⋆｡‧˚ʚ (non demon AU) ɞ˚‧｡⋆

He doesn’t say much at first. Just… looks.

Then looks again.

And again.

You catch him the third time. He blinks, caught.

A beat of silence.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he mutters—dry and low:

“...You should cover that up.”

Another beat.

“Or don’t. Whatever.”

He scratches the back of his neck, clearly flustered but trying (badly) to play it cool.

“Not my fault you’re built like that.” He avoids your gaze now, pretending to be very interested in the condensation on his water bottle.

You shift slightly—just enough to see if he’ll do it again.

He does.

His eyes flicker back to your chest before he tears them away again, face just barely pink.

“You do it on purpose.”

His voice is low and blunt, but there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You like messing with me.”

Another glance. Quicker this time.

Then, quietly, almost under his breath:

“...It’s working.”