protegge | ic inbox ( balance )

[Yep. Confirmed. She's predictable, but it's good predictable. He pretends not to watch her cleaning off her thumb, but not very hard.]

Yeah, we're even. Whaddya think, did I do good?

[Heh. They're both pretty predictable.

She beams indulgently and holds the cluster of churro flowers a little closer with affection.] You did amazing! It's romantic and creative!

. . . Cool.

[What a response. No wonder the ladies love him.]

[His expression softens, and it's for kind of a stupid reason. He likes — he's happy, that he can look at Sayori after the conversation they just had and have everything be fine, like nothing's changed. Because it hasn't.]

Can I sit with you?

[So smooth. A regular casanova.

Sayori unironically thinks it's cute, though, which is worse. The look on his face goes soft and so does she, lifting one foot to scuff her toe bashfully on the floor of the cabana.] Yeah, it's easier to sit and eat.

[And cuddle, maybe? TBD, she may need both arms for these gifts.

She takes his free hand easily and tugs him to the couch.]

[And lo, he is tugged. Still with the flowers carefully tucked close so as not to damage them, he sits, gently bumping her with his shoulder.]

I can hold stuff when you're not using it. [A beat.] Eating it. If you want.

[An advanced technique based on Boyfriend Holding Purse: Boyfriend Holding Two Bouquets.]

[Boyfriend Holding Two Bouquets technique... this is his ninja way........

She giggles as their shoulders bump and doesn't waste any time at all in flopping more heavily against him. She just barely manages not to get sugar all over the place.] Super gentlemanly. But you should keep a hand free.

[Grinning up at him, she holds up another churro flower in offering.] It's nicer to share stuff like this!

[His ninja info card is just a picture of his ass.]

[Even if she'd gotten sugar everywhere, he almost certainly wouldn't have noticed. Or made a joke about how sweet she is. He doesn't get the opportunity (yet), but he is presented with a problem.]

[How to eat this churro.]

[Unfortunately, he chooses to solve this problem by leaning in and biting the flower top off of it. Chomp. Sitting up, he looks tremendously pleased with himself.]

Nffdd id!

[*Nailed it.]

[time to start collecting ninja info cards!!!

Somehow, Sayori isn't expecting this. She goes wide-eyed, blinking in surprise, and then bursts into laughter as he...tries...to speak.]

Do you— [Jesus. She wheezes.] —here, you can have the rest too.

[She holds it up a little higher so he doesn't have to lean in so much, still fighting the dregs of laughter.]

[This is a nightmare.]

[The thing is, Mista's mouth is still really full. He's got chipmunk cheeks. So the smart thing to do would be to chew and swallow like a fucking adult before going for more. So obviously he does not do that.]

[Instead, he chews ferociously and begins the swallowing process, then goes for the rest of the churro. The stem. Chomp.]

[This is a nightmare.]

[This is a fucking nightmare.

What is also a nightmare is that Sayori isn't even disgusted. She just laughs harder. Totally charmed by this awful behavior.

She manages about two words at a time through the giggles.] Should— gosh, should I watch out for teeth?

[You know, like when you give a dog a treat?]

[Hm! A good, important question. Thoughtfully, Mista chews and swallows before answering. He must really have something to say.]

Nah. I can be gentle. Real well-behaved.

[Why.]

[...

Hey?? Hey, why is she going so red at that??? Hello???

After a shocked second, there's another titter.] Ahaha~ I knew you had a gentle side! You're really well-trained, huh?

[Jesus Christ.]

[Oh. Oh, wow, he feels that. She liked that, huh? That’s, uh, something.]

[Hm. The way he looks at her is also Something.]

. . . For you, yeah. If you want me to be, I’ll be a good boy for you.

[WHEN WILL GOD STRIKE ME DOWN]

[jesus FUCKING christ

There's this choked noise that's halfway between a cough and a laugh, like she's just gotten punched and her lungs got tripped up on their own air. The way he's looking at her— she wonders if that's how he looked at her photos too.

She snatches another churro from the bouquet and shoves as much of it into her mouth as possible. More than just the flower. Folded up stalk and all fills her very red cheeks until she definitely can't talk around the amount of food she has in her mouth. Now she has time to think about what to say while her face burns and she assesses the general privacy this cabana offers (not much.)

Nailed it.]

. . . Wow, you really like that, huh?

[He's both awed and insufferably smug. Maybe he can't be blamed, though; after all, he can feel exactly what she feels, and she feels good, even if overwhelmed. If things were different, if he didn't have such a direct line to her feelings, he probably wouldn't push it, but since he does, well.]

[They're close enough to each other that it only takes a tiny movement to press his side against hers, slinging one arm around her lower back to pull her closer. If he's leering, it's a perfectly justified leer.]

You like the idea of me doing whatever you tell me? Have me hanging on your every word for permission? Bringing me to heel? Or what is it, huh?

[This is it. This is how Sayori dies. With a bouquet of rapidly-cooling flower churros in one arm and the other tucked way too firmly against Mista, while her head explodes from the amount of blood that is rushing to it.

She is still too full of churro to talk for a few moments, but he can feel it. Each suggestion he poses is like hammering a nail into the coffin of her dignity. Is she supposed to answer those questions?? Really???

There's a long, muffled whine of protest at this vicious teasing/flirting/both. That's all she can manage as she chews. Chews. Chews. And then swallows.

God.] It's like— I mean—

[What is it like???]

Just, you know! Being that loyal and devoted is really cute! Especially 'cause you said you were so bad when we danced. I'd want to—

[no

stop]

—reward you for being good?

