[ which only makes her pout all the more prominent on her lips, since perona is someone who doesn't align too well with zoro's way of simply expecting people to comprehend his signals, not when she prefers the much more direct approach.
she watches the movement of his shoulder, eyesight drawn to the firm build of muscle of his bicep, similar to strong form of his chest, still plenty durable even with the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. her close attention of him has been enough that she's noticed the growth of his body in the passing weeks, months, how he'd aimed to get stronger and the sight of him shows every bit of proof of it. the bigger he gets, the more she wants him stretched over her like a weighted blanket.
silently, she raises her hand, a pointed index brushing over the center line between his pecs, up and down strokes lightly caressing. ]
Spoil me. [ she finally answers, leaning up on her knees before she lifts herself one leg at a time, pulling his inward so she can climb up to sit over his thighs, trapping him (in spirit) between her knees, knowing full well he could lift her off anytime he wants. her chest presses forward, the tightness of her long sleeve top nudging against him, cleavage visible along the hem of the u-neck. ] No fighting. No swords. Be very nice to me.
no subject
[ which only makes her pout all the more prominent on her lips, since perona is someone who doesn't align too well with zoro's way of simply expecting people to comprehend his signals, not when she prefers the much more direct approach.
she watches the movement of his shoulder, eyesight drawn to the firm build of muscle of his bicep, similar to strong form of his chest, still plenty durable even with the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. her close attention of him has been enough that she's noticed the growth of his body in the passing weeks, months, how he'd aimed to get stronger and the sight of him shows every bit of proof of it. the bigger he gets, the more she wants him stretched over her like a weighted blanket.
silently, she raises her hand, a pointed index brushing over the center line between his pecs, up and down strokes lightly caressing. ]
Spoil me. [ she finally answers, leaning up on her knees before she lifts herself one leg at a time, pulling his inward so she can climb up to sit over his thighs, trapping him (in spirit) between her knees, knowing full well he could lift her off anytime he wants. her chest presses forward, the tightness of her long sleeve top nudging against him, cleavage visible along the hem of the u-neck. ] No fighting. No swords. Be very nice to me.