forgive us our sins

[18+] ur local sinner writing guro n psychological trash ! my writing tag

[nuntears]

i just want to let you know that your "day 5: cannibalism" fic with fox from tpof changed me as a person i think about that fic literally like once a week since i first read it like 6 months ago it is so good

this makes me so happy to hear cry sob cry i get giddy hearing ppl say they think of my fics even once after reading them but once a week ???? i need to be put down like a horse omg

[gurokiitty]

mechanic! strade loves when naïve and trusting college students wander into his shop, believing him to be a harmless mechanic. he loves ensnaring their attention with charming anecdotes and technical explanations; all while subtly luring them deeper into his workspace. it thrills him to see how easily they trust, leaning closer to hear him over the noise of the garage, his scent of oil, gasoline, and sweat invading their senses. their wide eyes stare up at him as he leads them around, pointing out various tools and car parts with a seemingly benign smile. he'd observe which tools catch their eyes and ask "ever seen one of these in action?" before guiding their delicate hands to hold the cold metal, his presence enveloping. it builds anticipation for when he can finally show them just how dangerous a mechanic’s tools can become.

he wears a white tank top stained with grease, oil, and faded rust-coloured marks set deeply into the fabric. it stretches tightly across his broad, hairy chest and clings to the contours of his body. the fabric dips into the crevices of his soft stomach, which bulges slightly over his belt line. his tattooed arms are strong and capable, dusted with coarse hair that catches the flecks of metal and dirt as he works...

[nuntears]

read your new fic on AO3 and wanted to ask you if you gave up on the 2019 list you started?

iiii didnt i actually had a bunch of wips almost done but i unfortunately got arrested and my laptop is still in evidence but maybe in 5 years when i get it back i can finish those up tee hee

[nuntears]

has any1 done a stalker x btd boys ? i think that's such a cutie idea thats been floating around in my head lately

i can see them all being into it but like to varying degrees, strade would probably find it cute and give you the same attention right back, in a different, more physical way. lawrence i can see being nervous and apprehensive but i can see the idea growing on him, and ren would be the most into it i think, probably would get off to it even, being like "how many pictures do you have?", "how did you get my hair?" but super excited, maybe blushing....

so many thots !

[erosguros]

day one: dissection

[nuntears]

day 1: dissection

it’s still dark out as lawrence drags your body along the forest floor, the fallen dried up leaves crunching and bunching up under you. his shaky hands are grasping your leg as he tries to get you to a nice spot. he had knocked you out, then given you some tea for good measure. you’re still breathing, bleeding, but breathing.

he drops your leg, here is fine, he decides.

a quiet anger surges through him, had fueled his little outing. he needed to get you as far from him as possible. couldn’t bear the sight of you in his apartment. you had just seemed different, at least for a moment. but you let your true colors shine, screaming and thrashing and causing a problems.

(you even said you wouldn’t a problem, like the pretty flower you are; deceiving, dishonest.)

but everything works out in it’s own way. there are starving animals out here, and you’re worth a lot more to them than to him right now. he starts to walk away, the buzzing agitation fueling every step as he thinks of the long walk back to his car.

but something beckons him to take one last look at you. he doesn’t really want to, he stands there with his back to you while he thinks it over. and eventually he turns, maybe for some closure, maybe just to get a comparison for what you’ll be when he comes back, but he turns all the same. what he doesn’t expect is that he sees you, really sees you, like when he first took a good look at you. the trees surround you, framing you, branches that reach down as if waiting for the moment he looks away to pull you further into the forest, to take you away forever. his shoulders deflate, the apathy and anger that caused him to bring you out here is replaced with a frustration for what could have been. you look like something almost beautiful, an unfinished painting, not quiet fleshed out.