[no........]

[Well.]

[Whatever he's been expecting, it isn't that, as clearly evidenced by his expression of horny shock. It's easy to imagine the things he put forth, but this he just hadn't considered, and the more he thinks about it (which he can't stop doing) the more his breath catches.]

Oh, [he says, eventually, roughly, and swallows around nothing.] Oh, yeah. Okay, yeah, that's — I like that.

[He is actively sweating, disgusting.]

[Oh.] Whoa.

[Oh, she said that out loud. But she can't help it! She can feel the horny shock as much as she sees it! And she can feel him warming up. In multiple senses — through the Oath, and where the exposed skin of his side is pressed against her.

This is killing her. But...

But.

Now it's her turn to tuck closer, her eyes wide and discerning as she leans up closer to his face.

And then she laughs. A soft thing, short and disbelieving, that builds into a grin as she speaks.] Yeah? You want me to call you a good boy for doing stuff for me?

[It's a tease. Obviously he wants that, she's just turning this back around on him.

But then something else clicks. It's obvious that a follow-up is coming from the curious tilt of her head. Something truly heinous. Her tone goes from knowing to sudden realization.]

...do you want me to call you a bad boy if you don't do stuff too?

[This is a fucking nightmare and we will never wake up from it.]

[It's bad enough when she laughs, when she lets out that soft giggle that stretches into a dazzling grin. She's gorgeous, she's hypnotic, she's the center of his world in a way that makes him crazy, not the least because no matter what he does she doesn't seem to quite believe him. But how could she not be, offering something like this?]

[Of course he nods, because nodding is all he can do. Words just won't come. If he nods, at least that will be something, some response, some acknowledgment that she's right, that the heat rising in his cheeks is for her and for that. And he thinks that's all there is, but—]

[But then she keeps going.]

[There's this weird moment between breaths where he's painfully, acutely aware of how fucked he is. It feels like she's got him around the throat, pressed up against the wall, with her words and her smile alone. She's so smart, too smart, and he's so fucking mortified and turned on that he thinks he might die. Right here, right now, in this cabana on this beach, may God strike him down.]

[It doesn't happen. Instead he swallows hard and carefully puts the bouquet of flowers down in his lap. Just. You know. Subtly and for no reason.]

I want you to do th— both. I want both.

[The thing is, she can convince herself she doesn't see a lot of what she sees. Under most circumstances, she could even convince herself that she doesn't see this. And if she did see it, that it wasn't for her. By her own metric, she's not all that special, so a lot of things vanish when she measures them by that scale.

But she feels this. Burningly, blindingly, she feels it.

And she echoes it right back without realizing, her face heating as she watches every subtle shift of his expression and simply...waits. For an answer, for guidance, for some kind of memory to tell her how much she might know about this. Photos are photos and all, but she has to know more than that about making him feel good, doesn't she?

Unfortunately, the movement of the bouquet just draws her eyes down. She doesn't see what it's hiding, but. She's not that dumb.

It would probably be politer not to eye his lap while she thinks about this — or rather, tries to think over the undeniable impulse that's suddenly grasped her. She's forgotten how to be polite, though, because she's just trying to decide whether to be polite.

Maybe it's rushed. There's still so much about him she can't remember. But...it doesn't feel rushed. It feels natural. It feels like they never missed a beat.

So—

She looks back up to his face, eyes wide and intent.] I can help with that if you want.

[So it's okay, right?]

[She's staring. Worse by far, though, is the way he can feel her thinking, mulling over her options to the ever-increasing tempo of want drumming in the back of her mind. Their minds. It's this insane feedback loop that yanks him back every time he tries to calm himself down, to think about something super serious and chill the fuck out, until all of a sudden this piercing psychic hum of horniness grabs him by the dick all over again.]

[He thinks he should say no. He should probably say no. He breathes out sharply, ducks his head, lists all the reasons he should say no.]

[But Sayori's looking at him, and he can't help but meet her eyes. They're loud right now. There's so much in the way she looks at him, and none of that's helping with the situation either, frankly.]

I—

[He chokes on a laugh, gaze darting towards the next cabana over, not that close but close enough. Licks his lips. Thinks about all those reasons again and immediately forgets them.]

Do you want to? I mean, it'd — yeah, I do, but you don't have to, y'know?

...

[She leans back and gives herself just enough space not to headbutt him as she bows her head in a sudden peal of laughter, eyes squeezed shut as giggles overtake her.] You're so cute!

[None of this is an answer to his question, or helpful at all in any way. But it's just funny! He can feel how much she wants him too, can't he? The connection is two-way, and she's not being terribly subtle.

So she has to laugh before she can muster an answer, waving her free hand in a flippant motion as she tries to remember the words to explain.] I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to, silly! I like to help people but that's not the kind of favor I'm just gonna do for anyone!

[There are still dregs of laughter in her words. They're affectionate, though.]

[God.]

[Okay, you know what, fine, he does deserve that. Even he'll admit it, as he tugs his hat down over his face in complete mortification. The parts of his face that can be seen are tomato-red, but there's no resentment in him, just a sort of floaty embarrassment that lingers on the edges of arousal, making eyes at it from across the border.]

I know that.

[How much of this squirming is because of genuine physical discomfort and how much is because he's been shamed half to death? Yes.]

. . . 's fucking. No walls here. [nailed it]

ic inbox ( balance )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

the actual struggle for him not to say hes a good dog here

i was really confused when this wasnt a ryslig AU notif ill tell u that much

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/3

2/3

3/3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)