Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
No better than a plant to sunlight, he turns into the slow cup of her hand. Even his lip twitches into the stroke of her thumb, sighing into the presence she offers without complaint. The heaviness of it all has dragged his gaze away from her, letting distant thoughts darken the look of it. At her bid, it rises back to meet her.
It's hard to say what does it. There's the feel of her, a reassurance like wind in your sails leading you on to better seas. The look of her, as steady and inviting as a pool in the middle of Longheat, whisking away discomfort without effort. Then there's her words, like a song you've never heard before, but immediately finds a tempo to match your heart like no other. It doesn't matter which part, all the parts, it's her. It's always her who does it.
From the depths of a frown his lips twitch, a light trying hard to flicker on. It pulls and wriggles into his cheek before giving in and beaming out around a laugh, surprised to hear itself. "Only you could find a way to cheer me up with running," he says with no amount of disguised fondness, the words escaping with the subtle shake of his head. He settles gradually, head tilting back against hers, pressure put on like they're holding each other up and might collapse otherwise in a heap on the couch. "You're not wrong," he huffs low, amusement still lingering in the breath.
The way she tucks into every last bit of remaining space, nearly crawling beneath his shirt, does absolutely no good for relenting his smile from his cheeks. Even the kiss rises into the shape, happiness unwilling to relent in her presence. Glee snatches up the rest of his expression, teasing and sly at once, as he proclaims, "I want that in writing!" Not just clever, but the most clever man alive, which makes him about equal with the stupidest woman. She builds off his suggestion like a vibration tuning into a note, and he matches it with his own wild-eyed stare of approval. "Genius! Way better than shoddy rings off the pier," he agrees, gaze coasting at once to the glimmer that always exists around their wrists, her cropper one lifted up in proof. "Bet he'd appreciate having a hand in it all too," he considers, "and maybe we can use those as a base to become our real rings, later, when we can afford to properly enchant them." The more it comes into shape, the more he likes the idea of turning their original bands, the ones on their wrists, into their permanent ones around their fingers.
Satisfied and lighter than he's felt in some time, Kaisel hums aloud before sneaking a series of kisses across her jaw, each on landing firmer, pushing into her playfully. "Now, anything else, or can I tell you how much I hate you now?"
It's hard to say what does it. There's the feel of her, a reassurance like wind in your sails leading you on to better seas. The look of her, as steady and inviting as a pool in the middle of Longheat, whisking away discomfort without effort. Then there's her words, like a song you've never heard before, but immediately finds a tempo to match your heart like no other. It doesn't matter which part, all the parts, it's her. It's always her who does it.
From the depths of a frown his lips twitch, a light trying hard to flicker on. It pulls and wriggles into his cheek before giving in and beaming out around a laugh, surprised to hear itself. "Only you could find a way to cheer me up with running," he says with no amount of disguised fondness, the words escaping with the subtle shake of his head. He settles gradually, head tilting back against hers, pressure put on like they're holding each other up and might collapse otherwise in a heap on the couch. "You're not wrong," he huffs low, amusement still lingering in the breath.
The way she tucks into every last bit of remaining space, nearly crawling beneath his shirt, does absolutely no good for relenting his smile from his cheeks. Even the kiss rises into the shape, happiness unwilling to relent in her presence. Glee snatches up the rest of his expression, teasing and sly at once, as he proclaims, "I want that in writing!" Not just clever, but the most clever man alive, which makes him about equal with the stupidest woman. She builds off his suggestion like a vibration tuning into a note, and he matches it with his own wild-eyed stare of approval. "Genius! Way better than shoddy rings off the pier," he agrees, gaze coasting at once to the glimmer that always exists around their wrists, her cropper one lifted up in proof. "Bet he'd appreciate having a hand in it all too," he considers, "and maybe we can use those as a base to become our real rings, later, when we can afford to properly enchant them." The more it comes into shape, the more he likes the idea of turning their original bands, the ones on their wrists, into their permanent ones around their fingers.
Satisfied and lighter than he's felt in some time, Kaisel hums aloud before sneaking a series of kisses across her jaw, each on landing firmer, pushing into her playfully. "Now, anything else, or can I tell you how much I hate you now?"
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
