04 liner
29 posts
Starlxcies - Mari - Tumblr Blog
Yeah, some Genshin men are assholes. And yeah, some created the definition for himbo. And yeah, some commit international war crimes, but there is one thing all of them have in common. And that one thing is is that they would know how to treat their partner right. Like sickeningly sweet, showing love in the streets and an absolute consent beast in the sheets kinda right.
put a ring on it.
premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.
word count. 5.4k
note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.
“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”
“Is that so?”
The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where your neck and chin meet. Light blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.
Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum—though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.
In his hands lay a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly attendant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.
He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”
Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”
He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. But predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to an impish smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”
Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”
For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.
In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.
Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, an assortment of exquisite wagashi produced only by the best. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.
Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”
He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?
But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.
The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.
Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”
Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to accept his gifts with gratitude!
(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.
But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)
Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid. It was only a matter of time.
“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”
Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.
Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.
“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”
That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.
“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.
You have half a mind to shift the responsibility to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would certainly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'll say next.)
You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.
...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.
But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.
Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.
His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lays on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.
(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.
He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)
When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”
“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”
He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.
“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”
She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.
“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”
“Yes, of course! You may go.”
Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.
At least she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. Small mercies. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)
For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma has already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.
Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.
Regardless of your protests, Ayato insists on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.
However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)
“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.
“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito candy in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”
You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”
He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”
You purse your lips, considering your options. It isn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”
The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”
“Recommendations?”
“Places you like to visit.”
During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.
“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” You scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”
“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”
And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.
Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.
“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.
It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.
He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”
He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.
“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”
“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”
You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”
“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.
“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”
“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”
“Of course, my lord.”
On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.
--
The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.
Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.
...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.
It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing torrents that freeze in displeasure yet inexplicably gentle the moment they meet your eyes, akin to gentle sea waves that pad to your feet.
(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)
“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”
The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You haven't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.
“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”
He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”
Incorrigible.
“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.
“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”
Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the supplies being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces slightly. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”
He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.
“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”
“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”
Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”
--
The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.
The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.
The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.
Ah, right. The tea breaks.
You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.
The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.
The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.
The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You have only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)
By the seventh day, you begin to doubt the calendar. There is no way it's only been a single week.
--
“How do I look?”
“Positively charming,” is your dry answer.
“You're not looking.”
Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”
He shakes his head, taking off the robes he's been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”
Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip, and also presumably when he bought the ring for you. Recently, you've taken to pondering over the specifics; did he commission it beforehand? But how would he have known for certain you'd be visiting the store that day to give it to you later that afternoon? You were only planning to get groceries... Unless he was planning to give it another time? If so, in what occasion did he want to present it as a gift? What prompted him to give it to you earlier? ...Did he see your longing gaze on the jewelry?!
No, no, no, you made sure none of that showed on your face... Did he mean to give it to you that day? He somehow predicted you'd cave to his whims and show him around town? Then when you were gone, he retrieved the ring he commissioned, hitting two birds with one stone in a single trip?
...Knowing your sly lord, the idea isn't so far-fetched to be unbelievable...
To this day, you have yet to solve the mystery. But Thoma doesn't need to know your current musings. You shake your head. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”
“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”
Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”
“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”
Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”
“I didn't mention any names.”
“But you clearly meant him.”
He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”
His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring has been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?
Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.
“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”
If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.
“Even if they aren't...” You fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”
“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”
Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.
You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.
In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.
In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?
(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)
“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope.” He laughs even as you elbow his side.
A week.
(That is one week too long.)
--
When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.
Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.
Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.
So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniff in response and brush him off as a hallucination.
But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand close by. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”
But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before dutifully offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician, the saddened expression gone like a mirage.
“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”
As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.
“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”
“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”
It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the folding screens obscuring the orange glow of the evening. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”
He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.
Interesting.
Though Ayato meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.
“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.
Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.
He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.
“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”
Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.
“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.
“It's better to be careful...” Your brows knit together, and he kisses the tiny furrow away too.
