Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
The strainer has inevitably tilted and slid around his head, tentacles bobbing closer forward than before, reaching out to grab at her whenever he gets close. He smirks in response to her assertion, knowing it full well to be true, and readjusts his hat as the ring of her flick is still humming out across it. The response of her face to each suggestion only underlines his own, a crisp laugh cutting free at ewwww. "Just brainstorming, that way when we get all the bad ones out of the way, we'll know." The same way you always find what you're looking for in the last place you check, it feels like hunting for their last name might require pulling open every drawer of possibility.
"Hmmm," he considers, the sound deep in the back of his throat. "We'd probably not do it proper justice too," he admits, and shrugs away that possible location of their name. "Okay, we'll think on it more, but we should come up with something every day or before you know it we'll have been married and nameless for a year." He brightens for a moment, as if catching a word, body poised to say it, but it dies just as fast and he swallows it back down with a shake of his head.
There's a fond scoff in response to her claim, because no it's not the same as what he meant. He also hates that they're hiding something again that he'd love to just be crowing about to anyone and everyone, but gods he hopes this is the last time he ever has to sit on his feelings for her. Motivation to finally gather the courage to ask her dads soon, if nothing else. Shifting slightly as she settles fully upon him, his hands slip onto both of her sides, thumbs brushing down in unspoken adoration. "I could do it better," he counters with a smile that's so small it's almost shy, and the gaze that gradually tips up her way is equally so. The idea of being married to her still feels like confetti in his pulse every time he brushes past the idea, or sees the sparkling hairtie on either of their wrists again. Holding onto it for much longer is starting to feel nearly impossible.
The small mumbles of affection that began to bubble up when she joined him sharpen suddenly into a contained burst of celebration. It lights up his face in a new way, knowing they are engaged instead of just thinking it. "That's amazing news!" he laughs, grip tightening on her faintly, a soft shake of excitement given through the contact. "We'll have to give them a celebratory gift. Maybe a couple's spa trip on us, they do owe us for helping with the memory mud. Or make them a nice dinner while they're here." The reality of what that means sinks in then too, because now the timer has started. "So, a week or two then. Let their engagement breathe, then we announce ours."
As for their room-locked personal celebration, he doesn't blame them, but it ignites another branch of the what works best for us. He stills a bit, sinking deeper into the couch, doing his best to look at her as fully as he can. One thumb starts up again, trailing from higher up on her side to further down to her hip in a slow, tracing drag. "I also wanted to talk to you about what you like...in bed." He focuses on the pull of his hand, fighting back the blush of uncertainty that threatens to creep in. He still recalls the smattering of bruises left on her from Jack, the way she'd enjoyed earning them, and now Danta's memory is all about pegging. If it is just him, just them, is he doing it right? "There's a lot I haven't done, yet. I mean, some things I never really thought I would want to, but I don't want you to give up what you like either. Has it been...exciting enough for your tastes?" Now his gaze rises back to her's, searching for the plain truth.
"Hmmm," he considers, the sound deep in the back of his throat. "We'd probably not do it proper justice too," he admits, and shrugs away that possible location of their name. "Okay, we'll think on it more, but we should come up with something every day or before you know it we'll have been married and nameless for a year." He brightens for a moment, as if catching a word, body poised to say it, but it dies just as fast and he swallows it back down with a shake of his head.
There's a fond scoff in response to her claim, because no it's not the same as what he meant. He also hates that they're hiding something again that he'd love to just be crowing about to anyone and everyone, but gods he hopes this is the last time he ever has to sit on his feelings for her. Motivation to finally gather the courage to ask her dads soon, if nothing else. Shifting slightly as she settles fully upon him, his hands slip onto both of her sides, thumbs brushing down in unspoken adoration. "I could do it better," he counters with a smile that's so small it's almost shy, and the gaze that gradually tips up her way is equally so. The idea of being married to her still feels like confetti in his pulse every time he brushes past the idea, or sees the sparkling hairtie on either of their wrists again. Holding onto it for much longer is starting to feel nearly impossible.
The small mumbles of affection that began to bubble up when she joined him sharpen suddenly into a contained burst of celebration. It lights up his face in a new way, knowing they are engaged instead of just thinking it. "That's amazing news!" he laughs, grip tightening on her faintly, a soft shake of excitement given through the contact. "We'll have to give them a celebratory gift. Maybe a couple's spa trip on us, they do owe us for helping with the memory mud. Or make them a nice dinner while they're here." The reality of what that means sinks in then too, because now the timer has started. "So, a week or two then. Let their engagement breathe, then we announce ours."
As for their room-locked personal celebration, he doesn't blame them, but it ignites another branch of the what works best for us. He stills a bit, sinking deeper into the couch, doing his best to look at her as fully as he can. One thumb starts up again, trailing from higher up on her side to further down to her hip in a slow, tracing drag. "I also wanted to talk to you about what you like...in bed." He focuses on the pull of his hand, fighting back the blush of uncertainty that threatens to creep in. He still recalls the smattering of bruises left on her from Jack, the way she'd enjoyed earning them, and now Danta's memory is all about pegging. If it is just him, just them, is he doing it right? "There's a lot I haven't done, yet. I mean, some things I never really thought I would want to, but I don't want you to give up what you like either. Has it been...exciting enough for your tastes?" Now his gaze rises back to her's, searching for the plain truth.
Kaisel
Sexy jutsu, I feel like Naruto—Fightin' demons in my head like I'm Itadori
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
