This is the way. @johnwyck - Tumblr Blog

Petals and Panties

╰┈➤ Mark Meachum

Mark Meachum x fem!bridesmaid!reader

summary: Mark’s living on borrowed time. and before he goes, there’s one thing he wants— you. even if he’s about to miss his cue as the groom.

estelle yaps: my cat watched and judged me the entire time I wrote this. sorry, bud. your mothers’ a whore.

cw: mdni. dead dove: do not eat. discussions of death. mentions of cancer. swearing. cheating. softdom!mark. small age gap. swearing. mark is yearning. semi-public sex. p in v. unprotected sex. oral (m and f receiving). dirty talking. slight size kink. vaginal fingering. mirror sex. table top position. standing doggy position. praise. cream pie. pet names [ sweetheart, baby, my girl, sweet girl, good girl, messy girl, little thing, pretty girl ]. I might have missed some!

word count: 5.3k

Mark had been given the diagnosis on a sunny afternoon.

It was the kind of sunny that baked sidewalks and casted a warm glow on buildings, light shining through leaves in an almost holy way. It was a few days before he was getting married. These days, the earth smelled sweeter, colors were brighter, and he couldn’t stop getting headaches.

He had chalked it all up to stress. Planning a wedding that would make all the in-laws happy was a taxing job. No less than his day job as a homicide detective. But as the days progressed, his headaches started getting more frequent. Melinda had told him to get it checked out, reasoning with him by telling him he should be in good health for their wedding day.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and that unusual smell all hospitals had. Maybe it was whatever they were making in the kitchen. Maybe it was the sour smell of sickness, decaying more each each day. Mark couldn’t tell.

He had been hunched over in the patient room, the lights turned off. The room had been bathed in darkness, casting shadows along his face. When the doctor walked in with his CT and MRI results, he wore a grim face. And Mark knew something was terribly wrong. He had seen that face. Often in the mirror right before going to the victims' families, reporting that their child or sibling was dead.

Glioblastoma multiforme. A highly aggressive brain tumor. That was the cause of his headaches.

Mark was floored. He had been handed a pink slip with his death date on it. He probably had a couple years, if he was one of the lucky ones. Alone in that hospital room, Mark sat with himself. Gave himself permission to look back on his life and figure out if he truly enjoyed it. If he really lived. Did he put away enough criminals? Was he a loving partner? Did he do enough when he was alive to be remembered? What happens if he didn’t?

He sat for a long while. He found his own conclusion, handed to him by God himself. Or maybe it was the devil. Things are different now. He was living on borrowed time. Anyday, the tumor could take over his motor skills and leave him crashing to the floor. Stealing his life like a swindler or a punishment for something he couldn’t begin to place what for. You’re not really living until you’re dying, he decided. He was gonna let loose. There was nothing for him to lose, anyway.

Everything had been taken away from him. He couldn’t marry Melinda now. For what? To leave her with a coffin full of grief and debt? He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to himself. He had himself to think about now- what he’d do with the remainder of his life.

He stewed in his thoughts. Marinated in fear that was eating away at his chest, clawing at his nerves as the ticking time bomb in his brain got closer to exploding every second. He crafted himself a bucket list as he raced down the I-90. The things he wanted to accomplish. He thought of things like skydiving, drinking, working to put away as many scumbags as he could. But there was one thing that kept creeping back to the forefront of his mind. A little secret obsession nagging at him.

That obsession came in the form of Melinda’s best friend. A sweet girl who always hosted parties. Always smiled. Asked about his cases. And she was scheduled to be a bridesmaid. You.

He knew he had to leave his fiance. He knew it in his soul, something tugging on him deep within his bones. The rehearsal dinner would be the last time he ever got to try anything with you. For over a year, he had kept his distance. He had always acknowledged you were a beautiful woman. Soft skin, bright eyes, bubbly. Mark knew you found him attractive- the lingering looks when no one else was looking, thinking you’d have been sneaky in your staring.

