#tw: dark and twisty

[peachesofteal]

Black Sun

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 5.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine. Simon never wanted a divorce.

Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.

A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.

But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-

The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.

Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.

It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.

He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.

You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.

He’ll do anything to keep you.

Anything.

So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.

It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.

He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.

He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.

The bathroom.

Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.

Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.

 “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.

“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.

“You… you don’t understand. I- I can’t.” 

It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.

Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.

Your underwear.

He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.

“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.

“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.

“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.

“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”

He cannot believe his luck.

You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight. Sorry, sweet girl. He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon. The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.

“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”  

“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You���re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up? 

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse. 

I promise to love and cherish you. 

Till death does us part.  

Till death. 

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key. 

You blame yourself for the first time.

You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.

  And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks. 

And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ. 

You blame him for the second time.

You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.

But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?” 

You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.

You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?

But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.

His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.

“Did I hurt you?” 

“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.” 

“You still playin’ in that women’s league?” 

“Every Sunday.”

You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all. 

“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw. 

“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.” 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt. 

“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.

“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open. 

“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder. 

“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good. 

“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body. 

“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.” 

“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle. 

“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.  

You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.

You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.

Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.

You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”

And then, everything changed.

“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”

Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-

“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.

“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.

“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.

“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You blubber.

“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“

“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.

“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it. 

It’s because of what’s coming next.

“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“

“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.

“Okay. You promise?”

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“I promise.”

[jase-is-ace]

[luciferfemme]

me: I'm just gonna write a cute smutty little butch poolboy story.

Me: *2000 words later* Well that took an unexpectedly twisty turn.

[karatekels]

All’s Fair: Chapter 3

Happy Halloween, everybody! I hope you enjoy the tricks and treats that this dark and twisty Terry provides in this chapter...

Previous Parts:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

TW: Teasing, coercion, gaslighting, threats, violence, PTSD being triggered, dubcon, probably noncon if we're being honest, groping, fingering, graphic sex, Terry Silver being manipulative and hot about it

Terry’s POV:

Terry is over the moon with what you have allowed him to get away with tonight. He leads you out of the Hall of Mirrors gently, rubbing his thumb in reassuring circles on your skin as he holds your hand; he has to make sure you aren’t going to be overwhelmed by the experience after the fact. You seem shaky, and shy, but overall you’re glowing with satisfaction and an endearing sense of pride, like you had overcome a significant obstacle. He supposes, in a way, you have. Hopefully the mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of yours-truly has knocked away a significant chunk of your remaining anxieties and hesitation about going all the way tonight. It would make things easier for him, at any rate.

As you walk through the fair you enter a path lined by booths largely filled with other couples, the people staffing them outright heckling the men walking through with their girlfriends and intimidating them into paying for a chance to win their partner a plush toy. It’s clearly a cash grab; he can spot some of the illusions set up to trick people from here, and appreciates the hustle.

“Hey hey, Big Man! How ‘bout you come on over and try to win something for that lovely lady of yours?” a man throws out, trying to bait him.

He can appreciate a hustle, but not at his expense.

Terry immediately starts to steer you both towards the booth, but you squeeze his hand to try to stop him.

“Just ignore him, Terry. Those games are all rigged anyway,” you say with a roll of your eyes directed at the man goading them from his booth.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he tells you with confidence, pulling you into his side as he walks over. Do you really still underestimate him this much?

He hands a couple bills to the carnie in exchange for a few balls that feel like they’re from a billiards table.

“So, what? I just throw these at some bottles?” he asks skeptically.

“That’s right,” the man says with a broad grin that Terry sees right through.

“How can I be sure that the bottles aren’t attached to the table?” he asks with an innocent smile. The carnie lifts a bottle up to demonstrate, and Terry shakes his head.

“Why don’t you let me back there to see for myself?” he asks with a soft, dangerous voice that has the other man paling slightly, before his eyes turn to land on you with a slight smirk.

“No dice, buddy. I could let the lady back here with me on your behalf,” he offers, raising a challenging eyebrow. Terry is not concerned for a minute about letting you near this man. He is certain of your loyalty and devotion to him, and doesn’t think that the man is stupid enough to try to lay a finger on you in his presence.

Still, he plays up his insecurities, pulling you close and laying a kiss on your lips before releasing you.

“Whaddaya say, doll?” he asks you, giving you your favourite lopsided grin. “Want to go check that everything’s on the up-and-up for me?”

You give him a shy smile and a nod, moving away from him and slipping into the back of the booth as the carnie lifts the counter up on its hinge, closing it after you.

“You want me to lift them all?” you ask Terry, paying no mind to the man next to you, he notes with satisfaction as he nods at you.

“You can touch anything you want back here, doll,” the carnie says in a husky voice, leering at your back as he repeats one of Terry’s petnames for you.

He’ll be out of a job by this time tomorrow.

He watches you pick up all the bottles individually before you restack them, nodding with approval and nimbly hopping over the counter and back to him, tucking yourself into his side immediately. Yes, you are most assuredly his now.

“There’s no magnets or anything, but they’re all weighted at the bottom,” you report back to him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you turn to look at the carnie, your face unimpressed.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he purrs at you with affection, kissing your cheek. Taking a step away from you, he fires off two balls in quick succession, aiming for the bottoms of the bottles that formed the base of the pyramid, sending them all toppling over. You hop up and down, clapping for him while the other man scowls.

“We’ll take the big snake,” you tell the carnie with a cheeky smile, pointing to a large red and yellow plushie that hung across the ceiling of the booth. “For Cobra Kai!” you announce to Terry, raising your fist in the air as you both watch the man struggle to take the toy off of its hooks. He kisses the top of your head, charmed as always by your sweetness. He hopes it doesn’t disappear along with the loss of your innocence after tonight.

Terry takes the gigantic toy from the man, draping it over your shoulders; it’s still close to dragging on the ground as you walk away from the games.

“Well, it’s getting late, babygirl, and I doubt that they’ll let us take your new friend with us on rides. Is there anything else you want to do before we go home?” he asks, wondering if you’ll pick up on his wording. You’ll both be going to his home tonight.

“Can we do the ferris wheel?” you ask, looking up at him with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. Of course he’ll indulge you; you’ll be doing the same for him tonight, spread out on his sheets and giving yourself to him.

“That sounds great, babygirl. Let’s go,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and mirroring the snake across your shoulders. With his free hand he pulls out his mobile phone, calling the chauffeur while you lead them to the line for the ride. He has a quick conversation with the man, who assures Terry that he is on his way, and hangs up as you approach the line.

“Larry is going to come and take this –” he squeezes the snake lightly with a large hand.

“Kiai,” you interrupt him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“His name is Kiai, I’ve just decided,” you inform him seriously, and he gives you an indulgent smile.

“Alright then, Larry is coming to take Kiai back to the car while we go on the ride. Why don’t you go wait for him by the entrance while I hold our place in line?” Terry suggests, his face giving nothing away. You beam up at him, and immediately head off to give your silly toy to the driver.

The moment that your back is turned, Terry walks to the front of the line to speak to the ride’s operator, ignoring the grumbling of complaints behind him.

“Sir, you’ll need to wait at the back of the –” the man starts to tell him in an exasperated voice, but Terry wraps a friendly arm around his shoulders, leaning down to speak with him privately, a wad of bills clenched in one fist.

“I’m not here to cut the line,” Terry informs him smoothly, feeling the man tense under his arm. “I want you to keep anyone else from getting on this thing after me and my girl, and I want you to keep us at the top for… about a half hour or so.”

The man looks about to protest, so he flashes the cash in his hand at the man, whose jaw quickly snaps shut.

“Tell them the ride is broken, closed, whatever – I don’t care. But we’re on that ride alone and at the top for a half hour, got it?”

The man nods mutely at him, and Terry gives him an approving pat on the shoulder, stuffing the money into his front shirt pocket before turning and heading back to the line without another word. You rejoin him several minutes later, sans-snake, and before long the two of you are seated in the ride, which slowly makes its way around until the two of you are perched at the very top, overlooking the fair grounds.

Time to see what else he can get out of you.

Reader’s POV:

The top of the ferris wheel is the perfect time and place to tell Terry that you love him. Sure, it’s a cliché, but seeing as you feel the way people only do in cheesy romantic comedies, it seems all the more appropriate.

Just as you approach the top, the ride stops, your pod swaying slightly. What an odd coincidence… but maybe perfect for what you want to do.

“I’m sure that it’ll start moving again in a minute,” you tell Terry reassuringly, though you’re not sure why. Not wanting to miss this golden opportunity, you take a deep breath, turning sideways to face him. He cocks his head to the side, surveying you with interest, and you bite your lip.

“Is everything okay, babygirl?” he asks, his eyes bright with concern as he takes your hand in his own. He was so kind and considerate…

“Everything is wonderful, Terry,” you tell him, squeezing his hand as you slide closer to him. “These past few months have been beyond my wildest dreams; I never thought that I would ever be with someone as incredible as you. You’ve been so kind, and patient, and considerate, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, but… I love you, Terry.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Terry gives you a dazzling smile that takes your breath away, sliding towards you and pinning you against the side of the ride. You feel your heart thudding in your chest as he cradles your face in his large hands, staring down at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him. He bends down to connect his lips with yours, kissing you so passionately that you feel dizzy, your breath coming in short little gasps against his mouth as you try to stave off the feeling of a headrush.

“Y/N, my sweet girl,” he purrs against your lips, clutching you to him firmly. He’d been a lot more insistent with his need for physical touch today, not that you mind. He had been right, after all; you needed him to give you that little push outside of your comfort zone to help you realize that you were okay with all of the sexual things that had you feeling nervous.

With that in mind, you let him have his way with you, running his hands along your body beneath his jacket and kissing down your neck. You feel his tongue tracing patterns down your neck and across your collarbone, and take a deep breath, relaxing and trying to convert your anxieties into excitement. He made you feel so good…

There’s a series of loud pops, and the night sky erupts in bright colours as fireworks are set off above the funfair.

Terry completely freezes, his hands squeezing your waist tightly and not letting up for you to breathe. You try to lift his face from the crook of your neck but are unable to get him to budge as the banging continues all around you.

“Terry?” you ask quietly, your mouth dry. What is going on? “Terry?!”

He lets out a hot burst of air against your skin as he marginally comes back to himself; enough to start breathing again, at least.

“God damnit. God damnit!” he hisses, pushing away from you and sliding to the other side of the seat. He’s staring straight ahead, but you don’t get the sense that he’s seeing what’s in front of him.

