𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝐶𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ.
@invitedin.bsky.social
27 followers 8 following 220 posts
⸻Questionable morals. Questionable intentions. Vampire. Apathetic. Antisocial. Disinterested. Disengaged. Here to keep tabs on a witch. (She knows who she is.) FICTION. RP. MC. 25+.⁣ DNI.
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You miss my fingers around your neck, don't you?
You always did take my lessons to heart, blackbird.
I think I might take up journaling myself. Spill all my deep, dark secrets into a leather bound volume that can be used against me in a court of law . . .
[Bonnie, contemplating whether or not to appease the SKY gods by concluding that last interaction with a series of REDACTED content versus what she actually wants to say.]
[Eyes flash in amusement.] Without chasing you through the woods first?

[Loops an arm around your middle and drops you over a knee, giving you a good solid whack.] That's for starting something that you're not going to finish.
I DO. SPANK ME. FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, GOD, AND ALL THAT IS HOLY AND UNHOLY. SPANK ME? PLEASE.
ーhum.] They can look.

[Lips tip into a wicked grin.] Might be the last thing they ever see, but…
ーout on his possessive inclinations. He’s not about to deny them, instead stepping into her space with a dismissive shrug.] And you loved it.

[Hands frame her heart-shaped face, fingertips lightly coasting from temple to jawline as he draws her lips toward his with an appreciativeー
[Gives a sage and solemn nod, humor present in his eyes. Oh, yes. She’s a brat. Even now as she works those feminine wiles of distraction. They work. Every time. And she 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 it.]

An innocent. [Chokes on the word, a scoff that rumbles into a deep chuckle. Eyes flash knowingly as she calls himー
[GASP!] BRAT?

[He's probably the ONLY one to ever call her that to her face, even if it may be true...sometimes. Her mouth fights between a pout and a smirk as she teases fingers through fiery locks. Lashes flutter over the soulful, rich brown doe-eyes she flashes at him now.]

I am an innocent. »
aka foreplay. Also middle-play. And afterplay.

My sexy sweetness, you keep advertising how delicious you taste to the entire world like this just so you can watch me disembowel anyone who expresses interest.

BRAT.
aka foreplay. Also middle-play. And afterplay.

My sexy sweetness, you keep advertising how delicious you taste to the entire world like this just so you can watch me disembowel anyone who expresses interest.

BRAT.
A soul dripping honey-sweet.
A honey-sweet soul dripping down your throat.
Witch blood.
Orb weavers produce a pheromone that makes moths fly to their deaths; what scent would draw you to yours?
[Says nothing for a full minute. He knows what she's doing. He's the king of diversion⸺ and as the saying goes, you can't shit the shitter.]

You're in so much trouble.
Listen, when the only other people in the room both fall silent and start typing on their phones...
When you're reasonably confident that your brother is texting your girl, right in front of you⸺
Just for the record-- my version of this night would have been way more fun and 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 less broody.
[ 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨 ⸺ 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 ]

𝐺𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑒𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑟 . . .

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝: write.as/stefansalvat...

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I know the answer to this.
How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?
From dead to dead𝑖𝑠ℎ and now back to death itself. Who seeks my cold embrace?
Kiss? I think I prefer to refer to it as 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡. It has such a nice seasonal ring to it.
As she should.
Death lingers and haunts upon her lips.
She greets Death as a familiar and a lover.
A red-haired maiden presses a key that unlocks doorways into the spirit world against her lips. A skull nestled in a bed of thick green moss. A stark reminder that Death is always lurking; waiting.