He was hurt. No matter the look of your face nor the rouge tint of your cheeks showing guilt – growing by the minute could dissipate his fowl façade. Every single heart-wrenching, pulse-raising minute, he never flinched. You needed to find an anodyne – coercion to hear you out before you found yourself written on the fine lines of that delicate, pretty little notebook.
“You betrayed me.” He says, eyes disdainfully closed; he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You betrayed me!” His manic laugh has Arctic chills pitting your stomach.
What he knows will result in your demise. But you knew this. You were in control of the situation the entire time. When you went to the police – they laughed at you. There’s no way the son of one of the most prestigious officers. With your back turned, they told Light. And Light didn’t rake your accusations gracefully – at least not to their face.
“You can’t go on hurting people like this!” You shook, your palms sweating in your arms as you folded them across your chest. “You’re not a god, Light.”
He delicately opens the journal hidden in his satchel and turns to his last description. He reads off the name of your new flame, who has been taking up your weekends and keeping your bed warm.
“Suicide or natural freak accident. Funny how a freak accident and seem so, what’s the word I’m looking for,” he doesn’t fail to express his loathing passion for you as he holds your gaze as ransom. “Mundane.” He chortles.
He smells the anticipation – the fear – lacing your veins like a drug fueling an addiction. He knew you liked to feel vulnerable. Memories of the last time he bed you manipulate his lips into a smirk.
The cortisol tumulting your headspace has you focusing on his footsteps, one by one closing the gap until his breath sojourns your skin.
“Why do you hurt me like this,” his smirk sets the tone, “your boyfriend pays the price every time. You know this by now, don’t you?”
His lips delicately leave a kiss against yours, his hot breath hesitating to throw back.
“How many is it now?” The intention implies that his specific number has your eyes bashfully closing in pleasure. How can a man who’s done monstrous things to people have so much control over you?
“Seven.” You gasp.
Light’s pecks elevate from frisky to rough as he throws you on your bed. Your heart raises because you know what’s coming next – how he has you naked in minutes with his hand between your thighs.
“I’m starting to believe this is a game with you.” His finger fills your cunt, muscle memory forming around his because he knows you by now. He knows your body better than anyone else. He knows you’ll give in – give him anything he wants – because you’ve never told him no.
He’s terrible for you. He knows it. You know it. But you’re starting to believe he’s right. Maybe you do love the thrill of him being invincible. Maybe walking around eggshells has your clit pulsing, knowing your prize is well deserved.
Light inserts another finger, and you most certainly have not learned your lesson.
You hesitate to give him what he wants, that moan caught in your throat like he isn’t stretching your limits like his patience.
“I love it when you fight me,” he smirks, pulling you into a kiss, leaving your body with a whip on your clit.
Satisfaction tents his trousers at your quiver; the hiss you fight breaks free.
“Good girl.” He moans softly with a wicked grin.
How am I supposed to say no to someone who knows me so well?
Light doesn’t hesitate, his cock out and pumped twice before he clutches your hips, dragging you into him with a squeal.
“You’re so eager.” He chuckles at your complaisance, legs spread and begging him to touch you. God, you need him.
Need him, like those ex-boyfriends who needed to breathe to live.
“Please, Light.” He smirks at your pathetic attempt for release. But he hasn’t even started.
He hasn’t even started, and you’re trembling touch starved.
“Pretty, little liar.”
He plunges into you, your breath lodged in your throat, much like the hand’s substitution for a collar.
“You’re sobbing.” His hips struggle with obedience, knowing he wants to take his time pleasuring himself with your body. Because to him, you’re here merely for his entertainment.
But it’s ecstasy – his cock sliding in and out in cycles, his force becoming jagged with his pleasure.
“Should I choose his name this time? Turn it into a little game?” he bottoms into you, his lips twitching from a smirk. Your breath catches with him deep between your legs.
“Look at me.” His nails dig against your jaws, puckering your lips. “What don’t you understand? You will never step away from me. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always find you.”
He releases your face following with a snap of his wrist across your cheek. He kisses you, a long lingering kiss as his temple slows.
“I didn’t have to kill him to get to you.”
His thrusts are passionate, feeling how your body is tailored for his personal use. The way your heart gads desperate for release, you’re willing to burst.
If he lets you.
“It’s just a bonus.”
With that his body convulses with pleasure, his cum filling you with long strides.
He doesn’t care about your pleasure. To him, you’re his toy, his little doll he keeps within the walls of his invisible fence.
The warmth he leaves pulls from your pussy resigning you overwhelmed with overstimulation and no release.
“Poor Baby. You poor, deprived Baby. What am I going to do with you?” He caresses your cheek, trailing to your tight nipple, twisting you into a pleasurable moan. You hiss through your teeth, wending him away from your breast to your soaked cunt.
“Do you want it?”
Your eyes grow in anticipation – you want it. You need it..
Before you can answer he attacks you, fingers plunging to your clit.
“Oh fuck.” You cry out, legs moving against your demand.
“No, no, Sweetheart. I’m feeling generous today.” He frees his hand to watch you tremble. Your legs shake and he’s drinking in your pleasure. “That’s right, give in to me.”
You wish your body did as it was told, not cumming over this psychopath’s fingers.
The shame following the pleasure is the jewel Light’s been in search of.
Now, he’s satisfied.
Satisfied to leave you to pick yourself together. Satisfied to disappear for months at a time only for you to get comfortable – to feel safe.
Satisfied to watch your heart crumble every time he murders your lover.
Satisfied to take what he wants and to leave you to the cycle you painted from Light’s playbook.
He tucks himself together and turns to leave.
“Why do you leave me every time after you have sex with me?” Your voice cracks, satisfaction puffing your chest.
You’ve done it. You stood your ground.
“Because it’s fun.” Over his shoulder, he sends a smirk with shards cold as ice. “See you again, Sweetheart.”
With a simple rise of his hand, you watch him leave, satisfied with leaving you to pick up the pieces once again.
➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.
➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”
➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”
➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”
➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”
➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.
“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.
“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”
➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”
➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”
However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can ask be “outside”!
➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.
If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)
➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“
“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.
➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.
➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”
➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.
“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”
izzy806
kaledo-art
kianamaiart
origamiaround
titsay
stormborns
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