“Terry, what is it? What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm, though inside you’re panicking.

“The fireworks,” he says curtly, still not looking at you. “They take me back to a time and place that I don’t want to think about again.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, choking you. Of course, the war. The fireworks must be triggering his PTSD.

Cautiously, you move towards him on the bench, not wanting to spook him.

“Okay, Terry,” you say in a clear but soothing voice, slowly reaching out to place a hand over one of his – both were currently gripping the railing that surrounded them tightly. “It’s okay. I’ll try to flag someone down and see if they can get us back to the ground,” you say, moving to lean over the railing, but he pulls you back from the edge firmly.

“No,” he snarls, pulling you into him and wrapping his long limbs against you, as though to shield you from some nonexistent danger. “Don’t yell,” he orders you, and you nod, not even wanting to risk speaking for the moment, simply stroking whatever parts of him your hands can reach.

“How can I help you, Terry?” you ask quietly after a moment. “I’ll do anything I can.”

Terry is quiet for a moment, considering the question. You hope that there’s something you can do to ease his suffering…

“Distract me.” He looks directly into your eyes with a tense, pained expression on his face, and you think back to the drive over here where you had tried to distract him from looking out the window. Biting your tongue, you slip out of his jacket, leaving it on your side of the bench and slowly moving to climb onto his lap, straddling him and twining your arms around his neck. Hesitantly, you lower yourself onto him, rolling your hips against him. Was this even going to help?

Terry’s hands come around your hips to your butt, squeezing it as he guides your body into repeating the motion, so you assume that it is helping.

“Focus on me, Terry,” you whisper in his ear in a breathless voice, feeling strangely exhilarated and not nearly as nervous or self-conscious as you had anticipated. “Let me make you feel good, and focus on that.”

With his hands guiding your hips, you start to grind against him, giving him a lap dance and peppering his face his kisses, cooing sweet nothings at him and doing your best to take his mind off of everything. Gradually, Terry loosens up beneath you, looking up into your eyes with an overwhelming degree of reverence, and his hands slide up your body.

He pulls you further against his chest, getting rougher with his hands kneading your flesh, his lips claiming yours in a ferocious kiss, like he was trying to consume you.

“My Y/N, my girl, my sweet thing, all mine,” he mutters to himself in a hoarse voice as he distracts himself with your body, and you can’t say that you’re upset with the treatment, though you wish it was under better circumstances.

Another round of fireworks goes off, and he grabs the neckline of your dress, tearing it down the middle and baring your chest, with only your bra between you. He immediately buries his face between your breasts, his hands at your back keeping you in place, as though he’s trying to hide away from everything. You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingernails, humming something between a song and a moan as you sit perched on his lap. After an indeterminate amount of time, you conclude that the fireworks have stopped.

“I think it’s over, Terry,” you tell him softly, laying a kiss to his temple before leaning back, moving to retake your seat beside him.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks firmly, his grip tightening on your waist as you try to climb off of him. His eyes are dark and focused on yours, but they still have an odd bright sheen to them.

“I… I thought…” you stammer, unsure of exactly what to say. Did he need to be distracted after the noises had stopped? For how long? You couldn’t very well stay on his lap like this, in public no less. “I thought you were doing better,” you say carefully, not wanting to offend him.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am,” he croons up at you, his hands still locked in their grip on your waist. “But I’m not done with you yet,” he says darkly, giving you a slightly wicked smile.

You start to fidget and squirm on his lap, trying to get out of this tactfully, clutching your torn dress to your chest to cover yourself.

“We’re in public, Terry. There are children around…” you trail off weakly.

“Not up here there aren’t.”

“I’m sure the ride will be moving soon; we shouldn’t risk it,” you say with more confidence, and he chuckles, the sound cold and hollow.

“You go to all this trouble for me tonight and then act like you don’t want it?” he hisses at you, lifting you off his lap and turning you around. You think maybe he’ll resettle you between his legs in a (marginally) more appropriate position, but instead he bends you slightly over the railing keeping you in the pod. You start to feel dizzy as you look down at the world far below you, and instinctively back up into him. Without warning, Terry lightly kicks your feet out from under you, keeping you secure with an arm around your waist, the other clamped over your mouth and nose to mask your scream of terror.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” he purrs in your ear, keeping you tightly against him. “That’s what it’s going to feel like when I take you, Y/N, when I make you mine,” he growls, reaching a hand up under your skirt to your underwear, still damp from the orgasm he’d given you in the Hall of Mirrors. “You want to be mine, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp, still trying to worm your way out of his grip, but he’s got you just where he wants you. “But not here, not now!”

“This is what people do when they’re in love. You love me, don’t you?” he asks, seeming hurt at the mere insinuation that you don’t.

“I do, Terry, of course I do,” you tell him quickly, wanting to ease his worries, and he kisses your cheek, his hand tugging your underwear down your legs. Once they get to your knees, he tugs them, pulling you backwards with them until you’re sitting on the bench, letting him fully remove your underwear. He pockets them, giving you a wink, and you feel your face flush scarlet.

“Losing your virginity on a ferris wheel is pretty unique, just like you,” he teases, and you clamp your legs together more tightly, as though that would put an end to this discussion. “I want to make your first time something special,” he coaxes, bending down to stare into your eyes. “And then I’ll take you back to my place and treat you like a queen, like you deserve, okay?”

You don’t want to have sex for the first time in public, on a carnival ride; you’re not sure if you’re ready to have sex at all. You have done so much with Terry just in the past couple of hours that you had never done before, and it’s very overwhelming to you. Still, everything that he had pushed for tonight had you feeling amazing, and you don’t regret it… why does your brain always have to make things so muddled and complicated?

You shirk away from him reflexively as he leans down towards you, and a wounded look crosses his features.

“No, Terry, I didn’t mean to,” you say apologetically, wanting to keep him calm and happy. You always want him to be happy. “It was just a reflex, I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about all of this.”

“But you love me, you trust me, right?” he asks you fiercely, his voice hoarse, and you nod immediately.

“I do, Terry. Of course I do,” you tell him, repeating your words from earlier. He just needs reassurance, especially after his episode; the least you can do is make your feelings and devotion to him clear.

“Let me do this for you, baby,” he implores you in a desperate, needy voice. “Come sit on my lap again, and we’ll go at your pace.”

He sits down on his jacket across from you, giving you a warm smile and patting his thigh encouragingly. Timidly, you slide down the bench again and climb back on top of him. You’re standing on your knees, too nervous to fully sit on him, and he takes the opportunity to reach below you to unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper, lifting his hips slightly to pull out his hard cock. Immediately, your breath starts coming hard and fast in your panic, and Terry shushes you softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hipbones.

“Why don’t you give me another little lapdance, babygirl?” he asks, kissing your mouth firmly. “Get yourself used to the feel of me. It’ll help,” he coaxes. You start to look down, but he catches you with a finger under your chin, keeping your face up and your eyes looking into his.

“Don’t look down, sweetheart. Trust me,” he says with a slight chuckle.

“Why not?” you ask him shyly, biting your lip in concern.

“I don’t want you to panic, but let’s just say that I’m rather… proportionate,” he explains vaguely, but you get the gist. “I don’t want you to lose your nerve.”

Still nibbling your lip, you force yourself to lower your body onto his lap, jumping when you first feel him prodding your inner thigh. His cock is hard and warm, but the skin is incredibly soft, and you want to feel more. As you move your body around his length, you slowly start to map out just how large he is.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, your fingernails digging into his shoulders in your apprehension. “Terry, I… there’s no way.”

“I’ll fit, baby, I promise,” he swears, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and trailing them up your legs. “We’re meant to be together, right?” he says with a charming smile. “Let me help you,” he coos, running a hand up to your pussy and teasing your clit with a finger. You buck your hips, feeling yourself getting wetter, and he hums in approval, guiding you to lean on his shoulder.

“That’s right, just let me take care of you,” he hums encouragingly in your ear, coating two of his fingers in your slick juices before slipping one inside of you, this time as deep as he can go. You claw at his back, whining and mewling incoherently as you force yourself to stay still on his lap. He teases you with one finger, then two until you’re grinding your hips against his hand needily.

“Now, just relax baby, and let me in,” he murmurs coaxingly, removing his fingers and wrapping them around the base of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Terry wait, I –” you protest, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he snarls, reversing your positions and pinning you against the back of the seat in one quick movement that makes you gasp.

“No,” he tells you in a soft, dangerous voice. “No, I’ve been patient for long enough. You’ve enjoyed everything that we’ve done tonight, and you want more; I know you do.” You shudder at his words and his tone, unable to close your legs as he holds them open, his hands grabbing your knees.

“And I’m going to give it to you, baby. Because you deserve it,” he says in a sweet voice that stands in stark contrast to what he just sounded like. Bending over you, he lays you on an angle along the bench, your head and most of your body on his jacket, lifting your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re shaking like a leaf, your fingers bunched in the fabric of his jacket, and he leans over you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his hand gently.

You relax against him, and he takes the opportunity to thrust into you, the first few inches of his cock disappearing into your tight, wet heat. You feel like he’s knocked the breath out of you.

“T-Terry!” you cry out, still trying to be relatively quiet. “It’s too much!” you insist, tears leaking from your eyes.

“It gets better baby,” he promises, all bright eyes and a wide smile. He pulls out slightly before thrusting his hips forward again, moving deeper inside you, and you keen loudly. He slaps a hand over your mouth to quiet your screams, shushing you as he continues to open you up with his hard cock.

“I could be making you scream for me, so loud that the entire park would know that you’re up here getting the fucking of your life, but I wouldn’t do that to you, doll. You’re my sweet girl, and your pleasure belongs to me. Now let me have it.”

You’re not sure what Terry is feeling right now; if he’s still in the throes of a PTSD episode or if he’s angry at himself, feeling like he was weak or vulnerable because of his trigger response. Either way, you can’t exactly fault him for something so completely out of his control.

You are sure that deep down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, that he just needs to feel close and come back to himself through you. And you love him; surely this was the least you could do after everything he had done for you with your own mental health issues? It would probably feel good, if you loosen up and get into it. So that’s exactly what you try and force yourself to do, laying back obediently and digging your fingernails into your palms, trying to keep the rest of your body relaxed.

Terry fully makes his way inside of you after a minute or so, and you’re glad he told you not to look at him, because there’s no way you would’ve let this inside you if you had known what you were in for. He stills his hips, removing his hand from over top of your mouth and lightly brushing away your tears with a finger, looking down at you with an elated expression.

