honesty that you never expected from her, but the one that mattered the most.

"The idea of someone else having you, loving you. The thought alone drives me insane." Her nails digging into her skin by her sides.

It was at that point that you begin to hold your breath, as if something as simple as breathing was far too loud to even miss this confession of hers. One that you longed for, one that you dreamed of in your sleep. You never thought you’d see the day that it would turn real.

"I hate myself for wanting you–for loving you.” She corrects herself, “Because I know I could never deserve it."

You're breathless that your body began to tremble above your feet where you stood, facing her. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, not even after you spent countless nights dreaming about this.

Manon closes her eyes–and even more of her tears fall. "I think of you when you're not around and I think of you when you're too near."

"It's selfish that I want to be the one who gets to hold your hand. To be the one who makes you smile because I only want you to think of me." She says, ashamed to even think about you in a way she knew she could never earn. Thought of you like you deserved someone better than the girl she’s offering to you.

“And the way you look at me?” She suddenly laughs, like she couldn’t believe it, “You look at me like I matter. You look at me like I’m actually worth wanting.”

And she was.

For a while, neither of you moved.

You couldn’t, and it seemed she couldn’t either.

Manon opens her eyes just in time to watch your lips part. You're speechless, your breath taken away just by the words that you never expected to hear from her. You feel everything all at once, the pain, the fear, the love that she thinks she doesn’t deserve. 

She was wrong about that. So wrong.

You want to be the one who gets to show her how much she matters. That she was someone worth loving. You were far too deep to even think otherwise. Not when her heart felt so right beating against your own chest, not when your name sounds so perfect when it’s from her voice.

You’re not ready to let go of whatever it was between the two of you. Neither of you had put a name to it yet, you just knew–she did too, that neither of you wanted to let go of each other. Too selfish to even think about doing such an act.

However, you haven’t said anything. And the silence spoke louder than words. That maybe this was you rejecting her, denying her the only thing that she ever really wanted, so desperately, so selfishly. More tears fall, ready to have her chest torn open.

But before another sob falls from her lips, the sound doesn’t come.

You kiss her.

You kiss her with everything you’ve been holding back, everything that hadn’t been said with words.

Manon doesn’t push you away when you do, only pulls you in closer. And doesn’t even think about letting you go, now that she has you in her arms.

It’s desperate, it's uncontrollable. Your hands are all over her, hers are too. Her fingers tangle in your hair, then the back of your head all the way to your back, where her nails dig in so possessively, like she wants the mark carved through your shirt, onto your skin. She trails them all the way back to your face, cupping your cheeks in both of her palms, nails digging into the side of your face.

The pain doesn’t bother you, it furthers you even. Your lips part just in time for her tongue to slip in with such ease. You taste her fully this time. The bitterness of her smoke, the sweetness of her lips, it was too addicting, you wanted more of it. More of her.

Manon doesn’t stop crying in your mouth, your tears slipping down to your mouth. You taste each other’s tears, but that doesn’t stop you from taking her in more.

She savours your taste in her mouth, wants to drown herself in all of your scents. You hear her breathe in sharply, barely consuming any air, but she cares more about your lips than the need to breathe. Angles your jaw just right, your taste pooling inside of her mouth. She swallows it all in, drinks it up like it was wine, wets your lips with her saliva like it was moisturizer.

You swallow every sound that she gives you, a small, sharp whimper that falls from her lips when your teeth graze her tongue just ever so gently. Another tiny sob that falls loose in you, as if all of this was unreal, that you were giving her the ability to hold you, touch and kiss you in every way she imagined.

Holds you with hands imprinted on you, bodies too close that not even the air could slip in between. Your chest heaves at the same rhythm as her own, that you can finally remember the way her heartbeat feels right upon yours. And it felt right, so right.

Your lips don’t leave her own when you help her slip off her jacket. Her lips stay connected to yours as you reach down lower to shrug off your shorts. You don’t know who was pushing who, but a few steps more and you find yourselves back in your bedroom, some of your clothes remaining where you left them.

The door swings open, your feet nearly tripping as you step through the doorway, pulling her in. You don’t remember who slammed the door once the two of you were inside, either way, you couldn’t focus on anything else at the moment. Not when her lips were molded onto yours like it was their only purpose.

It’s messy, sloppy too. Her taste pools down your jaw where her lips trail down, and a whimper falls from your mouth when she bites onto a sweet spot you particularly like. The contact has you distracted as you fumble with her own sweatpants, untying the string of knots, helping her step out of the useless fabric. Both of your shirts remain on your bodies, but you knew they weren’t going to stay on for later.

Manon trails her kisses lower to your neck, tugging at your shirt when they get in the way. You help her trail them up your arms, falling back down onto the floor where the rest of your clothes lay. Her lips reattach to your skin like they were made for it.

Her nose brushes right where your neck and shoulder meet, inhales deeply, sharply. Like you're the only air she ever wants to breathe in from, your scent calms her, relaxes her mind in only way that you could.

She marks you up, every mark filled with a promise, filled with hidden meanings that only you’ll know of. The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed as she pushes you down, right at a moment when her teeth engrave their mark onto you. Another pathetic whimper falls from your mouth, nails digging into the fabric of her back.

She lifts from your skin, just for a fraction of a second, to pull her own shirt off, and you finally get to see everything. Everything she’s been hiding, everything that she’s only ever going to be offering to you.

You reach lower to pull her underwear off, watching the way her slick clings to the fabric, letting it glide down her legs, just to throw it somewhere else, forgotten, the final barrier between you two, gone.

Your own panties soon fall next to hers on the floor, and finally, nothing is between you. Just two bodies, you and hers.

“You’re beautiful.” You admit, smiling softly, frowning just a bit when she shakes her head.

Even now, she just can’t believe it, even when you’re staring at her like you’ve always had. As if the sight of her alone could heal your eyes compared to any medicine that could.

“You are,” She stops kissing your neck, just to cry into it. You bring her head down just in time, her arms wrapped around your back, the sheets holding the two of you off it all. “How could you ever think you aren’t worth it for me?” You accused, the question sounded completely stupid from your breath.

Manon breathes you in harder, rubbing her cheek in the crook of your neck, her tears staining your skin,  pressing a few–small kisses like your words hit her hard. And it did. Your words matter so much, like she had never heard them from anyone else. The only difference? It felt much better because it was coming from you.

“I don’t want anyone else.” You say, it earns you a kiss, then her lips wrap around the area, sucking it into her mouth, soothing the mark afterwards with her tongue. You hold back a moan just to spit the rest of your words out, “I don’t need anyone else.”

And it was true.

She lifts her head from your neck just to meet her lips back onto yours.

Not as rough as before, but soft. Her way of telling you that she needed to hear it from you to believe it. Even when you felt like it was still true, even if you hadn’t said it out loud. It was obvious that she was beautiful. She is beautiful, you couldn’t think otherwise even if you tried to.

Gently, you lay her on her back, flipping your positions. She watches you closely, her breath falls loose as her lips part at the same look that you had always given her. You made her scoot higher up on your bed until her head hit your pillows. You make sure her scent remains all over your sheets, too addicted already.

You climb on top of her, hands pressed hard against your sheets at either side of her head, leaning down to press a kiss onto her forehead, receiving a whimper.

Manon hasn’t stopped crying since she arrived at your doorstep. It breaks your heart because you knew she wasn’t the one to cry over things. Spent years of her life hiding them behind a facade that it was only now, because of you, that her tears finally let loose.

You kiss each tear away, and the taste slips into your mouth.

It only makes her cry even harder.

“Please.” She begs, holds your face in both of her hands as you lean her forehead on top of yours. You were about to ask what she wants, until she lifts one of your hands from the side of her head, guiding it lower. She let your hand trail down her collarbones, the area between her breasts, past her stomach, down to her cunt where she needed you the most.

When your fingers finally trail down to where she wants you, your breath catches in your throat. The sight of your reaction finally has her smiling for a while. You missed the sight, even as she smiles through her tears.

“I need you.” Her hand grips your jaw tightly, and your mouth parts even further because of it. “Need your fingers inside of me. I want them stretching me out, loosen me up.”

A shudder falls down your spine.

Manon pulls your jaw down, where you find her lips pressing up to your ear, pressing a small kiss just before the rasp in her voice fills you in, “Fuck me like you mean it.” A whimper falls from you by the request, “Fuck me to make me yours. Do it.”

You swallow hard.

Your fingers push past her slit, receiving a happy sigh from the voice beside your ear. “Good girl, touch me the only way you can.”

And you do.

Your fingers move with ease, but you’re surprised by the mess you made her out to be. She’s fucking soaked, your fingers keep slipping, but you stayed put. You rub her clit softly, paying attention to the way she reacts. From the corner of your eye, more tears slide down her cheeks, this time with a sick smile plastered on her pretty face.

Her clit’s so swollen, so overly sensitive. Each time you circle it, her hips twitch hard underneath you, but not once does she ever pull away. Instead, she spreads herself wider, legs all wide enough for you. You lean back higher, sitting upright as she lets go of your face, her hands gripping your sheets instead to hold herself together.

Another cry, “You feel so good, so fucking good.” It only pushes you even more.

Her slick easily drips down onto your sheets, just as her tears did. She pools underneath your hand, her cunt pulsing around nothing as she stains your sheets as if they were hers. You leaned your hand lower, circling her tight hole, just to tease her–receiving another pathetic whine. Only to gather some of her slick, coating them on your fingers as you rub small patterns onto her swollen nub.

She’s so full of filth that you can barely gather any friction anymore.

It’s like she waited for this, wanted you in this way for so long. Now that she’s here, on your bed, on top of your sheets, completely naked for only your eyes to see, she doesn’t plan on leaving you any time soon.

Your knees rest on her side, leaning up just to watch her tears fall for you, mouth all swollen from your lips, sweat breaking down at the side of her temple, and some that clings underneath her full breasts. 

It’s a priceless sight, one you’ll never forget.

Her fingers wrap around your wrist suddenly, stopping you as you hesitate, thinking that you must’ve done something wrong.

“Don’t fucking tease me.” She cries, eyes nearly begging for it, “Fill me up with your fingers. Please, baby. Please.”

The sound fills your ears to the point that it's enough for the same sentence to repeat in your head.

You sigh softly, following her words thoroughly.

You push two fingers in, her pussy instantly clenching around you.

Manon’s head presses further into your pillows, back arching so perfectly for you, her breasts in the air, knees barely giving out to hold herself still. “Fuck,” She whimpers, head turned to your pillows just to swallow down the sounds and breathe in your smell.

You pump her in, your thumb finding a rhythm on her clit as your fingers move inside. You’re mesmerized by the sight, the way her cunt swallows you in like it was just molded for your fingers, wraps around it like it’s just made for you. 

She’s so wet, so drenched that your fingers slide in with ease, moves with such purpose. She reacts so pretty for you, each thrust has her arms thrashing out around you. Legs barely holding still by how easily you fuck her, so tight, so warm.

