⟡‵ MUTTEETH:
@bingeats
On Aphrodite ; her hair weaves through the cotton strap of her dress, criss-crossed as elegantly as the widow’s web. Purple tinted, poison tinted, archaic assassination like rancor-rotting skin, frothy snarling saliva, and sagging bone-white eyes. She’s death but venom has never tasted any sweeter –– like the obscene amount of sugar in his coffee. His eyes water simply from looking at her –– they sting –– but he can’t bring himself to stop.
She drifts in contented silence ; only idle movements accompany the far - off glaze to her eyes as she goes along. A slow sip of coffee, a lick of her thumb to turn a page, a nail drawn down the spine of the book as she reads ─
But the nape of her neck PRICKLES ; her cheek tilts into the cradle of her palm, gaze bridging the table between them.
‘ ...Kaneki - kun. ’ ( a little surprised, despite herself - though faintly sly. amused. ) ‘ You’re staring. Is there something on your mind ? ’














