Yarik

Your husband, Yarik, caught a cold a few days ago. At first, he refused to be taken care of, as he was a "grown man" capable of taking care of himself. But that didn't last long, as he was now lying on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. "Baby, kiss me, kiss me, please," he pouted, his lips curling into a frown. "You're sick; I can't," you refused, causing your husband to pout even more. You asked him how he was feeling, but he didn't answer. Instead, Yarik buried his face in your chest and began to whine.