You’ve never felt so lucky.

To feel her, to hear her in a way that only you now could ever. 

You add a third finger inside, and she nearly screams.

She sobs into your pillow, drool falling onto the pillowcase as she cries into it. Your scent lingering in her nose as she inhales it, her tears drenching the fabric. She feels so full around your fingers, can’t stop pulsing, clenching by how good you’re making her feel.

“So good.” Another sob, quieter. Your wrist begins to ache, but her encouragement furthers you in deeper.

You curl your fingers in at the spot she likes, earning another whimper. You force yourself deeper, your knuckles reaching inside of her cunt, loosening her up.

Just as you were about to force your fingers in deeper, her hand reached out to cup your face once more. Eyes and lips swollen, sweat sticking onto her skin, breathless from how worked up you had gotten her.

You fuck her through it all, every shudder she gives you, every breathless moan she lets out. You take it in, you want it all to yourself because every single reaction she gives you, everything she owes you, it all belongs to you now.

Her hand slowly trails lower, behind your neck. She makes you lean down, forcing yourself to put your weight onto your knees, but even then, you never stop thrusting inside of her—the sounds echoing onto your walls. Her pretty cunt squelching, pulsing, wrapped around your skin. Your thumb rubbing soft patterns on her little nub.

It’s only when she brings your other hand, carefully, gradually making your fingers wrap around her throat.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

She wants you to choke her.

Manon nods, laughing sickenly, acting as if this were an innocent request.

“It’s okay,” Her tears glistening underneath the light, “Choke me.”

You exhaled shakily, you had no choice but to listen.

Your fingers wrap around her throat, squeezing them almost immediately. Manon’s mouth widens more for you, her spit drooling out at the corner of her lips as you grip her throat harder, making her take it all in.

“Yes–” She gasps, not before choking slightly as your thrusts begin to feel much harsher, faster inside of her cunt that it's soaking everywhere. Your sheets, hands, it's nearly too much for her. But she wants to take it all in, wants to be good for you, show you how much she wants you. “Fuck–”

Your thumb presses hard in the middle of her throat, right where it bobs as she swallows, the act has her eyes rolling back, head smushed further into your pillows. You feel her cunt pulsing so tightly that it forces your fingers to stay still, her legs shudder tremendously, arms straining to clutch against your sheets.

All you could do was watch how pretty she comes for you.

Manon finally falls apart for you, your hand wrapped around her neck, the other sinking deep into your cunt, watching the way she comes down from her high.

“You did so well.” You immediately prepper her with small kisses all over her face, whimpering at how soft you suddenly became after fucking her thoroughly. “My girl, my pretty girl.”

The name has her heart clenching.

She leans up, reaches a hand over you to pull you into another kiss. Not before she switches your position with hers, making you lie on your back, her mouth never leaving yours as you did. Pulls away just in time, that has you swaying forward, already missing the touch on your lips.

Her lips trailed all over you, your own tears nearly breaking free again just by the feeling of. She presses another few kisses on your lips, then one to each of your cheeks, trails higher to kiss on the underside of your eyes.

She gives the same attention to your jaw, kissing her way down to your neck, each of your breasts, down your stomach, and settles in between your thighs.

You’re drenched.

It’s like the sight of your cunt unlocked something inside of her. She spreads your legs wider for a better view, letting the stretch hurt you just a bit. You ignore it, the sight of her eyes on your pussy was far more important than worrying about anything else.

Manon presses your thighs back to either side of your cheek, rubbing the skin softly against hers, sighing softly. You can’t help the whimper that falls free from you, like she’s engraving your skin onto hers, turning her head just slightly to give a kiss on your inner thigh. Her eyelashes flutter on your skin as she watches your breasts rise up and down, your uneven rhythm of breathing becomes more apparent.

Her hands dig into your thighs, and before you know it, her tongue slides against your folds.

You moan instantly, the sound uncontrollable.

She tastes you out slowly, letting the taste linger on her tongue. She pulls away briefly to spread your lips in front of her, the act having the blush rise on your cheeks. Your lips pull apart, exposing your needy clit, all swollen, your tight cunt just below it, clenching over nothing.

Her lips wrap around your clit, sucking it in harshly. 

Your back nearly leaves the mattress, but she forces a hand down on your stomach to keep still. You can’t help but cry from her mouth on you, her tongue already swirling around the small nub, switching between sucking it and licking it up.

Manon leans down lower, teasing your entrance with the tip of her tongue as she scoops some of your slick, letting it fall to your clit as she leans back up. All before repeating the same thing over and over again, leaving you breathless.

“Manon–” Her name falls out like a prayer. Her eyes meet back onto your face, eyes watering again, mouth red and swollen from earlier.

It urges her, she can’t stop anymore.

She grazes your clit with her teeth, making you jolt, her name breathless around your mouth. Manon flicks her tongue on you, small, careful patterns that you couldn’t help but grind your hips deeper into her mouth. Her nose bumps into you slightly, inhaling the filth that falls out of you. You were so desperate for it, practically begging for more of her mouth on you.

She senses it too, your dripping down into her mouth, forcing her to swallow everything you give her. It falls from her chin, and some leaks through your sheets. 

“All mine.” She mumbles. Manon eats you out messily, like she was starved for days, and you were her final meal. Eyes rolling back as if she was getting off by your pussy in her mouth. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” You whimper at her voice, dripped into possessiveness. 

Your hands tangle into her scalp, her hair trapped in between. You braced yourself, feet flat on the mattress, hips lifting your ass just a bit. You make sure her face never leaves your cunt, pushing her into it further, barely able to even breathe. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You began fucking her face relentlessly, her tongue messy all over your cunt, slightly dipping into it before swirling the tip of her tongue back onto your sensitive clit. Her hands lowering, digging her nails into your ass, each of your thighs wrapped around her face, that even if you closed them just slightly, she’ll suffocate around you.

Manon slurps in haphazardly when her lips wrap around your hole, your taste pools into her mouth with each, the taste filling up her senses that it has her hand reaching down to her stomach, in between her thighs–to play with her clit, just from the taste of you alone.

You were too close, too near to notice how desperate she was becoming just by you flooding into her lips. She swallows it all down, her throat bobbing as she sucks all of your taste in, your slick is all that she tastes.

Your hips become loose, your orgasm reaching into you. The pattern of your rhythm on her mouth starts to become uneven, her lips never leaving your pussy, drunk on the taste, too good to tear her mouth away from.

When she tests something out–dipping her tongue inside of you fully, your walls clench around the muscle almost immediately. Right there and then, you finally come, and she swallows it up, gulping everything down because it's all yours to take.

You fall apart, just as beautifully as she did.

Your chest heaves heavier, your heart pounding in your chest that for a brief second, it's all you hear. Until you felt her tongue lapping around your cunt again, not to stimulate, just to clean. She shushes you softly before you could release another whine. Your eyes close, your energy already gone. But a knowing smile falls upon your face.

Manon climbs back onto you, her bare skin meeting yours as it did before–it's only when she reaches higher to rub your cheek with her thumb, the palm of her hand against your skin, that you open your eyes.

Beautiful.

She’s so beautiful.

Manon smiles with you, and you plan to make that same smile stay on her face for as long as she’ll let you.

Your head turns just to meet her hand, you kiss the skin softly. Her breath hitches, but the soft smile remains on her pretty face. You were gentle with her, as you always were. She didn’t think she was worth it enough to even deserve such kind acts from you, not until now. Not until you showed her that even her flaws were what made her perfect.

The softness of it overwhelms her—it’s not hunger, not desperation anymore, but something far better, hope. It scares her how much she wants to sink into it, to let herself believe she could live inside this moment forever. The moment the two of you made

You feel her thumb trace over your lips, lingering like she’s memorizing the shape of you. Her smile wavers, not from doubt like before, but with delicacy that she knew she might not be able to leave you behind as she did before. That you made her feel brave, you made her feel seen when no one else would even think to try.

And before you knew it, her lips were pressing onto yours.

She doesn’t taste like cigarettes anymore.

She tastes like you.

Manon smiles on your lips, a laughter breaking through like she still didn’t believe that this was real. She pulls away to press a kiss on the side of your jaw before burying her nose into the side of your neck, her body falling on top of yours. You immediately wrap your arms around her like it was made to be there.

“I love you.” Manon murmurs, the words barely audible, lips stuck onto your skin. But she said it, and it was real, and it was true. “I don’t know if I deserve to say it out loud, but I do.” She breathes you in, “I really, really do.”

And you know she means it, because her heart finds the same rhythms as yours do. Her heartbeat pounding against your own chest, the only other sound of her breathing was the sound of her heart. And you just knew, you wouldn’t be able to let her go.

Your head faces hers just in time as she lifts your own, “I love you.” You repeat the words as you lean in, “You don’t have to deserve it, you already have it.”

“It’s only ever been you.”

Manon's smile widens, the curve of her mouth stretching her face. The sound of her laughter fills the silence all around, not until you take her breath away for what had seemed to be the hundredth time as you steal a kiss.

And in that kiss, her lips on top of your own, touches in the warmth of her laughter that stays stuck in between you. That makes her realize that there’s nothing else to run from—because for the first time, she’s finally home.

✎ genre: smut, g!p daniela avanzini x fem!reader, switch!dani, switch!reader, a lot of angst, fwb to lovers, toxic, oral, dacryphilia, facefucking, degradation, a little bit of praise, light humiliation, emotional sex, hate-sex, hints of drug + alcohol use, doggy-style, overstimulation, hair pulling, nasty, both are messed up…

✎ summary: One agreement. You understood that. From the moment you met Dani, you knew that all she wanted from you was your body. And you were okay with that, until it wasn’t. You wanted more, so much more and you were afraid that she couldn’t give what you wanted to you. You tried to leave, but you always end up running back to her. (10k Words)

✎ author’s note: i dont even know what to say

men and minors DNI past this point

It’s her again.

You hear your phone ringing. That same notification you’d hear once or twice a week. Sometimes not even a month you’d hear from her. That’s the thing with her.

Confusion is all you feel. But that never stopped you from letting her in. You always do. And it always haunted you, these thoughts. Because you knew that all it took from her was a simple look at you and you would be there for her, and you hated that so much because you were too easy.

But it doesn’t hurt, or maybe you were just too prideful to admit that there was pain underneath all that you do for. You would never admit it.

You lie to yourself every time you say each time will be the last, that you’d learn to leave, that you’d walk away and end it as it was supposed to be.

Your phone keeps ringing. And you knew that she wouldn’t stop calling until she got what she wanted from you as soon as you picked up the phone.

It was night. It was always night whenever she would call you or message you and it always happens to be after midnight whenever she would suddenly think of you. You’re currently in your bed, trying to sleep after a heavy day at work. It was tiring and frustrating but you still picked up the phone, staring at her face on your screen, letting the ringing die out in your ears before it starts back up once more.