“You did it, babygirl. You took all of me,” he tells you in a pleased voice, stroking your cheek before moving his hand down to your chest, tugging at your bra until your breasts spill out. He licks his lips. “Now, I’m going to give you something you want in return…” he trails off, grinding his hips in a circle to help you adjust to the ache his intrusion is causing, while his hands move to distract you from the pain, just as you had done for him during the fireworks.

He first moves to your breasts, kneading them in circles, his long fingers plucking and pinching your nipples and causing little jolts of pleasure to run from them down to your belly and your clit. The sensation has you rocking your hips slightly, and you moan at the feeling. Terry looks down at you with a cocky, predatory smile, increasing the speed and intensity of his teasing, which in turn makes you move more in response.

“See, sweetheart? I know how to make you feel good, no matter what’s going on in that silly little head of yours. It’s my job to take care of you, to please you, just like you’ll do for me,” he tells you with a serene smile, and his words just make so much sense in this moment.

“Yes, Terry,” you agree, releasing one hand from his jacket beneath you to cover your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure as one of his hands moves down your body to tease your clit insistently, his hips pumping his cock in and out in short thrusts, mostly staying buried inside of you. “You feel so good, so right…”

“That’s right, babygirl, you were made for this, made for me,” he purrs, picking up his pace and gradually pulling out further and further until every surge of his hips fills you completely, making your toes curl. It still hurts, and you’re still quite overwhelmed, tears pouring down your face as you try to stay quiet. But underneath that, you feel a bone-deep sense of satisfaction and completion, like Terry was claiming you so deeply and fully that you truly belong to him now. And now that you’re feeling this way, you realize that that’s exactly what you want.

“Mhnn, Terry! More, please!” you beg, watching Terry’s eyes darken with lust as you give yourself to him.

“You want more, baby?” he teases you, his tone almost mocking as he bends down, your legs parting for him easily. “We’re running out of time. You’ll have to come quickly if you want to come now,” he warns, his hand returning to where your hips are joined to rub your clit. “I’ll take my time with you when I get you home.”

You are arched up off the seat at this point, your shoulders and head the only things on the bench, and you’ve covered your mouth with both your hands, desperately trying to contain your moans as you start to clench against him, your legs squeezing around his hips as you orgasm. Terry is spurred on as you tighten around him, pumping into you hard and fast just a few more times before growling, coming hard inside you with a moan of your name.

He pulls out of you quickly, tucking himself back into his jeans before moving your legs to the side, giving him enough space to sit beside you. He gently gathers you into his lap, reaching onto your seat to grab his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You’re trembling like a leaf, clearly overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. You don’t even know how to feel right now.

Terry moves to soothe as you burst into tears, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Ssshhh, it’s okay babygirl,” he says, stroking your hair and clutching you tighter to his chest. “I know, your first time can be a lot. This is totally normal, and I’m here with you,” he coos, and you fight through your emotions, forcing yourself to look up at him.

“Really? It’s okay?” you ask him hopefully, glad he isn’t taking offence and incorrectly assuming that you regretted what you had just done together. It had just been so, so much…

“Of course it is, sweetheart. Unless you think you regret it?” he asks after a brief pause, and your heart drops.

“No, not at all!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself closer. “It was wonderful, Terry, I don’t regret it at all.”

He hums in agreement, kissing your forehead. “I’m glad to hear it, doll. I feel so much closer to you now,” he confesses to you in a low voice, nuzzling into your neck, and you giggle.

Suddenly, there’s a whirring noise of the ride turning back on, and you begin your slow descent to the ground. Immediately, you tense up on his lap, looking down at yourself with horror.

“Oh no! I’m a mess, what am I going to do?!” you gasp, looking at Terry with wide eyes. Calm as can be, he fastens the jacket around you, pulling it up to your neck. Now, the only part of your dress that was visible was your skirt, and it seemed normal enough. So that was that dealt with, at least.

He reaches into one of the jacket pockets next, pulling out a spare hair tie that he always kept on him just in case, gently taming your hair and pulling it back into a half-ponytail to keep the more stubborn locks out of your eyes and relatively in place.

“There, all better,” he tells you, cupping one hand under your chin.

“But I’ve been crying, and I… I can feel…” you trail off, embarrassed, not wanting to say it out loud. Biting your lip, you force yourself to be an adult and lean over to whisper in his ear, shy even though you were the only two people on this thing. “I can feel your come starting to leak down my legs,” you tell him in a whisper, and you swear he shudders before responding.

“Well, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll knock their lights out,” he tells you firmly, his jaw clenched just at the thought of someone looking at you. “We’ll be out of here as soon as possible, doll. Just walk normally, and then we can get you in the car and cleaned up, alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your breathing, and Terry gives you a pleased smile, like he’s proud of you. "That's my girl," he purrs approvingly, and you return his smile.

You complete your descent and Terry immediately hops out of the ride first to shield you from onlookers, reaching one hand behind himself that you can cling to for support as you disembark.

“She got a little frightened being stuck up there for so long, that’s all,” he explains to the small crowd surrounding you once you get off the ride. Several people have taken note of your tear-stained face, and how you’re shivering from inside his leather jacket, clinging to it to make sure that nobody notices your torn clothing. You accept Terry’s arm wrapping itself around your shoulders in an affectionate embrace as he kisses the top of your head comfortingly, and the crowd seems appeased, dispersing.

Thank goodness you have Terry, you think to yourself as you take his hand, letting him lead you back to the car, trying not to stumble. He was so good at talking you both out of situations that could get you into trouble.

“Come on, sweet thing,” he purrs in your ear, tugging you along and making you quicken your pace to keep up with him. “Let’s go home.”

---

He's mean. He's so mean! HOW CAN WE LOVE THIS MAN?! But we do.

[elliepassmore]

Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: horror, contemporary horror, ghost stories

Big thanks to Netgalley, Mira, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

TW racism/Sinophobia, covid, murder/gore

I wasn't totally sure what to expect coming into this book, but it is 100% a horror book. Not fantasy horror, horror...and I actually really liked it! While it is straightforward horror, I was invested in the story and the ghosts, and trying to figure out how the ghosts fit in with the other (arguably far scarier) stuff that was going on in the story.

Cora's story and the other murders go hand-in-hand. Cora's sister is murdered in the first chapter, and then time flashes forward to when Cora has already been working as a crime scene cleaner for a bit. As the story progresses, and the ghost(s) become more prevalent, Cora's journey of healing ties in with what's going on around the city and her journey of trying to figure out that mystery.

While this is a horror story, I liked seeing Cora make friends and start to come out of her shell a little. Even before Delilah's murder, Cora hadn't had the smoothest childhood, and even as an adult she deals with OCD. As a result, she has a tenuous relationship with her family members and almost no friends to speak of. Yifei and Harvey are pretty different people, and different from Cora, but somehow the three of them make sense together and I liked the budding friendship they form as they try to figure out how to satisfy Delilah's ghost. Yifei turns out to be a big asset since she's dealt with ghosts before, and while Harvey has seen one before, he has little experience with returning one from whence it came.

I liked Cora as a narrator and thought she had some interesting perspectives on things. As mentioned, she has a tenuous relationship with her family, on both her mom and dad's side, and so she's clung to Delilah for most of her life, resulting in Cora feeling as if she's not her own person (though she admittedly doesn't seem bothered by this). Part of Cora's story in this book is not only healing and coming to terms with some things, it's also about finding her own identity and connections. As the story progresses, Cora becomes friends with Yifei and Harvey, and she also becomes closer with her aunt on her dad's side. By the time the story ends, she may still not know exactly what she wants, but she feels more solid to herself and is eager to find her place.

I don't read a lot of horror, especially when it's not fantasy horror, so I found the ghost element interesting. The ghost can only come out in dark spaces, such as when the lights are off or in the dark crack between your closet door and the floor. I thought that was an interesting feature, and I second Cora's question of whether the ghost is gone or just invisible. The Hungry Ghost Festival also plays a big part in the ghost storyline and Cora's resistance to it, then slow acceptance follows the intensity of her ghostly encounters.

And as if being haunted isn't enough, East Asian women are also being brutally murdered around the city. Cora tries to chalk it up to coincidence at first, but as the crime scenes build and the pattern becomes more obvious, she's forced to acknowledge that something dark is afoot. Cora becomes invested in figuring out who is murdering these women, and Yifei and Harvey are on board with her plan, both also increasingly fed up with how the murders are being ignored/covered up (Yifei especially). This takes them down a twisty road that threatens to be even more dangerous than being haunted by a hungry ghost.

Related to the murders, and the book in general, is racism, and particularly the Sinophobia that reared its head during the covid pandemic. Delilah was murdered by it, as were the other women, and Cora deals with both subtle and overt forms of it throughout the book, from being told she scares people because she might carry covid to having someone spit in her face. We also see it with Yifei, whose roommate automatically assumed she didn't speak English. As Cora heals and develops in the book, she also gets angry and begins to want justice for the discriminations, both small and big, that have been piling up.

Overall, I greatly enjoyed this book and actually didn't find myself too freaked out by the horror elements (the ghosts and murders are definitely creepy though). I enjoyed reading Cora's story and seeing as she finds her footing in her life after everything that's happened. I'm going to be honest, I usually don't think the pandemic affected me very much (aside from not being able to watch TV shows set during the pandemic that actually acknowledge it exists), but I did get a little teary-eyed reading the Author's Note at the end.

[theodoradevlin]

Snake Bites | Sebastian Sallow

Summary:

Where Sebastian almost bodies the Weasley boy just to be our dark and twisty hookup in the room of requirements.

Emotional Support Hufflepuff x Simmering Slytherin

Characters aged 18+

TW: Sexual Themes, Possessive Seb

Theo rubbed her gray eyes sleepily she she fought to pay attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The subject matter was hardly keeping her attention - Descendo? Really? She probably should have more patience when it came to spells, but she had found Confringo or Depulso to usually be much more efficient at getting unwanted items out of her way. But then again, maybe it would be good for her to try and use spells that were slightly less...destructive.

She yawned as her head dipped in exhaustion. Before she knew it, her eyes had drifted close. She wasn’t sure for how long entirely, until she startled awake at a hand at her shoulder.

“Hey …Theo…” Awkward gentle shoving stirred her. Good lord. Who on earth..