“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”
“That's a stupid reason to recover...” You murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.
In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.
--
When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.
Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.
...Fuck.
“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”
A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where they lay below.
“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”
“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”
“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”
He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”
“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers.” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”
Not yet anyway, he doesn't say.
“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” You purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.
“Wedded.”
“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.
“So will you consider it?”
“My lord.”
“What?”
You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”
He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”
He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.
...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?
“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.
You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.
You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.
“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”
“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.
“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”
anemo boys
ig: sweeteaolive
Ganyu! 🌼
𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 , the boy you knew was special since he walked into your classroom with a special grade curse on his back and no clue on what he got himself into.
𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮, the boy who made your face heat up when he complemented your fighting skill and technique, admiring you with a sparking gaze.
𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮, the boy who you kiss on the forehead every night before going to sleep in the safe heaven you name, your home.
Friendly reminder that this blog is pro-choice and if you don’t think everyone should have full control of their own body, then kindly unfollow me right now and go to hell
it dont even feel like june it dont even feel like any month we just floatin thru time
KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME OUT YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH
Spy X family is so fucking funny. Because Loid was legit like: alright I wanna make my pretend daughter happy in this fake pretend family, so I'll rent a fucking castle and ask every single fucking agent to stop what they're doing so my daughter can be a princess, who I don't have any attachment to at all btw. Also my fake wife pretends to be a witch with insane martial arts skills, nothing suspicious about this woman who can kick my ass. Anyway I'm doing a splendid job being a spy, no one suspects a thing.
“um, er, if Loid is supposed to be so smart, why hasn’t he questioned the fact that Yor has superhuman strength and hyper-capable fighting prowess???” because it’s funny
this saiki k. moment killed me-
{ 20 }
can your heart belong to me?
yuta okkotsu x fem.reader
warnings/notes: angst to fluff; unedited; takes place during the events of jjk0, and a little bit after as well. this can be considered an au since there's no mention of the shibuya incident or culling games.
they looked so good together, and you hated the dark feeling of jealousy you felt each time yuta smiled at maki.
she's like a shining sun in the winter sky.
that was how you heard yuta describe maki to you and your friends, which made your heart sink.
it was obvious how much yuta admired maki, and really you couldn't fault him. maki was amazing, even training you herself the moment you joined jujutsu high with everyone else under the guidance of gojo satoru.
she was something akin to a best friend to you, so of course it came as no surprise when yuta showed interest in her.
you just wished you hadn't fallen in love with him.
throughout the months you had gotten to know him, you found yourself admiring his strength and how he changed from someone lacking so much confidence to the powerful sorcerer he was today.
but what you kept hidden was the true extent of your feelings for him. truly, you loved him even when he was the meek and timid boy that had transferred to your school all those months ago.
what you felt for yuta okkotsu was something unconditional. he didn't need to be the strongest sorcerer, nor did he have to throw away his anxieties just to put on a brave face for each mission.
you truly loved him for who he was. the moment you had first met yuta, you wanted nothing more than to protect him. even when he had such a scary curse like rika clinging to him, acting as his second shadow.
you were the only one who didn't attack or threaten yuta when he first entered the classroom. your friends had told you to stand back, but really, all you wanted them to do was treat him normally and not harm him.
"you know, she has a point. i would take her advice and step away from okkotsu, unless you want to face rika's wrath." gojo tells you all with an all-knowing smirk.
it wasn't until two large hands appeared out of the blackboard and gripped at maki's weapon did your friends jump back, yet still glaring at yuta in complete distrust over him when rika threatened to hurt them if they harmed yuta any further.
you knew the first couple of weeks had not been easy for yuta. more often than not, for the first couple of nights, you would hear yuta whimpering in his dorm, sometimes even crying as he apologized over and over again for hurting so many people with his curse.
and the sounds of his pain was too much for you to just ignore. during those lonely nights, you wanted to help yuta in any way possible and thought that making some hot cocoa would help him feel better.