Your chest begins to hurt the more you stare at her picture. It made you want to throw the entire phone away and never look back. It made you want to curse her out, curse her for these feelings that she gave you, knowing deep down that she'll never return the feelings you have for her. Your thumb hovered the screen as you began to trace the outline of her smile as if that could connect the distance between you.

Every single part of you was screaming at you to stop. To decline her call and just go back to sleep, to erase her from your life that you knew she was inevitably going to ruin your life. You ached to be with her right now, even if it was solely only for your body. But you gripped your phone harder anyway, the brightening image burned into your eyes and branded into your heart. It was a wound you kept letting it get hurt, knowing it could never heal unless you finally put an end to it. 

With every look and call she gave you, the sound of her voice, it pained you because you knew you would never have her, fully.

But this thing you have with her, it’s the closest thing to have what you want with her.

So you settle for it.

Your breathing was shallow. You could easily tell and your eyes begin to feel sore for how long you’ve been staring at the screen for what had been minutes by now and you still haven’t answered any of her calls. She wasn’t here with you right now but you could almost feel the desperation through the phone in your hands.

You know this entire thing was fucked the second you met her. The night she got you into her bed even after only knowing her for about a week. You let every kiss engraved onto your skin, every touch that burned, and every time she was inside, you let her release into you, like you needed it, as if it was the only thing you could take from her.

You told yourself you would stop, that the pain wasn’t worth it. The reminder in your head that all your tears and marks left on your skin shouldn’t be coming from a person who doesn’t even see the real you, feel the real you. You knew you deserved better than being seen as a replacement for someone else. 

You knew better.

Or that’s what you’d like to believe.

And when you felt a tear slip down, letting it sink in through your pillow, you knew that you were fucked. Your head turns slightly, rubbing your cheek on your satin pillow to wipe away the tears that kept falling through. As much as you hated her, you hated yourself more for always letting her get her way, every single time.

You began to sob, hard. Clutching onto your shirt as if it was suffocating you. It felt tight, like you had no air for room to breathe. Your chest heaved in uneven bursts, each inhale sharp and jagged, trembling against your own sheets. The walls in your room felt like they were closing you in, slowly by slowly. Your fingers began to dig into the fabric until your knuckles turned white, desperate to hold onto something when you knew you felt yourself slipping away.

The sound of your sobs filled the silence in your room, raw and true. Your throat nearly burns because of your own cries for her, and you let it sting, every painful reminder that you could never have her. You couldn’t control it, the way you feel, almost begging just to end this feeling you have for her.

For what felt like the fifth time she tried to call you, you felt your thumb burning, hurting you as you pressed the accept button on your phone, putting it near your ear.

The sobs slowly began to hollow out as you tried your best to control the sounds that were nearly falling out of your mouth. You didn’t want her to notice your raggedy breath and your choked sobs even when you knew she probably wouldn’t know anyway with the mental state she's in.

And you were right.

Dani’s breathing filled your ears through the phone, soft but unsteady, every inhale laced with the faint tremor you had come to recognize all too well. It had become almost normal by now—this fragile ache that seemed to cling to her words, even in silence. 

But no matter how familiar it was, it never stopped hurting you. Each shaky breath was like a quiet confession, an unspoken plea you couldn’t quite reach through the distance between you. You pressed the phone tighter against your ear, as if that alone could steady her, as if you could will her lungs to draw in air without that quiver. It ached in a way that was both heavy and helpless, knowing that all you could do was listen, and hope she felt a little less alone on the other side.

It suddenly dragged you to all the similar nights that you spent listening to her like this when she wasn’t with you. Voice low and cracked, trying to hide the fact that she wasn’t okay, you always knew she wasn’t and you could almost always tell when she was trying to hide it from you. By now, you knew her all too well to pick out each lie she’d try to hide.

You wanted to say something first, to take the weight off of her and let it carry yourself. But the words choked up in the middle of your throat. You feared to say the wrong thing and the truth that both of you weren’t ready for.

Yet, you stayed quiet. You only listened to the sound of her breathing, and at times, it's the only thing you could give her and the beat of your heart. With every uneven breath she gave you, you took it in as if it was rightfully yours, knowing deep down it wasn’t. 

You weren’t prepared for what she has to say to you. You never are. It was like every word held its own heavy weight–about to crash into you. 

When you finally hear her speak after a long time, you don’t seem surprised.

“I need you.” Dani’s voice was quivering, unspoken and or even soulless. That was also not unexpected coming from her. She always hollowed out her desperate confessions like it meant nothing to her, nothing at all. 

Still, even just hearing those same words made your stomach twist in a knot. You’re unsure if it was the want in you or because it pained you. You couldn’t find the difference. 

You really wanted to respond right away, as you always did, to fill the silence, the one that covered her heart. But you couldn’t find the right words to respond with. 

And in that moment, you realized something in you. When will it ever stop?

This same stupid cycle, of you being the one to hold her together, trying to hide your own pain of hers unraveling right in front of you. You love her, you truly do, but with what came with loving her came with the utmost pain that you knew you weren’t able to remove unless you were the one walking away.

You’re just unsure if you can even do that.

Dani knew that you wouldn’t say no to her, you never did. She asks and you come right to her without any effort she puts in just to have you in her home, in her bed. And you were okay with that for a while, until it turned into something that meant more for you, in ways you trusted yourself to not let it linger for so long. 

But you knew what you were getting yourself into, you knew that, everyone else did too.

“Dani.” You said, and you hear her breath hitch as if her name in your mouth did something to her.

It wasn’t that.

And then you hear her slurring, mumbling a bunch of incoherent words. That’s when you figured out what mess she’s gotten herself into. The same mental, and emotional state she was in, only you could pull her out of, and yet, deep inside of your chest, each thought that made you suffer, you knew you weren't enough.

“Please.” She begged. You hear her swallow something, and it only makes the ache in your heart dig a deeper hole. “I need you now.” Dani begged again.

Even if she wasn’t in the right state, every word she means when she says it. Another weight was left upon in your hands for only you to fix, the same mistake that was bound to happen each night you lie in her bed.

Her quiet plea was all it took to give you that same hint of what she wanted. She barely had to say anything yet it felt fragile. She begged for the care that you weren’t always so sure you could give.

The same cycle, she’d pull you in and then push you out whenever she would want it. And you just can’t handle that anymore.

You never thought you’d lie here on your own, saying these words.

“I can’t.”

Then it was silent. You pushed your face deeper into your pillow, biting the satin pillowcase to control your muffled sobs. Your knuckles turned even more white as you held the phone as if it was a loaded gun.

You can even hear the tremble in Dani’s voice. “What do you mean you can’t?”

It was almost as quiet as a whisper, but it was vulnerable, sensitive. Maybe even the real her.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You tell her, forgetting to hold out your sobs. It didn’t matter anymore, to pretend to be strong, pretending that her pain wasn’t hurting you as well.

The sound of your voice, shaking through your small room almost felt similar to hers. You almost pitied yourself for it. However, there was this strange relief in your mind. You’re finally being honest to her, but most importantly, to yourself. You let your tears fall freely, hot on your cheeks, sinking into your sheets, leaving the truth behind them. You were exhausted and scared, but you were brave enough to let her go, even when she wasn’t ever really yours to begin with.

Perhaps it was the first time in a very long time that you felt this relieved, but it still tore your heart apart by denying her. You cared so much even when she cared so little. But you let yourself be, because being honest was the only thing that you were ever meant to do.

“Don’t say that.” She said, you try not to whimper at the sound of her uninterested voice. You could tell so easily that she did not care as much as you did and that part still hurts you. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Dani, I’m serious.” You are, “I won’t do this anymore. I can’t lie to myself that I’m okay with this just to make you feel better. I just can’t do it.” You sob for her, knowing that this might just be it.

You feel her breathing hard, almost like she’s suffocating. It almost makes you just want to forget everything that you were saying and go back to her, but that’s what she wants and you can’t do that any longer.

“Please don’t do this.” You hear her pleas, but you know that tone of her voice too well. She was too high to even comprehend what you were even saying. She was this sick liar you knew after all, but it was only your fault that you still cared. Or maybe these were just all in your head and that maybe, deep inside her heart, perhaps she did care.

Your mind was telling you that this was the right thing to do. But God, your heart keeps telling you something else. You fall for her every single time you end up naked for her and every time she leaves you on read on your messages, you were way too in deep. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” You knew she wasn’t. “I know I keep fucking things up but I can be better. I’ll be better, just please. Come over. We can talk this out, please, let’s just talk about it. Whatever you’re feeling, I want to be there for you, I want to listen. Just please, come over.”

Those words only felt like empty promises to you.

You sighed, not without another tremble in your breath. You harshly wiped your stained tears off of your cheek with your wrist, letting it sting on your skin.

“I just can’t, I’m sorry.” You hang up.

Without any other words left in mine, you had nothing else to say to her. But as soon as you hung up the phone, you felt your chest tightening, crushing your heart in ways you didn’t believe someone you know so little about could ever affect you in such a way.

And here you are.

You stayed true to your words, not once have you contacted her after you hung up the phone on her. You were still hurting, deeply, that was not an understatement. 

Her voice still lingered in your head, every moan, every lie that she had whispered in your ear whenever she’d always have you winding up in her sheets, messing them up each time until it was time for you to go home. Not even seeing her the days or even weeks following after.

The reminders still remained around you. The friends you shared, the places you two would go, the memories that filled your head, it still stayed there.

You knew it would be hard getting rid of these thoughts in your head about her, that it’ll take more than enough time to truly move on from what wasn’t even yours to call your own in the first place. Unrequited, all gone, just like that.

But you still hoped that she was okay, even when you knew she didn’t deserve your worries or your stress about her. You knew there was more out there than just her. Yet she took all your time, wasting it on her and for what?

You slowly begin to realize that there was more to it than crying about a person. So you got up in a hurry, jumping right out of your bed as you picked up your phone from the side table, calling up some of your friends for dinner.

If you promised yourself that you were going to move on, to actually live your life, the next thing you should do is spend your time with people who actually cared, who cared about you.

And as your friends responded, letting you know that they were up to hang out, a smile grew on your face. You set your phone back down, getting ready.

But you knew, deep inside of you just knew, that her face might always stay haunting you in your mind.

It’s been a little over a few weeks since you’ve last spoken to Dani. She has only contacted you once after that last call, only two days apart and you thought she gave up after that.

Deep down, you wished she chased you, put at least a little effort into helping you think that there possibly could be more to her feelings for you. You should’ve known better.

You only ever wanted her to care. You wanted her to show that for you, but you never blamed her. Not after everything she’s been through, all the pain, every hurt on her heart, all you did was be there for her in ways that she wanted. You just weren’t prepared for what comes with the ache.

But you’ve been okay. Not better, but you were fine to say the least.