(you’re so still, so quiet now, why couldn’t you have stayed quiet?)

lawrence had learned the value of patience, you need it when tending to plants. can’t grow anything worthwhile without it. the hard lesson that anticipation can build an appetite. that good things come to those who wait. but he didn’t want to wait, he was already so close, you were so close.

he had wanted to come back when there was a little less of you left, after the tender earth and the animals did what they always do, it was what he always did at least. but all that potential, why wait until nature had it’s way with you? maybe those scavengers could find something else to sink their teeth into in the meantime.

he kneels by you, you’re still out cold. his face is growing warmer at the thought of it. he’ll just be finishing what he started, he thinks, as he slides out a switchblade from his pocket.

he holds the blade in his hand like a pen as he starts to carve into your arm, beginning at the wrist and moving up. and you’re rousing from your sleep, feeling it from somewhere else, somewhere distant. weak groans and weaker tugging at your limps, trying to pull away. he tries to shush you, soft words he thinks sound comforting, but when they do nothing, he gives up, opting for silence. it’s silence he wants anyways.

and he will get it.

the slice he’s drawing up your arm is deep, thick muscle, pink and soft, blossoming as the skin splits apart, breathing in the night air for the first time. open, he wants you open. he slices a bit deeper, a little more eager, you’re moving and writhing but he needs you still.

(stop moving)

his hands are red, coated in you, and your breathing slows and it’s like he’s about to meet you for the first time, the real you, the one that can’t lie, wouldn’t even know how. you’re getting colder, the warmth leaking out of you onto the dirt beneath you. your movements are slowing. it’s happening so fast but not fast enough.

(stop moving)

up your arm and towards your chest. you seem to have a second wind, slurred begging, pleading, bargaining, small desperate sounds, but there’s nothing you can give him in exchange for what he wants.

(stop breathing)

and it seems his hard worked has payed off because you go still. it creeps in and then all at once. it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for, the silence rolling in like a fog. and you were everything he imagined and more, laying there, unmoving, so still.

he pauses, panting, hadn’t realized how worked up he would get. your lips parted with words that never made it out, eyes hallow, focused on nothing. in the dark it’s hard to tell just what a mess he made of you. after he soaks you in. he continues, dragging the blade down the middle of your chest, down to your stomach, opening you up. you burst as the skin divides, like everything inside you was desperate to escape. still warm, but not for much longer now.

(it’s just us now)

he tosses the blade, laying next to you. one hand cradling your cheek while the other moves into your stomach, touching all your exposed warmth. he follows your unmoving gaze, to the stars past the branches over the two of you. it’s a cloudless evening, just wide night skies. the frustration and anger he felt seemed so far away now.

no need to rush anything now, as you both lay in the dirt, facing the dark sky.

[nuntears]

day 5: cannibalism

“i spoil you too much” fox says, cutting through the silence, you were watching some animated show together, and his words came out of nowhere. you look at him, worried, worried that he’ll take the little he gives you, and give you even less. it’s hard, being with him like this, but you try to make the most of it.

“i’m sorry, i—” you say, the word spilling out instinctively as it always does when you think his mood will turn.

“no, no don’t be.” he cuts you off. “it just… it could be worse you know, but i care about you. there are terrible people out there, i would know. don’t you think i would know?” he asks, prompting you. and there’s never room for any other answer than the one he wants to hear.

“yes, you would.” you say, nodding. he’s made allusions, painted vague images of someone who apparently did much worse than him, you go back and forth between believing it. it depended on the day, on how much you hurt. today you were healing, bruises yellowing, stitches scabbing and itchy, you were bandaged and seen to. so right now, you believed it.

“i would,” he said in agreement, pulling you closer until you were practically on his lap. you try to relax immediately, to melt into him. it had taken some time but you knew he liked it better this way, when you were soft against him. never tensing under his touch, no matter how he touched you.

he turns away, eyes training on the tv again. you don’t know if he’s really watching it, but you turn to face it as well. he has an arm around you, his body reading relaxed, his clawed finger tracing light circles on your shoulder. but even with no indication that he’s upset with you, you can’t help but feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. is he thinking about it still? you think, was he just trying to make a point? you mind spins, and you lean your head against his. his moves hand there, as if on reflex, still looking forward. he pets your hair, soft, slow repetitive movements. you close your eyes for a moment, feeling his touch. sometimes you pretend this is normal, makes the days go by easier. you like to pretend until you can’t.

