devil's law.

She skips a few of her normal steps, waiting, just long enough for him to fully catch up. All so she can plant a sharp kick in the back of his knee, hiding her blush with violence. “Suck your own dick, you’ve got the ego for it." What vulgar language, its amazing what will happen to a girl when hanging out with a guy like this.

A great guy.

          [ ---- alright. he fucks up. a lot, too. he does that. you know him, i know him, we all know dante fucking sparda. he deserved the kick -- got that. shaky -- but still up, though. making a face. ]

                ❝ If we're not gonna make good make up sex I don't even wanna bring that up, Jeeeesus. ❞

He did not just say that. She just shrugs though and flashes the red roses on her coat beneath her hair, walking it off. “Right, says the guy who called me a queen the other night." Blowjob Queen but she was hoping he was too drunk to remember that part.

No more tickets, she’s invested in so much bail and court fees on his account alone that the jail was rebuilt and improved and more cops walked the streets of Limbo City. He was helping humanity alright.

                ❝ ---- Wanks queen, be proud of that, young one. ❞

          [ dante remembers -- a little bit. however, he doesn't care much. drunk and he probably passed out at some point, wasn't even sure if it was a vivid memory or just one of his weird dreams. either way, he got that solved. and about limbo city being filled of cops -- that's kinda the only reason why he ain't going out much as for late. gotta live with that, dude. ]

“I’m bringing home the beer obviously." Cue a roll of the eyes, clicking of heels, totally ignoring she robbed him of his fun. Regardless— “Looney Toons are better.”

                ❝ Yeah, well, that's the only thing you're good at. ❞

             [ he seriously has enough tickets already -- but i'm sure he wouldn't mind painting the other rooms with those as well. also -- this gotta turn into an argument. ]

                ❝ ---- Trying to don't get arrested, perhaps. Since miss 'fuck me from behind' is all the day out doing satan-knows-what. ❞

            [ ---- he isn't getting all dirty. i mean - maybe. sometimes. but yes, nonetheless dante's walking again since he got up from the ground ---- and you didn't give him any joy in being dead. ]

         [ he got up -- happy now? c'mon, you guys don't know how to have a lil' fun. ]

                ❝ What's the news, honestly. ❞

      [ yeh, he knows he smells like sluts and alcohol -- that being because he remembers quite a bit from the night before. but yeah, he's now the one to snort. ]

She wanted to be the one to rip out his heart (and she did), she wanted to be the one to watch him die (and she will); she wanted to be the end he can only kiss and reach for (touch me). She remembers those days, but most of all she remembers the fear. She can only fear so much before her heart explodes, and the second one shoved roughly into her chest has to beat for her. She can only take so much before the angel she can still be is smothered under the demonic’s palm, and she crushes the angel’s face in her hands again and again. She is stitched in the image of the mother with heaven’s womb, and she breaths the dark ichor of the demon’s throne. “Of course.”

Guns that are always cold lift, lazy in her akimbo posture as she draws closer. He is always taller, and she easily can slip between his open arms and beneath his lifted chin. She is the key to that hole in his heart, and she breaks her teeth off inside of him. Steel is in his stomach and the butt of a gun is dangerous when placed to his face. She touches him, draws him down, and kisses him. She laughs in the kiss, subdued as she pulls the trigger.

      her kisses may have been a beautiful art, something to crave and keep close to heart, but -- how cold did it feel to him when her lips crashed against his? he breathes in a laughter, even, and it's hard to realise. a constant pining showing on his features, he doesn't open up, he suffers under her touch, and it's not for the bullet taken, not the blood flowing, none of it. it's her, it's always her. it doesn't even matter anymore, it doesn't matter she dragged him down and he didn't reply at all, it doesn't matter the vivid red showing -- he is bleeding out and it's all for her. 

    celestial hues go wide open again, and teeth now sink into her lips, sucking what makes her feel alive for a short timeline. if he's going to bleed, so she is. if he's going to take a bullet, so is she. and ebony feels warm under the touch, even more when smoke is coming out of her, and the bullet is left under the skin of her dirty neck. what a fair exchange. his eyes are into her own, he whispers to her sweet nothing.

    ❝ -- i'm glad it did. ❞