[ right, yeah, challenge received — it's that anytime lappland so much as brushes up against her, it was that when she came clutching w's hair. all of this is a personal affront. w isn't afraid at all to blow them both sky-high, and she'll do it staring hatefully into those precious blue eyes, she'll start the blast in the center of the vile tangle their tongues have become.
fuck it. she's already overheating anyway, liable to ignite all on her own. sarkaz and stupid hot lupo die every second of every day and w has personally witnessed far too many, but nobody's ever had the balls to challenge-not-kiss her. she's lived decades in the same routine of track-hunt-murder and now here's her first unfinished job ever rising up above her. w throws her legs around, one heel clattering to the floor, the other doing its damned job and digging like a knife into lappland's back, scraping down her spine. ]
Dirty bitch.
[ it's less of a condemnation and more of a breathless wheeze as lappland pulls that dripping prop free. there's literally no scent in the air but wolf musk, her nostrils flaring when she catches that impossible whiff of steely, diseased blood, all of it so fucking intoxicating that she has to lamaze through it. she can barely move, like she's pinned by lappland and the sharp ache between her legs altogether. she can't really blame lappland for all the mess made of her tights. ]
You know I'll have to kill you if you try.
[ she'll make it a slow death. a really slow death, enough to span several favors returned, but she definitely needs to be the one to put this wolf down. ]
no subject
fuck it. she's already overheating anyway, liable to ignite all on her own. sarkaz and stupid hot lupo die every second of every day and w has personally witnessed far too many, but nobody's ever had the balls to challenge-not-kiss her. she's lived decades in the same routine of track-hunt-murder and now here's her first unfinished job ever rising up above her. w throws her legs around, one heel clattering to the floor, the other doing its damned job and digging like a knife into lappland's back, scraping down her spine. ]
Dirty bitch.
[ it's less of a condemnation and more of a breathless wheeze as lappland pulls that dripping prop free. there's literally no scent in the air but wolf musk, her nostrils flaring when she catches that impossible whiff of steely, diseased blood, all of it so fucking intoxicating that she has to lamaze through it. she can barely move, like she's pinned by lappland and the sharp ache between her legs altogether. she can't really blame lappland for all the mess made of her tights. ]
You know I'll have to kill you if you try.
[ she'll make it a slow death. a really slow death, enough to span several favors returned, but she definitely needs to be the one to put this wolf down. ]