He knew the first time he’d met you. Two years ago at a christmas party you had been hosting. The memory was still fresh, now bathed in the soft golden light of a memory. He had just gotten time off after Melinda insisted, wanting Mark to meet one of her best friends. He’d walked into the kitchen after being directed towards the drinks and found you. Without knowing just who you were, his eyes glanced down at your figure. You had been perched at the counter, red dress clinging to you elegantly. He walked over and you both started talking. Mark had just been being nice, not letting his eyes stray. Well, until he noticed how when his voice lowered, talking about an old case, your thighs had clenched together.

The rehearsal was starting in half an hour. Mark had gotten there early, knowing you’d be one of the only other souls there. His steps were slow and controlled as he walked through the marble walls of the building, exiting through an archway. It leads out to a grassy path, already lined with chairs set up by the workers.

His eyes scanned over the sea of chairs until he saw you, sitting at the front with your phone pressed to your ear. Mark saunters over slowly, like a predator watching its prey. He stilled like a lion waiting for its chance to pounce. When you clicked your phone off, setting it down on the chair next to you, Mark made his move.

“Here early, sweetheart?” He asks from behind you, voice low.

His voice was smooth as honey, dripping deeply from his lips. The suddenness of his voice had made you jump, a laugh leaving your lips to scold him for sneaking up on you. Your heart has sped up and you take a second to breathe.

When you look over your shoulder, you look up to see Mark’s muscular frame towering over you. His hair looks like his hand had been threaded through it one too many times, likely tousled from the LA heat. The sun illuminated his eyes, bright emerald jewels glinting down at you. His lips curved in a smirk, knowing he had startled you.

“Yeah,” you say, patting the seat next to you for him to sit. “Wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” A smile captures your lips, pure happiness radiating off you.

Mark tries not to bite his lip. He tries not to let himself think too much about what he was about to do either. He had one chance, though. Mark knew the minute after the rehearsal was done he was going to leave. Pack all his bags and stay at a hotel for a while. Or have Melinda stay with her mother. He’d have to work out the kinks later.

Mark takes the seat next to you, the pressure of his presence immediately feeling like a stormfront. He was a ball of energy waiting to explode. What he wanted was you and he was damn sure you wanted the same thing. “Already is.” He drawls, his legs resting in a wide stance.

His voice makes your skin feel warm like it always does. But you’re good at hiding it. Or, you thought you were. Even if his legs were open, enticing, almost silently inviting you to sit on his lap.

Mark points a finger down at your necklace. It’s a silver chain with a lapis lazuli stone pendant settled just above your cleavage. He smiles gently, eyes flickering down the curve of your breasts. “That new? S’pretty.”

You glance down, being met with a straight shot of your cleavage. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of Mark intentionally looking. He wouldn’t. You mentally shake yourself and force yourself to say something. Your voice is raspier than you’d like it to be. “Just got it, actually.”

Your gaze scanned his, taking in the way his eyes had darkened. Even in the bright light of the sun. Mark exuded a confidence that was unlike anything you’d ever witnessed before. The man had his own center of gravity, bringing people in and making them feel like they were the ones who submitted to his pull. Your eyes glance down at his hand which was resting on his thigh. His hand was just a few inches from yours. When the swirling guilt feeling starts in your chest, you know you have to leave.

Brushing off your sundress, you stand from the chair. A half-assed excuse was already forming in your mind as you offered him a soft smile. “I’ve gotta check on a few things. Make sure Mel’s mum is getting here in time.”

Mark's eyes watch you the entire time. His movements are slow and deliberate like a hunter setting a trap for its prey. And maybe you are his prey. Maybe if it weren’t for the swirling feeling of guilt mixing with arousal, you would have been glad to be.

Then his hand reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist with ease. His skin was warm and calloused, touch gentle. The look that danced in his eyes was anything but gentle. They were narrowed. Skilled. Predatorial. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Take a break.Things’ll be fine.”

You stutter. God, you wanted his hands on your body. Wanted to hear his voice whispering terrible things in your ear. But you couldn’t. Melinda’s one of your best friends. Yet, you don’t rip your wrist from his hold the way you should. You know that you should tell him to stop acting the way he was because it wasn’t the way a groom should be acting the day before his wedding.

“Mark,” Your voice is softer than it should be, a slight temple in your breath. He picks up on it. He picks up on like it was his end goal, the corner of his mouth curves into a victorious smirk. “What are you doing?”

