Any less

• Epigraph •

We are made to love. Though it is a natural trait, it doesn't make it any less dangerous.

• Synopsis •

Even Satan himself can get comfy once he's been allowed to settle in. Though, Satan didn't need an invite because he didn't have nor want to listen to anyone else. He was sat facing me with a cigarette between his canines. His hair was untamed, a pool of golden curls falling down in front of his eyes. He reaches up to brush them back, flashing the tattoos spread across the top of his knuckles under bloody cuts and the small empty heart on his ring finger on his right hand.

His sins were sat on his shoulders, weighing them down and yet he sat straight like the world didn't bother him. His head moved to against the inside of his left palm in an awkward position but yet he managed to look perfect as he raised and lowered the cigarette to and from his lips. His perfectly pouted incarnadine lips that blew out a cloud of smoke.

His gorgeous eyes were alluring but I knew better than to fall for them, he was dangerous like my father. Just like his own.