“are you hungry?” he murmurs, still stroking your hair.

“hm..” you start, giving yourself more time to think. you don’t know if this is some kind of test, if there’s a right answer. “only a little..” you settle on. trying not to sound too wanting, too spoilt.

“can’t have that, can we?” he says, getting up in an instant, causing you to almost fall over. he moves quickly towards the kitchen. you debate following. he didn’t really say what he wanted, and you hated having to assume. but before you can even decide he’s back and you perk up seeing him, holding the back of the couch as you watch him walk towards you, plate in hand. you can’t see what’s on it yet.

he sits down next to you, and that’s when you see it. your stomach drops. it’s a slab of raw meat, still wet with blood. you can’t help but look up at him, studying his smiling face, wondering if this was some kind of joke.

“go on then, eat.” he says, eyeing you back, a glint in his gaze, and you knew: despite his cheery tone, this wasn’t a question.

“w-what is it?” you ask, shifting a bit. looking everywhere but the plate.

“oh, this is from yesterday’s show.” he replies, his eyes lowering slightly. you swallow dryly. his show. he had said the fun he had with you inspired him to get back into it, and he does them regularly, at least once a week now. you can’t help the horror that crosses your face, and you know the game is up. you can’t pretend it doesn’t affect you, you’re scared again.

“it’s too much… i’m not that hungry.” you try, knowing it’s useless.

“aw pet,” he starts, before lifting the slab to his own mouth, sinking his teeth in and tearing off a chunk. you watch, unable to look away. he sticks out his tongue to slow you the piece there. he picks it off his lips gingerly, “open up, i’ll feed you.” he says sweetly, before placing it between his teeth and leaning towards you, waiting for you to close the distance. you try harder now to not let your disgust show. this is bad, this is really bad. if you don’t now, he’ll be angry. he’s even offering a smaller piece.

he grows impatient, leaning closer to you, the thing’s practically dripping. his face is against yours and you realize he’s breathing deeply, trying to keep himself calm. that never lasts long. it brushes against your lips, his eyes are half lidded as he watches you. you gingerly try to open your mouth, but the smell of it, metallic, causes you to shut it. you squeeze your eyes closed, your glass eye pressing harshly against the socket it sits in, and you try again. but you imagine the camera on some poor soul as fox cut them, screaming and writhing, and you can’t bring yourself do it.

“please don’t make me.” you whisper, shying away just a tiny bit. you know what this means, but you’ll take your punishment. you can’t live with yourself if you did, as small as the piece was, as little as he was asking of you.

“don’t be a brat now, c’mon. i want to see it. i want to see you eat it. don’t you want to be good for me?” he practically purrs, his words only slightly muffled as he speaks with the meat between his teeth. and you hate that you do, you do want to be good for him because the alternative is so much worse.

“i…” you start, trying to find some pitiful excuse, even though you know there’s none that could justify it him. the sound of the tv fills in the space as your words die in your mouth, it seemed so much louder now.

“don’t make me beg.” he whispers, but there’s a threat under his words. you stare at him, he presses the meat against your lips again and you try not to gag. suddenly, he drops the meat back onto the plate, and stares at you, his frowning face close to yours again. and you regret everything, you regret just not eating it, have half a mind to just grab the meat and shove it in your mouth to keep him from looking at you like that.

he places the plate on the table in front of the couch before turning to you again, his face unreadable. he grabs your wrist, standing, and you follow, hoping denying him will be worth it.

“fine, you don’t like the food i prepare for you. that’s okay.” he says, practically dragging you with how fast he was walking, and you realize too late where he’s taking you. he opens the door to the basement, and you try to dig your feet into the ground on reflex. you can’t go back down there. “maybe…” he continues, yanking on your arm at your resistance “you want something fresher.”

you’re crying now as he takes you down the stairs, you see the door to the recording room and you begin to panic.

