Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
It is a shame there's more to talk about, because he'd very much like to tug more than just the hat off her and blur the edges of boring into the limits of discomfort for the rest of the night. Explore at least some border of what she likes and what he wonders, if only because now the curiosity is scratching at the door and she's just offered to prop it open. "I'm looking forward to discovering everything with you," he murmurs, and since they've all the time ahead of them to do it, there's no need to rush past what already is working well, although an adventure here and there, be it on skyships or bedsheets, is always a good balance to only lazing away in old comforts.
Despite the words burning a hole through the mental list he's been trying to keep of everything they have to discuss, she's doing an excellent job of setting everything on fire, making it impossible to focus on the one. The devious lilt of her words and the tilt of her body into him draws a shuddering breath, as much for what she says as the way she says it. His smirk cuts higher on one side, the movement spreading across her lips pressed there. "Ditto," he breathes, and his hands resettle on either side of her waist, giving a single, forceful tug towards him as his hips rear up enough to strike friction there for a blessed moment.
"Uuuuugh," he groans, head sinking back into the cushion again in mild defeat. "I should have brought this up last, then I could spirit you away into bed," he gripes. Then, sighing like the entire weight of the world is measured by his restraint in this moment, his gaze slinks back to her from where it'd fallen away in the despair of resisting. "Say something else so I don't still do just that, especially since this is a fight and all, and makeup sex is always better." Admittedly, their making up happens well before the clothes come off, but he's still going to count it. "Oooor, are we done?" Mischief streaks into place, pointedly flattening all his other topics, which he doesn't even dare try to recall right now since one most of all will ruin this current mood and he'd rather it not, again.
Despite the words burning a hole through the mental list he's been trying to keep of everything they have to discuss, she's doing an excellent job of setting everything on fire, making it impossible to focus on the one. The devious lilt of her words and the tilt of her body into him draws a shuddering breath, as much for what she says as the way she says it. His smirk cuts higher on one side, the movement spreading across her lips pressed there. "Ditto," he breathes, and his hands resettle on either side of her waist, giving a single, forceful tug towards him as his hips rear up enough to strike friction there for a blessed moment.
"Uuuuugh," he groans, head sinking back into the cushion again in mild defeat. "I should have brought this up last, then I could spirit you away into bed," he gripes. Then, sighing like the entire weight of the world is measured by his restraint in this moment, his gaze slinks back to her from where it'd fallen away in the despair of resisting. "Say something else so I don't still do just that, especially since this is a fight and all, and makeup sex is always better." Admittedly, their making up happens well before the clothes come off, but he's still going to count it. "Oooor, are we done?" Mischief streaks into place, pointedly flattening all his other topics, which he doesn't even dare try to recall right now since one most of all will ruin this current mood and he'd rather it not, again.
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
