SUNJATA
the flood
but am i too late? or hearts to your spades,
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
She obliges him, readjusting and cupping his jaw in a way that guides him toward her, though he wouldn’t need it. She will find as the kias deepens that Sunjata’s easily moldable to her, giving in exactly just as much as she does. He sighs a breath against her, and when their tongues do meet, she’ll find his forked — each point moving on its own accord. Her groan is met with the slightest tug of her hair, a press of himself back against her.
Her skirt hitches up and his free hand moves to dive beneath it, to bunch it up as his fingers shift to those sharp claws, dragging along her pale skin on its careful approach upward. After all, he doesn’t want to draw blood. His chin tilts up when they part, his nostrils flaring on the sharp inhale of breath, his lips parting in a slight pant — despite his lungs being quite strong — which leaves the room for him to offer a low hum at the mark she leaves along his skin, buried in among the black ink.
He meets her gaze with a fanged smirk, his clawed hand sliding up along the outside of her thigh further and further until a claw tangles in the lacy underthings she wears and his other hand moves to cup her head, twisted into her dark hair, his elbow slipping around her back to press her closer, a chaste kiss given to her lips before he’s tugging her head back, exposing her neck so he might surge forward and press his lips there, to glide his teeth along her pulse. “Did you?” He murmurs against her neck, pushing forward a bit more as he releases her hair to press his torso against hers a bit more fully, to run that hand down her back to find the lace that keeps her corset on. “Show me what you wanted to do.” Comes the gruff purr.
And then he starts to unravel the laces that keep the corset together, his lips and teeth dancing along her neck, her collarbone, blazing a slow trail toward her lips.
Her skirt hitches up and his free hand moves to dive beneath it, to bunch it up as his fingers shift to those sharp claws, dragging along her pale skin on its careful approach upward. After all, he doesn’t want to draw blood. His chin tilts up when they part, his nostrils flaring on the sharp inhale of breath, his lips parting in a slight pant — despite his lungs being quite strong — which leaves the room for him to offer a low hum at the mark she leaves along his skin, buried in among the black ink.
He meets her gaze with a fanged smirk, his clawed hand sliding up along the outside of her thigh further and further until a claw tangles in the lacy underthings she wears and his other hand moves to cup her head, twisted into her dark hair, his elbow slipping around her back to press her closer, a chaste kiss given to her lips before he’s tugging her head back, exposing her neck so he might surge forward and press his lips there, to glide his teeth along her pulse. “Did you?” He murmurs against her neck, pushing forward a bit more as he releases her hair to press his torso against hers a bit more fully, to run that hand down her back to find the lace that keeps her corset on. “Show me what you wanted to do.” Comes the gruff purr.
And then he starts to unravel the laces that keep the corset together, his lips and teeth dancing along her neck, her collarbone, blazing a slow trail toward her lips.
so we're not written in the stars,
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