“no, no, please, it’s fine i’ll eat it, i’ll—” you sob, but you cut yourself short as you pass it. where is he taking you?

and then you see it, the holding room. he opens the door, giving you no time to think and throws you in. you reach your arms in front of you to catch yourself. and when you lift your head up, you come face to face with a man. he’s curled into himself, shaking. you look down, bandages over a stump where his leg should be. the man isn’t looking at you though, he’s staring at fox behind you, with this burning hatred, with such disdain and resentment. if looks could kill fox would be dead on the floor.

“oh my god..” you breathe out. because you didn’t know this man was here, didn’t know he made it past the first show. you were living on top of someone. unaware. why didn’t you think someone was down here?

“what are you waiting for? you said you were hungry. now eat.” fox sneers from behind you, and you flinch, drawn out of your thoughts.

the man in front of you shakes his head at you, malice replaced with terror. you can’t help but see yourself in him. your tears wet your face and you shake your head too, there’s no way he can really be asking you to do this. there’s no way.

“i— i can’t,” you say with a weak sob. you look back at fox, hoping to reason with him. you’re crawling towards his feet, and he kneels down as you whimper, he palms your face and you lean into his touch, looking at him with the most pitiful look you can muster.

“you’re really testing my patience today.” he coos at you, but you hear the bite. “eat.” he states, simply, as if it was that easy. his claws dig into your cheek to drive the point home. you flinch, a soft sound of pain escaping you. fox pushes you away from him and the gesture makes your chest feel tight.

you know this is it. he won’t ask again, and you know if you argue anymore, it isn’t just you who could get hurt now. you turn again to the man, and he’s staring at you too, shaking his head still, whimpering.

you stand, unsteady, and slowly walk towards him. he shrinks away, kicking with his one leg until his back met the wall, his stump trying to gain purchase on the mattress he’s on and failing. he’s blubbering, sounds that don’t make words but you understand. you look at him, trying with your eye to explain in a look, i don’t want to do this, i would never do this. but he shakes all the same. it doesn’t matter that you don’t want to, because you will. and everyone in this room knows it.

you pick up his arm, and he thrashes and screams and it’s an awful sound, he tries to shove you away. and you see when his mouth was open that his tongue has been cut. you wince, fighting through it, moving on top of him, when he tries to push you again you grab the arm. “i’m sorry” you whisper, so quiet, so soft, but you hope he hears it.

then you bite down. he tries to get you off with his other hand, but you clamp onto him, teeth embedding in his flesh and he screams and screams and you start to sweat from it all. you bite harder, trying to pull, to no avail. you taste blood, though you know that’s not enough. you yank at the flesh. but you fall backwards, teeth sliding off his arm and colliding with each other. he manages to kick you away, and you relent, backing up. you look back at fox, desperately.

he sighs, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. and you want to reel back at the sight. you don’t like disappointing him, don’t like what it means for you.

“get me a knife!” fox yells and his loud voice makes you jump. you wait a beat and a knife is slid under the food slot of the door by an unseen guard. he leans down and grasps it. both you and the man wait, unmoving. you don’t need to see the man next to you to know you both share the same fear at this moment.

fox only takes one step forward, beckoning you with a finger. you stumble up towards him, scared. unsure of what he’ll do now that you’ve failed him. you’re in front of him, but he beckons again, and you tremble, moving closer regardless.