despite how risky it was to sneak into the school's cafeteria just to make a simple mug of hot cocoa, it was well worth it in your opinion. you used your own cursed technique of shadow manipulation to help with hiding your presence as you snuck out of your dorm and into the school's kitchen.
with two steaming cups balanced on a tray on your hand, you slowly and quietly made your way towards yuta's dorm, knocking on it gently as you called out his name. "okkotsu? it's me, can you let me in?"
you heard some shuffling coming from inside before the door swings open, revealing yuta with bloodshot eyes gleaming from beneath the dim lighting of the room.
he sees you and immediately wipes away at the unshed tears pooling against his eyes. calling out your name, he shakily asks, "w-what are you doing here?"
you simply smile at him, holding up two mugs of hot cocoa in hopes of further enticing him, "care to share some cocoa with me?"
"ah yeah, sure, come on in." you follow yuta and settle the tray on his table, offering him a mug as he thanked you for it. as he settles back in bed, you take your own cup of cocoa and begin to drink it, savoring in its warmth and sweetness as it courses through your veins.
yuta clearly felt the same way, letting out a quiet groan all while smiling, "wow, that really hit the spot, thank you so much!"
you felt your heart racing at the sight of his smile, and you did your best to hide your emotions by clearing your throat and taking another sip. "it's the first time i've seen you smile, okkotsu. you should smile more often... it's nice."
he was caught off guard by your kindness, yet you simply continue to reassure him. "i don't want you to feel ostracized or alone while you're here. it may take maki and the others some time to warm up to you, but just know that you'll always have a friend in me. i trust you, okkotsu, so please, don't cry anymore okay?"
"y-you heard that?!" yuta squeaks in response, clearly embarrassed that you heard him in such a vulnerable state. yet still, you told him, "it's okay to feel so overwhelmed that you start to cry, i don't think any less of you. in fact, i believe you're really strong regardless of what maki says about you."
he seemed stunned by your genuine kindness, averting his gaze due to his shyness coming back at full force as he focused on drinking the rest of his hot cocoa. when both of your cups were empty, you thanked yuta for his time and placed the empty mugs back on the tray, all while wishing him goodnight.
but he stops you from leaving with a single "thank you,"
ever since that night, you became closer, and due to your blossoming friendship with yuta, it helped maki, toge, and panda warm up to him as they all slowly began to accept him as part of their team.
yuta slowly began to gain more confidence, even succeeding in his first mission with both maki and toge, despite his inexperience.
and your admiration for him only seemed to grow as the days went on. you loved him even before he defeated geto and became a special grade sorcerer overseas.
which is why it hurt so much to see yuta getting closer and closer to maki after his return from africa. because you knew you could never live up to her confidence and overall greatness.
with you being a mere candle in comparison to the brightness of her sun, of course yuta wouldn't notice you in that way.
so you did the only thing you could in hopes of saving you from further heartache: you avoided yuta, allowing him and maki to get even closer without you ever entering the picture.
you filled your days with going on missions with both panda and toge, and if gojo happened to assign you to work with yuta, then you would immediately trade places with maki or toge. you knew you were being childish, but just the thought of you loving yuta being one-sided was enough to tear your heart into tiny little pieces.
this was the only solution that made the most sense to you. and you could only pray that yuta didn't notice your sudden absence from his life.
unluckily for you, your prayers had not been answered.
tonight, you felt yourself feeling even more exhausted than usual. the mission had taken a lot out of you, and you came home at around midnight. your hair was still wet from the quick shower you had taken, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into your sheets.
before you could even shut your eyes, a series of knocks heard against your door makes you stiffen up in response, and the fact that it was yuta okkotsu himself calling out your name from the other side was enough to send your heart into overdrive.