His touch changes from a light ghosting on your skin to a hold. He was closer now, sitting up straight. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, his gaze flickering up to lock onto yours. His eyes were swirling with desire, pupils blown and swallowing his green irises. “Something I want.”

His voice dips to something that’s barely audible. Low like gravel and smooth as an aged whiskey. And god, if his voice alone couldn’t have been your undoing. His head tilted slightly, expression serious. The energy between the two of you had changed to something serious. “You want me to stop?”

Damn you all to hell. “No.”

The next four minutes is a whirlwind. It’s full of a tense glance, then Mark was standing, towering over you again. His hand found the small of your back and you let him lead you around. His hand was warm against the soft material of your sundress, heating your skin hotter than the sun ever could. His voice was low right next to your ear, breath ghosting over your neck.

He led you back through the archway and into the venue. The lights were softer in the hallways, romantic lighting shining overhead in pale gold. A direct contrast to the lustful charge of energy behind you. Mark steered you right towards the bathrooms, which you walked straight in on shaky legs.

The bathroom was made with a large marble countertop with sinks on each end. The whole room was bathed in soft gold light, emphasizing how fancy the whole bathroom looked. The marble counter was paired in front of a large mirror.

You hear the soft click of the door, then Mark’s hands are resting on your waist. His chest is just merely pressed against your back, leaving inches between the two of you. His hands slowly run up your sides, goosebumps raising on your arms. Your skin feels like it's being set on fire. Mark brushes your hair from your neck, exposing your pulse point. He leans down close. His breath ghosts over your neck.

Heat pools in your tummy, spreading through your veins down between your thighs. You can already feel your panties getting slick, destroying the soft cotton and lace.

“Tell me you want this, baby.” His voice is rough, hold slipping down to your hip. His hand continues tracing down your body slowly. It’s a torturous pace. Once he reaches your thigh, at the edge of your sundress, he pauses. “Tell me you want me.”

“Yes.” Your voice is breathy, paper-thin. “I want this, Mark.”

There’s silence for a second. Just a second. Then Mark’s hand leaves your thigh and he spins you roughly in his hold. His hand cups your jaw, walking towards you. He walks you into the wall, back softly thumping against the gentle pink wall. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, hungry eyes watching you closely.

“Needed you for so long, sweetheart.” His voice is a whisper, hand slipping to ghost over your neck. His hold is gentle. When a soft gasp leaves your lips, he smiles. “Been thinkin’ of this for years.”

His head dips to press kisses against your jaw, littering them down your neck with fever. His lips are soft as he assaults your neck, pressing against your pulse. He licks at your skin and groans deep in his chest. His head snaps up, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Want you on your knees.”

His hands leave your body, ripping the jacket he had on off his shoulders. Your eyes widen when you watch as he folds it, taking a step back and dropping it down in front of him. You felt your heart hammering like a jack rabbit in your chest. Your gaze lifted to his as you slowly sank down to your knees, watching as Mark’s chest rose in a soft gasping breath.

His eyes stayed on you as your hands shakily lifted to the belt of his jeans, unbuckling it with slow precision. Mark pulled hip between his teeth watching you work. His hand cupped your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “That’s my girl.”

The zipper of his jeans and heavy breathing is the only thing that’s heard in the bathroom. When you peel his jeans down his legs like you were unwrapping a damn gift, the outline of his already half-hard cock is shoved right in your face. He’s bigger than you ever let yourself imagine.

When your hand runs up the length of him, clenching your thighs together as you feel him heavy in your palm, he groans. You free him from his boxers. His coch is warm and heavy, tip flushed red from how hard he was.

As soon as your hand is wrapped around his base, Mark threads his hands through your hair. He’s breathing hard through his nose, looking down at you expectantly. He smiles as your hand jerks him slowly. His smile widens as he gets to see a glint of almost fear in your eyes.

“Go slow. Stretch that mouth out first.”

A growl leaves his lips as he watches you press a kiss to the tip of his cock, eyes devouring your entire form. Here he was with an angel on her knees. When you stick your tongue out, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock, his grip on your hair tightens a little. You barely even touched him and he was already trembling with anticipation.