“i’m not feeding you this time.” he sneers, shoving the knife against your chest, uncaring of where the blade pressed. and you begin to understand as you grasp it. fresh hot tears flow from your eyes. for the briefest moment you think about using the knife on him, but you know you won’t. he must know as well. you sniff. then you turn back to the man.

he’s blubbering again, loudly, cowering. all shaking and half broken.

you’ve sat there too. you’ve been scared too. but that’s not where you are now.

you move with more conviction this time. you want this to go by quickly, you want to do him the favor of not making it last. and you’re on him. you grasp his arm, stretching it taut, you ignore his cries, and you start to slice a small chunk from his shoulder. you have to saw at it a bit. he’s trying to push you off but you pull at his arm harder. it’s a piece he won’t miss too much, won’t even be able to see really, it’s a mercy. you’re granting him mercy. the slice is hanging off his skin and you let go of his arm and rip it the rest of the way. you hold the torn flesh in your fist.

and you’re off him. you face fox, knife in one hand, strip of flesh in the other, and you eat.

your face contorts at the taste, you want to gag but you don’t. it’s still warm. the blood gushes from your lips as you bite into it. you chew desperately. but it’s tough, doesn’t give, so you give up and swallow it whole. you gag again, you feel the bile bubbling up in your throat and the sound seems so loud, but you swallow it all again, willing it to stay down. fox watches you intently the whole time.

“open.” he orders, and you do. the only thing on your tongue is bubbles of blood and saliva. he makes a small noise of acknowledgement, then continues “don’t you want more? you’re not getting anything else tonight.” he warns, tilting his head at you, but seemingly satiated.

“no, i was only a little hungry” you reply quickly with a sniffle, your determination gone, only the sinking feeling of what you’ve done is left, weighing on you, crushing you.

“well then, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he laughs, bringing you into his arms and you melt into him. you don’t know when you started craving his praise, his validation, but it felt so good. he slips the knife out of your hand and you would’ve given it if he asked. you always do as he asks it seems, one way or another. the man behind you is groaning, has been in fact, but you’ve tuned it out. for a moment, it’s only you and fox, it’s all you’ll allow it to be.

but fox disturbs the moment too soon, pointing at the man “and you,” you hear, but can’t bare to face him, feeling shame as you realize how this must look, “i’ll have someone patch that, push the show a few more days out. you should be thankful.”

and before you know it, fox’s hold is on your back, guiding you out of the room. you know this is the last time you’ll see the man, so you look at him, taking him in. and he glares daggers at you, looking at you with the same contempt he looked at fox. and you can’t help it when the tears blur your vision again, you try with your face to let him know, you need him to know: you were him once.

the door shuts behind you and you hear the man trying to scream at you from the room. you lean further into fox, trying to hide from it, trying not to hear it.

fox begins to lead you upstairs and you sigh, relief filling you as you follow him away from this place. you want to live in this feeling, you want to pretend that this is the extent of it. all he does is touch you softly, pet you, feed you.

when he brings you upstairs, he sits you back on the couch. the man’s screams continue in your head but they’re duller now. you hope some part of him understands that that’s not who you are. your stomach churns still, upset with you, just as upset as the man was.

your eyes land on the tv, it’s playing something different, moved onto the next episode, the sounds are muffled to you, your gaze unfocused but looking ahead regardless. you don’t realize fox left you there until he’s back with a napkin, dabbing at the corners of your mouth. you can’t help but smile at the gesture and he does too.

“so spoilt.” he mutters, but it’s doting. when he’s done he gives you a kiss, gentle. his tongue brushes past your teeth and the taste is back in your mouth but you don’t mind it this time.

he’s right and you know it. and maybe that’s just what he was trying to prove. this really isn’t the worst. at the end of the day, you’re not the man in that room, you live upstairs, you have a bed, you can do what you like for the most part. fox isn’t the worst.

and he would know, wouldn’t he?

[nuntears]

my, @youatemarrow and @l3athrf4ce’s 2023 goretober !!

if you use this prompt list, feel free to like or @ any of us, bcus all of us would love to see what you guys come up with !

[themunflower]

OKAY! Something new for the 'Tober of Gore...

So, y'all know how I usually do one list? VARIETY TIME, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Lists credited to @drawkill, @sketchyface, @nuntears, @youatemarrow, @I3atherf4ce, and @awfulwingz

So... How does this work? Well, hypothetical person I made up for the sake of demonstration...

Basically, I'm going to either A: Pick one of the things listed for a day, or B: combine 2 or more into one drawing.

