Hotaru
The click of his teeth has her smirk sharpening, like a pleased cat whose tail twitches at the tip with the threat of a pounce. He’s an adorable thing, and she likes having him in the unassuming cage of her claws. “Survival of the fittest right? If they can’t even summon basic hand-eye coordination, how am I supposed to know they’ll find my clit?” The vulgar word is spoken almost sweetly, a snap of fire in her mismatched eyes.
Though it seems it’s her mouth that catches his attention more readily, and she lets her teeth pluck at her bottom lip to give him something to watch. The change in the bet doesn’t bother her in the least, invoking a delighted laugh as she steps up to the marked line. It’s little more than faded tape, scuffed from hundreds of boots, but it does the job well enough. Even drunk, she is quite the marksman, and as she throws the dart it hits left of center, scoring an easy thirty-three points after a little math. Hotaru winks at him as she slides just barely out of the way, intending to hover distractingly at his shoulder during his turn. “Top that handsome.”
Though it seems it’s her mouth that catches his attention more readily, and she lets her teeth pluck at her bottom lip to give him something to watch. The change in the bet doesn’t bother her in the least, invoking a delighted laugh as she steps up to the marked line. It’s little more than faded tape, scuffed from hundreds of boots, but it does the job well enough. Even drunk, she is quite the marksman, and as she throws the dart it hits left of center, scoring an easy thirty-three points after a little math. Hotaru winks at him as she slides just barely out of the way, intending to hover distractingly at his shoulder during his turn. “Top that handsome.”
She doesn't care about your words
or how you'll try and save her
or how you'll try and save her