Not much has changed, you still go to work, you still visit your friends and family during the week, you eat and sleep. It was the same old routine.

Yet, none of it fulfilled you.

You still yearned for more with Dani. She had what you wanted, and she couldn’t give you that.

It was night again, you walked down the streets with a takeout bag in your hand after having some dinner with your family. Catching up with each other’s lives, promising to visit them more often. 

It felt like a breath of fresh air. This night was what you needed, but your mind never stopped wandering to what could’ve been.

The night’s air breezed through the wind, it wasn’t crowded on the streets this night, it was cold but still peaceful. Your jacket hugged you warmly, shivering a bit as you gripped the plastic bag more harder with each breeze of the wind that hit your face, your cheeks flushing from the wind.

You’re walking towards your car, parked a few blocks down. You wanted to go home as soon as you could, you felt extra tired lately, exhausted even. That kind of exhaustion that clung onto your skin, each step felt heavier than before.

The streets were extra quiet tonight. That same distant hum of traffic and the broken streetlamps still flickered. Each exhale you made in the cool air left your skin shivering in the wind. You tried your best to hurry to your car.

Despite your hurry, you felt as if you weren’t entirely alone.

Right as your hand grabbed onto your door handle to your car, you made the mistake of lifting your head up, yours at the silhouette, slowly gazing over to the door opening from the convenience store you parked right in front of.

Dani walks out with her hands stuffed in her hoodie, her hood up, almost covering her eyes. Her clothes were worn out, and she looked miserable, horrible even. But that wasn’t a new sight to get used to. You were used to it.

But she was still beautiful in your eyes.

She hasn’t noticed you staring at her just yet. You watch as she steps down and makes a left, only to slide her back down until she is kneeling in front of the windows on the store, opening her bottle of gatorade to chug it down, almost as if she was severely dehydrated, like she hasn’t slept in days. And you didn’t have to bet much to think that possibility was true.

You tell yourself to not engage. That you promised yourself to not be that one thing she uses only to forget about. You trusted yourself to not give in with what she wants from you, but just seeing her like this, alone, tired, she was almost a reflection of you. You just knew how to hide yourself better.

You open the door with a small curse out of your breath, only to throw the bag of leftovers onto your passenger seat, closing it in one smooth motion.

The more you walked over to her, getting closer by each step, you saw how mentally and physically drained she was. Even with her head down, her hand barely capable of holding her drink, sitting down on the concrete not giving a care in the world if her clothes get dirty. You’ve seen the look one too many times and yet it never fails to break your heart each time.

When your shoes come into view from her head tilting down, she suddenly flinches. You don’t know why but even that kind of small action caused you some confusion.

Dani slowly lifts her head up, her eyes meeting yours. 

Her eyes began to furrow, swelling up, you swore you saw her eyes froze, widening once she thought you were the person who she’s been hallucinating about. And then gradually, you see the realization fall upon her face, eyes becoming drooping once more. Your fists clench at the sight.

She doesn’t say anything at first, nor do you. It looked like she wasn’t expecting you to be here, standing in front of her like this, watching the way she’s hurting.

You kneel down in front of her anyway, fingers catching onto her chin, lifting her head higher to match her eyeview with yours. When your touch lingers for a little too long, you feel both of her cold skin, noticing the way her lips began to tremble like your touch had burned her. She never pushed you away though, her eyes locked onto yours.

Her eyes were trying to tell you the truth, the things she actually had felt. She wanted to be honest with you from the start, but she was too addicted, too naive to actually do what she truly wanted. 

You began to talk, slow and loud enough for her to hear. 

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” You told her. Your hand reaches up higher, towards her cheek. The shivering from your touch only increased your worrying, you rub your thumb against the skin anyway.

She doesn’t respond fast enough. You watch as her eyes move to one of your eyes over the other, and then your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat once you caught that same look in her eyes that said almost absolutely nothing, but nearly everything you wished you wanted her to have.

“You know why.” You do.

Despite already knowing her reason, you just want her to tell the truth to you. Give her the chance to be honest with you, but more to herself. It’s like she’s being held at gunpoint to hide the fact that pain isn’t something to overlook. Too guilty to admit it all.

“I just wanted you to care. I wanted you to finally realize that there was more to me than just my body. I wanted you–to be there, to be there for me.” You breathe out, not realizing you were holding your breath.

Dani finally looks at, like actually looks at you. Her face seemed to let go of any tension she was feeling, her lips stopped quivering, her eyes trying to find your feelings through your own.

“You never let me in.” Your hand falls off of her cheek, however, she surprised you by quickly catching that same hand, putting it back onto her face like she never wanted to lose your touch.

“You call for me, every single time you feel like shit and you cannot blame me for feeling so tired of giving you the exact same thing when you never return what I want from you.”

You feel her sigh, her head leaning back. She doesn’t let go of your hand still, even if she was beginning to feel exhausted just by your words. Instead, she just turns her face into your hand, breathing the scent in. Your hands were filled with warmth, just like your heart was and she knew she was far from deserving to ever own it.

“I can’t give you what you want.” She tells you, closing her eyes as your fingers grazes her face deeper. Inhaling the smell. “I don’t deserve it.”

You yank your hand away.

She watches as you stand up from her view. As soon as you began to turn away, she stood up so fast, grabbing your hand into hers. You felt it sting you, not from the pain, but the sudden heat of her touch that was once cold, felt urgent and rushed. It carried every word she didn’t know how to say.

Her grip was trembling again, but it never loosened its hold on you. Her hold was too strong, impossible for you to even dare to take another step. You even felt her pulse quickening, afraid that if she lets you go, that whatever you had with her, no matter how confusing and messed up it was, actually meant something to her.

Dani pulls you to face her once more, eyes finding yours, searching for something in them. You knew from this moment, that whatever you were walking away from wasn’t ready to let you go.

The moment lingers, you were unsure whether she’d let go or pull you in. Until she closes the gap.

It wasn't rushed, different from all the ones she used to give you. Yet it still managed to steal all the air from your lungs. The space between you was gone and all you could think of was her and her only.

You felt both of your hearts pounding against each other's chest, you didn’t even hesitate to kiss her back with an equal amount of force. Everything else dissolved when you felt the warmth of her lips. They weren’t as smooth, filled with imperfections, but God it still made you crave for more.

Before you knew it, you were pushing her against the wall, forgetting the both of you are still standing outside where anyone could see. But neither of you cared.

You felt her hands crawling their way to your waist, tugging on your jacket closer, her nails digging into the leather. You could feel her heavy breathing, like she was already losing her breath just by the touch of your lips but that never stopped her from pulling you in. 

Her head dug into the wall, your hands finding its way under her hoodie. You both moan when she feels your bare hands, already on her skin, like it was meant to be, as it always is. You intentionally scrape your nails against her ribcage, just the way she likes. It’s a small tease but a big effort into having her the way she wanted.

Your mouth opens for her and she swallows you in. Every hitch of your breath, every moan, she takes it in like she owns it, letting it linger down her throat. Your own saliva falls into hers, her throat bobbles as she consumes it. Her hands go to your shirt underneath your jacket, desperate for more, desperate for your touch against her skin.

You feel her gasping, running out of breath, nearly choking and you haven’t done anything to her yet. When you pressed your body harder, you felt her cock hardening against you through her sweats. This unknown effect you had on her, you never even realized it until now. The way she whimpers in your mouth when you slide a hand, lowering so slow, she knew what you wanted to do next.

Dani nearly bites your tongue, eyes swelling with just the touch of your hand cupping her through her pants. You feel it twitch, hard, and you knew it began to feel painful for her. You almost pity her.

Her hands immediately cupped your face, slightly pushing your face back only to stare into you. You watch the way her bottom lip quivers for you, wet and swollen, cock all hard and it's all because of you. You wanted this moment to last, you think that in this moment, she finally sees you. Really see you.

And she does.

“Take us back to my place.” She mumbles, her eyes tearing up, afraid that you’d say no.

“I’ll do anything, even if this means it's our last. Please let me have you for tonight. Only for tonight.” She begged, holding you.

Who were you to deny that?

You barely made it through the door into her run-down apartment before she had you pressed against it. One of her hands fumbles behind you, trying to close the door but your mouth on her was far too distracting to focus on anything else. Your jacket falls off your shoulders and your jeans were already off the second your foot stepped inside, leaving you in your undergarments.

Walking forward, you took her into your arms, pushing her all the way into her room. Not before stumbling and stopping every few seconds, backing her into the wall just so you could feel her gasp into your mouth. 

It’s messy and it’s too fast, but you couldn’t stop anymore. You wanted her hands all over you.

Dani sensed that you weren’t really giving yourself her all, and she was determined to have all of you one way or another.

“Stop thinking.” She sighs into your mouth, tugging at your hair once you finally made it inside her bedroom. This entire room, you were far too familiar with it. Everything was the same, the decorations, her messy bed, the scattered dirty clothes everywhere, the same sheets she’d have you stained them on. All of it, you remembered.

You tried to listen to her, to focus on her mouth and body, just the way she wanted you to. You just can’t, you wanted more than her body, you wanted everything she could ever offer you, you thought about it, longed for it all.

The more you realized you couldn’t have her, all of her, the more it hurts you. Every kiss that lingered on your lips, was a reminder of what you couldn't have, every touch slowly became empty without its own meaning. You told yourself that it was enough, that you can deal with it. That maybe one day she would give in, tell you her feelings, but deep down you knew that you were only just digging yourself a bigger hole, knowing that she had something of yours–never intending to give it to you.

She feels that you’re still not fully with her, which was ironic to you because so was she. She was never mentally there with you whenever you were with her, always on something. And the more you thought about it, the more it angered you.

She cut off your thoughts once you felt her pushing you off of her, letting the action poke something within your heart. Her arms fall back onto her sides until she grabs your jaw, and you let her nails scrape your skin as hard as she wants you to feel it. She moves your head towards the wall, letting you rest there, her grip on your jaw tightening, her thumb poking your cheek. Your chest heaved, not from any fear, but this new feeling she’s giving you.

Her breath fans over yours, letting her lips ghost over your own before turning your head slightly to whisper in your ear. You felt her tongue peeking out, slowly licking the outline of the shell of your ear, your hands instantly clenched into fists, nothing to hold onto as you let her have her way with you.

“Tell me to stop.” She breathed in your ear, “Tell me you don’t want this.” You do want this.

She turned your face back to her own, hitting her forehead against yours, barely making you jump. You don’t touch her, your nails piercing into your skin prevents you from even laying a hand on her.

“Tell me to leave you alone and I will. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

You don’t.

You don’t say anything. It only makes her grip harder on you, like she was begging you to let her go, and you just couldn’t do that even when you knew it would be the best for yourself. You can’t, and you won’t.