Her eyes peered open to Garreth Weasley’s concerned look. She couldn’t be mad. He may have ruined a perfectly fine nap, but the boy always had good intentions. Even if he didn’t know the first thing about how to place them.

“Garreth - goodness. How long was I out? Not long I hope.” She murmured still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

She glanced around the room, seeing Hecate continuing on with the lesson. Across the room she spotted Sebastian also trying desperately not to nod off. She smirked.

Good.

It was honestly his fault she hadn’t been getting any sleep lately, anyhow.

She was shocked Hecate’s sharp eyes hadn’t called her out herself. But …maybe the professor had been cutting her some slack for once. She always seemed to have a knowing eye of things happening outside of her classroom in Hogwarts.

And…poor Garreth. He didn’t seem to have a ‘knowing eye’ about much at all.

“Not - not too long. I - I tried to let you sleep for a little bit…it seemed like you needed it. Are you feeling alright?”

He just looked at her again in worry, until his hand moved to….rub her back? She noted the awkward out of place effort to comfort her, and just gave him a small smile and stretched…1) to wake up and 2) to also subtly shift out of his touch. She cut the tension with a yawn.

“Oh - I’m perfectly fine Garreth there’s nothing to be concerned about. Just a too much studying for our OWLS I suppose.�� She passed him a cheerful smile.

“Owls.” He stated, moving his hands back to his lap and looking back at his parchment in confusion. He didn’t seem convinced, but he also didn’t press her.

Garreth didn’t need to know about ancient magic and secrets of dark wizard families. He seemed to be under the impression that everything in life was always peachy, and she didn’t want to be the one burst his bubble on the outlook of the world. She only wished she also had that luxury.

As she settled back into her seat, she glanced back out into the classroom to find Sebastian now staring at her from across the room with a fixed glare.

He certainly seemed much more alert now than he had been a few moments ago. What was that all about?

She made a face at him.

What?

She mouthed.

He just rolled his eyes at her, then diverted his attention back to Hecate.

Really?! He was so moody.

She didn’t even know what on earth she had done to earn such a simmering look from Sebastian Sallow, but knowing him…it was always something.

Even last night - they had left the undercroft in such a tizzy. She was still so angry at him for trying to chide her about Logdok.

She …she knew he had been through a lot. But why did he have to be so damn stubborn when it came to doing things anybody else’s way? The last few weeks both of them had been acting like nothing at all happened in the library all those weeks ago. It had led to constant bickering between them lately. Even Ominis was starting to suspect something else was going on with the way they bickered.

Yet… she knew she was going to keep helping him. She had to put whatever foolish feelings she had aside. She had too. Who was she kidding. They were both orphans…so she could understand that desperate need to protect the little things you did have instead of jeopardizing them with foolish emotions.

She should probably speak to Ominis about it after class…if anyone else understood how to deal with Sebastian’s mood swings it was him. She was thankful to have his level head to balance out the way hers and Sebastians’s were usually clashing.

In fact, she was luck to felt like she belonged at all…it had been quite some time since she had people to be mad at.

It would be worth the sleepless nights.

Just in time, Hecate announced that they would be wrapping up the lesson for today. Theo sighed in relief. She didn’t think she could have lasted through much more of that lecture.

She ran down to the clocktower hall, wondering if Ominis may be found there …only to find that Garreth had followed her down there again. Shyly, he approached her.

“I know who you came down here looking for, Theo.”

She was getting frustrated now. What was he getting at?

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” The edge to her voice was out of character for her, but she had a feeling she wasn’t about to like what he was implying.

“It’s just…I’m worried about you Theo. Natsai had mentioned you’d been spending so much time with those concerning Slytherin boys…you should hear what people say about them.”

Her eyes flared in shock…and surprisingly some anger. Where had that come from?

“And just what about that is your business, Garreth? Frankly I don’t give a damn what people have to say. They're my friends.”

“I …I’m just looking out for you Theo. I just don’t think they’re a good influence on you. I mean look at you - I can’t remember the last time I saw you without circles under your eyes.”

At her glare, his frustrated look turned into a flirtatious smile…as if trying another approach.

“You know what? Forget about it… why don’t you let me take you out to the Three Broomsticks one of these days? Maybe we can get some of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors together…I’m sure you’ll find our lot get along loads better than those sulking Slytherins.”

He said the last word with such distaste that she almost drew out her wand…no one got to talk about her friends that way.

But… she hardly had a second to move before she heard footsteps approach behind her.

She didn’t have to turn her head to know who was there.

“I think it’s about time you stop running that mouth, Weasley. Theo’s a big girl. She’s old enough to decide who she’d like to spend her time with…”

Sebastian.

She almost hadn’t recognized his voice…every word was lined with such ice and venom. She had never heard him sound like that before.

He strode up to them slowly and threateningly, hands in his pockets, his eyes never coming off Garreth as he came walked up behind her. Her dark shadow.

Not far away, Ominis also paced alongside the perimeter of the room as if ready to strike if called upon.

Garreth, meanwhile, looked as if he had mistakenly stumbled into a den of vipers - vipers that were ready to strike should one of their own need protecting.

“Friends then?” Garreth said heated, eyes darting between Sebastian and Theo. “Is that what you are? Doubtful.” He spat.

Sebastian simply tilted his head to the side, surveying him cooly.

“Is that so surprising? Hm.”

Theo knew that ‘hm’. She found Sebastian made that sound quite a lot... and not once did it ever actually mean he was confused or shocked.

“…I think I could handle her a little better than you, Weasley. You’re quite out of your league here - don’t you think?”

Sebastian’s grin positively simmered as it widened dangerously. Challenging.

The red hair on Garreth’s head was almost as red as his face as he went to take a threatening step towards Sebastian.

“Easyyy, now.” Sebastian warned. “Don’t want to look like a sulking Gryffindor.”

Off to the side, she could hear Ominous snicker…but not before her face flamed in heat.

“ENOUGH. Stop it. Both of you.” She exclaimed, fuming at the fact that these boys were both talking about her as if she wasn’t standing right there.

“I don’t need either of you to speak for me, I’ve had barely enough time to sleep much less worry about your precious egos.” She spat, her eyes flashing between them both.

At once, the difference between the two boys expressions became comical. Garreth, crumpling into regret and shame, while Sebastian gazed at her proudly …smugly approving of the way she had put them both in line, as if to tell the Weasley boy told you so.

She was exasperated at it all.

“Sebastian, Ominous - let’s go. We should all be focused on our OWLs and not this nonsense.” Sebastian glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, itching to keep going, as if to say You sure?

“Now.” She gritted out between clenched teeth.

Reluctantly, Sebastian threw Garreth one last simmering glare before turning away. Theo just looked at him regretfully.

“I’m sorry Garreth - I’m sure we’re all just tired. Maybe we can talk about that Butter beer another time.”

The boy nodded sadly, and despite herself she once again sighed. He really did not know the first thing to do with those good intentions.

Whereas…Sebastian’s intentions and where he wanted them known were usually quite clear. He had come to her defense so quickly. It was curious.

On the way out, she heard Ominis mumble.

“Since when does she care about studying for the OWLS?, anyhow?”

__

After the exciting events in the clock tower, Theo backed up her claim by offering they go to the Room of Requirement to catch up on work afterwards. With the gentle glows of the fire, surrounded by the plants she had tediously tended to, it was nice to have a safe place all three of them to go.

Sebastian had even helped her with a particular difficult mandrake she had trouble growing, while Ominis found himself at peace with the fantastic beasts she had been able to save in the vivarium. Somehow, it was a place that was slowly beginning to belong to all three of them.

It was also a nice place they could go away from the peculiar looks they received from both of their houses. Apparently it wasn’t often that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs got along, but Theo was tired of that narrative for the day.

They had gone to attempt studying, but in the current moment she was finding those effort to be thwarted by Sebastian’s constant comments every few moments.

“SULKING Slytherins, did you hear him Ominous? Please. Coming from someone who can’t even manage a simple Wiggenweld potion…Merlin’s Beard…”

“….You know if I would have only had a few more moments with him… we really could have had some fun.”

Then,

“….And you Devlin? You can’t seriously still be considering going to the Three Broomsticks with him?!”

Finally, Ominous slammed his books shut.

“That’s it!”

Theo and Sebastian both jumped at the sudden outburst.

“Sebastian, if I have to hear you carrying on for one more second about how badly you want to fight Garreth I’ll Obliviate myself. We get it. You told him off and we’re all very proud of you BUT I’m tired and I’m going to leave to try and ACTUALLY get some studying done.”

Sebastian slid Theo an amused look as she stifled a laugh, Ominous just bristled.

“Oh yes well that’s just fine then - everything’s so amusing to the two of you. How about I just leave you to it then?”

“Oh Ominous…we didn’t mean…” Theo gently tried, but Ominous just rolled his eyes.

“Theo, I’m sure you didn’t mean anything. But he always does. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Silence stretched across the next few moments as Sebastian just slid an expectant look her way. She cleared her throat. This was the first time they had been alone since that...interesting night in the library. For all her nervousness, he just streatched as if he couldn't be more at ease- his body languid and stretched across the oversized pillows on the floor as if he was as comfortable as a cat.

She simmered as he continued to look at her.

“Yes? Is there something more you’d like to say, then? You’ve already scared Ominous away.” She sarcastically quipped at him as his eyes twinkled in amusement, obvious to the fact that she was yet again trying to hide her blush from him.

“Oh Devlin, you know our dear Ominis just gets his feathers ruffled…he’ll be fine. You on the other hand..you can take care of yourself. It was so fun watching you scare the living shit out of that Weasley boy. You’re so cute when you’re defending our honor.”

She could have sworn he looked more and more feline each time he teased her.

He could never be serious with her. But then again…it was true. She had wanted to defend him. Nor had she forgotten how fast he had come to defend her either. It was something that she wouldn’t quickly forget.

“I…of course I wasn’t going to let him talk about you like that. Or Ominis. I never would.” She decidedly stated.

His grin only deepened as he purred,

“Hm….there’s all that Hufflepuff loyalty I’ve heard about…”

Her face heated, realizing that- yes. She did for some absurd reason, have loyalty to him. Though she couldn’t say why.

“Consider yourself lucky I look out for you at all Sebastian.”

“Oh - I do.” He murmured as an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher flickered across his eyes.

She observed him more as he turned back to his book… The way his tie was loosened, and shirt slightly askew..she saw the hint of a collarbone that made her wonder what he looked like when he was truly at ease. What was underneath all that bravado.

