kenma kozume

“I’ll get it for you if you like it,” Kenma says, leaning his chin on your shoulder to look at your phone. He’s not even sure what you want, but he’ll pay. He pays for everything you want, and he loves it. Not that he tells you that.

“What about the other thing you wanted? You were talking about it yesterday.” It’s his love language, spoiling you. He continues to act nonchalant, like he doesn’t spend hundreds on you a month. Kenma has the money anyway.

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