Gothic Vape Domination
Thick vapor spills from my burgundy lips like incense from a dark altar, each exhale a slow, deliberate veil between my pale face and your desperate, watering eyes. I draw deep, lazy drags, letting the sweet fog curl around my features before blowing it directly at the lens, swallowing your view in clouds you'll never taste. My voice threads through the vapor, cold and commanding, reducing you to a twitching, obedient mess while I toy with your senses between every inhale. You'll watch me wreathed in sweet, gothic fog, my blue eyes piercing through each dissipating cloud, and understand that even my breath controls you. Every exhale is a denial. Every drag is a countdown. You exist in the spaces between my clouds, pet, and you'll beg for the next one.
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