flings myself into your inbox and sets up a sleeping bag
sunday smooches ( 1 / 3 ) , @yuhl
Hands cupped her face and lips pressed against hers, a tenderness amidst the carnage about them. Blood and ash smeared ‘pon her cheek, tarnished by the fingers that rest there. Light died and stars faded in an onslaught of chittering mouths and serrated claws. And, just the same, the city fell.
Destruction of what she was sworn to protect, leaving only darkness and blood. What must she be thinking now? regret, satisfaction, failure, hunger. Oh, how could he not ask? Against saccharine lips he whispered. ❛ Is this what you wanted? ❜
And with growing smirk, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that so masqueraded and mocked the stars. A vision of raining bullets, a crescendo to the end. ❛ Or… did you want more? ❜










