COLT
Her name on his lips is like smoke from something burning—curling at the edges, catching at the back of his throat. He breathes her out like it hurts, and she feels the heat of it, not undone, but marked. Each strand of hair he pulls is a rope coiling in his hand, a sanctuary built from the threads of her steady unraveling. He pulls her apart bit by bit, her line unspooling with the drag of his descent and the darkness that slips through her seams, showing her how good it feels to be taken apart.
His final warning earns one last, deep plunge before she slowly draws back, leaving space to take all that he gives her. A whimper catches in her throat, and it’s all she can do to contain him as her thighs tremble beneath the perfected tempo of every nightspun tendril pressed to the slick ache of her want.
Everything he’s built up tumbles into a rush like breaking surf, her breath caught in the undertow of pleasure that crashes through her—powerless to its unrelenting force. It wrests all control from her, hips jolting, spine arching as wave after wave rolls through. She holds him through it, barely steady, until it crests and breaks, dissolving into the curl of her toes. She swallows it with his release, and everything that had gone taut inside her finally softens. She slumps beside him on her back, one hand still pressed to his skin if only to keep her from fully unmooring. She's melted, spent, and still shaking from the tide's retreat.
"Ves, gods, what fucking chapter is that one on?" She can barely get the words out around the air she's trying to suck in and steady inside her, and the smile around them is fragile, if only because all of her feels recently reassmbled and the glue hasn't fully dried yet.
His final warning earns one last, deep plunge before she slowly draws back, leaving space to take all that he gives her. A whimper catches in her throat, and it’s all she can do to contain him as her thighs tremble beneath the perfected tempo of every nightspun tendril pressed to the slick ache of her want.
Everything he’s built up tumbles into a rush like breaking surf, her breath caught in the undertow of pleasure that crashes through her—powerless to its unrelenting force. It wrests all control from her, hips jolting, spine arching as wave after wave rolls through. She holds him through it, barely steady, until it crests and breaks, dissolving into the curl of her toes. She swallows it with his release, and everything that had gone taut inside her finally softens. She slumps beside him on her back, one hand still pressed to his skin if only to keep her from fully unmooring. She's melted, spent, and still shaking from the tide's retreat.
"Ves, gods, what fucking chapter is that one on?" She can barely get the words out around the air she's trying to suck in and steady inside her, and the smile around them is fragile, if only because all of her feels recently reassmbled and the glue hasn't fully dried yet.
Baby, don't fall for me, I'll tell you right now
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
