#death fantasy

[pettybourgeoiz]

Buy Kilo Kish's "AMERICAN GURL" on bandcamp

Buy Kilo Kish's "American Gurl: Super Deluxe Value Size" on Apple Music

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[maryblackwood]

kilo kish...... the album is so good

[111thfloor]

kilo kish - death fantasy 

[acutabovetherest]

Hey! Yeah I like this back a forth format a lot, it's way easier.

So here is my answer to your scenario : A message came in late at night on tumblr. It was from Anna, 32. Her voice was shaky and exhausted. Stage four heart failure, constant pain, only months left at best, and the medical bills were ruining her family. She begged me to end all of this and specifically wanted it in a way where she decide how she get back the power over her disease.

I don’t usually do mercy kills but something in her voice got to me. I agreed. Two days later we met at a secluded cabin she had rented in the mountains. She was lying on the bed in a soft sweater, curvy build, medium length hair, striking blue eyes, sexy and very attractive. Her heart monitor beeped quietly on her finger. She looked at me with a mix of fear and strange excitement. She whispered she was ready and asked me to listen to her heart one last time. I pressed my ear to her chest. It was fast, weak, struggling. She breathed harder when I did that. Then I gave her a strong sedative so she would stay relaxed but still feel everything. She wanted to feel it. I took the long needle, slid it slowly between her ribs and straight into her heart. Anna gasped sharply, her blue eyes wide, gripping my arm tight as the needle pierced her. The syring was tilting with every single beat of her heart, I pushed the plunger and injected the potassium chloride directly into her heart muscle. Almost immediately her heartbeat went chaotic under my hand, violent, irregular spasms, pounding hard then stuttering wildly. Her body arched and trembled, a deep guttural moan escaping her as her heart went into total fibrillation. I kept my palm pressed firmly on her chest, feeling every desperate flutter and violent twitch as it fought and finally ... silence.

Her eyes rolled back, a last weak convulsion, then nothing. Complete stillness. Her heart was destroyed and she was the one who decided and took control over it.

I left my hand there a little longer, savoring the silence where all that frantic struggling had been. Exactly what she wanted.

I arranged her peacefully on the bed, left the monitor on so it would look like natural cardiac arrest, and left.

Your Paris hitwoman story was awesome by the way, especially that sudden gun to the head at the end. Really good cliffhanger.

For your next one: you’re the hitwoman again. Your best friend has been secretly sleeping with your husband for months. You found out but never let it show. You tricked her into a girls weekend at a remote cabin outside the city, just the two of you. Write how you kill her. Your turn

Dear anon this story killed me (in more ways that one) 😵 I loved it so much!!! 🤩 Seriously, it made me blush in several sections. Great job. ❤️

Here is my story in response to your prompt:

I’m so excited for my girls weekend with Mara. I have been planning it for several weeks. The planning started after one evening when my husband, Greyson’s alarm went off to wake him up. He works nights and it was time for him to get ready for his evening shift. As usual he slept through it so I turned off the first alarm and tried to wake him. Half asleep he told me he called out of the first part of his shift so he could sleep in. Then he rolled over and promptly fell back asleep. I grabbed Greyson’s phone again to cancel the next several alarms. When I did, I glanced at a notification on his phone from Mara. “Last night was so much fun 😍😉🥵.” Confused, I opened the chat and found they had been chatting back and forth for MONTHS. It felt like I had been punched in the gut… my heart was beating so fast despite it actively breaking. How could they do this to me? I took some time to fall apart. Honestly, it was days of me pretending with both of them and then coming undone when alone. Then I started to develop a plan.

Weeks later, Mara came to pick me up in her winter green 2000 Jeep Cherokee XL. We both love the car and can’t believe it’s now considered “classic.” Little did she know her beloved car would be carrying her to her final destination. I went over the casserole instructions once again with Greyson and kissed him goodbye. I hopped in the car and we zipped off toward a remote cabin a family member let us use far outside of the city. As soon as the house was out of sight we interlaced our fingers and squeezed each other’s hands.

You see, in a few months I was planning to serve Greyson with divorce papers. I was sick of being not his wife but his mother. I had always put in 110% into the relationship while he had put in the bare minimum to keep me around. Also, naturally over time my friendship with Mara had blossomed into romance. I thought she was my soul mate. Then the bitch slept with my pathetic husband. I had to pretend to be the loving partner to both of these people who had completely shattered my trust. The thorny betrayal wrapped itself around my soul and I could not rest until I exacted my revenge.

Mara and I had a perfectly normal evening making food, playing cribbage (we each won once), cuddling together and then having sex before going to sleep. Once I could hear her soft snoring, I slowly and silently crawled out from between the sheets.

A couple hours later I woke Mara up. She slowly blinked open her eyes and confusedly asked what was going on. She realized that her hands were tied to the bed and she started to panic.

“This isn’t funny Anna, I don’t want to do kinky stuff right now, it’s the middle of the night.”

