Wayland
He/Him
Twenty-Eight
March Twenty-First
Vermillion City
Heterosexual
League Turncoat
Eh
Should I bite my tongue, until blood soaks my shirt?
TAG WITH @king
KING WAYLAND
delivery
POSTED ON Dec 20, 2022 4:16:55 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","king"] king grimaced, baring teeth like a pained and wounded ursaring. his hands were stained red and, absentmindedly, he wipes the color onto his pants. [break][break] "fuck me," he says in a hiss, the words escaping through sharp canines. november 3rd, huh. he places the stained knife onto the counter and carefully grabs hold of the spotless wood. [break][break] making his way down the hall, king is silent as death itself, before finding the doorway cracked. using his foot, he enters. the slumbering form in-front of him is easy prey. [break][break] "serprise. wake yer ass up." he kicks a pillow from the floor onto the woman, lifting the tray ever so slightly, emphasizing its prescence. on it? breakfast. and a cake, stained cobalt and red, a surprisingly well-done salamence imitated on its surface. [break][break] "happy birthday, princess."
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