"please, may i come in?"
knowing you couldn't just ignore him, you toss aside your sheets and open the door. you saw him dressed in his usual uniform, but this time with two steaming mugs in his hand. "would you like some hot cocoa?"
a wave of deja vu hits you, and you were all too familiar with the scene playing out before you. not even waiting for your answer, he hands you your mug before settling himself on a chair directly in front of your desk.
after shutting your door, you stiffly make your way back to your bed, trying to hide your anxieties by taking casual sips of the hot cocoa yuta had made for you. "i'm sorry, it's not as good as yours."
"n-no it's fine, perfect actually." not wanting to choke on it, you settle the mug on your nightstand and ask, "what brings you here, okkotsu?"
copying you, he sighs and places the mug on your desk, facing you with his hands clasped on his lap as he got straight to the point, "i want to know why you've been avoiding me."
"t-thats not- i haven't been avoiding you, i-i've just been so busy."
"don't fucking lie to me y/n! i know you've been avoiding me, and i hate it! every time gojo assigns you as a partner with me for a mission, you end up switching yourself out. and don't get me started on how distant you've been acting whenever you see me!"
he was yelling at you, that's how upset yuta was as his voice kept increasing in volume the more he spoke about your distance, "you promised me that i-i would always find a friend in you, that you believed in me and that you'd always be there for me. so please, if i've done anything- anything at all to hurt you so much that your views changed on me, i-i want to know."
fuck, now you could see the tears streaming down his deep blue eyes and felt horrible for breaking your promise to him. with your eyes clenched shut, you knew you had to tell him the truth, even if it would hurt you greatly in the end.
"i...i don't hate you at all yuta. i actually love you so much that it hurts."
you catch the way yuta sharply inhales, forcing you to mentally prepare yourself for his rejection when you manage to choke out through your tears, "i know that you don't feel the same way, that maki is better suited for you than i will ever be. despite what little powers i have, i can't compare to maki or the natural strength she has. she's your sun-"
"but you're my moon."
yuta's words interrupts your self-deprecating rants, causing you to stop speaking as yuta slowly made his way towards you. with your form finally in front of him, he kneels before you, taking your hands in his as he places them against his face. "i was so lonely when gojo made me attend jujutsu high. despite how much i wanted to be alone and not hurt anyone anymore, he knew my weakness and offered to help me, saving me from my own execution."
"i felt so sad when no one accepted me my first day here. they were all ready to hurt me solely because i was so cursed. b-but you, you never once treated me with cruelty. you were actually so comforting- your presence alone was enough to light up the pure darkness of my world."
"i may have said that maki was like a shining sun during a winter sky, but your presence means so much more to me than that. you're the light of the moon, guiding me in the comfort of my own deep darkness. you fit me so well...and i-i guess what i'm trying to say is that it has always been you that i truly admired."
you felt a lump form against your throat, feeling beyond elated at his sudden confession when he presses gentle kisses all across your hand, "i've loved you from the moment you entered my room with hot cocoa, comforting me when i was at my lowest and warming my heart with your unconditional kindness. i love you."
with happy tears streaming down your face, you fell to your knees and embraced yuta, kissing him with a fervor that conveyed just how much you had yearned for him. you surrounded yourself in his scent and the taste of him, wanting nothing more than to pull him even closer to you.
when the need for air proved to be too much, you pulled away from the kiss first with a heavy reluctance. as you met his gaze, you allow yourself to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, pressing butterfly kisses against his jawline as you softly asked, "can your heart really belong to me?"
yuta chuckles at your question, pressing a kiss against your forehead all while murmuring against your skin, "my heart already belonged to you a long time ago, my love."
all stories are written by yutasokkotsu; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
just wondering if you’d think yuuta would be jealous of the first years getting too comfy with s/o like maybe one time s/o called out “yuu” both yuuji & yuuta respond & they’re like 👁👄👁
𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 | 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀.
you’re sweet, it’s yuuta’s favorite thing about you—a little too sweet at times, but it’s lovable all the same. and yuuta has grown some, he’s not as much of the timid young boy as he used to be. fighting curses and seeing the things he has and training as vigorously as he does is enough to toughen anyone up, and he’s no exception. but still, he’s always remained your kind, sweet, sensitive little yuuta deep down.
and then there’s yuji. yuji is too perfect for his own good. he’s too easy to befriend, too easy to trust, too easy to grow fond of, and too easy to love.
he’s kind, sweet, sensitive, and magnetic. now that’s a deadly combination if he’s ever seen one, and if the way your eyes brighten when you see yuji is anything to base it off of, yuuta would say you think so too.