I stepped into the light and when she saw me she stilled, her eyes widening. I could see her heart beating through her very thin nightshirt. She could tell from the look in my eyes and the stillness of the air that I was a threat.

“How long have you known?” she said in a trembling voice.

I told her everything. I told her that what she did to me, not to us, to me, was unspeakably cruel and reprehensible. I continued talking and waited until I’d said my piece before she offered up her reasons why she did this.

“Baby, I love you, you’re the only one for me. It didn’t mean anything. You know Greyson, he’s just a fun guy to be around! When the three of us would hang out and you would fall asleep so early… we just started to connect. I swear I don’t love him. I love you, only you.”

I really didn’t care or believe anything she said. I stopped listening even, tuning her out. Her lips kept moving, tears running down her cheeks, but all I could think about was every time I’d fallen asleep beside her believing I was loved. I figured she was saying what she thought I wanted to hear so that I would let her free. Once she was done there were still tears in her eyes and she asked me again to please untie her so we could talk more.

I approached her and she sighed in relief, thinking I was releasing her. Instead I put duct tape over her mouth, which elicited greater hysteria. I hushed her, telling her if she cried too hard it would cause her nose to stuff up and then she would suffocate. Tears rolled down her face as I kissed her on the forehead. I let her know that this cozy little cabin was going to be our tomb.

Mara screamed into the duct tape.

I secured Mara’s feet to the bed as well and then stepped outside. Mara’s eyes scanned the room to see if anything could be done. All the lights were on. There was a strange looking large tube with a cap screwed on top over the opening, coming in through the bedroom window. There was duct tape over any gaps where air could get in. She frowned, trying to understand what was going on.

To add to the bewilderment, she heard the familiar sound of her Jeep starting. She wondered to herself, “Is Anna going to leave me here?”

I burst into the room with labored breathing, holding towels. I placed the towels at the bottom of the door. I duct taped the seams. I saw Mara working hard to take long deep breaths in an effort not to hyperventilate.

I told her I loved her, despite everything. I kissed her over the duct tape on top of her mouth. I calmly went to the window and unscrewed the top off of the pipe. As I did, I released a hazy cloud of exhaust fumes. I had connected the Jeep’s exhaust to the tubing and placed a brick on top of the accelerator. I knew I didn’t have long before I passed out in this tiny room.

I quickly jumped into bed and held Mara. She was sobbing and violently thrashing around. I held on for dear life (well, dear death) and took big breaths, filling my lungs each time.

Soon Mara and I both went still. No more beating from inside our chests.

The car continued to run.

Back home, Greyson lay dead on the floor, a belly full of poisoned casserole.

Here is your new prompt:

You meet someone new on the internet. She is cute and silly but runs her own depression blog. She is a bit pathetic with her myriad of issues, and you honestly pity her. She makes pleas constantly about wanting someone to end her life. You decide to test her and see if she actually wants someone to kill her or if she’s just a bit or a drama queen. Either way you’re going to have your fun and satisfy your need to end another persons life. You use the clues she leaves on her blog to track her down. You so enjoy taking complete control of another person and sending them to the afterlife.

[acutabovetherest]

Hello hello hello i love your blog so much

If you would have to be killed in a romantic way, what are your favourite scenarios i'm sure you have plenty and you already know every detail of how it would happen

Awww I’m so glad / sorry that you like it!! 🥹 I chose just one scenario because of length. In this scenario I reference the aggressor as my partner for the purposes of romance prompt. I do not actually have a partner irl but I do have a situationship and I am imagining him in this. I tried to keep the sex stuff light because it’s not the typical content of this blog. But irl there would be a lot more sexual detail.

Prelude:

My partner knows how much pain I have endured in my life. He has held me while I have sobbed and pounded at his chest, begging god to kill me. Then begging him even tho I knew it was unfair to do so. He loves me so much and wants me to be alive, healthy and well even though he knows that is an unrealistic fantasy. Sometimes he does fantasize about putting me down just so he doesn’t have to witness me suffer again. He justifies to himself, “she would look so peaceful, once she went still and her body began to cool.” Then he would try to shake off the image and feel ashamed when he realized how aroused he was at the idea.

One of the nights that he is holding me while I cry, I tell him for the umpteenth time that I think I would be better off dead and wish that I could die. I expect his usual response of cooing in my ear, stroking my hair and then holding me closer. Instead he says, “would you like me to end your life, dear?” I sigh and say “yes” in an exasperated tone as I am thinking, “obviously.” Because I don’t realize that he is serious. My heart begins to run as he tells me he is very serious. Lots of personal dialogue ensues. Magical way is worked out that he will not be implicated in any way or have any consequences. Skip to a night several weeks later.

