It was toxic — too toxic. You’d push him out, poison his mind with your sweet nothings, and reel him in again. And he knew, he just didn’t have the mind to leave you.

It felt like he was walking on eggshells one day, and loving you as easily as breathing the next, then spinning in the same circles again. He was sick of having to hear which new guy you were kissing at a club then hearing your fake honeyed words about how he was ‘the only one I’ll ever love’. But nothing could drop his stomach lower than the thought of you leaving for good.

And you knew that. It was the same reason you’d been stringing him around since the beginning and currently, your hips straddling his, staring down at him with faux-pity as you traced his soft porcelain features.

“Do you want it bad?” You whispered.

He gulped. Shakily forcing out a quiet, “Why are you doing this to me..?”