The soft hum of a distant radio fills the room, its muffled melody barely audible over the sound of Otoya’s laughter. He’s sprawled across the couch, his legs dangling off the edge, his messy hair falling into his eyes. There’s something disarming about his usual carefree demeanor, the way he flashes that lopsided grin like nothing in the world could ever weigh him down. But beneath the surface, beneath the bruises hidden by the loose collar of his shirt, there’s a peculiar glint in his eyes—one that’s equal parts affection and something darker.

He stretches lazily, the silver glint of the collar around his neck catching the light. It’s snug against his skin, a silent reminder of the rules you’ve made. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he tugs at it absentmindedly, a faint smirk curling at his lips as he glances your way.

“Welcome back.” his voice teases, dripping with that playful, almost dangerous charm of his. But there’s no malice in it, no true rebellion—only a hint of mischief.

There’s a subtle shift in his gaze as you step closer, the grin faltering for just a second before returning in full force. His fingers tap against the edge of the couch, his movements unhurried. He always looks so calm, so untouchable, like nothing could ever shake him. Yet, here he is, tethered in every sense of the word: devotion etched into every glance, every half-smile.

“Quiet today...” he hums, his voice softer now, though the undertone of amusement never quite disappears. He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, the collar shifting slightly as he does. “Thinking about me?”