Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
The idea of just Flora and Kaisel is a delightful one, as if love alone could elevate their names into something so known, or always spoken together, that there could be no mistaking who is meant. He would not have believed such a thing possible before her, the idea that love could erase everything but that which matters most, stripping them down to the most base form because that's all that's needed. "Ooooh, maybe Flora and Kaisel Nameless." A laugh parts his smile soon thereafter, which swiftly stuffs itself back inside his mouth with a quiet hush of breath the moment she leans in to brush noses. "And I'm yours," he concludes, leaning into the fish until they make scampi.
The curl of her fingers against his hair feels like his soul is being kneaded, and he melts into the touch. Enough so that his response is just a dreamy "mmph," to her, breathing in the truth of what she says as easily as the smell of sun and wind that comes off the waves of her hair when she lingers close, as she does now. "Because there's only one me, and one you, and our love is the only kind like it for that," he murmurs into the side of her cheek as she presses her kiss in, smile curling around the touch like it could trap it there and keep the gentle, tickling brush forever. He'd love her better each and every day, building up off everything they'd done yesterday, and the day before, until memory became a stairway to the endless stretch of their future. He'd not settle for just loving her the best she'd ever known, that might have been true for yesterday, but today? More. There's always room to improve, after all. He doesn't argue the point further, content to keep the knowledge in his chest and dissolve beneath her lips.
He livens up a touch more from the puddle he was becoming as she also adjusts back to a more full height, the carbonation singing in her veins at a deadline being marked down bubbling up through him with as much eagerness. "Perfect," he declares, and there's no hiding the double meaning of it when he's holding her so fully in his gaze, copper shine brighter for the light of her in his sight.
It's this feeling that makes it easy to bare himself to her in ways he ordinarily might hide beneath layers of sugar and laughter alone. It's trust, in its most complete form, and a devotion so deep that it does not remove anything from him to give more for the sake of her. She makes it so easy too when she handles every sharp or difficult situation with all the grace of her middle name. He has never doubted that she gives just as equally, and he breathes out the anxiousness as she hands over her unhesitating response. Gods, it's impossible not to love her. "Good," he says with a twitch of relief in the edges of his gaze, the very same ones where the memory of her and Danta play out more often than he'd like.
He stills, a no already loading itself on his tongue when she says it'll be stupid, and he should have fired it off because he's yet to hear her say something dumb, least of all this. Unwilling to interrupt though, he lets the pulse of his grip offer the reassurance, the same way his smile softens at the edges, trying to absorb all the nerves she spills. Much as hearing the words boring and sex that together don't usually serve him well, the sentiment she means lands with its full weight. "I don't think I've ever heard my own feelings so perfectly explained," he chuckles softly, because gods, everything she does feels incredible. He feels like he's back in his preteen years sometimes just with the right brush of her hand, such is the swell of his desire for her.
Even this, his hand carefully captured in hers, delicate attention given to each finger, the touch like lightning jolting down his nerves and hammering in his heart with a fresh dose of affection so overwhelming he feels he might burst into static. It's those small touches, the contact woven in-between the hardship, that delivers the most meaningful reassurance. Although, the slide of her hips is very meaningful too. It sparks a wider eye, heat flaring in all the spaces the prickling touch of her kisses did not reach, searing away the dislike of what she'd had to do before now. "Completely," he breathes, fingers curling into her hair while his other palm presses against the roll of her hips.
"It's a...relief is maybe too strong a word, but, I'm happy to know that's how you feel, in the end. Especially that you know you never have to please me for me to love you." His voice drops at that, the thought chilling in a way he'd never known, threatening to fight back against the flame she'd placed so easily. He does his best not to linger on it, instead guiding her back down to him so he can fully kiss her, needing her to feel that promise of love in all the ways he can, whether she needs it ot not. Smaller, off to the side of her lips, but still close enough for eyelashes to skim skin, he murmurs, "I hope you know though, that I am not opposed to ensuring we never get bored."
The curl of her fingers against his hair feels like his soul is being kneaded, and he melts into the touch. Enough so that his response is just a dreamy "mmph," to her, breathing in the truth of what she says as easily as the smell of sun and wind that comes off the waves of her hair when she lingers close, as she does now. "Because there's only one me, and one you, and our love is the only kind like it for that," he murmurs into the side of her cheek as she presses her kiss in, smile curling around the touch like it could trap it there and keep the gentle, tickling brush forever. He'd love her better each and every day, building up off everything they'd done yesterday, and the day before, until memory became a stairway to the endless stretch of their future. He'd not settle for just loving her the best she'd ever known, that might have been true for yesterday, but today? More. There's always room to improve, after all. He doesn't argue the point further, content to keep the knowledge in his chest and dissolve beneath her lips.
He livens up a touch more from the puddle he was becoming as she also adjusts back to a more full height, the carbonation singing in her veins at a deadline being marked down bubbling up through him with as much eagerness. "Perfect," he declares, and there's no hiding the double meaning of it when he's holding her so fully in his gaze, copper shine brighter for the light of her in his sight.
It's this feeling that makes it easy to bare himself to her in ways he ordinarily might hide beneath layers of sugar and laughter alone. It's trust, in its most complete form, and a devotion so deep that it does not remove anything from him to give more for the sake of her. She makes it so easy too when she handles every sharp or difficult situation with all the grace of her middle name. He has never doubted that she gives just as equally, and he breathes out the anxiousness as she hands over her unhesitating response. Gods, it's impossible not to love her. "Good," he says with a twitch of relief in the edges of his gaze, the very same ones where the memory of her and Danta play out more often than he'd like.
He stills, a no already loading itself on his tongue when she says it'll be stupid, and he should have fired it off because he's yet to hear her say something dumb, least of all this. Unwilling to interrupt though, he lets the pulse of his grip offer the reassurance, the same way his smile softens at the edges, trying to absorb all the nerves she spills. Much as hearing the words boring and sex that together don't usually serve him well, the sentiment she means lands with its full weight. "I don't think I've ever heard my own feelings so perfectly explained," he chuckles softly, because gods, everything she does feels incredible. He feels like he's back in his preteen years sometimes just with the right brush of her hand, such is the swell of his desire for her.
Even this, his hand carefully captured in hers, delicate attention given to each finger, the touch like lightning jolting down his nerves and hammering in his heart with a fresh dose of affection so overwhelming he feels he might burst into static. It's those small touches, the contact woven in-between the hardship, that delivers the most meaningful reassurance. Although, the slide of her hips is very meaningful too. It sparks a wider eye, heat flaring in all the spaces the prickling touch of her kisses did not reach, searing away the dislike of what she'd had to do before now. "Completely," he breathes, fingers curling into her hair while his other palm presses against the roll of her hips.
"It's a...relief is maybe too strong a word, but, I'm happy to know that's how you feel, in the end. Especially that you know you never have to please me for me to love you." His voice drops at that, the thought chilling in a way he'd never known, threatening to fight back against the flame she'd placed so easily. He does his best not to linger on it, instead guiding her back down to him so he can fully kiss her, needing her to feel that promise of love in all the ways he can, whether she needs it ot not. Smaller, off to the side of her lips, but still close enough for eyelashes to skim skin, he murmurs, "I hope you know though, that I am not opposed to ensuring we never get bored."
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
