Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
He's certain he could subsist on just a diet of her moans. He swallows down the one she offers him now like it's something delectable, fed after starving for so long, and he leans into the press of her mouth with the full intention of feasting on more of them, of her. As she climbs, he goes with her. Shoulders tighten, arms flex to keep her steady, and the added closeness is exactly what he’s been hoping for. Every kiss is answered in kind, impatient and hungry, his mouth finding hers again and again in a pursuit that doesn't end even when he catches her. The slide of her fingers in his hair sparks down the length of his spine like she's come home and is turning every light on inside him. A pleased, sighing sound escapes his throat as his head tips into the touch without hesitation.
His sides heave with the broken cadence of forgotten breath, now furiously taken in as their foreheads meet. The delay is not welcome, but needed, and he considers the possibility of asking the gods to remove the necessity of air from him just so he might never have to wait to worship her with his mouth again. Her words cause his head to tip back, allowing his gaze to find the seabright set of her eyes, letting the hunger mellow briefly into something meaningful and grateful for what she's doing now. The smirk that forms thereafter is slow and dangerous, pride tangled in it as she hands him proof he's done something right. "Mm," he hums, voice rough with approval, arms tightening around her waist as if needing to give evidence he's heard. "Then it’s a good thing I love having you in my arms."
The roll of her hips against him is its own reward, and he turns roughly to reclaim her mouth, nails dragging against his scalp with the motion. There's a new urgency now, movements even more certain. Crazy is exactly the right word. "Gods, I love when you do that." She finds a way to use every part of her to strike friction and arousal, taking him by surprise more than a few times when some part of her has impossibly met his and scored heat there. His hands shift along her, grip firm, palms flexing around her as he pops her up even higher suddenly. There’s a slant of mischief in his lips as he rumbles out, "hope you don’t mind being set down." The warning barely has time to register before he moves. He turns and drops her back onto the length of the couch. It's not rough, a controlled toss that sinks her into the cushions and bounces her back up slightly from the force of it, the couch bucking back against the suddenness. The fish flops, ridiculous.
He follows immediately, weight coming down over her, mouth finding hers again without pause. Though, he does not linger on her lips for long this time. One hand plants beside her shoulder for balance, but the other slides up along her side beneath her shirt, fingers spreading over the warm curve of her ribs, thumb pressing in-between them with a possessive curl against her body. Slow, just for a moment to appreciate, then he hitches the fabric containing her up and over her breasts in a fluid motion. He drags it up higher, breaking from her mouth to tug it free, one hand never fully leaving its exploration of her chest. When he rejoins her, it's with lips and teeth dragging along her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there as he sinks down to where his fingers roll slowly across her nipples, teasing them to stand firm. The first pert one he claims with the warm embrace of his tongue, hand giving the other attention with a subtle pinch of forefinger and thumb. "I want every part of you," he murmurs into the swell of her bosom, too greedy now as he presses them in together, trying to take each into the reach of his mouth.
His sides heave with the broken cadence of forgotten breath, now furiously taken in as their foreheads meet. The delay is not welcome, but needed, and he considers the possibility of asking the gods to remove the necessity of air from him just so he might never have to wait to worship her with his mouth again. Her words cause his head to tip back, allowing his gaze to find the seabright set of her eyes, letting the hunger mellow briefly into something meaningful and grateful for what she's doing now. The smirk that forms thereafter is slow and dangerous, pride tangled in it as she hands him proof he's done something right. "Mm," he hums, voice rough with approval, arms tightening around her waist as if needing to give evidence he's heard. "Then it’s a good thing I love having you in my arms."
The roll of her hips against him is its own reward, and he turns roughly to reclaim her mouth, nails dragging against his scalp with the motion. There's a new urgency now, movements even more certain. Crazy is exactly the right word. "Gods, I love when you do that." She finds a way to use every part of her to strike friction and arousal, taking him by surprise more than a few times when some part of her has impossibly met his and scored heat there. His hands shift along her, grip firm, palms flexing around her as he pops her up even higher suddenly. There’s a slant of mischief in his lips as he rumbles out, "hope you don’t mind being set down." The warning barely has time to register before he moves. He turns and drops her back onto the length of the couch. It's not rough, a controlled toss that sinks her into the cushions and bounces her back up slightly from the force of it, the couch bucking back against the suddenness. The fish flops, ridiculous.
He follows immediately, weight coming down over her, mouth finding hers again without pause. Though, he does not linger on her lips for long this time. One hand plants beside her shoulder for balance, but the other slides up along her side beneath her shirt, fingers spreading over the warm curve of her ribs, thumb pressing in-between them with a possessive curl against her body. Slow, just for a moment to appreciate, then he hitches the fabric containing her up and over her breasts in a fluid motion. He drags it up higher, breaking from her mouth to tug it free, one hand never fully leaving its exploration of her chest. When he rejoins her, it's with lips and teeth dragging along her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there as he sinks down to where his fingers roll slowly across her nipples, teasing them to stand firm. The first pert one he claims with the warm embrace of his tongue, hand giving the other attention with a subtle pinch of forefinger and thumb. "I want every part of you," he murmurs into the swell of her bosom, too greedy now as he presses them in together, trying to take each into the reach of his mouth.
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