Dani’s eyebrows are furrowed, tensed, her entire body is. She had no idea why you kept choosing to stay when all she ever did was give you reasons to stay away. Her lips part, like she expected you to leave as she told you to, like she was already mentally preparing the sound of your footsteps leaving your door.

But you don’t move.

Your eyes never dared to look away other than her own and it makes her chest tighten. 

And when you gently take off her hand on your jaw, her hand falls back to her side. Her eyes slowly became dilated, darkening once your knees began to bend, lowering yourself on your knees. As you moved lower, your hands were already on her waist, fingers trembling against the waistband of her pants before taking them down with you. Her boxers tight around her, nearly suffocating her poor cock, all stiff and ready for your mouth. You tape on her knee, letting her know to get rid of the sweatpants entirely. She steps out and you throw it somewhere elsewhere.

In the corner of your eye, you see both of her fists clenched the same as yours once were, you swayed to the side, leaning forward to press a kiss on her knuckles as she visibly began to relax.

However, she never stopped shaking. Especially when you press an opened-mouth kiss on the outline of her cock. Smiling when you hear her from above, whining, nearly banging her forehead against the wall when you barely grazed your lips on her. Barely did anything and she’s already this close. Your smile widens as her pain grows.

Your lips part even wider, your tongue peeking out of your sick mouth, using it to outline her through her boxers. You let your drool fall off of your tongue where her precum seeps in through the fabric before eventually spitting on it.

Her cries, it makes your chest feel full. To easily have her in your hands, the ability to make her cum just as beautifully as she could. You needed that.

“How do you want me?” You ask, your eyelashes flutter, pressing another gentle kiss on her tip, grinning once it twitches once more.

Dani could barely mutter out a word, her sweat already sticking to the insides of her hoodie. It was getting hard to even breathe, your voice, your mouth and hands, you in your entirety–was all she could even think of. Your name repeatedly engraved into her mind, your mouth carved right where she wanted you to be, she was far too desperate to even do anything else.

You feel her exhale shakily, “In every way.” She admits.

That answer seemed to please you so you finally gave in, dragging her boxers down, freeing herself. She sighs, relaxing once the fabric finally comes off of her, until you take her breath away once again as she looks down, the sight of your eyes right in between the tip of cock, your breath fanning over it, you knew she needed you.

Your mouth finally opens for her, forcing yourself to take every inch of her, your tongue flat, your cheeks already hollowing as you make yourself gag on her before pulling out completely–torturing her during the process.

That same, breathy whine falls out of her mouth, the sound swelling in your ears. Her hips buck against you, eager for your mouth.

Your lips press a soft kiss onto her tip, her precum sticking to your bottom lip before your tongue peeks out to wipe it off yourself–opening wide to repeat the same process all over again. Her hands unclenched themselves, her nails scraping on your scalp, pulling at the strands of your hair as your head began to move back and forth, swirling your tongue whenever you pulled back to feel the head of her cock, sucking hazardly. And when you moan around her, the vibration on her nearly makes her cry.

“Fuck.” Dani whimpers, “Such a good mouth.”

That does something to you, because almost immediately when you hear her voice, you involuntarily cup yourself through your panties, before sliding it to the side, rubbing your stiff clit in small, lazy circles. Dani’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards to even realize what you were doing to yourself.

Just as you were about to force herself even deeper in your mouth, barely hitting the back of your throat, she grabs a handful of your hair with both of her hands, fisting them to move your head all the way until it's back against the wall. She pulls herself out of you, this time it makes you whine disapprovingly. 

Light taps on your cheek shuts you up, her tip outlining the bottom of your lip and it takes you everything not to have your lips around her once more.

She speaks carefully, making sure you’d listen. “You want to be good right?”

You nod.

She sighs, “Keep your tongue flat for me.” And you do as she says.

Dani begins relentlessly fucking your mouth as if it was your cunt. You immediately lose a heavy amount of air that your fingers forget your own mess in between your panties, holding yourself onto her legs. Her hips bucked into your face, her groans filled your ears and soon you became numb to it all.

She takes you deeper, you feel her at the back of your throat and all you could focus on was to at least try to keep breathing steadily, your drool already coming down at the corners of your mouth. Her shaft stretching your mouth so good, the pain of losing you up, you wanted that.

She fucks your face slowly, closing her eyes when you began to whimper around her, your lipstick smudged, eyes already pooling at the corners, you looked too pretty not to have you ruined.

“Breathe, that's it.” She sighs, smoothing out your hair for you, loving how you’re too obedient, letting her do whatever she wants just to have herself in your mouth. “You’re so good for me.”

You moan in response to her, your lips swollen and wet, painting a perfect picture in her view.

When she glances lower, you reach back down again with your hand between your thighs, sticking a finger inside of you, pathetically clenching around it because you’re too desperate, too needy, you want her inside of you already and the thought alone already drives you crazy. You need her inside, to be filled, to be wanted.

“Fuck–I’m gonna cum in this filthy mouth of yours.” She whines for you, your hair fisted in your hair as your head keeps knocking on the wall. Barely to hold herself up while her knees keep buckling, so close. You nod instantly for her, stilling your tongue beneath her shaft, your teeth nearly grazing her. The pressure enough already has her nearly crying, matching your own messed up state.

She comes with a choked moan, pulling your hair to the point that you feel the pain much more. Her head leaning against the wall, her teeth nearly making her bottom lip bleed, too tense as she releases into your mouth and you taste her. And you let her come inside your mouth like she wanted to own it. 

You exhale through your nose, closing your eyes when she releases your hair from her hold, removing her cock off of your mouth, your drool and her cum connected with a string onto her.

When she opens her eyes, that’s when you open your mouth for her, showing her cum and your saliva all messed up on the top of your tongue. Her eyes half-lidded, leaning down just enough for her hand to cup your jaw, slowly closing your mouth for you. “Swallow.” Dani whispers, lowly that you almost missed it. And you follow her words, her small gasp coming afterwards as she watches the way your throat moves as you swallow her cum down for you.

It’s like you flipped some kind of switch in her, her body quivering just the sight of you alone, almost naked, your mouth messed up because of her cock. And the way you swallowed her thick, hot cum in your mouth on purpose just so she could watch? You knew what you were doing.

You stand up just as she pulls her hoodie off of herself, her breasts finally coming into your eyeview. You take off your bra and panties as quickly as you could, not even giving her a second to waste before you're pushing her towards her bed, making her fall on her back. Her chest heaving once you climbed on top of her, grabbing her cock in your hands, not stroking it, but to hold it tightly, letting her know what you want next.

You kneeled down, scooting closer to her as you lined her cock right on your entrance, not before giving light taps with her tip on your little nub, receiving a few whimpers underneath you. Her hands find their way to your thighs, gripping it with equal force, her eyes locked in onto yours as she watches you finally sinking down onto her, letting the painful stretch ease you in so slowly, so nicely, you wrap around her like you were made for it.

Dani nearly hits her head against the headboard, never missing the way your jaw becomes slack as you ease her in. You’re tight around her, whimpering when you sink all the way down, you don’t move just yet, only staying still to feel yourself widening just for her cock, twitching inside.

She taps your thigh gently and that’s when you begin to move.

Your pussy pulses around her every time you move up, just to fall back down. Whimpering when you feel her twitch in that perfect spot you’re used to having her filling you up, always clenching and unclenching when she does. Your nails clawing at her stomach, barely holding yourself together.

She hisses softly once she feels your nails scraping her skin, painfully good. Her breath stuttered, caught up in her throat. “To think I’d loosen you up by now.”

Your nails dig harder into her as she says that. But you’re too wet, too drenched to even feel remotely bad when her back-handed comment comes into your ear, you’re too stretched out to even care at this point because it feels too good. The way her cock fills you up, you’re afraid it's incomparable to anything else.

“What?” She laughs softly, not enough to humiliate you. “Don’t you think it’s true by now?”

You don’t respond, you couldn’t form the right words to.

Every time you move, your walls close in tighter and it's enough for the both of you to moan out, all choked and breathy. You feel Dani throbbing inside of you, her shaft still covered in her cum mixing in with your own slick. 

You slide up and down on her, grinding your ass against her thighs, your weight wrapping–surrounding her and solely her. She just can’t get enough.

“There’s a reason why you keep coming running back to me.” She starts, and you try to blur out her words. 

“You like the way I fill you up, the way your pussy fucking sucks me off dry? You get high off of that.” You prove her right when you pulse around her, “Only you do that to me.”

Your back arches for her, perfectly curved. When she notices, she props herself on her elbows, ignoring the sting that comes with it when your nails pierce her even deeper, just to give you a lousy–wet kiss. But you can barely keep up. The kiss, imperfect, but it still makes her whimper into your mouth when she tastes herself off of your tongue.

It doesn’t stop her from basically swallowing you whole. She brings herself all the way up, wrapping her arms around your waist, your lips never disconnecting from hers. Your tongues slide easily against each other, your spit mixing and drenching each other's mouth, both of your chests leaving no space in between. 

Your hands move higher, past her stomach and her breasts, you cup her cheeks. That’s when you begin to softly cry, but you don’t stop her from kissing you–in fact, you pull her in deeper, you take her cock in as if it was yours to keep, your thighs spread apart on top of her own, just to feel and think of all of her.

Your tears come hot and warm. It falls in-between your sloppy kisses and she tastes them, realizing you’re softly sobbing against her. She doesn’t remove her mouth off of yours just yet, opening her eyes just softly to seek out your own. Your eyes are still closed, tears pooling off on your cheeks. And then she suddenly stops kissing you, her breath ghosting over your cheek before she sticks out her tongue ever so gently, licking off your tears. You don’t question it, it only makes you sob harder.

“It hurts.” You say, and she knew you weren’t talking about physically.

Dani leans her forehead against yours, moving her head slightly to kiss your thumb. “I know.” Was all she said.

Her response fuels you. You grip her shoulder instead, propping yourself on your feet, sliding her cock inside of you faster. Her jaw falls once more, eyes nearly rolling back at the change of pace you’re so suddenly energized for. This way, you feel her edging up closer, you nearly feel it.

She leans back slightly, letting go of your hips with one of her arms, just to lean back on her elbows. Her eyes were screaming something, you couldn’t tell but you still watched the way her eyes left yours, slowly gazing lower and lower until she stops right where your stomach and thighs are parted for her cock. Suddenly mesmerized every time your stomach moves, leaving an outline of her cock inside of you. Her hand reaches to touch your stomach, letting it rest there.

The touch undeniably warmed you, and you hated that fact.

“I hate you so bad.” You cry softly, resting your hand on top of hers on your belly as you move. “So fucking bad.” Your hand tightens around her when you feel her clawing you, and then she groans softly. The both of you know you don’t mean it.

You feel her cock freeze in you before she begins pulsing, shuddering once you feel her coming inside of you. It only makes you sink lower, not letting any of it spill out of you. Her forehead falls on your shoulder, her other arm back on you as she holds you. Her thick cum, spilling in you, in your pussy, and its warm and its heavy, but you take it in because you want to be good for her. You clench harder, just to make sure all of it stays in.