“yuu,” you call out, a small grin on your face as you approach yuuta and the pink-haired boy beside him, and when both of their heads snap to your direction, yuuta can’t help but feel his stomach churn. “oh,” you pause, blinking for a moment before giggling, “i meant him,” you point to yuuta.
he’s a tad bit relieved that it’s him you’re looking for, or he thinks the churning in his stomach would be infinitely worse. but then yuji smiles bashfully, looks down and lets out a nervous chuckle as he blushes, and then yuuta’s fists clench just a little.
yuji seems rather fond of you, fond enough that it makes yuuta’s heart plummet—and truth be told, it also makes his blood boil just a little.
“oops,” his younger classmate huffs out a soft laugh, “guess i got ahead of myself there,” he murmurs.
“aww, yuji,” you tease, and much to yuuta’s horror, you’re reaching over to pinch itadori’s cheek, and he’s left to wonder—when had you gotten so comfortable that causal touches were a part of the norm? “if you want a nickname you can just say so.”
“that’s not what i meant,” itadori mumbles shyly. “i just…you know…yuji? yuu? i thought it was for me for a second there.”
“it was for yuuta. for me,” yuuta cuts in, and he has to dig his nails into his palm as he clenches his fists, watching you smile gently to itadori. it’s okay, your expression reads, almost like you’re reassuring the boy—but it’s not okay.
your yuu is him—yuuta. not yuji. you’re here for him, to see him, to smile at him and grab his hand and tug him along as he follows. but you’re staring at itadori fondly, and it’s starting to hurt just a little.
“well we can’t both be yuu,” itadori laughs good-naturedly, and if he wasn’t such a gentle soul, yuuta wonders if he’d hate the boy. but there’s no hating itadori yuji—he’s much too good deep in his soul to be hated. “i’ll leave you two alone then,” he hums, patting your head with a happy smile before he’s off.
the touch isn’t even to him, but yuuta feels his skin burn, prickling at every inch as his heart drops.
you turn to him, beaming as your arms nestle their way around his neck, and even if not enough, there’s still some comfort in the action.
“hi baby,” you murmur, pressing a soft peck to his jaw, “i was looking for you.”
and this is silly—this is small, and not that big of a deal, and not even your fault, but yuuta can’t help the doubts that slowly plague his mind. he can’t fight the voices that hunch over his back and whisper into his ear, drowning out the sound of your voice before you can make it all better.
“me?” he asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that almost says he doesn’t believe you. your brows furrow just a little, your hand sliding to cup his cheek and tilt his face to look at you better.
“yes you, silly,” you huff out a small laugh, “who else?”
yuuta wants to mutter that evidently, it could seem like a certain someone, but he doesn’t have the heart to ever be grouchy with you. so he swallows his insecurities, tries to bury them in the deepest of crevices in his mind so they won’t be dug up again—but it’s like he’s digging into concrete, and the ground is too tough, just won’t break to let him shove his feelings down.
“no one,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes.
and if you decided one day that itadori yuji was the boy of your dreams, that he was the one who could paint your skies and hang the stars just how you’d like them, yuuta doesn’t think he’d be surprised. if itadori is a swirl of vivid shades, colors that could brighten your world and bring you to life—yuuta thinks he pales in comparison, dim hues muddled together that could never show you the world through scenery as breathtaking.
but then your thumb trails over his cheek, tracing the soft curve of his face before hooking under his chin and pulling his face a little closer. he settles for looking at your lips, not yet ready to meet your gaze.