Even with his sleeves rolled up, curled up in front it would be easy to assume he was nothing but as confident as unbothered as he pretended to be.

But she could notice the tension in his jaw. The shadows under his eyes. The hollow gazes at times when he thought no one was watching. The millions of thoughts roiling under the surface of those dark brown eyes.

But there was someone watching.

In fact, Theo found herself quite unable to look away.

She replayed all their little fights in her head- but at the end of the day for all his stubbornness…she couldn’t deny that he always one of the first people to come to the defense of others, or put himself on the line. For Anne. For Ominous. Even for her.

“Sebastian.”

He peered up at her again, hearing the soft press in her voice. The seriousness.

“For the love of me, I cannot understand why you seem so intent on hiding all of the good parts of yourself.”

Sebastian looked caught off guard for a moment, before looking away.

He just groaned and laughed darkly.

“If there are any…god help you Devlin, but you’re probably the only person who can see them.”

Her eyes narrowed at that. Her mind flashed back to the way he had looked in the library, before their first kiss. The broken look of a boy who wanted to be more, but had been told he couldn't be.

“I see more than you think Sebastian.” She challenged.

“Do you now?” He murmured as he leaned back on his arms, looking back at her with a challenge in his eyes. His unbuttoned shirt shifted slightly, exposing more of the muscled and tanned skin that lay underneath. He noted the glance of her eye, and smiled darkly, removing a few more buttons.

“Why don’t you come take a closer look, then?” He murmured.

Her eyes narrowed. He was bluffing…so why not call him out on his bluff?

Slowly, she shifted off the couch, crawling over to the floor where he laid. He watched her every movement with burning eyes.

“Well….here I am then.” She whispered as his grin cocked to the side.

“…And what do you see?” He challenged, meeting her gaze.

“I see…a stubborn and headstrong boy…who acts like he never cared about anything or anyone. But…I know that’s not true.”

His eyes watched the way her lips shaped the words, but his brows furrowed together hearing them.

“Hm. Well…you know what I see? I see a girl who is afraid to harness her true power. I see a girl who could literally have anything she wanted - and yet she keeps wasting her time with these insipid boys - Amit? Garreth? They could never keep up with you. Not like I can.”

She smirked.

Jealous, jealous.

“Is that right?” She murmured.

His cocky smile vanished as a different sort of determination crossed over his face as he held her gaze, looking down her blouse for just a moment, as his own face heated, recalling how she had looked like last time without it.

His mouth went dry.

“Oh. Absolutely.”

Something in the intensity of his throaty words, and the way he looked at her like he’d kill anyone who touched her…the heat of his gaze…all of it had her crawling closer to him, until she deftly swung a leg across that languid lap to straddle him. His eyes darkened as he watched her settle upon him.

Holy hell.

Her movements had him holding his breath, but he was unable to stop the way his hands automatically brushed up against her thighs to hold her in place. Those damn skirts again. He found she was wearing more of them lately after his comments in the library...

She playfully grabbed at his tie, and he automatically gravitated to her, leaning up earnestly at her touch.

“Theodora Devlin.” His throaty voice skittered across her lips as he leaned closer as he watched her lips from half lidded eyes. “..I’m shocked to see this naughty side from such a sweet little Hufflepuff…”

She leveled a flat stare at him.

“Come, Sebastian. You’ve known me long enough now to know better than to be so surprised.”

His left eyebrow raised in interest.

“Have I now? Careful there, Devlin. Snakes can become quite territorial when attached…”

He moved closer, eyeing her exposed throat, moving her hair aside as her breath quickened.

That beautiful throat. He wanted his mouth all over it until everyone knew exactly who she belonged to.

Just at the thought of it, he lost control- suddenly wrapping his hands around her lower back and swinging her backwards until she was underneath him. She gasped at the sudden movement, and at the way he pressed into her so deliciously…she cold only tug his tie closer. Push back that damned shirt off of him until it reveled the muscles shifting underneath. Damn the boy, but she couldn't look away.

Until...his hand rested against her throat, with his thumb just barely titling her jaw up at him, forcing her to meet his eyes again. The power in his stare had something within her coiling in anticipation, an ache that pooled in her stomach and spread through her fingers as if to say let me out.

His eyes darkened as he murmured at her delicate form beneath him, he leaned closer to those delicious lips.

“Shall I show you how attached we can be…”

She leaned to the side where his free hand rested next to her head. She took it, bringing it to her mouth and sucking on his thumb quite suggestively. His swore his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

“Do your worst. ” She murmured simply against his fingers. Innocent enough, but full of challenge.

That was it. His arm reached between them as he shifted aside the fabric beneath her skirt, and all at once pushed into her. She cried out at the feel of him finally back between her legs. He captured that cry with his own mouth as his kissed her in long, slow, and fervent movements.

She had been aching for him. For this. It had been too long since their night in the library. She was so angry at him for avoiding her. Keeping her from this.

“You drive me crazy.” She ground out as she gasped as he slowly started moving inside of her.

“Feeling’s mutual, Devlin.” He breathed. And suddenly his pace began to move quicker and quicker.

She was a fucking goddess. The way her bod writhed to meet him so powerfully with a flare of bright blue sparking across her eye. That magic thrummed through her veins in such a way that he always caught himself in awe that she could end him in an instant. That power of hers was majestic - but it wasn’t what made her beautiful.

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” He growled as he pushed into her again.

He watched in appreciation at the way her skin flushed, her lips parted, the gentle arches of her neck, the slopes of her breasts, the smoothness of her skin as it met his. That neck.

“Say what, Sebastian.”

If she had been looking closer like he told her, she would. have known why he had desperately been trying to avoid her the last few weeks. She would have seen the honest truth. That he was, and always had been, in awe of her since day one.

“That you’re mine.”

No matter how hard he had tried to fight it, it seemed it had just resulted in useless squabbling - when really she was the only thing that had found a way to give him new purpose after hating himself for so long.

And in moment, there was no fighting anymore. Only giving in. And he would give in happily.

The thought ran through him as he pushed in harder.

And he wold rip apart anything that would be foolish enough to jeopardize that.

Harder again.

She gasped.

“I’m yours. Damn you. I’m so yours.”

Fuck. The words were enough to send him over the edge. He saw red. His mouth captured her neck as he devoured her.

He was seated fully inside of her, breathing heavy at the effort of it all and the way he was searing at her touch. He moved in deeper, his teeth grazing all over her skin as he ground out against her neck,

“You’re all Mine.”

Harder, Harder, and Harder.

His hips moved in and out of her as his name was a soft exclamation on her lips.

She was bursting at the seams as he filled and stretched her, with nothing to anchor her except this hand still wrapped around her lower back as he pressed her to him.

Suddenly as it started, he pulled out of her and hovered near her but not giving her what she needed. Begged for. He smirked as she whimpered in protest.

“Sebastian. You’re teasing.”

He smiled against her lips.

“No… I’m appreciating.”

That power of hers flashed again as she eyed him. Suddenly, she placed her palm flat on his chest and shoved him downward. Before he could protest at his loss of leverage, she straddled him and claimed him again, slowly easing down on him to accustom them both to this new position.

He groaned as she did it, and she swore just watching him become so undone was enough for her.

Her rival. Her match. Her enemy. Her lover. They were neither good nor bad. They just were.

She inhaled as she slowly moved her hips on top of him, feeling every inch of him in her core.

He watched, mesmerized, as her back arched and he saw all those lovely little marks on her neck.

Oh she would be angry tomorrow.

But for now, tomorrow didn’t matter. Only tonight.

She moved faster and faster as he thrusted up to meet her, his fingerprints pressing into her sides with more effort as she got him closer and closer.

“That’s a girl….” He ground out at she tilted her head all the way back, loosing her control.

He swung up to meet her, until they were both face to face as they met each other stroke for stroke.

“Sebastian…”

She cried out his name just as he lost himself to oblivion. There was only her wrapped around his body and his brain. He heard her distantly as he lost himself into the oblivion that was her, leaving them both gasping for breath and trembling.

It lasted forever, and was over far too soon.

He pulled her down with him back into the pillows as she collapsed with him, as they laid face to face, she gave him a little laugh.

“What’s so funny Devlin?” He frowned playfully as he tucked a loose hair behind her ear, touching it as if it was fine silk.

She sighed, content for what felt like the first time in weeks.

“I’m just thinking I’m so glad Deek wasn’t here tonight.”

Sebastian groaned.

“That certainly would have been awkward.” Then, sheepishly, he traced the love marks he had left on her delicate neck, wincing.

“Speaking of awkward…Theo…don’t kill me….but it seems I may have gotten a little carried away on your neck.”

She frowned then and rolled her eyes, but the frown didn’t reach her eyes, so he was pleased to see she clearly didn’t mind too much.

She just said,

“Figures. Just like a Slytherin boy to leave his snake bites all over me.”

Oh he drove her mad.

He huffed out a small laugh, pulling her back to him and quite determined to leave a few more of those little marks on her. She was his.

And he was undoubtedly, completely, hers.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 14: feed me poison, fill me 'til i drown

Water Inhalation

2493 Words; Pearl & Seaglass AU

TW for drowning

AO3 ver

Raz swam down into the trench. Seemingly endless tunnels dotted the bottom, a deep and endless cave network that could swallow him whole if he got lost.

Raz was here on a mission, though, so he wasn’t going to get lost. Not without a fight.

He swam around the bottom for a bit, searching for a particular cave. He had no idea which one it was—but he was certain that he’d know it when he saw it.

No skulls loomed at him out of the darkness, though. No shiny white bones or carved slabs reading GET OUT. There wasn’t even a ball of sealight to mark one of the caves out from the others.

Just kelp. Lots and lots of kelp, all scattered around and rotting, even though it didn’t even grow here—

Wait.

Raz swam over to a particularly long strand of kelp, knots of varying sizes dotting its length. He couldn’t see where it was tied off—it stretched down into the gloom of the cave mouth it was near. And now that Raz was looking, this particular mouth was absolutely surrounded by kelp strips, all knotted in strange and incomprehensible ways…

“Oh!” His stripes lit up the gloom—Raz glanced around nervously. Nothing came out of the dark to grab him, but he’d have to remember not to talk down here.

Steeling his scales, Raz gathered up every inch of courage he had, and dove in.

