open to: f/nb desired connection: stalk*r/target or anything fuck*d up k*nk possibilities: k*dnapping, f*cefucking, an*l, watersp*rts, kn*fe play, squirt*ng etc. the dirtier the better
A low, distorted laugh curled through the night, followed by the scrape of steel against bark. Shhhk. The sound was designed to rattle down her spine. The knife caught what little light there was, its edge darkened with something thicker than the shadow that enveloped the forest — blood. Drops had already smeared onto the hem of his black cloak, staining the fabric in damp streaks. “You run so pretty in the dark,” a voice drawled, warped by the mask. “But let’s make this interesting, hmm? I’ll give you a chance. A head start, if you will. If you’re clever or fast enough to escape, you get to keep breathing without me on your heels.”
Beneath the mask, his chest rose and fell with slow, hungry breaths. For over two years he had been consumed by her — his forbidden muse—and now she was finally his to chase. Adrenaline surged through him like electricity, making his muscles coil tight with anticipation. He was like a viper, coiled to strike. There was nothing sweeter than the game of cat and mouse, nothing more intoxicating than the fear shining in her eyes, the way her trembling steps carried her further into the dark where he alone reigned.
“But if I catch you…” The voice dipped lower, like velvet and venom, each syllable accentuated. “…then you’re mine. And I promise you, darling, I’ll teach you how to love me the way I love you.” Silence filled the hair, even the loose branches of the trees drawing in closer as if eavesdropping on his sick little game. Somewhere behind the mask, he smiled, unseen but palpable, watching her quake in the dark. His gloved hand flexed around the handle of the knife, its wet sheen gleaming like a vow.
“Run.”