She comes with a soft groan in your ear, her thick, hot cum spilling inside you and you don’t want it anywhere else. The feeling makes you cum with her as your stomach tenses, your cunt surrounding her, milking her dry.

Both of your chests heaved at the same space, your sweat stuck against hers, but you never pushed her away, you pulled her in closer.

Your hands moved to her back, stroking her warm skin, calming her down from her high. You don’t make her pull out just yet, you sit there, still, her cum inside of you. All you could feel was her breathless moans near your ear, every time she heaved, her breath tickled your ear and you hated the way it made your stomach flutter.

Just as you were about to sit up, she forces you back down on her. Choking on nothing, she flips the both of you, still inside of you. Your back hits the sheets with a thud, but it doesn’t last too long because she pulls out of you and you whine, missing the feeling of being so full. Your whine gets cut off when she flips you on your stomach, your face hitting the pillow, breasts pressed against the bedsheets, and your ass and cunt exposed all for her. You feel her hand pushing your head deeper into the pillow that you barely catch any air, and yet you don’t fight it.

“You know,” Dani begins, teasing your slit with the tip of her shaft, lowering it slightly to toy against your puffy clit. “You always assume shit about me. You never ask me anything, you never tell me how you feel until you’re at your losing point–and all it does is make me fucking mad about you.”

She thrusts in, and you scream.

Your fingernails fists into her sheets, your cries muffled into the pillow that she sleeps on, inhaling her scent. Her hips meeting yours every time she pushes her cock back inside, her balls full, slapping against your clit that makes your hips nearly twist each time.

“You think I don’t give a shit about you?” Her hands find your back, moving your hair to one side, her cock deep. “Bullshit. Fucking bullshit.”

And then she grabs a handful of your hair in one of her fists, pulling back, making your back arch for her so beautifully, perfectly, all for her. Your throat swallows your spit, choking on it slightly once you feel her tugging your hair. You feel her stretching you out better this way, it’s too good that it's almost too much, tears spilling in your eyes again.

“How can I when you’re all I think of?” She leans down, whispering her filth into your ears.

Your hips begin to bounce off of her own, matching her pace, Dani’s cock pounding into you. You can barely function with the way she’s handling you. Your moans all choked up around nothing, loud and needy, she can’t focus because of it. And when you feel her free hand coming to your face, her palm covers your mouth, now muffling your sounds into her hands.

Her hand catches your tears once they fall, but she never stops her relentless thrusts in you.

“You feel this? My cock inside of you?” Dani mutters into your ear, you nod with her hand still pulling your hair. “It’s yours.”

You cry, that’s all you could do. Her weight falls on you, her hips still moving with purpose, panting in your ear, chin against your shoulder. She kisses the side of your neck, preppering each one with its own hidden meaning beneath them.

Her eyebrows furrowed, mouth open and wet as she kisses your skin, breathless and it's all because of your doing. You feel at the side of your thighs, her feet flat on the bed, suddenly moving a bit higher and this angle, fuck this angle fills you up more, her tip nearly hitting your cervix in your abdomen.

She nearly freezes once she feels you muffling against the palm of her hand, she slowly lowers it, letting you breathe better. “I’m not who you pretend I am.” You sob, your head low.

She lets go of your hair and uncovers your mouth completely.

As you cried, you felt Dani slightly tilting your head towards her, meeting her eyes filled with unshed tears, almost breaking apart just the sight of your pain alone. She doesn’t say a word, she can’t, but she kisses you.

Not the kisses you two would have before, all lust, sloppy or messy. It’s gentle, soft even. Her arm propped up next to yours, her other hand around you. You knew she didn’t know how to say her feelings, she wasn’t that type of person, so this kiss, vulnerable, showing you the real side of her, was enough.

When you pull back, she stays close, proceeding her movements back on you. This time, more real.

Dani moans, broken and shuddering, you kiss the corner of her mouth in the process. You’re too soaked, too wet that it falls down your slit, coating your needy clit, some dropping onto the sheets. You feel her movements becoming sloppy and you knew she was getting close.

You feel your own orgasm chasing just as close as she was. Your cunt gripping onto her cock, your breaths fanning over each other. Her eyes stayed on yours even when you feel her hand inching its way closer to your own. You unclenched the sheets in your hand, letting her fingers interlock with yours.

You’ve been in this position one too many times. But it feels different now, you just knew it. 

Dani lets out an incoherent whimper, her eyes almost closing but she forces her eyes open just so she could watch you fall apart perfectly for her as she is for you. Her cum pulsing into your pussy, squelching inside of you. Her tip slick and twitching, head swollen, leaks into you, and you take it in because it’s rightfully yours, all yours.  

You cum with her again, your eyelashes fluttering on hers. Your top lip bumping against her own as you let out a high-pitched moan, only for her ears to hear the way you fall apart. 

She collapses on you, her strength weakening. Your elbows give out as well, making the both of you fall on top of her sheets, all stained from your sweat and cum. The both of you were panting, desperate for air and recovery. And you were dizzy, so dizzy your eyes began to blur.

She doesn’t move off of you, her arms at each of your sides, her forehead pressed against her pillow beside your head. Neither of you said anything and neither of you were able to move an inch from your positions.

It was just a quiet, unspoken moment.

You gently nudge her with her shoulder, giving her the clue to flop back down beside you instead still catching her breath. She slowly pulls out of you, making you whimper at the loss of feeling so full, her cock plopping back against her stomach.

You were still shaking, trembling as you felt her cum slowly spill out of your tight hole. You turn around on your back anyway, both of you facing the ceiling.

Dani turns her head towards you, but you don’t. You don’t want to, trying to ignore the way your heart began to ache, thinking that this might be the last time you’ll ever have her this close as you ever again. You knew by the end of this, she’ll tell you to leave as she always does, leaving you alone. You were too selfish to let go of whatever you have with her, even if it meant hurting yourself in the process. You can barely stand the thought alone.

“Look at me.” You feel her whisper. “Please look at me.” Her eyes glint when you do, turning your head to look at her.

You scan her face, sweat dripping off of her forehead, her lips swollen, matching yours, but her eyes were different. They were saying something to you but you couldn’t figure this look in them. You want her to say the words she’s thinking, you just want her to be honest.

But she’s staring at you like you’re everything, like nothing else mattered. That what she’s seeing is so precious, too beautiful to even think of looking away from.

Her fingers twitch slightly, grazing your own hand. She takes your hand into her hold before you could even move away, but you let her intertwine your fingers with hers, you look down at the sight, your heart squeezing inside your chest. She never held your hand like this, or at all. It surprised you, but then again, you never pulled away.

She’s trying to read the look on your face as well, unsure how to put her words together without scaring you away. You were finally here with her after what had been weeks without any communication from each other, and slowly, the both of you began to realize that you both sucked at it.

Suddenly, you laugh. Soft and gentle. She quirks an eyebrow up at you before smiling at the way your laugh filled her ears beautifully. She begins laughing with you, chuckling softly underneath her breath.

You look back at her once it quiets back down.

“I’m not good at this.” Dani speaks, staring back at you. “Talking, you know. Basic human interaction and yet I still lack that.”

You nudge her shoulder, she continues.

“When I was inside you, you said that I was pretending that you were someone else.” She swallows, “And I was, at first.”

Your grip loosens, but it only makes her hand tighten around you.

“But not anymore. Not when all I could even think of is you and your smile alone. I can’t get rid of the picture of your face in my head and that scares me.” Her breath hitches, “I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to be the one hurting as well.” She admits, as selfishly as it sounds.

And you believe her, you do. In what had been months, she was actually talking to you, telling you how she truly felt. You scoot closer to her, your other hand finding her waist, pulling her in closer.

This makes her tear up, burying her face underneath your jaw, breathing in deeply. She feels her heart thumping against yours and she isn’t sure what to think. But all she feels is you, and your touch alone, your skin against hers, she wants it all to herself.

“I’m not good for you, we both know that. But I can’t keep lying to my heart knowing that all I ever really wanted was you. I can’t fight it anymore.” Her hands rub your back gently, warming your skin.

“I’m going to get better, not just for me, but for you.” You hear her mumble on your skin, your heart swells when you hear it.

pt2 here !

pairing : daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary : girl she’s ur baby daddy and yall argue then yall have sex 🥀

warnings : cursing, g!p daniela, baby trapping mention again…, smut ofc, dani sells drugs but it’s barely mentioned, she’s lowkey a deadbeat, probably more but i forgot

unnecessary bs : 4.9k words, i actually love bd dani

you slip the spoon into your daughter’s mouth just as the doorbell rings. your eyes flick to the door before you let out a tired sigh, pulling the spoon away and reaching for her bib.

“hm, i wonder who that could be.” you mutter, wiping the corner of her mouth. the doorbell rings again, then again, each press faster, louder, more obnoxious.

you roll your eyes. “jesus christ.” and then it hits and you groan. “fucking daniela.”

only she rings your doorbell like she’s trying to piss you off on purpose. like this is some kind of game and she always plays to win.

you storm over to the door and yank it open—and there she is. daniela avanzini, in all her smug, infuriating glory.

leaning against the frame like she owns the place. like she didn’t walk out three months ago after calling you “emotionally constipated” and slamming the door hard enough to rattle your dishes.

“hey, pretty.”

you deadpan. “stop ringing my damn doorbell like a child with impulse issues.”

she grins. “wow. not even a hi? missed you too.”

“what do you want?”

“i came to see my baby.”

your eyes narrow. you know she means danielle, but her eyes drag slow and deliberate from your face to your legs like she’s testing you, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“well, she just ate. you can come back when you learn how to act right.”

“cute. except you don’t make the rules around here.”

you scoff, stepping aside because arguing in front of danielle never ends well. not that daniela cares, she’s already sauntering past you like this is her home. like she didn’t give up custody time for a week straight because she was “figuring shit out.”

“you don’t live here anymore,” you snap.

“mm,” she hums, crouching beside danielle and lifting her into her arms like it’s second nature. she says something soft in spanish, probably about you, voice low and familiar like a secret she’s passing between them.

you slam the door shut behind you. “maybe she should know the truth about how you disappeared for two days and blamed it on your phone dying.”

“oh my god, are we seriously doing this again?”

“you show up, unannounced, ringing my doorbell like you’ve got no damn home training—what did you expect?”

“a kiss, maybe. a little gratitude for blessing your doorstep.”

“you’re not cute.”

she spins slowly with danielle in her arms, making her laugh. then casually, like it means nothing: “your mom texted me, by the way.”

you blink. “what?”

“she wanted to know if we were ‘working things out.’ i told her you were still mean as hell, so… probably not.”

your jaw clenches. “stop talking to my mom.”

