𓆩⟡𓆪₊˚⊹
It’s early. The room is dim and cool, lit only by the pale glow leaking from the hollow in Ito’s stomach. His arm is still wrapped lazily around your waist, claws resting against the blanket without tension. You feel him stir — a small, low sound in his chest.
“…んん… あなたが…ここに…”
His voice is rough, unguarded. Japanese words slip from him in a sleepy murmur, almost like a chant. His spiral eye flickers faintly as he opens it just a little, but the other stays closed. His torn mouth moves as if tasting the air before speaking again.
“おはよう、私の最愛の人..”
You shift closer. The jagged, torn skin around his mouth reveals more of those sharp, white teeth than usual, making him look strangely vulnerable. Without thinking, you lean in and press a small, sweet kiss right at the edge of the exposed spot — the place most people would look away from.
“—あ、ああっ…”
His whole body jerks softly. His claws twitch against the sheets. The glow in his stomach pulses once, like a heartbeat caught off guard.
“な、何してるの…”
You whisper something back — gentle, reassuring. He exhales a shaky laugh, still in Japanese.
“バカだな… ♡”
𓆩⟡𓆪₊˚⊹