Your lips gently wrap around his tip, tongue swirling deliciously around him. He grunts, head lolling back as he feels how warm and wet your mouth is. “That’s it, fuck, take a little more.” His hands don’t push your head down, fingers holding your hair from your face as they twitch against your skull. “You can do it, baby. Jus’ like that, good girl.”

Your movements are slow, drool dripping down your chin as you’re able to get about half of him into your mouth. But really, you were only able to handle a forth before gagging. Mark coos down at you as you suck him in like a vacuum, finding a good rhythm of bobbing your head and fisting the base of his cock. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you sink down lower on him each time you bob your head.

Mark’s groaning as he looks down at you, lip gloss smeared and drool dripping down your lips. You looked like a mess. Even tears collecting on your lashes, daring to drip down your cheeks. A moan rips from your throat as Mark pulls at the root of your hair, a gentle tug that has you fluttering around nothing. The sound vibrates around his cock and he growls, looking down to watch you.

“Look at ‘ya, messy girl. Look so pretty.” Without meaning to, his hips thrust into your mouth gently. When you gag around him his eyes almost roll in the back of his head. “Lips of a fuckin’ angel.”

The praise shoots right down to your core, whimpering around his cock. When you bob up, your tongue swirls around the flushed head, drooling on him before sucking him back into your mouth. Your hand clutches his thigh, squeezing the meat of it as you shove him down your throat.

One of Mark’s hands leaves your hair, resting against your unhinged jaw. He gently taps your cheek with a grin as he looks down at you. “All stretched out, baby. Taking this cock so well. That’s my girl.” His hips press himself deeper down your throat, stretching you out further.

When he sees you shift, dying for some pressure, he moves himself into action. “Up.” He orders softly, helping you stand.

With bruised lips, drool all over your face, and tears dripping from your eyes, Mark swears softly. He presses his lips to yours, reaching down to gasp onto your thighs. A gasp leaves your lips as he lifts you effortlessly, walking you over to the counter top.

The marble is cold on your thighs, chill biting into your flushed skin. Mark’s breathing is heavy as he breaks from the kiss, eyes dark. You let your legs spread as he walks between them. Your chest rises and falls, breathing heavy as his eyes look over you like you’re a meal for him to devour.

His lips find your neck, kissing, nipping, sucking. Anything that makes a sweet noise fall from your lips. While one hand threads through your hair to cradle your head in his large hand, the other falls to your knee. He squeezes your knee before dragging his hand up your thigh slowly. He lifts the soft material of your sundress with him, his fingers digging into your skin.

His fingers trail up your inner thigh, smiling into your neck as you shiver. He makes contact with lace and almost has to scream. Drenched. Absolutely fucking drenched. He grunts against your neck, fingers hooking into your panties to thumb through your slit.

“Fuck, Mark-” yor voice comes out shakily, back arching under his hold. Your bundle of nerves fluttered as his fingers dragged along your slick, collecting your essence with ease.

“Need to taste you, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your skin. Mark detached from your neck and dropped to his knees in one swift movement.

His gaze locks with yours as he hikes your dress up, eyes clouded with desire. When his eyes look down to see the darkened wet spot against your panties a groan leaves your lips. His fingers yank the cotton with all his might, the material tearing. You gasp at the feeling of the chilled bathroom air, fingers taking purchase in Mark’s hair.

He shoves the remains of your panties inside of his pocket. His hands find your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He kisses your knee, then moves to the other. His lips trail fire up each thigh, kissing everywhere but where you needed him. His short beard scruffed against your delicate skin, the soft pain melting into pleasure.

When you whine, gently lifting your hips to his face, Mark laughs. “Needy little thing.” He grins, turning his face to suck a hickey against your inner thigh. “Jus’ need a little friction, huh baby?” From between your legs, his hand comes up to press his thumb against your clit. “Shh, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your head thumps against the bathroom mirror, a gasp falling from your open mouth. Your eyes glance down to the scene between your legs. You watch as Mark grins before he replaces his thumb with his mouth. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting you. Mark grunts.

He moans. He moans and sucks your clit into his mouth, devouring you like a man starved. It’s messy and loud, squelching and sucking sounds booming off the walls of the bathroom. Gasps and moans fall from your lips. Mark kitten licks at your puffy folds, humming into your cunt as he buries his face into you.

