Soraru x Mafumafu

Mine - Chapter 1

Warning: Most of it would be in a First-person perspective! This chapter will be deleted depending on how it does for the readers through the comments!

(This is nerve-wrecking for me because I do hope you guys can enjoy this one too)

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"Papa!"

Soraru stopped typing on his keyboard and turned around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose while he was at it. He smiled as the little child ran into his legs and tried climbing up to him. He bent down to pick the child up, putting her on his lap. Kissing her on the forehead and receiving a giggle from her afterwards, it filled him with joy. She resembled her mother a lot.

"What is it?" Soraru watched as his daughter smiled from ear-to-ear at him, her cheeks a little tinted with red. "Were you running under the sun just now? Look at you, looking like a strawberry," he planted another kiss on her cheeks, playfully poking at her sides.

"I like strawberries!" she exclaimed, putting her arms up, as if trying to show him how much she likes them. "... This much!"

He chuckled at her actions. They were adorable, as expected of his daughter.

"So what was it that you needed Papa for?" Soraru asked.

"I want to know more about how you and Mama met!" she said, looking up at him with a pair of huge, sparkly eyes.

"More about me and Mama?" he asked again to confirm. It was not the first time she asked to talk about his relationship with her mother, and Soraru wouldn't mind telling her. It was just that it was the fifty-third time they talked about this.

She nodded, beaming up at him.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled then he began. "You see, Papa and Mama go way back..."

-

Every time when we made love, he always put me down on the bed gently, careful not to break me, as if it was our first time doing it together. He always made sure I was ready to take him, only did he put it into me. He always moved really slowly at first, to let me get use to his size it seemed, but I didn't need it, I only needed him. He'd pump in and out of me faster if I asked. But sometimes, I wanted to feel him a little longer inside, so I let him move at his will. After we were done, he'd always shower me with kisses; over my head, forehead, eyes, on my cheeks, everywhere, really, to assure me that he loved me, and would never, ever hurt me.

And I trusted him.

That was how much I loved him.

But the same thing happens, day after day, night after night.

Every time when we were done making love, the moment I opened my eyes the next morning, he was... he was gone. I always wake up because of the cold, because I couldn't feel his warmth beside me anymore. He never stayed, not once, never once. He was in my hands for one moment, and then slipped right through in the next.

I brought my legs up and hugged them against my chest, burying my face into my knees. Curling up into a ball, I sobbed. I cried every morning when he was not by my side. If I turned to the nightstand beside my bed, there would always be a cup of water, and money under the cup. Seeing this, tears started springing out uncontrollably again. This was not what I wanted. But I needed it. So I took it. It was hard not to. Due to the financial problems I was facing, I got to meet him but in exchange, he was never mine.