// Start a tiny riot //
He mock talks under his breath like the Spongebob gif as she starts up with a telenovela worthy show. He can't keep the laugh out though, which doesn't make his threat nearly as scary as he'd have liked. "Keep it up and I'll actually tie your hands behind your back Flo-vo." So says the Pond Soul.
Her tits are plenty distracting all on their own, even when they aren't glistening bare under the sun. Hoisting them up, drawing the line of the fabric around them tighter so that each edge of them stands out with the strain of containment, that's definitely something he can't ignore. His gaze drops on its own, hypnotized momentarily into agreement. "Uh-huh," he mutters, mind suddenly blank of anything more. Blinking, his attention slides back up. "You are like, freakishly strong." Not more than her fathers, but enough for him to rightfully be mindful of it every time he fucks around with her, a bit worried for the finding out—never enough to actually not, but, the thought is there at least.
"Why, would that work?" he wonders with a roguish twist to his expression, chuckling through the spread of the fabric at her return fire. It lingers even as he shakes his head and crouches into the work, the song of her company. Stepping back to appraise his gothic-inspired masterpiece he erected, which he does with most things he erects honestly, he shoots side eye at her for the shade she throws. Not exactly the word any erection likes to hear.
Only Flora could somehow make sweatpants attractive, a thought that crosses his mind as he watches her very particular strut. He crosses his arms, one 'brow arching with feigned anticipation, but honestly her idea works, as grating as its execution proved to be. As thrilled as a drunk mom watching a child's magician at work, Kaisel lights up, "yessss, Ro. Then we can build wings off of that!" He hoists some of the other chairs to either side of the table, giving support struts to the future draping.
Her tits are plenty distracting all on their own, even when they aren't glistening bare under the sun. Hoisting them up, drawing the line of the fabric around them tighter so that each edge of them stands out with the strain of containment, that's definitely something he can't ignore. His gaze drops on its own, hypnotized momentarily into agreement. "Uh-huh," he mutters, mind suddenly blank of anything more. Blinking, his attention slides back up. "You are like, freakishly strong." Not more than her fathers, but enough for him to rightfully be mindful of it every time he fucks around with her, a bit worried for the finding out—never enough to actually not, but, the thought is there at least.
"Why, would that work?" he wonders with a roguish twist to his expression, chuckling through the spread of the fabric at her return fire. It lingers even as he shakes his head and crouches into the work, the song of her company. Stepping back to appraise his gothic-inspired masterpiece he erected, which he does with most things he erects honestly, he shoots side eye at her for the shade she throws. Not exactly the word any erection likes to hear.
Only Flora could somehow make sweatpants attractive, a thought that crosses his mind as he watches her very particular strut. He crosses his arms, one 'brow arching with feigned anticipation, but honestly her idea works, as grating as its execution proved to be. As thrilled as a drunk mom watching a child's magician at work, Kaisel lights up, "yessss, Ro. Then we can build wings off of that!" He hoists some of the other chairs to either side of the table, giving support struts to the future draping.
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
