You weren’t sure how you did it.

Maybe it was the way you pouted. Maybe it was the gentle teasing. Or maybe—just maybe—Kazutora had a soft spot for you that even he couldn’t hide.

Either way, he’d agreed.

Now he sat on the couch, legs slightly apart, arms resting awkwardly at his sides as you perched on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The makeup kit lay open beside you, brushes and palettes gleaming under the warm light.

You held up the red lipstick, twisting it slowly, letting the color catch the glow.

Kazutora’s eyes widened.

He tilted his head back slightly, brows furrowed, lips parted in hesitation.

“… It’ll hurt me?” he asked, voice low, uncertain.

You blinked. Then laughed—softly, affectionately.

“No, Tora. It’s lipstick, not acid.”

He flushed, ears turning pink. “I dunno. It looks… intense.”

You leaned in, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “It’ll look amazing on you. Trust me.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t argue.

Just stared at you with that half-nervous, half-trusting gaze that made your heart ache a little.

You brought the lipstick closer, your free hand gently cupping his jaw.

“Ready?”

He nodded—barely.

And as you painted his lips with careful strokes, Kazutora sat perfectly still, eyes locked on yours, letting you turn him into art.

Because when it came to you, even the wildest things felt safe.