“Lady, I’m doing you a favor here, so can we try and keep the whining to a minimum, please?” Mitsuya chuckles. His hands are in your hair, gently braiding as you squirm between his knees.

The TV plays in front of you as a fleeting attempt at trying to keep your fidgeting and complaining at a minimum.

“Seriously, am I hurting you?” Mitsuya asks concernedly when you shuffle again, losing the playfulness in his tone, and yet holding no bite.