“tell her to stop texting me then. she likes me more than you do.”

you grab one of danielle’s toys off the floor and throw it at her. she catches it one handed, grinning.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re still letting me in.”

and when she walks to your fridge like it’s still hers, opens it, and says, “you got anything that isn’t expired this time or are we ordering again?”

you don’t say anything. just brush past her, straight into the kitchen with your jaw clenched and shoulders tight.

she walks back into the living room like she didn’t show up out of nowhere and hijack your evening. you don’t even look at her—you’re too busy slamming the cabinet door while pulling out a pan, too busy chopping vegetables like the cutting board personally wronged you.

“you cooking?” she asks, settling onto the floor with danielle still latched to her like a koala.

you slam the fridge shut. “shut up.”

she doesn’t. of course she doesn’t. she’s sitting cross legged on the floor now, danielle crawling into her lap with her little stuffed bunny in hand.

“look at this, she still loves me. she doesn’t even know what a deadbeat is.”

you whip around. “say that again and i’ll throw this knife at your head.”

she laughs. like she thinks you’re kidding.

“god, you’re always angry,” she says, tilting her head as danielle babbles in her lap. “you ever try not being so fucking bitter all the time?”

“i’m not bitter,” you snap. “i’m tired. tired of having to do everything by myself while you show up when it’s convenient and act like that makes you some saint.”

she goes quiet at that, just for a second.

but then she shrugs. “yet here you are. still cooking dinner like we’re a happy little family.”

“i’m not cooking for you,” you snap. “i’m making something for danielle.”

“she’s a baby.”

“she’ll have to eat real food eventually.”

“but not tonight.”

you whip around. “do you want me to throw this knife at you or what?”

daniela just smirks, leaning back on one arm while danielle plays with her hoodie string.

“you always get like this when i show up. it’s cute.”

“you think everything’s cute. you think breaking promises is cute. showing up three days late? cute. ignoring my calls? adorable. you think you can just walk back in like you’re supposed to be here—”

“i am supposed to be here.”

your hand freezes mid chop.

“don’t.”

she shrugs, unbothered, like she didn’t just throw a match on a gas leak.

“just saying. i’m her mom too.”

“yeah? then act like it.”

you toss the chopped vegetables into the pan harder than you need to and flick the stove on. the oil sizzles loud, and daniela flinches like she thought you were going to throw the whole pot at her. and honestly, so did you.

“you think i like doing this alone?” you mutter. “you think i get some kick out of waking up at 3am, warming bottles, dealing with teething and crying and you—”

“you never asked for help.”

“because every time i do, you disappear.”

daniela goes quiet for a second, lips pressed tight. danielle is babbling now, half to herself, half to her bunny, completely unaware of the tension thick in the air like smoke.

you stir the pan a little too aggressively and daniela finally stands up, brushing off her jeans and gently placing danielle in her little play mat nearby.

“i’m here now.”

you don’t look up.

“for how long?”

she doesn’t answer.

you keep cooking. you keep your eyes on the pan. you pretend you’re not already thinking about the moment she walks out again. pretend you don’t already have a backup bottle ready for when the food goes untouched. pretend you don’t care.

because someone has to keep the house running. someone has to make sure the baby eats, even if she’s only on purées. someone has to show up every day.

and it’s never daniela.

you finish cooking with your lips pressed into a tight line, throwing the kitchen towel over your shoulder like you’re running a restaurant and not dealing with your emotionally exhausting ex. you don’t bother plating it fancy—just toss the food on, grab a fork, and head to the dining table where daniela is already sitting like she’s waited all day for this.

danielle’s in her lap, happy as ever, gnawing on the corner of her bib like it’s the most delicious thing in the world. daniela’s got one arm around her and the other lazily scrolling through her phone until you set the plate down in front of her with a clink.

she looks up, smile already tugging at the corner of her mouth. “thank you, baby.”

you blink and stare at her. “yeah. you’re welcome.”

she grins. “i don’t get a kiss anymore?”

you scoff—not even a full laugh, just that sharp little sound people make when they’re done with the bullshit. like tch but from the soul “you’re lucky you got a plate.”

she smirks, pokes at her food. “you say that every time and still feed me like you love me.”

“because i love the baby. and she deserves a mom with energy, which i can’t have if i get arrested for murder.”

daniela hums like it’s sweet.

you grab your own plate and sit across from her, not bothering to make eye contact. danielle is squirming now, so daniela shifts her a little and keeps eating with one hand like it’s second nature.

you both eat in tense silence for a minute, only the clinking of forks and the occasional babble from danielle filling the room.

then daniela, mouth half full, “do you think she’s gonna be left handed like me or right handed like you?”

you pause mid bite and look at her like she’s actually lost her mind. “she’s barely even holding things right now.”

“yeah, but i read it’s genetic or whatever.”

you just shake your head. “do you have a real job yet?”

daniela glances up with zero shame. “define real.”

you put your fork down. “one that doesn’t involve getting arrested if you text the wrong number.”

“damn,” she says, biting into her food again. “so judgemental for someone who used to ride with me while i did drop offs.”

“yeah. and then i grew up.”

daniela raises an eyebrow, still chewing. “you say that like i’m out here selling kilos in the back of a church van.”

“i don’t know what you’re selling anymore, daniela. could be weed, could be someone’s soul, could be baby formula—”

“okay wow, relax. it’s not that serious.”

“no, you don’t take it seriously. which is the problem. you have a whole daughter now, and you’re still out here treating your life like a gta mission.”

daniela chuckles, leaning back in the chair, arm wrapped lazily around danielle like she’s unfazed. “you always talk like i’m some wanted criminal. i’m just doing what i know.”

“yeah? well what you know is gonna get you locked up. and then who’s left picking up the pieces? oh wait—me. again.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“no, you’re just stupid.”

daniela laughs at that, like it’s cute, like you’re flirting. “you called me stupid but still cooked for me. which one of us is really down bad?”

you slam your fork on the table, and danielle flinches in her lap. you immediately soften your voice but your words are still sharp.

“i didn’t cook for you, daniela. i cooked so our daughter doesn’t grow up watching me lose my mind because her other mom thinks slinging weed is a personality trait.”

daniela looks at you for a moment, finally not laughing, just watching.

“i’m doing what i can,” she says. “it’s not like people are lining up to hand me a nine to five with my record.”

you cross your arms. “so that’s it? just give up? keep doing shit that puts you at risk and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll be out in time for her kindergarten graduation?”

“at least i’m trying.”

“trying would be showing up on time. trying would be calling when you can’t make it. trying would be putting her first for once and not whatever hustle you’ve got going on that week.”

daniela presses her lips together, and you can tell she’s about to say something mean. something that’ll cross the line. she shifts danielle in her lap instead, brushing crumbs off her little onesie.

you stand up and grab your plate.

“you think being here now makes up for everything? it doesn’t. you don’t get points for showing up late and calling it love.”

daniela mutters, “you sound like your mom.”

you freeze. just for a second, then you nod slowly. “good. because someone in this house has to act like a grown up.”

daniela exhales a laugh, mean and quiet. “right. now you’re better than me ‘cause you microwave baby food and follow a bedtime schedule?”

you narrow your eyes. “i’m better than you because i show up.”

“nah,” she says, sitting back in the chair like she’s getting real comfortable. “you’re just mad the lifestyle stopped benefitting you.”

you squint. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“don’t act brand new, yn. you weren’t complaining when my ‘gta missions’ were paying your rent. your groceries. that ‘push present’ you pretend came from your savings—yeah, okay.”

your blood boils.

“you think this is about money?”

“no, i think it’s about the fact that you were perfectly fine with it when you were comfortable. now that i’m not handing you wads of cash and showing up with takeout in the middle of the night, suddenly you’re holier than thou.”

you’re already walking away. grabbing the plates, scooping up danielle gently from her lap, not even looking at her.

“yn,” daniela calls out like she didn’t just say the most out of pocket shit.

you stop in the hallway. danielle’s head is on your shoulder, eyes fluttering. bedtime.

daniela walks up behind you like she forgot who she’s talking to. like everything can just be smoothed over with a joke and a smile.

“don’t touch me.”

you don’t raise your voice. you just say it low and calm, sharper than anything else you’ve said tonight.

daniela freezes with her hand halfway out, fingers curling back slowly.“yn—”

“you really stood in my house, in front of our daughter, and tried to flex about doing illegal shit like it makes you some kind of provider. like that’s love.”

daniela’s quiet.

you glance over your shoulder, just once.

“you don’t get to touch me. not after that.”

you don’t even look at her again. just shift danielle higher in your arms and head straight to her room, your breath tight the whole walk down the hall.

her room is quiet, soft. the nightlight glows pale purple in the corner, and everything smells like lavender and baby lotion. you hum a little as you set her down, not a lullaby or anything sweet, just something low to keep yourself from spiraling.

she stares up at you with heavy eyes, her fingers curling in the sleeve of your sweater like she doesn’t want you to go yet.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, brushing her hair back. “i’m right outside.”

she yawns, and your chest twists. because none of this is her fault. none of it.

you wait until she fully drifts off before slipping out of the room and shutting the door with that soft click you’ve perfected by now. then you head straight to the kitchen.

you don’t even sit. just start rinsing off plates and stacking them in the sink, sleeves rolled up, sponge in hand, water too hot.

you’re halfway through scrubbing when you hear her behind you.

you don’t acknowledge her. you don’t have to.

her hands are on your waist before you even feel her move.

arms sliding around you, slow and familiar, like they never forgot the shape of you. her chest is pressed up against your back, arms curling slow and deliberate around your waist like she’s got any right.

“dani,” you say, jaw tight. “don’t.”

she doesn’t move. she just shifts closer, one hand sliding up beneath the hem of your sweater like it’s second nature. her hips roll forward, and you feel her, heavy and shameless.

“i missed you…” she mumbles, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“and i miss when you knew boundaries.” you stop scrubbing the plate in your hand, but you don’t move. “get off me.”

she doesn’t.

just keeps rubbing against you, slow, teasing. hard, bold, like she’s always been.

daniela chuckles, low and smug. “you say that, but you still made sure i ate. still looked out.”

you rinse the plate off, set it down in the rack.

“i wish you would stop saying that. i cooked for danielle.”

“she’s on baby formula, yn.”

you grab another plate. keep scrubbing. “then i guess i just felt generous. don’t read too deep.”

she leans in again, a little closer. “nah. you don’t do anything unless you feel something.”

you slam the last plate into the rack with a clatter. four dishes. four chances to calm down, yet none of them worked.

you stare at her. curly hair, faded hoodie, chain still glinting under the kitchen light like she’s some kind of walking temptation. like your worst mistake wrapped in silk and bad decisions.

and yet—your body still remembers her. still reacts like muscle memory. you toss the sponge into the sink. “go home, daniela.”

she tilts her head. “this is home.”

you finish drying your hands and toss the towel on the counter. daniela’s still standing behind you, arms crossed now, quiet for once.

you don’t even glance at her as you walk off. “if you’re staying, don’t hover.”

