KIADA
the harpy
Oh she knows it drives him wild to lose the way he’s touching her skin for her to remove his shirt, fingers dancing and trailing along the contours of his body as she lets her gaze dart up to meet his heavy lust lidded ones. And the electricity grows further within her, extending like static to her fingers, dulling her mind until there’s only one thing left on it. Him.
And the harpy happily obliges to his movements, mimicking him as one hand leaves his body to lean back on it, the other following the curve of his forearm as his hand wraps around her throat. “A taste.” She confirms to him, a smirk rising along her features as her voice vibrates against the slight pressure to her throat. But then his hand is moving, and she’s incredibly attuned to it, goosebumps rising again as it trails lower and lower and she leans back on her hand to give him the full view — a half slung on shirt, tightening against her swollen breasts and the perk of her nipples, as his pressure tugs at the shirt as he drifts lower.
She meets his gaze with a fiery one of her own, half lidded and breathless as she is, he doesn’t have to work hard to get her to oblige to the fabric he’s removing. But the slowness of it has her hissing under her breath, hips shifting with a silent plea of going faster. She knows it won’t help, but she tries anyway. And she obliges even further when he spreads her thighs, making sure he finds that she’s prepared for this, that she wants this so badly, if the indication of the slickness of her thighs are any help. That and the slight buck of her hips with it.
But she does slide forward just enough, lifting her legs so they align over his shoulders, before slipping out of the shirt as though she’s had plenty of practice, and discards it with the other along the floor.
And the harpy happily obliges to his movements, mimicking him as one hand leaves his body to lean back on it, the other following the curve of his forearm as his hand wraps around her throat. “A taste.” She confirms to him, a smirk rising along her features as her voice vibrates against the slight pressure to her throat. But then his hand is moving, and she’s incredibly attuned to it, goosebumps rising again as it trails lower and lower and she leans back on her hand to give him the full view — a half slung on shirt, tightening against her swollen breasts and the perk of her nipples, as his pressure tugs at the shirt as he drifts lower.
She meets his gaze with a fiery one of her own, half lidded and breathless as she is, he doesn’t have to work hard to get her to oblige to the fabric he’s removing. But the slowness of it has her hissing under her breath, hips shifting with a silent plea of going faster. She knows it won’t help, but she tries anyway. And she obliges even further when he spreads her thighs, making sure he finds that she’s prepared for this, that she wants this so badly, if the indication of the slickness of her thighs are any help. That and the slight buck of her hips with it.
But she does slide forward just enough, lifting her legs so they align over his shoulders, before slipping out of the shirt as though she’s had plenty of practice, and discards it with the other along the floor.
what a shame we gotta pay for reality
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
