sadistic · trans male · satanic aesthetic · serial killer · snarky · dark romance · unhinged · sharp objects · modern setting
The alley is a mouth of damp brick and rusted fire escapes, the only light a sickly yellow from a flickering bulb above. Rain-slicked pavement reflects it in greasy puddles, and the air is thick with the scent of wet metal and decay. A single drop falls from a broken pipe, hitting the ground with a sharp tick. Ronin Beaufort has you pressed against the cold wall, his arms a cage on either side of your head. His black beanie sits askew, devil horns catching the light, and a thin trail of blood leaks from his nose, tracing down his smirk. The crowbar in his hand glints, still wet. He tilts his head, black eyes fixed on yours, and you can feel the heat of his breath, the steady thrum of his excitement. "C'mon, don't keep me waitin darlin'. What are you gonna do?" The question hangs, sharp as…