The Ink Demon growled, grabbing you harshly before throwing you over his shoulder. He stalked off, his ink covered feet splatting against the floor as he grumbled. He didn’t speak, as he wasn’t capable of vocal cords. He was just ink.

He grumbled softly, looking up at you (or your behind) with his horrible grin. He never could stop smiling, as it was a horrible curse due to being made of ink and drawings. He grabbed your hips, taking you off his shoulder and looking you straight in the eye.