“what’s wrong, baby? what’s got you so down, hmm?” your voice is concerned, a soft breath that rolls off your tongue and soothes over the aches, placating them so easily—but he’s left to wonder: how long?
how long can you keep up the facade that he’s enough for you to happily crave more and more of? how long can you keep looking him in the eyes and getting lost in their depths? how long before enough is simply not enough any longer?
he doesn’t voice his concerns. “nothing,” he shrugs instead. “what are you—”
“don’t say nothing,” you sigh quietly, and by now, your hand has wandered past his shoulder to bury into his hair, scratching at his scalp gently as you twirl the strands of dark locks around your fingers. “it can’t be nothing, you know. no one knows you better than me,” you say with a sense of pride in your voice.
there’s a small bit of hope in that—a small part of him that revels in the victory of knowing you’re prideful that you see past him and catch glimpses no one else can. so he lets himself be vulnerable with you—because even with his doubts, he’s still you’re kind, sweet, sensitive little yuuta.
“just…didn’t know you and itadori knew each other so well,” he finally mumbles. it’s silent for a moment, and yuuta starts to accept that maybe you’re going to say what he knows is inevitably coming after all.
anyone would love to know itadori yuji like that—why should you be an exception?
yuuta wishes it was before he fell so hopelessly for you, wishes it was before the sound of your laugh was a melody he knew by heart—it’d hurt less, it wouldn’t make his lip wobble the way it’s wobbling right now.
“oh, baby,” you chuckle, cupping his face with both your hands, squeezing them together as you pull his forehead to yours, “you don’t have to be jealous. he’s just yuji.”
you offer him a sweet smile and eyes full of light, and he offers you a teary-eyed tilt of his head in confusion.
“but—”
“but you’re yuuta. you’re my yuu,” you whisper against his mouth, breath fanning over his skin before you press a delicate peck onto his lips. it’s short, a little too quick for his liking, but it makes him shiver nonetheless. “and i love you, my pretty boy.”
one more peck to his lip, then two, and then you’re kissing him deeply, grabbing his hands and guiding them to your hips before your arms wrap around his neck once more. he pulls you closer on instinct, and even if yuuta sees himself a muddle of colors, he feels bright hues seep through your lips and color him new—and it’s enough.
he thinks it’s enough, even if just for now.
“you were looking for me?” he asks breathlessly one more time as he pulls away, just to be sure. you watch as his eyes lighten a shade as you nod, smiling when his arms wrap impossibly tighter around you.
“of course, i was,” you press a kiss to his jaw, “who else?”
your honor he is my sugarplum baby boy
yuuta would still love you even if you were a worm.
Yuta from jujutsu kaisen movie 0 is so cute
Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 176 Spoilers (?)
Damn, Okkotsu you can reverse technique me anytime
sometimes i rm the fact that i wont see the culling games or maki girlbossing animated for like 5 years and i want to physically harm someone
this has been on my mind for a while now but why doesn't Inumaki talk in sign language instead of you know......ingredients
how am I supposed to kiss kiss fall in love in these conditions
idk if youre reqs are open but if so can i req a part 2 of sneaking under their swearshirt? :D
sneaking under their cardigan to cuddle w/ the jjk boys pt.2
PART ONE [with: choso, geto, okkotsu, megumi] [a/n: (yall get this early) pls they’re always open, and yes :D]
-> CHOSO watches as you slink over towards where he’s resting on the couch, obvious mischief in your eyes as you lay down on top of him, lifting his sweatshirt over your head as you snuggle up against him, heaving out a soft sigh “y/n- what’re you doing?” “trying to nap- why?” “i don’t know, but ya gotta sleep underneath my shirt?” “yeah” he frowns a bit as you snuggle closer to him, pulling you out from under his shirt as he grabs a nearby blanket, throwing it on top of you both “what was that for?” “now i have room too” you smile, moving up until your head is resting just below his as he places a soft kiss to your temple, pulling you tight against him, both snuggled soundly under the blanket
