Ruination Novels & Stories

The guilt was still there, heavy and real, but it had become fuel. I wanted him to ruin me. I wanted to feel this thick, young cock rearrange me until I couldn’t think about anything else. My pussy was dripping so much it ran down my thighs and dripped onto the floor. I could hear it. I could smell it. I felt owned and filthy and completely alive. He drove into me faster, the table creaking under us. The pressure built fast and vicious, my walls fluttering around him. “Come for me, Mommy.” he spanked me.

Their sacrifice would not be in vain. As they moved through the fortress, the extent of the devastation became increasingly apparent. The once-imposing structure was now a shattered ruin, its defenses breached, its dark magic extinguished. The silence was broken only by the occasional groan of collapsing stone, the remnants of a once powerful regime slowly crumbling into dust. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and the lingering essence of dark magic, a grim reminder of the epic battle that had ravaged this place. Yet amidst the ruins, a glimmer of hope began to emerge.

"Boss wants you ruined." South Side steel surged, mind racing escapes, body braced shatterpoint. Warehouse shadows closed, pliers inching, squeeze—cliff of ruin absolute.

It became the desperate need to prove a point. I and Ghost were desperate to prove a point to one another so much that we were willing to burn the world to the ground. Winning was my endgame. Ghost was after all a common messenger and I was the head of La famiglia. The Rodriguez famiglia. A name not to be toyed with. I couldn’t lose. But I fought that battle, spilled so much blood until I became blood sickened. Of course my inability to take a life by my own hands had set me back. My reputation was ruined and once again, it was proven that all I was was just a pretty face and a sharp mind.

Ruination was written in her fate. He would take her to the heights of joy before tossing her off the cliff of ecstasy. He would break her in such a way. Her father wouldn't be able to recognize his precious little princess.

Every second stretched into an eternity, the weight of her sins pressing down on her like the mountain of rubble that had once been her life. Korran’s death... Her mother’s grave, desecrated in the chaos she had helped unleash. The screams of innocents echoing through the ruined halls of the citadel. She had replayed those moments a thousand times in the darkness, each memory sharper than the last, carving deeper into her soul. Guilt clawed at her insides, fiercer than any physical pain the chains could inflict.

She would fuck him and give him potions to knock him out for hours as I entered the pack house nightly, placing the ruins in every room, including his bedroom. His bloodline is rich in darkness, his soul impenetrable, but I found the ruin that will ensure success, the one that will destroy his soul, the one I had placed on his back, embedding it in his skin with ink, the only one needed to draw the darkness into his heart and soul. I only know of one way that it can be removed and now I’ve made sure that it will never happen. It's easy now to lure him to the darkness, it takes almost nothing to activate the ruin on his back, a small amount of dark magic, and the darkness grows within him.

Mainly because he found out – I don't know how – and has been an asshole about it, using it to threaten me, subtly though. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, like he could shield me from the memory itself. “I’m here,” he says. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” Something inside me cracks. “He ruined me,” I choke out. “I’m trying to move on, Alessio, I swear, but the second I saw his handwriting I… I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was right back there, trapped, alone, and…he…he…”

“Would you ever look at me like that again.” Marcus had the truth now. The worst of it. “You ruined everything,” I muttered, unsure whether I meant Marcus or myself. “You finally did it. Damian had forgiven me once. I wrapped my arms around myself beneath the water. “Once,” I repeated. “That’s all you get.” My voice dropped. “If he finds out about the blood… he won’t stay.” I exhaled slowly, the cold biting into my skin. “Some truths don’t save you,” I said. “Some of them bury you.”

Her cries rang out into the stone walls, but no salvation came. It was the end of something within her. That night, her spirit shattered. No more tears fell, for the well of her sorrow had run dry. The fire that once burned in her dimmed to ash, her heart emptied of all warmth, all humanity. And above it all sat Ravena—cackling like some mad crone, goblet in hand, her laughter ringing like a death knell. She drank deeply as the ruin unfolded before her, delighting in Scarlet’s undoing.