+=+=+=+=+

Raz wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering through these tunnels. A while, for sure. But he kept swimming down twisty tunnels, flashing a stripe every so often in order to keep track of the kelp strands. He should have brought some sealight. His eyes were good in the depths, but these caves had no light at all—only what Raz could provide by flashing his stripes incoherently.

Eventually, though, Raz noticed slivers of light floating up from one of the tunnels. Carefully, slowly, he swam towards the source, hoping it wasn’t some giant mutant anglerfish that lived in caves and ate mer.

Raz peered around the edge of the rock—

Sealight dotted the cavern at distant intervals along a net strung up across it, doing little against the gloom. Yet still, Raz could see that shelves had been carved into the rock, with weird-looking things in glass jars. Ingredients, he presumed. And there, in the center of it all, grabbing a crab from an old trap full of them, was the Sea Witch.

Raz had only seen her once, before, and that was from a distance. He had been following Dion, then, based on Frazie’s hints that his older brother would know where to find a Sea Witch.

Somehow, she looked a lot less deadly up close, sinuous tentacles working around her. Even as she turned to a cauldron—and wow, a human cauldron, Raz had been looking for one of those for his collection for forever—with a crab in one tentacle, there was another pair working a piece of kelp, a third grasping a jar, and the other four were working across the cavern floor, maneuvering her around with little effort. Her hands were occupied with a shell she was holding, claws tracing the edges of its layers.

Raz leaned out a little further. “Did Dion get those for you?” Crabs didn’t seem to be in high supply, down in the trench. Urchins, sure, but Raz hadn’t seen any crabs.

The Sea Witch startled, turning luminous yellow-brown eyes onto Raz. Instead of the sharp beak Raz expected, she had a full row of sharp teeth—moray? They weren’t uniform enough to be a shark’s. She even had facial fins—definitely not all octopus, then.

“Who—” Her stripes flashed a vibrant orange, lighting up dark violet scales.

Raz swam out a little further. “Dion’s my older brother.” He explained, curling his tail inwards in greeting.

All at once, the Sea Witch relaxed. “You must be Queepie then…” She tilted her head, “No—Pooter.”

Raz nodded. “I know, it must be so amazing, finally meeting me.” Raz shrugged his pelvic fins. “But I actually came here with a request.”

“No.” The Sea Witch dunked the crab she was holding into the cauldron. She unscrewed the jar and put whatever was in it into the cauldron, and magic shimmered across the opening. Raz couldn’t see what was happening in there, but she probably knew what she was doing.

“You didn’t even let me ask!” Raz swam further in, stripes flashing angrily. “You can’t just say ‘no’ when you don’t even know what it is!” He’d even brought some of his most valuable items from his collection in his bag, to make sure he could pay for the good stuff.

“I can see your heart’s desires.” The Sea Witch waved a tentacle dismissively, watching the steady shimmer of her cauldron. “I’m not turning you human.” Slowly, the shimmer faded, and she reached a hand in to grab the crab. The scent of boiled crab and saltback roe filled the cavern as she used the seashell to crack the crab shell open.

“But you can,” Raz confirmed. He closed his mouth, covering his teeth. “Pleeeeeeeease?”

“Absolutely not.” The Sea Witch sounded appalled at the very notion. “Your brother would kill me.”

“You don’t wanna stomp on my dreams, do you?” Raz held his fins flat and angled his face upwards a little, a pleading look in his eyes.

The Sea Witch huffed, “Sorry, kid, but it’s not happening.” The glow of her stripes wasn’t apologetic in the least.

Raz crossed his arms. “Well, if stomping dreams is what we’re doing, then I guess I’ll just have to stomp on your dreams of ever seeing my brother again.” He began to swim towards the cave entrance—

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” A tentacle grabbed Raz by the tail and yanked him back into the cave. He turned to face the Sea Witch with a toothy grin, his facial fins flared. “Are you blackmailing me?” Incredulity leeched off of her in steady waves, but her facial fins were just as flared as Raz’ were.

“That depends,” Raz flitted his tail. “Is it working?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her tentacles lashed in place, little eddies forming on the cave floor.

Raz pressed his hands together, and flared his fins a little wider. “I mean, it really would be such a shame if our parents found out that their son was dating the Sea Witch.” Like he’d ever tell them—if his mother found out that Raz had even thought about coming out here, she’d have his head. But he needed that potion, dammit, and Dion’s secret romance with the Sea Witch was the perfect bargaining chip.

“Alright, fine.” The Sea Witch shoved him away, turning towards the shelves she had carved into the cave walls. “Grab whatever you think you’ll need and meet me at the eastern shipwrecks by high moon.”

Raz swam a quick circle. “Yes!” Finally! He swam out of the cavern on a rush of elation, not even caring if he got lost on the way out. He was going to become human!

+=+=+=+=+

Raz darted between old shipwrecks in the gloom, the moonlight unable to reach so deep.

Sneaking out had been hard, but not impossible. His facial fins twitched under his helmet, but he ignored the discomfort—he was about to delve into a world of unknowns, so he needed his helmet! Any good explorer would have one!

Checking that he still had everything in his bag, Raz swam towards the wreck that he was sure was the easternmost one. He passed a shark, and paid it little mind—even at his age, he was more than a match for it. Sharks only messed with mer if they were desperate.

The Sea Witch was already there, sorting through a satchel of her own. Hers was even wrapped in netting, with little shells tied to the threads.

Little shells of a very particular shade of blue…

“What’s your name anyway?” Raz asked. “It can’t be Sea Witch.”

“Gisu.” The Sea Witch—Gisu—replied. She finished sorting through her things, and turned to face westward. “It’s a long swim.” She cautioned. “If you’re having any doubts, turn back now.”

Raz curled his hands into fists. “I’m ready! Lead the way!”

Gisu regarded him for a long moment, then launched off of the deck. “Just don’t get lost.”

Raz hastened to follow, his tail pumping to keep up with her siphon bursts.

+=+=+=+=+

Gisu hadn’t been lying. They’d been swimming for a while, now, closer and closer to the surface as they went. By the time they stopped, the moonlight was already fading, the shallows beginning to feel the very beginnings of sunlight.

Gisu swam upwards, and Raz followed, his head breaching the surface. Unlike Gisu, who was blinking in the air, Raz’s goggles kept water against his eyes, allowing him to see the slowly lightening sky clearly.

He looked around, unsure what exactly he was looking for—

Raz let out a surprised whistle.

Land!

Actual dry land! That stood above the water! Raz had only ever heard of it!

They were kinda close—closer than Raz expected, honestly. He could make out ships at the shore, and even the boxy shapes of human dwellings.

Raz was so lost in his staring that he missed Gisu diving back down—she yanked him down by the tail with one of her tentacles, making his stripes flash in alarm.

“C’mon.” She urged, letting go. “Not much further.”

Raz nodded. He was really tired, swimming the whole night through, but excitement buzzed in his veins. He followed Gisu along, watching as the seafloor rose up below them, closer and closer without them needing to go deeper—

Gisu stopped. Raz bounced off of her, shaking his head reflexively at the impact.

“Right.” Gisu said, pulling out a jar. “Eat this and say the incantation thrice: ‘Shed my scales and cut out my gills, to land I go to escape my ills.’ Think you can remember that?”

Raz reached for the jar. “Of course! C’mon, I’m so excited!” He was so close. He was so agonizingly close that he felt he might burst if he didn’t become human right now. “Shed my scales and cut out my gills, to land I go to escape my ills!” He repeated.

“Alright.” Gisu handed over the jar. Raz wasted no time in unscrewing the cap. “Before you go, there are some things about humans you might want to know. I’ll be coming with you, but it’ll be good to know the basics before—”

Too late. Raz was already eating the contents—he could taste some kind of roe, but he couldn’t identify the rest of it. It kind of reminded him of seal—something mammalian, then? Whatever it was, it was delicious.

Gisu watched as Raz finished off the contents of the jar. “You weren’t supposed to eat all of it…” She mumbled.

Raz froze. “I’m not going to die, am I?” That’d be a stupid way to go.

Gisu clicked, taking back the jar. “No, but the spell will hold for a lot longer. There was enough in there for seven days. Don’t die while I’m gone.” She mumbled something about hard-to-get ingredients and swam off into the depths, but Raz was already pressing his hands together.

“Shed my scales and cut out my gills,” He started, “to land I go to escape my ills!” Warmth exploded in Raz’ chest. “Shed my scales and cut out my gills, to land I go to escape my ills!” The water around him began to bubble, the warmth in his chest spreading out into his arms and tail—

“Shed my scales and cut out my ills, to land I go to escape my ills!”

Raz tumbled tail over head as the magic washed over him, hundreds of tiny bubbles surrounding him as he changed. His scales disappeared with an itchy feeling, his facial fins melting into a shell-shape under his helmet.

Wow, okay, that’s a lot more comfortable. Of course it was more comfortable—his helmet had been made for human use.

There was a kind of distant shlurp sensation as his tail shrunk back into his body, shedding scales that glowed in the water around him before melting away. Raz imagined that it must hurt, the shifting of his bones—but he didn’t feel any pain at all. Just the warm bubbly feeling of Gisu’s magic crawling all over him. His dorsal fin melted down into his back, the webbing between his claws receded, his gills squeezed shut—

His pelvic fins flared out to his sides, fluttering rapidly. A new sensation emerged, stretching out into the water. Raz stared as his emerging legs—legs! He had legs!—grew flat protrusions at the end, as five wriggling toes sprouted from the ends of his new feet.

His neck squeezed, a little, his cervical gill covers melting over the gills underneath. The water was suddenly so much darker. Were human eyes this bad?

Raz opened his new mouth with a gasp—

Water rushed in, and instead of flowing out through his gills it kept going down. Raz choked, flailing in panic. How did he forget that humans breathed air?

Surface. He needed to surface!

His sense of up and down had disappeared, replaced with a growing sense of panic as he flailed unfamiliar human limbs. He needed to surface!

“Hel—arglubblgbg.” Okay, wow. He’d read that humans communicated entirely through sound, but that was weird—Raz flailed, choking on even more water. Not having stripes to flash meant he couldn’t say a thing until he managed to surface—

Raz hit the seafloor, the sand squishy against his back. His human back, scale- and finless—

I’m not going to be human long if I don’t make it to dry land!

Raz planted his hands on the sand and pushed. He launched upwards, feeling the pull of a wave—

Air!

Raz flopped onto damp sand, his body convulsing as his lungs tried to eject the water in them. He coughed, the feeling unlike anything he’d ever felt before—and absolutely awful. No wonder humans didn’t like swimming.