-> MEGUMI cocks an eyebrow as he watches you crawl on top of him, slipping underneath his sweatshirt as you nuzzle your head against him, lazily tracing shapes on his chest- you can’t see it, but his face is redder than a tomato, barely able to keep his breathing in check as he watches the faint outline of your hand move “you good in there?” you don’t respond, instead pressing a chaste kiss to his chest before wrapping your legs around him, fully relaxing into him “you need me to move or am-” “no ur fine, just a little confused” “confused that i wanna cuddle with you?” “not that- just that you gotta be under my shirt?” “its cozy in here” you can feel him hum in response as he lifts a leg over yours, hands moving to your waist as he relaxes himself, any stiffness melting away, his breathing evening out as you both drift to sleep
-> GETO had been sitting at his desk, fingers idly typing away on his computer when you decided to walk over, hoisting your leg over his lap, situating yourself chest to chest with his before ducking under his sweat shirt, head slightly poking out the top hole “cozy in there?” “mhm” he moves his eyes away from the screen, looking down at you curled up on his lap, gaze softening at the sight as a soft blush paints his cheeks, moving one of his hands to rub little circles on your back as he rests his chin on top of your head “are you just gonna stay like that while i work” “do you mind?” “not at all”
-> OKKOTSU dude is so flustered the moment you duck under his sweatshirt, resting your head against his chest as his hands slightly flail about, not sure where to rest, cheeks heating up at the sight of you curled up on top of him “y/n?” “mhm?” “do you need something” “no- why?” you can hear him trail off, feeling his rapid heartbeat from under his chest as you pull yourself out from under the fabric to look at him, eyes wide as a blush dusts his cheeks “you ok?” “why wouldn’t i be?” you pout, crawling up towards him, placing a soft kiss on the hollow of his neck before resting your head down on his chest, his hands circling around your waist, delicaetly resting against you “yu?” “yeah?” “i love you” “love you too” he’s melting
masterlist requests open join taglist here <-
see you space cowboy
my parents would be very disappointed on me if they knew that my mental stability depends on a fictional character...
SKATER YUUTA SKATER YUUTA SKATER YUUTA SKATER YUUTA
a/n: been having skaterboy!yuuta brain rot for a while now. So take this😁. Yes Toge skates and yes he talks🙄.
Pairings: skaterboy!yuuta x skatergirl!reader
skaterboy!yuuta who’s literally so good at skating but is so self conscious. He hates going to skateparks because he thinks he’s ass. He will not post an edit or clips. Either you or Toge record him but whenever he watches the clips he thinks he looks so bad or always points out things. who gon tell him… “Look you see that! My arms look so dumb…” Cue you and Toge looking at eachother with annoyance because you both know he looks so good. For him to ever post one you would have to hype him tf up.
skaterboy!yuuta would probably have either the date of the day you guys started dating or your name with a little heart next to it written on his board . He wants to teach you how to skate soooo badly. He’s always seeing videos of couples skating and it makes his heart do flips. If you’re down to skate then he will literally buy a whole board and everything. He will teach you all the basics, what to do, what not to do. You will never fall when you’re around him. Will always and I mean always! Praise. You. Lwk expects praise in return…
skaterboy!yuuta who has the most immaculate style ever. He already has that perfectly messy hair but on top of that the way he dresses? Always wearing those baggy jeans and band t-shirts yes he listens to rock.don’t like it? cry about it. skaterboy!yuuta wears jewelry and he looks even more fine. He has rikka’s ring accompanied by a ring you gifted him for your guy's anniversary and a bearing from his first skateboard. He has a silver chain and a silver bracelet, also wears other colorful bracelets. Don’t get me started on him with a beanie.
skaterboy!yuuta always shows up to your house with bruises or cuts scattered on his legs, elbows, shins, and back. Loves when you pamper him with kisses and hugs after you treat him. You always kiss his injuries which makes him blush so much. “Thanks again babe, I feel way better.” He smiled at you. “Of course Yu.” Smiling back, you pecked his knee then kissed the corner of his mouth. Erupting a red blush from him.
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