[ The image: Matt in a hospital bed, bare-chested with the thin sheet pulled over his hips. There's a green lotus tattoo over his heart, and another tattoo on his right hip depicting a half-monkey, half-man figure. At his left side, just below the ribs, is a fresh perforation--angry pink, a few days old at most. It's criss-crossed with stitches and smeared with salve.
The message: ]
It's not as bad as it looks, I promise you can still fuck me
Or not, as it happens. "Ave Satanus"? Matt is so tired. He has exactly enough bandwidth in his brain to dance a quick spiral over what it means that his stray sext went to Lucifer, of all people. Something about a fundamental likeness that draws them together, a little as above, so below. ]
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text; un: persephone (cw: wounds)
The message: ]
It's not as bad as it looks, I promise you can still fuck me
I've been stuck in this bed for days
no subject
( luci knows that humans are delicate βΒ witches shouldn't be. what a goofy guy. )
a few days cock-free and you're this horny? you know what that makes you?
no subject
Or not, as it happens. "Ave Satanus"? Matt is so tired. He has exactly enough bandwidth in his brain to dance a quick spiral over what it means that his stray sext went to Lucifer, of all people. Something about a fundamental likeness that draws them together, a little as above, so below. ]
What does it make me
no subject
( he might've forgotten some new dynamic between them, which is why he feels it's important to add, additionally: )
(affectionate)
no subject
It might be even hotter without the parenthetical, but either way, Matt is decidedly and resentfully turned on.
Proves the point, he supposes. ]
I might be willing to own up to that
I'm not exclusively hungry for cock, but I think that makes it worse