By the time he finished hacking, his throat was raw, the feeling of something still stuck in it lingering. But no amount of coughing would erase that feeling, so Raz settled on breathing deeply while waiting for it to leave.

Raz let himself fall back onto the sand, staring up at the sky through his goggles. The sun had crested the horizon, the last of the darkness lingering at the very west edge in a tiny sliver.

Raz had never imagined that sunlight could be so warm. His bag was cold beside him, even though he was just as soaked as it was.

Exhausted, and with the waves tickling his feet, Raz let his eyes close.

Seven days. He had seven days before he turned back. Seven whole days of exploring. Seven whole days that started now.

He could afford a little nap, first.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Katie Cassidy

full name: Scarlett Braeden

nickname(s): Scarlett, Letty

pronouns & gender: She/her, cis woman

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: January 10th, 1981

birth place: Merrock, Maine

time in town:  Most of her life 

housing: Suburbs

occupation: brain surgeon at Merrock hospital

family: Ellie Braeden (niece)

personality: Scartett is is intelligent, compassionate and hard-working. She often describes herself as "dark and twisty" due to her negativity but also an emotionally complex person who is capable of empathizing with others when they're at their lowest points. Her single-mindedness makes her selfish, and most people would define her as arrogant careerist. She is suspicious and if she feels insecurity in herself they becomes depressed.

BACKGROUND / BIO

TW: CRIME, SUICIDE, CHEATING, DEATH, PATERNAL DEATH, FOSTER CARE

Born in Merrock, Maine, as the second child in the family of John and Irina Braeden. Her father met her mother, a Bulgarian emigrant, during her interview for a green card. Everyone thought this marriage was only for Irina’s visa, but there was a true love between them. Coming from a middle-class background, John’d put himself through business school and managed to became one of the biggest business man in the area. At the other side, Irina chose to be housewife, completely dedicated to the family and the children. Scarlett couldn’t give a concrete answer as to what her father did to make money, only that he did. As for her mother, Irina, she was a housewife of a rich man. She lunched with her elite neighbors, never washed her own dishes, and looked the other way when her father had an affair. Her clothes were always perfect, and she didn’t allow Scarlett or James, Scarlett’s bigger brother, to leave the house in anything worn or cheap.

Scarlett was only 12, when the life she knew fell apart. Somebody would say she barely remember but it was not true. She remembered everything from the last year of her father’s freedom and it was anything but. Dark cars followed her mother’s car when she left the Braeden’s kids at school and parked across the street of their house, the phones in her home made a clicking noise when she picked up the line, she had the feeling someone watched them all the time. And she was not wrong Braeden had funneled his funds through glorified Ponzi schemes - he’d given out insurance policies for homes, land, business, and property to unsuspecting victims, with no intention of paying them off but the Feds having a hard time nailing him for corruption and instead managed to imprison him for not paying his taxes. His accounts and property were frozen and his family fell apart. Irina, couldn’t handle the drop in status, took a bottle of pills with a pint of gin, and never woke up and Scarlett and James was put in foster care.

Years in the foster care was like a nightmare for Scarlett. At first she did everything to run away but soon her free spirit was broken. She felt betrayed by both her parents and she started hating everyone around her. She felt alone and her only close person was James. Being older James had the opportunity to leave the system a year later, when he turned 18 and after a year when he found a proper job he was able to take the custody of Scarlett and she left her foster family too. Realizing they could rely only on each other, Scarlett had to grew up faster - she became more serous, more concerned about her future and she didn’t allow herself doing stupid things, and it was not surprise when she managed to get a scholarship for the med school she dreamed about.

Years in the med school was like a therapy for Scarlett. She started to live again and she started to believe people again. There she found her first real friends and where she started to realize she was not guilty for her father’s crimes and for her mother’s death. She managed to return in Merrock with head held high where she started her internship in the local hospital.

Scarlett met her futute fiancee Alex on her brother’s wedding. She was 25 years old then and she felt in love with him immediately. His carefree made him look so dangerous and attractive. Scarlett had clung like glue to him. But Alex accepted her as a friend. Few years later he looked at her with different eyes and soon after they became a couple. They got engaged when she was 30 years old but their fairy tale didn’t last for long. Just few months before their wedding Alex’s ex-girlfriend showed up with a child she claimed was his. Tensions escalated and Scarlett broke off the engagement and left Merrock, believing she was doing Alex a favor by giving him the opportunity to start a family with his former mate.

Life away from Merrock and her brother was hard for Scarlett. She rented a really small apartment in New York near to the hospital where she started working. But the apartment was not important since she barely came home. She lived only for her work but things changed when she met Caroline - an photographer in famous magazine. They quickly felt in love and called themself a couple or at least were and weren’t one. They both had a big trust and insecurity problems, and the several affairs didn’t reflect well on their relationship, causing them to call it quits several times. But they reunited again, simply because when either of them tried to move on with a new relationship the other would show up and sabotage the effort, and after their last reunion they even got into an thoughtless marriage, hoping that would help their relationship but of course it didn’t worked this way. Just a few weeks later a call from Merrock changed everything. Scarlett found out her brother and his wife died in a car crash and she returned as quick as possible in her home town where she found she had to share a custody over her niece with her former fiancee Alex. To be the picture full, Caroline told Scarlett she had zero desire to move from New York and play a mother to a kid she didn’t even know which led to the couple’s split. In the middle of divorce, Scarlett moved back in Merock where she started work at the local hospital this time as a brain surgeon.

[rockinroleplay]

TW: child abuse, domestic abuse, parental death, mental illness, violence.

A bright sunshine girl seeks her dark, twisty, brooding counterpart—a tale of  best friends torn apart by time.

[ WANT AD ] [ ELSIE'S APP ] [ NEW PARADIGM ] [ SPECIES ] [ DISCORD ]

Open Face | Open Species | 30-35 | Dark and Twisty Personality 

Elsie and her best friend had always been an odd pair, their personalities contrasting in almost every way. Yet, despite these differences, they shared similar traumas that forged a deep bond that had carried them through the ups and downs of their private school years -- waves of attraction and complicated feelings built over time.

However, their unbreakable bond was tested when a scandal entangled Elsie's family, tearing them apart. It was a traumatic time for both of them, and it marked the beginning of their divergent paths. They faced different traumas, pursued distinct dreams, and their once inseparable lives started to drift apart.

Now, ten years later Elsie's world in shambles due to her husband's mysterious death, casting a heavy shadow over her existence, she finds herself yearning for a reunion with her estranged best friend. Though -- their reunion was not what she entirely expected...

ABOUT NEW PARADIGM

MATURE 18+ | 3-3-3 RATING | JCINK PREMIUM | ACTIVE COMMUNITY

NEW PARADIGM is a mature, no-wordcount Supernatural RP forum set in an alternate Earth timeline with a spin on mythology and fantasy. We boast detailed lore, quests, site story lines and a cast of official NPCs that each come with their own interactable secrets

[rpgadverts]

TW: child abuse, domestic abuse, parental death, mental illness, violence.

A bright sunshine girl seeks her dark, twisty, brooding counterpart—a tale of  best friends torn apart by time.

[ WANT AD ] [ ELSIE’S APP ] [ NEW PARADIGM ] [ SPECIES ] [ DISCORD ]

Open Face | Open Species | 30-35 | Dark and Twisty Personality 

Elsie and her best friend had always been an odd pair, their personalities contrasting in almost every way. Yet, despite these differences, they shared similar traumas that forged a deep bond that had carried them through the ups and downs of their private school years – waves of attraction and complicated feelings built over time.

However, their unbreakable bond was tested when a scandal entangled Elsie’s family, tearing them apart. It was a traumatic time for both of them, and it marked the beginning of their divergent paths. They faced different traumas, pursued distinct dreams, and their once inseparable lives started to drift apart.

Now, ten years later Elsie’s world in shambles due to her husband’s mysterious death, casting a heavy shadow over her existence, she finds herself yearning for a reunion with her estranged best friend. Though – their reunion was not what she entirely expected…

ABOUT NEW PARADIGM

MATURE 18+ | 3-3-3 RATING | JCINK PREMIUM | ACTIVE COMMUNITY | OPEN SINCE JANUARY 2023

NEW PARADIGM is a mature, no-wordcount Supernatural RP forum set in an alternate Earth timeline with a spin on mythology and fantasy. We boast detailed lore, quests, site story lines and a cast of official NPCs that each come with their own interactable secrets

[therpdirectory]

TW: child abuse, domestic abuse, parental death, mental illness, violence.

A bright sunshine girl seeks her dark, twisty, brooding counterpart—a tale of  best friends torn apart by time.

[ WANT AD ] [ ELSIE’S APP ] [ NEW PARADIGM ] [ SPECIES ] [ DISCORD ]

Open Face | Open Species | 30-35 | Dark and Twisty Personality 

Elsie and her best friend had always been an odd pair, their personalities contrasting in almost every way. Yet, despite these differences, they shared similar traumas that forged a deep bond that had carried them through the ups and downs of their private school years – waves of attraction and complicated feelings built over time.

However, their unbreakable bond was tested when a scandal entangled Elsie’s family, tearing them apart. It was a traumatic time for both of them, and it marked the beginning of their divergent paths. They faced different traumas, pursued distinct dreams, and their once inseparable lives started to drift apart.

Now, ten years later Elsie’s world in shambles due to her husband’s mysterious death, casting a heavy shadow over her existence, she finds herself yearning for a reunion with her estranged best friend. Though – their reunion was not what she entirely expected…

ABOUT NEW PARADIGM

MATURE 18+ | 3-3-3 RATING | JCINK PREMIUM | ACTIVE COMMUNITY | OPEN SINCE JANUARY 2023

NEW PARADIGM is a mature, no-wordcount Supernatural RP forum set in an alternate Earth timeline with a spin on mythology and fantasy. We boast detailed lore, quests, site story lines and a cast of official NPCs that each come with their own interactable secrets

[peachesofteal]

Oh god - I’m still stuck on this.

18+ MDNI / explicit sex, dark and twisted themes

I've been thinking a lot about Simon Riley who doesn't want the divorce.

Simon who never wanted to be separated, who hates living apart. Simon, who would drag you to a tattoo artist to get your ring permanently inked to your skin so you could never be rid of him, if he could. He’s been actively avoiding the stack of papers that are waiting for his signature, staying on longer Ops, picking up extra work.

Can’t be divorced if there’s no signature.

