InsaneJournal

User:

queerfest (451753)

That smell, your neck. I haven't had a woman in weeks.

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Name:

The Fang Gang

Bio:

♠you have fruit punch mouth.

"Packer starts to limp a little, from his shoes being on the wrong feet. Evelyn lets her mouth hang open. Then she spits, yes, the girl taught to never even scratch an itch in public, she spits in the street. Parker sways, bumping against her, and she clutches his arm. He swings her around, and they kiss, reduced to just two wet mouths while the city around them, it disappears."

-"Slumming"

♠what can I tell you, baby? I’ve always been bad.

With a red moon on the rise, how can you not feel the burn? That animal, growing inside of you. Burning, consuming.

Just let it eat you alive. You know you want to.

There's nothing but air between us anymore. How can you breathe it in without bringing us any closer?

Now you can take a good, deep breath. I still have not.

♠the gods themselves do tremble.