So basically? Y'all ain't gonna know WHAT to expect. >:D

[nuntears]

Could I request #4 with derek? (I'm the anon who asked about prompts earlier, and this one seemed to fit him hehe

posted !

[nuntears]

no. 4 for anon

there's a beat, you're both breathing heavy. you on the ground, curled into yourself, cradling all your softest parts as bruises blossom beneath the skin. him above you, panting, excited, eager to do more.

his fingers thread through your hair, it almost feels soothing until you feel his nails scratching against your scalp. he tightens his fingers into a fist and pulls your head up, your gazes meet. he's blushing, exhaling long and slow and shaky. something close to a whimper escapes your lips.

"aw," he tuts, yanking you closer when your eyes search for anything else to look at, anything other than him. "c’mon, give me a smile. it’s not like i’ve done anything yet.” and you flinch, it's true and it's not.

and you try and you shake because you know the worst is yet to come. the corners of your lips curl up as best as you can manage and it's hard because you haven't smiled in so long, it's almost like you've forgotten.

"hah, is that what you call a smile?" he mocks, gripping your hair tighter as his foot collides with your chest. "try again." you hear him say past your own wheezing groans. and you close your eyes. baring your teeth and trying your best to beam at him. you blink your eyes open, and see him looking down at you with glazed over eyes.

"cute," he mutters in approval, licking his lips. he pulls you head closer, leaning down to meet you, you think he’s about to kiss you when his tongue brushes the meat of your cheek, licking your tears with a long stripe to your eye. you didn’t realize you were crying. he brings his lips to your ear and it always puts you on edge when he’s this close. he’s vibrating with anticipation, barely able to keep going with this foreplay, hungry for the main course. but he steadies himself and tries anyways.

"now say you like it.” he breathes out.

[yandere-daydreams]

~Manipulative Yandere Starter Prompts~

1. “You’re here because I want you to be.”

2. “It’s for your safety. You’ll see.”

3. "What? So you love them more than me?”

4. "C’mon, smile for me! It’s not like I’ve done anything yet.”

5. "Don’t think of it as a ‘punishment’… it’s more of a lesson.”

6. "How else would they know you belonged to me?”

7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!”

8. “You’ll be safe as long as you stay with me.”

9. “I’ll love anyone else like this again. You wouldn’t take that away from me, right?”

10. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”

11. "You’re so vulnerable right now.”

12. “Just tell me their name and I’ll make this all better.”

13. “It’s like you were made for me.”

14. “I’m doing this for us.”

15. “I won’t be as nice next time you misbehave.”

16. “If you’re not going to talk, I’ll make it so that you can’t.”

17. “Even if you don’t enjoy it now, you’ll learn to.”

18. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

19. “I’ve dedicated myself to you! It’s only fair that you do the same.”

20. “Don’t say you’re lonely, you have me!”

21. “It’s your word over mine. Who do you think they’re going to believe?”

22. “I’d never hurt you. Not unless you forced me to.”

23. “I love you, and I’ll do anything to prove it.”

24. “You’re calling me a monster? Who do you think made me this way?”

25. “Be good for me this time. I don’t want to see you cry again.”

[l3athrf4ce]

made a prompt list for goretober w @nuntears and @youatemarrow , let us know if u use it :P

[nuntears]

was there any specific prompt list to use for the small requests?

i dont fink so it's just kinda open but i can find a cute ask meme i like if thats easier !

[nuntears]

going on vacation thru sept ! and while i hav a million wips and am working on my goretober prompts, i don't know how much long form stuff i'll b able to get done while i'm out and about :( so i'm requesting prompts and to reply with cute little drabbles, cus that was fun and also didn't take me too long to whip out

hammered out my list of characters i am comfortable writing for real quick over here, and if you're curious about som1 not listed, just ask !

[nuntears]

idk if i have any russian speaking followers but a very sweet individual translated starcrossed into russian, you can now read it in russian here!

[sacred-portal]