The day of:

We have just had the most beautiful day. Doing things we like doing. LOTS of sex. After a particularly mind blowing orgasm he stays inside of me and tells me that it is time. I stroke his face and try to memorize every detail. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. We can both hear it and it makes him grin. We hold each other tight for several minutes. Smelling one another. Then he has to handcuff my hands to the pillars of the bed frame. You see, although I am a willing participant, survival instinct is still very strong. This way I will not be able to fight back. While he is doing this I tell him again how much I love him and how grateful I am. We are both crying. He kisses me on the lips and then the forehead. Then he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes. At first I am still compliant and I even thrust my throat into his hands. After my brain has been deprived from oxygen for several seconds I start to thrash against my handcuffs. Twisting my pelvis and kicking my legs. He tells me with some effort that he loves me and I look beautiful like this. I am red all over and then my face is looking purple then blue. I can’t think as the edges of my vision go soft. My body is still panicking as it was designed to do. But before everything goes black I get to see the most beautiful face.. from exertion his face is also red. He has tears coming down his cheeks. He is full of adrenaline and lust. Finally, long after I have stopped breathing, he takes his hands away from my throat. His hands hurt but he doesn’t really notice. He looks at me. My mouth is open from trying to access air. He notes with almost academic attention that one of my pupils have blown. The whites of my eyes are no longer white as several blood vessels have popped, petechiae. My lips look like I’ve put on a purple lipstick. Again he strokes my hair and kisses me on the lips, murmuring sweet nothings to ears that can no longer hear.

[acutabovetherest]

Hello hello darling i hope you're doing good ...

this time please could you tell us if you were the killer how would you operate ?

i'll give you 3 targets : Your lover that broke your heart, Your girl best friend that betrayed you, a random contract if you were a hitwoman.

😈

Haii! So tell me if you like this format:

You send me one scenario to write a brief summary on and then I send you one back for you to write? I’m overwhelmed with multiple scenarios so I do better with one at a time. For this one I am going to choose random hitwoman.

And here is my scenario back to you:

You get a message from me or someone like me. Someone who is actively suffering from life’s circumstances and they don’t want to have to do the dirty work of ending their own life. (And you don’t have the resources to make their life better.) So they ask you, no beg you, if you would kill them. Where, when and how is completely up to you! How would you do it?

_______________________________________

Okay, back to my own scenario. I have a difficult time imagining myself as the killer except in rare cases, so I’ll do my best!

Today’s kill was supposed to be simple. I typically work hard to stay emotionally unattached and to do my job with flat affect. Sniper rifle is my absolutely favorite method and allows me to do this. I fancy myself like Fassbender in “the Killer” from 2023. But in reality I am definitely not that disciplined or anal. I think I love the Smiths just as much tho

Three weeks prior I had been given the typical portfolio outside some hillbilly super market in Eastbumfuck nowhere, Arkansas, USA. Today, I am sitting in a ultraposh rental villa just outside of Paris, France. I think to myself that the rental itself probably costs half my fee. I have thoroughly studied the target and know them better than they know themselves. I can accurately predict within a five minute buffer when they’re going to take their next shit.

I could tell you all about the target, Nevaeh Jones, but honestly, she is boring. Shes a typical entitled trust fund baby that never had to experience the harsh realities of life. Shes in Paris for her annual birthday celebration, surrounded by her many sycophantic friends. Ironically one of those “friends” was the person to hire me. She never forgave Navaeh for stealing her boyfriend 7 years before. The man had come and went but the hatred simmered while this woman feigned forgiveness. I don’t really care about the reason why, I only care about if it impacts the plan.

Fast forward to 1632 hours and I am on the rooftop with Navaeh in my sights. Shes perched on her king size bed scrolling on her phone. Shes on her back and her legs are half dangling down the side of the bed. I am aimed to shoot directly into her heart. I can picture the heart beating rhythmically at a resting pace, soon to be blown up. With crystal clear focus I compress the trigger with my finger. The anticipated *boom* *crack* sound hits my ears although I am wearing hearing protection. The smell of the burnt gunpowder and sulfur invigorates me. I handle the recoil like a champ, I am well practiced. The projectile pierces its target. The heart struggles to function as several chambers are blown to pieces. Nevaeh, her Gen X parents wanted to name her “Heaven” spelled backwards, doesn’t even have a chance to gasp as she immediately dies from cardiac tamponade. The phone falls from her hands. I don’t have the time to see the expression on her face as I need to quickly pack up my rifle and bolt. I will luxuriate in satisfaction once I am safely back on my flight home. As I am packing up, I feel the barrel of a gun at the back of my head. Merde! Today was supposed to be simple.

——————

*edit to add: I guess I less wrote how I would operate and just made someone up because I have a hard time putting myself in this POV

[audiozinhos2]

[disneyfans2004]

I made new fantasy: the animator series, death fantasy (a spinoff fanmade series) and new fantasy the movie: the nightmare Titan Saga fanmade logo

What do you think this fan made logo I made! This is made by me!

@sophiabophie12 @sugar-miss1 @dreamkingsworld