Simon, who unbeknownst to you, still comes home. Still pushes open the back door in the dead of night, keeping his steps silent so he doesn't wake you. Simon, who stands in the doorway of your bedroom, his old bedroom, and watches you sleep on his side of the bed in those little, ratty shorts with your ass perked up in the air like you're waiting for him. Like you’re ripe, and ready.

Simon, who checks your birth control every night. Who’s pleased when he realizes this month’s pack hasn’t even been opened, every color coded pill still in place, foil glinting at him in the low light of the vanity.

Good girl, he thinks to himself, shutting your medicine cabinet with a silent click. Getting yourself all ready for him.

Simon, who agrees to meet you for dinner.

"Let's just sign and get it over with. We can catch up, too. Talk about what we want to do with the house."

"Alright, love. Whatever you want."

You're a bundle of nerves when he shows up, seated at a little table in the back, glass of wine already half gone.

Normally, he'd try to soothe you. You've always been naturally anxious, a little dependent, and in a social setting, a little high strung. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch.

But this time, he doesn't bother. He sits there with his arms crossed, watching you nervously chatter away, one hand flat on a manilla envelope. He stays quiet, letting you go on, watching your hands seek something to do, fingers finding your wine glass over and over.

You drink two glasses of wine before the entrees are served, dangerously close to your usual self imposed "three drink" limit.

One thing bleeds into another. You start to lean a little, in your chair. He nurses a bourbon, you order a shot after the meal.

"Want one?" Your tongue follows the seam of the lime wedge, dabbing along the spongy, white fibers before your teeth sink into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

“You know I don’t like tequila, but you go on.”

You’re a bit sloppy by the time he gets you home, but still sweet like honey, like you used to be years ago. Before everything changed. Before you asked him to move out.

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the kitchen table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He cooed, relishing in the way you moaned with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Don’t worry, I’m gon’ take care of you and this neglected little pussy.”

“You have to pull out.” You slurred, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you wanted years ago, the thing that made you cry alone in the middle of the night whenever he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

His phone dings with a text, two days later.

“Still mad at you… Can we please meet up about these signatures?”

This became a full fic here.

[jcink-resource]

TW: child abuse, domestic abuse, parental death, mental illness, violence.

A bright sunshine girl seeks her dark, twisty, brooding counterpart—a tale of  best friends torn apart by time.

[ WANT AD ] [ ELSIE’S APP ] [ NEW PARADIGM ] [ SPECIES ] [ DISCORD ]

Open Face | Open Species | 30-35 | Dark and Twisty Personality 

Elsie and her best friend had always been an odd pair, their personalities contrasting in almost every way. Yet, despite these differences, they shared similar traumas that forged a deep bond that had carried them through the ups and downs of their private school years – waves of attraction and complicated feelings built over time.

However, their unbreakable bond was tested when a scandal entangled Elsie’s family, tearing them apart. It was a traumatic time for both of them, and it marked the beginning of their divergent paths. They faced different traumas, pursued distinct dreams, and their once inseparable lives started to drift apart.

Now, ten years later Elsie’s world in shambles due to her husband’s mysterious death, casting a heavy shadow over her existence, she finds herself yearning for a reunion with her estranged best friend. Though – their reunion was not what she entirely expected…

ABOUT NEW PARADIGM

MATURE 18+ | 3-3-3 RATING | JCINK PREMIUM | ACTIVE COMMUNITY | OPEN SINCE JANUARY 2023

NEW PARADIGM is a mature, no-wordcount Supernatural RP forum set in an alternate Earth timeline with a spin on mythology and fantasy. We boast detailed lore, quests, site story lines and a cast of official NPCs that each come with their own interactable secrets

[demigodreading]

Please...Just Say Yes

@sweetprentiss​‘ Emily Prentiss Birthday Bingo Square: Just Say Yes

Warnings: Mentions of Disassociation, Depression, Dark and Twisty

Characters: Non Binary Reader, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, Tara Lewis, Spencer Reader

Relationship: New Emily Prentiss x Non Binary Reader

Summary: Y/N works for the BAU and has not been feeling themselves lately. Penelope convinces Emily to figure out what is wrong and helps the reader.

I really just wrote this because I needed the moral support and to give myself the motivation to do literally anything. Who knows... maybe it will help one of you as well. As always.. if anyone needs help I am always here and willing to listen. You are never alone.

Word Count:1,157

----------

You looked at the ceiling of your bedroom counting the number of bumps from the popcorn ceiling. Oh, how you hated those little textured bumps but it gave you something to do in the morning. You got to fifty before your alarm blared loudly. It was the third one that had gone off. The one that you meant you really had to get up to go to work. You groaned turning your alarm off and removing your phone from the charger. 

You splashed water against your face and looked into the mirror trying to figure out who was looking back at you. Dark rings were under their eyes and their lips were pale. You touched the glass and watched as the person imitated the movements. Nothing felt real anymore. You pushed all these thoughts away as you took one final glance at the figure before going to get dressed. This feeling would pass… it always did at some point or another. 

Half an hour later you were walking into Quantico to begin yet another day of work. You prayed that another case wouldn’t land on your desk today and that you could spend most of it doing paperwork. Anything to prevent you from interacting with more than a handful of people. You gave a small smile to Tara and Spencer as they greeted you but said nothing. It was only with her skillful eye that Penelope could tell anything was wrong. 

She observed you for a couple more hours before she went into Emily’s office determined to fix the problem. As she entered the room Emily smiled and placed the file she was looking at down on her desk, “How can I help you Pen?”

“Have you been watching Y/N lately?” Penelope asked looked back at the window to where you were sitting.

In all reality, Emily spent most of her time watching you. She was mesmerized by the way that you worked. The way you always bit your bottom lip when you were deep in thought. Or the way that you cocked your head to the side when one of Spencer’s stories confused you. Her favorite however was the way that your face lit up and you threw your head back in laughter when someone told a funny joke. Everything about you melted Emily’s heart but she was your superior so she kept all of her thoughts to herself.

“I can’t say that I have been,” Emily lied briefly glancing out to you, “Is something wrong? You know they are still new don’t be too hard on them.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, “They are excellent Em. That is not why I came in here. Something is wrong with them. They aren’t being themselves.”

This comment piqued Emily’s curiosity so she looked out the window to intently take in your surroundings. Your head was pressed against your head as you looked into the file. She could have sworn she had seen you on the same page when she looked ten minutes ago. Her theory was confirmed as she saw you get frustrated and bring your attention back to the top of the page to read yet again. Tara and Spencer were animatedly talking a couple of desks over but your eyes never once left the paper. All of your typical light and sparkle seemed dim that day.

“Have you asked them about it?” 

“It is not me they want to talk to,” Penelope countered, “You should go say something.”

“Me?” Emily said amazed, “Why do you think they want to talk to me?”

“Oh come on Em! You can’t be that dense. We all know the way you two look at each other. You love them. And I am not talking about best friend love like we have. I’m saying you LOVE them.”

“I can’t…”

“Bullshit. You are just scared of being let down,” The blonde argued, “And I am here to tell you that Y/N feels the same way, and right now they need you. Something is wrong. I just know it and I have a feeling you are the only one who can bring them back to planet Earth.”

“Okay….okay. I get the point Garcia. I will go talk to them.”

Penelope smiled knowing she had won but stopped before she stepped out of the door, “Do it soon Emily… I worry that the longer we wait the further away they will get.”

Emily promised she would and Penelope finally left her office. For the rest of the day she pondered how she was going to get you to open up to her. She was nervous, to say the least, but she knew Penelope was right. You were sinking into a place she had never seen before. The quicker she was able to reach you the sooner she would be able to see that smile she loved so much.

Finally, everyone cleared out of the office except for you. You had just begun to gather all of your stuff when Emily came out of her office. You looked up at her the world coming to a stop as you gazed up the woman that had enraptured you for months. Even in your dissociative state, there was a sense of calm and happiness that came with Emily paying attention to you. You tried to muster a smile as she approached you but it came out as merely a twinge of your upper lip.

“Y/N you are here late.”

You shrugged, “Long day. It was hard to focus.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emily asked gently hoping to not scare you away.

You paused looking at her worried expression, “I just don’t think that I could explain it to you properly.”

“Try me. I am a better listener than you would think.”

“It’s not that,” You sighed, “I just… I really like you Emily and what I am going through isn’t light and fluffy. It is dark and twisty and I don’t want to scare you away. Or make you think I am crazy… or that I am some awful person…” “Y/N,” Emily cut you off placing a hand gently on your shoulder, “I like you too and nothing you say will scare me off. I know dark and twisty. I live there a lot. Let me help you. Please.”

“You promise? That you aren’t going to call me crazy or run when I tell you,” You asked tears threatening to spill down your face.

“I promise,” Emily reassured you cupping your cheek gently, “Now please… just say yes.”

You finally nodded and let Emily take your hand in hers. As you stood in the elevator you pressed yourself against her dropping your head gently on her shoulder. She turned and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead and for the first time in weeks, you finally felt hope. Like you could see the darkness slowly beginning to fade.

[liyazaki]

Vegas: turn off Dexter & go touch some grass, you little freak.

[oldblog-amor]

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  .  @creepkills​

      she’s dealt with these things before  ,  the things that go bump in the night  ---  the things that linger in the darkness  ,  that danced along the corner of her eye  .  so when the nightmares she had imagined had only seem to come to fruition  ,  the white mask of horror staring at her she can’t help but allow herself to be slightly shocked  .  though the shock didn’t last long  ,  her confidence only picked up a bit  ,  having survived the entity  ,  having been kidnapped  &  maybe it was something that had warped her to the point of insanity  ---  but this could be fun  .

     little Kate Denson  ,  country girl  ,  singer to the world  &  all she wanted to do was write songs people could sing along to but once she got home there was something about her  .  maybe this is why the    Ghostface    found her  ,  or maybe she had sought out something that resembled the horrors she had faced  .  see  ,  when she was taken from the forest all those years ago and had been tormented that was part of her that she didn’t know was dormant inside of her  .  those nightmares she had run from had been something she could rely on more heavily  .  she could relate to the urge  ,  the anger  ,  the impulse  .

         ‘   ---  you seem to think highly of yourself in such a way that it’s almost considered bragging  .  ‘  she laughs  ,  spitting blood to the side as she wipes the back of her hand over her mouth  ,  having fallen earlier and split her lip  .  ‘  nothing scares me  ,  not anymore  .  ‘