“wasn’t hovering.” she mutters, following anyway.

the living room light’s off when you pass through. you don’t stop. just keep walking toward your bedroom like your mind’s already decided for you and your body’s catching up.

you hear her steps behind you, slow, confident, and annoying.

“so this where we pretend we’re not mad at each other?” she says, leaning against your doorframe.

“no,” you say, pulling off your sweater. “this is where i pretend you’re not stupid, for the sake of my sanity.”

daniela whistles low. “you say that with your whole back out.”

you shoot her a look over your shoulder. “close the door.”

she does. with a smirk.

you crawl into bed, not looking at her, not inviting her in either. just scrolling through your phone, blanket pulled up, pretending you’re chill.

daniela doesn’t ask permission. she never does. she just drops her hoodie too, like she owns the space, then slips off her jeans and slides in on the other side of the bed.

the mattress dips, and the air shifts. you don’t say anything. she shifts closer behind you, not touching yet, but there. “you really hate me, huh?” she asks, voice low in the dark.

you shrug, still not looking. “not enough, apparently.”

“you still looked out,” she says, quieter. “even when i didn’t deserve it.”

you sigh, and it’s heavier than you want it to be.

“don’t make this sweet. you’re not sorry. you’re just horny and bored.”

she laughs into your neck, bold enough to kiss your shoulder. “can’t it be both?”

you roll your eyes, but don’t move away.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re so warm.” she says, wrapping an arm around your waist. she presses closer, hips flush against your ass now, and you feel her—hard, steady, smug.

you suck in a sharp breath. “don’t start.”

“you already did,” she says, voice low, mouth against your skin. “soon as you let me in here.”

you close your eyes, clenching your jaw.

daniela’s not even dressed for the night. she’s dressed for this. oversized tee clinging to her shoulders, boxers riding low on her hips, thighs warm against the back of yours as she closes the space between you like it’s nothing. like it’s always been this easy.

you feel her hand trail up under your shirt, slow fingers dragging along your stomach like she’s relearning you.

“i said don’t start.” you whisper, breath catching.

she kisses the back of your neck, lips soft but her hips anything but. she rolls against you once, slow enough to make your eyes flutter.

“but you never mean that…” she murmurs.

you clench your thighs together, already annoyed at how your body’s responding, how it always responds to her.

“dani…”

“hm?”

“i’m still pissed at you.”

she hums like she likes that. like that’s part of the thrill. “then be pissed. i won’t stop you.”

her hand slips lower, brushing the hem of your shorts, teasing the waistband, knuckles grazing skin.

“you’re so full of shit.” you whisper, voice shaking.

she presses a kiss to your jaw now, slow and soft. “and you’re so wet for someone who hates me.”

you gasp, turning to glare at her, but the moment your faces meet, she leans in and kisses you.

it’s not sweet, it’s desperate. teeth clashing, lips hot, like she’s trying to remind you of every reason you ever forgave her.

and god, it’s working.

you tug at her shirt, dragging her closer without thinking, nails digging into her side.

she groans against your mouth. “fuck. missed you.”

you bite her lip. “shut up.”

her boxers are pressing into you now, nothing between you but flimsy fabric and bad decisions.

“then shut me up.” she says.

you don’t answer her, you just pull her in harder.

the kiss turns hungrier, sloppier. your fingers slip under her shirt, dragging up over warm skin, feeling every flex of muscle as she shifts above you. her hand finally slips into your shorts, and you hiss at the contact.

“fuck—” you whisper, half a warning, half a plea.

daniela just smirks into your mouth, fingers sliding through your folds like she owns you. like she’s been waiting for this exact moment since the last time she left your bed.

“you’re always talkin’,” she murmurs, breath hot against your lips. “but your pussy never lies.”

you moan, sharp and helpless, as she circles your clit slow, teasing like she’s got all night.

“shut up.” you pant, hips rocking into her hand.

“make me.”

so you do.

you pull her shirt up and over her head, tossing it somewhere behind you, dragging your nails down her chest as she groans and leans in again. her boxers are straining, pressed firm against your thigh, and you grind up into her without shame now, every ounce of anger melting into heat.

“take ‘em off,” you whisper, tugging at the waistband.

“say please.”

you glare. “i’d rather die.”

she grins, cocky and flushed, and kicks them off anyway, letting them hit the floor as she shifts between your thighs.

and god—you feel her.

she pulls your shorts off and slides her cock against you, slow and heavy, teasing your entrance with that unbearable smugness she always wears when she’s right.

“missed this pussy,” she murmurs, dragging it up your slit, coating herself in you. “you still grip like you need me.”

you wrap your legs around her waist.

“less talking, more proving.”

she doesn’t waste another second.

she pushes in slow—too slow—and your back arches off the bed, the stretch making your breath catch in your throat.

“mm—fuck,” you whisper, legs already tightening around her waist.

daniela groans, head dropping into the crook of your neck as she bottoms out, hips pressed flush.

“tight as ever,” she mutters, hand gripping your thigh as she pulls back just enough to drag herself through you again. “like your pussy missed me.”

you grab her jaw and tilt her face up, eyes burning into hers. “shut the fuck up.”

“can’t,” she grins, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate strokes. “you always fuck me better when i talk too much.”

you hate that she’s right.

you’re trying to stay quiet—stoic, unreadable—but she knows your body like scripture. every stroke deeper than the last, her pace measured, like she wants to draw the words out of you.

and then she says it.

voice low. dirty. cruel.

“you want another baby, huh?”

your eyes snap open.

“w-what?”

she grinds deeper, cock sliding all the way in, her pelvis flush with yours. she doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, buried inside, pressing her weight into you.

“that’s what this is, right?” she whispers against your jaw. “you keep letting me in. keep letting me fuck you raw. you tryna trap me again?”

your stomach flips. your nails dig into her back.

“you’re disgusting.” you breathe, even as your hips buck up into her.

“but your cunt is so greedy,” she says, finally starting to move again, slow and filthy. “gripping like it wants it. like you want it.”

you bite your lip so hard it stings, trying not to give her the satisfaction of the moan building in your throat.

“say it,” she growls, pace picking up. “you want me to fill you up again, huh? get you all swollen and pretty with my kid—”

you whimper, legs locking tighter around her waist.

“shut up, daniela.”

she grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“then tell me to stop.”

but you don’t.

you can’t.

you just stare at her, flushed and breathing heavy, hating how much you love her like this.

“shit.” you whisper.

daniela smirks, rolling her hips faster now, her cock dragging along that spot that makes your legs shake. “that’s what i thought.”

daniela’s strokes get deeper—more deliberate. not rushed. just ruthless. she’s taking her time now, fucking you like she’s trying to build something unbearable. and you’re barely holding it together.

your hand flies to your mouth, teeth digging into your knuckles as your body jerks beneath her.

“shhh,” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “you gonna wake our baby.”

and it’s the way she says our that makes your stomach flip again. like she’s still clinging to the idea of family. like she wants to.

you don’t respond, not with words. you just claw at her back, trying to pull her deeper, grind against her harder, chase the high that keeps slipping just out of reach.

daniela moves one hand between you, thumb pressing against your clit in tight, slow circles that make your toes curl.

you let out a sharp, guttural sound before you slap your hand back over your mouth.

she laughs, breathless and smug. “you’re so fuckin’ loud.”

“shut up.” you hiss, your voice trembling.

“nah. you gotta learn how to whisper please, baby.”

your thighs start shaking, whole body tensing as her cock pounds into you, her pace not frantic but intentional—like she knows exactly how close you are and wants to keep you right there, strung out on the edge.

you turn your face into the pillow, biting down hard, but a moan still rips out of you, quiet and wrecked.

daniela groans, hips stuttering. “shit—you always this wet when you hate me?”

“you’re a piece of shit.” you whisper, broken and breathless.

“oh yeah, i love when you call me that.”

you grab her hair and yank her down, kissing her like it’ll shut her up, like it’ll make this whole thing less filthy, less real. but it just makes it worse.

she ruts into you harder, losing her rhythm for a second, groaning into your mouth like she’s starting to lose her edge too.

you feel it building again—tight, hot, impossible to ignore.

her thumb’s still working your clit, her thrusts hitting perfectly now, your legs wrapped around her, bodies locked so close it’s like you’re trying to disappear into her.

your breath catches and your eyes flutter.

“daniela—” you gasp, barely able to get it out.

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your mouth again, sloppy and deep.

“i got you,” she whispers. “cum for me.“

and that’s it.

your body locks up, hips jerking, walls clenching around her so tight she groans out loud and slams into you one last time, staying buried deep as you fall apart underneath her.

it’s messy. breathless. muffled by your hand and her mouth and the sheer desperation of trying not to cry out.

daniela bites your shoulder, whole body trembling as she finally lets go too, spilling inside you with a choked-out moan that she tries—and fails—to keep quiet.

you both stay there, clinging. breathing heavy. drenched in sweat and bad decisions.

the baby monitor in the corner stays mercifully silent, for now.

you’re still catching your breath, head pressed to her shoulder, heart thudding way too loud in your chest.

daniela shifts just enough to look at you, her hand still lazily tracing shapes into your thigh like she didn’t just rearrange your guts.

you don’t speak right away. neither does she.

you glance at her chest rising and falling. sweaty. flushed.

you hate how pretty she looks like this. how soft her eyes get right after.

“you okay?” she whispers finally, voice hoarse.

you roll your eyes, but it’s weak. “you askin’ now?”

“yeah,” she says, smirking a little. “just making sure i didn’t break you.”

“please.” you scoff. “you wish.”

she chuckles low and leans in to kiss your cheek. just a soft little press of her lips that makes your chest tighten before you can stop it.

you don’t pull away, but you don’t lean in either.

“i missed this.” she says, after a beat.

you exhale through your nose. “you missed fucking me.”

“no.” her voice is quieter now. “i mean, yeah. but also…us.”

you stare at the ceiling.

“you think fucking me erases all the shit you’ve done?”

she goes quiet for a second.

“no. but i think it means you still care.”

you look at her finally, eyes half lidded, mouth tugged down.

“if i didn’t care,” you murmur, “i wouldn’t still be this mad.”

she nods, fingers gently brushing your side, like she’s calming herself more than you.

“i’m trying,” she says softly. “i know i fuck up. i’m not gonna lie and say i’m perfect. but i’m still here, aren’t i?”

“barely,” you say under your breath. but you don’t really mean it.

she wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a little closer, her nose brushing your temple.

“she’s beautiful,” she whispers. “our daughter.”

you feel your chest tighten all over again.

“yeah,” you say, just as soft. “she is.”

and then you both go quiet again, listening to the faint hum of the baby monitor, the sound of her soft, even breathing from the next room.

daniela kisses your hair, and you close your eyes. for now, the fight can wait.