#zwoble

​Oh, she could, but she'd need to be asked! Someone would need to be good, and ask, wouldn't they?

Or what?

⸺ ❝ Oh, that's RICH hearing from you of all people. Hope Caine gets tired of ya one day and I can watch your pieces scatter from far and wide, Zoob. ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAbel doesn’t struggle the way someone expecting rescue would. Pinned beneath Zooble’s weight, back pressed flat to a floor that hasn’t fully decided what texture it wants to be, his hands lift [ no: not to pry their grip away, ] but to settle lightly at their wrist instead, placement careful, almost demonstrative. The pressure forces his head back a fraction; the smiley face drawn on his head tilts off-angle, turning the grin into something crooked, “Oh,” he says, voice compressed but intact, managed rather than panicked, “…that’s a new sensation,” his gaze stays fixed on Zooble, tracking details others would miss even now [ the tension locked in their arm, the way anger tightens instead of spilling, the hesitation buried just beneath the force, ] He catalogues it all, even here, even like this; the isolation is loud around them: a pocket of Circus architecture left unfinished, walls half-rendered, the floor repeating a pattern too clean to trust. Abel doesn’t look offended; if anything, he manages to look curious. “You’re upset,” he observes, tone level, as the wooden span of his hands adjusts minutely, recalibrating around the hold instead of resisting or fighting it off. “Which makes sense. Most people don’t enjoy being lied to.” [ a pause: measured to the second, ] “Or… outperformed.” His hands still when the pressure shifts, shoulders rolling as if resetting a rig rather than recovering from a threat; the smiley face remains unchanged, absurdly serene beneath Zooble’s shadow, “I never said I was good at the follow-through.” The words come easy, almost light [ perhaps it is an attempt at an apology, ] “But you can’t tell me it wasn’t compelling,” a faint edge of amusement creeps in. “Everyone leaned in; everyone believed. That counts for something,” head flicks briefly toward the corridor they came from, then back. “For the record, I didn’t break anything that wasn’t already cracked.” A small shrug, limited by Zooble’s weight. “Funny thing is… I’m still here… & Caine doesn’t keep useless pieces,” He looks up at them again, steady. “So… are we done choking NPCs, or are you still deciding what to do with me? ... You are aware I don't need to breathe, right?”

ꕥ✧∘* “…It's literally the most basic of kinks. What you told her was just raw sex, Zoobie. Breeding is like a pregnancy kink. You act like you're trying to put a whole baby in them. Like they'll get knocked up by how much nut you're putting in them."

ꕥ✧∘* “…The heck? Rude. You gotta be lying."

ꕥ✧∘* “Zooble out here committing hate crimes. Shame on you."