Cp Kurolo
Westworld paro&ooc&private&forced love
The setting sun is like blood, dragging the shadow very long.
The man standing on the ruins turned around. He had a pair of black grape-like eyes with very dark irises.
Chrollo gently pulled off the bandage on his forehead. The white bandage was dyed golden in the sunset. He smiled and sighed softly: "You are finally awake."
You rubbed your swollen temples and handed him your hand: "Chrollo... Am I sick again?"
"No," he used his strength to pull you up from the sofa cotton and hugged you straight into his arms, "You're just too tired, that's all."
—————————————
No three views distort literature
Intention: To sink in the hell called love