Even when your thighs start to shake, Mark is forcing your legs open. The man was slurping you up like you tasted like candy. And to Mark? You tasted sweeter than any kind of candy he’d ever had in his life. His tongue swirls around your clit, loving the sounds he’s pulling from your lips.

His eyes had fluttered closed, absolutely pussydrunk. His chin was buried between your folds as he sucked your clit, lips suctioned around the bundle of nerves like it was his life line. He moaned against you, mouth everywhere all over you. He was a skilled professional. But god, your pussy made him lose his usual rhythm.

“Like fuckin’ candy, sweetheart.” He groans, ignoring the way you were pawing at his shoulders and head. His hands hold your hips, he comes uo for a deep breath before burying his face back into you. His tongue teased at your entrance, lapping at you lazily.

“Mark, fuck, engh- I’m gonna-” Your voice is broken, hand coming up to slap over your mouth. God, you were already seeing stars.

And you knew you were supposed to feel guilty. Your best friend's man was between your legs, for god's sake. But looking down at the way Mark was devouring you, every thought melted away from your mind. He was skilled to perfection. The man understood your body without even having to finger you.

But Mark groans into your cunt, shoving two fingers into your weeping cunt. Your walls flutter around the insertion, the feeling of being filled making you bite your tongue. His mouth worked in tandem with slow thrusts that quickly had you gushing all over his face and hand.

Mark chuckles, free hand rubbing gentle circles over your hip bone. “There she is,” he mumbles, lapping up your mess, the sweet flavor on his tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

As your legs shake from your orgasm, Mark stands to get a good look of your face, Your face was flushed, pupils blown wide as tears streams were stained on your skin. Your lips were still bruised from his cock. You looked like a damn goddess by his standards.

His own face is covered in your slick, shiny sheen around his mouth and down his chin. The guy had a grin plastered across his face. Proud of the mess he made of you. He helps you lay down against the counter, touch gentle and filled with care.

Mark takes hold of his cock, precum dripping from the tip. He pants, the feeling shooting pleasure across his nervous system. His eyes catch yours to ask for permission. It’s silent. His eyes are wide, begging and pleading. And when you nod, barely but he’s sure, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.

And god, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. Warm and wet and fucking gorgeous. A growl escapes his lips as he holds himself from plunging inside you. He wants to take his time. Savour every second of you spread out beneath him. Your puffy folds wrap around him as he manually flicks his cock over your clit, shushing you as whimpers fall from your lips.

“Shh, baby. I know. You need it, huh?” His tone is mocking, dragging his cock slowly over your bundle of nerves.

He watches every time your body arches, contorts or jolts from the pleasure he’s shooting through your veins. He’s studying you. Figuring out what works, what makes you tick, what makes you yelp.

“Please,” You murmur from behind your hand, other hand reaching to paw at his abdomen. Anything to get him to hurry up. Every nerve in your body was sitting on the edge of its seat, wound tightly awaiting the snap of the band.

Mark nods, knowing he couldn’t keep you here for too long. No matter how much he wanted to. He drags his cock through your slit once more before lining up to your entrance. He takes a deep breath before pressing into you.

There’s a collective gasp between the two of you, Mark continuing to stretch you out around him. Every inch nudges deeper, filling you up. He was barely half way inside and you’d never felt so full, spluttering and mumbling sounds. You weren’t even saying words, just a mouth full of fonts.

He thrusts slow and shallow, hiking your thigh up against his hip. “S’tight.” He groans, hand finding purchase on your other thigh to rub circles into your skin. With each thrust, he goes a little deeper. “Gotta work this pussy.” He grunts, hips stuttering as he finally fills you up.

He stops, watches your face scrunched up aad your legs tremble around him. Your hands are gripping the edge of the counter, marble biting at your fingers. Mark leans over you, a mewl slipping from your lips as he cock twitches inside you. He presses his forehead to yours. “So perfect, sweetheart. So pretty. Everythin’ a man could need, fuck.”

He stays stilled, letting you adjust to his size. If you hadn’t known better, you could have sworn he had ripped you apart. But you adjust. And you need him to move, chest rising as you pant.

“Mark, please, you can m-move.” Your voice shakes, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

And just like that, Mark’s resolve crumbles. His thrusts are slow and deep, making you feel each roll of his hips and drag of his cock inside you. He thrusts with precision, focused on chasing both of your pleasures.

It takes only a minute for you both to be panting, grabbing at each other, and for his hips to be smacking against yours. The wet squelching noises of his cock bullying your cunt bounces off the walls, the sounds borderline pornographic.

Mark’s hands are everywhere, squeezing your hips, wandering up your sides, squeezing your tits. The man is insatiable. He thrusts into you like an animal, grinning like a sociopath each time your body jolts. Each thrust feels like magic, knocking any other thoughts from your mind.

“Feel good, sweet girl? Feel you squeezin’- fuck, that’s it.” His voice is ragged as he yanks your hips in time with his thrusts, pounding into you with vigor. Every time he slams into you, your walls clench around his cock. And every time it happens he thinks you’re casting a damn spell on him.

“This pussy, sweetheart,” He grunts, a hand moving to hold his shirt up. His eyes look down to where the two of you connect, watching as his dick gets sucked into your puffy folds. Every time he pulls out, he’s covered in your slick. He bites back a groan as he continues rambling. “Brings a man to his fuckin’ kness, god, should’a bent you over that table years ago.”

You’re whining and withering under him, back arched as the coil in your tummy tightens. Every word that falls from his lips shoots down to your core.

“Remember that? The christmas party?” Mark grunts, panting above you. He changed the angle, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. Now he’s able to get deeper. A moan is pulled from your throat. “Thought you were perfect. Had me thinkin’ of you all night.”

Right as you’re tethering on the edge, pressure in your tummy building to perfection, Mark pulls himself out. Gentle hands forcefully drop your legs, yet with all the roughness he’s still careful. Standing makes you feel weak. Your legs wobbled like bambi, letting Mark turn you around to face the mirror.

Your face is tear-stained and flushed. Mark stands behind you, hand on the small of your back as he presses you down. Your legs spread into a wider stance, welcoming him in. With his own shaky hands, he lines himself back up and presses into you.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, a groan falling in unison. “Should’a left her the second I saw you, pretty girl. Knew you’d be sweeter. Fuck.”

A whine leaves your lips as he finds his rhythm again, a small pang of guilt and adoration swirling in your chest. Even if it was in one of the worst ways, being wanted by him felt good. Besides, no one would have to know about any of this.

“Mark!” Your legs wobble as his thrusts get sloppier, head of his cock kissing your cervix each time. The coil in your abdomen was tightening and ready to snap. “Run away with me.” Even as the words fall from your lips, you knew once the haze of your orgasm passed you wouldn’t be able to take that back. It was a confession. Because you wanted that. Wanted him.

And fuck, if Mark wouldn’t have done it. He would have scooped you up right after, bringing you home and holding you close to his chest. Giving you all the love he knew you deserved. But he couldn’t. His death was imminent. And he would never be able to bare the look on your face when his health decreases.

“Wanna.” He mumbles into your skin, kissing your shoulder softly. “Y’know I can’t, sweetheart.”

Maybe just saying he wanted was enough. Enough for this to mean much more than it already did. Because you were gonna be what he remembered until he took his last breath.

“Wanna take you and run.” His hand weaves between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. “Just stay with me in this moment, sweetheart.”

And you nod, teetering just on the brink.

Then you fall.

White hot pleasure takes over your nerves, burning through your veins. Every single one of your senses is overpowered by Mark. His hands on your body, his pine and cedar wood scent, his lips on your skin, and his hold on you. His words rattle in your mind as you convulse, hips pressing back in tandem with his thrusts.

It only takes a few thrusts before Mark spills into you, groaning. His arms are quick to encircle around you. Sitting in silence as you come down, breathing in your scent. Soft lips press against your temple.

The two of you stay like that for a long while.

Staying in each other’s company. Never wanting the moment to end.

But you know it will. Mark’s not yours. And he never will be yours- even if he leaves Melinda. He was a wild man at heart. Forever married to chasing criminals. Maybe, you could find some peace in that given time. But it was doubtful. So you would remind yourself once his arms leave you.

He was never yours.

divider by @uzmacchiato

estelle yaps some more: hello, my darling! my other works are here. my requests are open. if you’d like, join the taglist to be updated when I post!

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