~*CocoManga*~

Pairing: Financial Advisor!Satoru x Black Fem Artist!Reader,

CW: JJK AU, Angst, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Aggressive Sex, Some Non-con/Dub-con(Satoru is aggressive but not abusive), BDSM, Overstimulation, Dark Context, Physical and Emotional Abuse, Possible misc. triggers including race (I'm not sensitive, so if you are, please move on).

READER DISCRETION ADVISED. I plan to make this intense.

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art. Please respect my blog art.

Total WC : 9.9K

Line of Sight ~ Ch.02 >>

LOS - Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Reader meets her shiny new neighbor through a mutual friend. After a memorable first impression, they quickly become closely acquainted, acclimating to one another through unavoidable odds. Yet, and despite his polished demeanor, she soon learns his life isn't as it seems. Her only hope is that her new attachment doesn't lead to her own detriment, or his.

Author's Note: I insisted on taking a minute to update this work. I haven't changed any of the storyline, but I have edited quite a bit of the dialogue to reflect my true intentions for the feel of the story. Despite the time it's taking, It's important to me that it turns out the way the vision I have for it is set in my mind. Apparently I'm truly stubborn in that way, unwilling to let things alone when I know they can/or should be improved. I realized something strange about me through the process of writing for Gojo... I hold him in tremendously high regard. I have pretty lofty expectations for this story/Satoru's character, ultimately for myself... As a result, I'm thinking way too hard on this project, and haven't fully relaxed into the process as I have for my other stories. I'm looking forward to the upcoming chapters of this work, and I hope you guys appreciate the updates and are able to see my vision as well. As always... Thank you so much for reading!

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ LOS ~ Playlist

LINE OF SIGHT: 1. The line between two points. 2. A line from an observer's eye to a distant point. 3. A straight line along which an observer has unobstructed vision.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘ Ch.01 - Introductions ∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

“So, there are a few other things we’ll need to go over, but that’s the gist for now. Here’s your key.” She said as she pulled out a jingling set, complete with faux diamond charms.

“Thank you so much, Mei. I really appreciate… everything,” you replied, shaking your head slowly as she rested the keys in your palm.

“Of course. Did you get moved in okay?”

You stood from your chair, draping the strap of your purse over your shoulder with a sigh. “I did. The movers were… fantastic. Your recommendation was perfect.”

“Yeah, and they were quick too, right? Inexpensive, and very good.” Her brows lifted as she gushed. “I’ve used them several times. A woman can use support in times like this, and they do an amazing job.”

“Yeah, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost valuables in the process of moving, or had things get damaged,” you shook your head. “Not having that happen is the part I appreciated most.”

“How do you like the area?” she asked.

“Love it. I already feel totally at home.”

“Glad to hear it.” She smiled, walking you toward her office door and reaching for the brass knob.

“Oh—and speaking of...” she continued, lifting a finger as she turned and plucked a small envelope from her desk.

“I asked my secretary to mail a package to a colleague of mine… he’s a financial advisor who happens to be one of your neighbors. For some reason, she addressed it to you by mistake. Would you mind giving it to him once you get home? I can send him over to pick it up.”

“Sure. I don’t mind,” you replied, taking the envelope from her hand and slipping it into your bag.

“I could send it by courier, but it’s already been here too long. I’d rather he receive it in person. I figured since you’ll be in the neighborhood, he can grab it himself.”

“Okay. No problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later, and let me know if you need any more help with the place,” she added. “The paint in the front rooms is the only thing left to complete.”

“I got it,” you replied.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure. No worries.” You waved your hand with a shrug. “I love painting. Besides, I can take the opportunity to put a spin on it.”

“Knock yourself out.” She smirked.

“See you later, Mei. Have a great weekend—and thanks again.”

∘○•········•∘ʚ֍ɞ∘•·········•○∘

The seasons had changed.

Sunlight poured through the lush green trees onto perfectly groomed front lawns, dotted with plants and flowers. A few dogs walked their owners along the sidewalks where your new home stood—a small Mediterranean single-family place with plenty of foliage and character.

You were happy to have this brand-new environment to create in, moving almost mindlessly around your kitchen as you worked. The place was big—much bigger than any apartment you’d lived in back in the city.

You loved those apartments, but they hardly offered the space you needed to accomplish what you had to.

For the first time, you even had a second floor: a lofted living space above your work area, which practically took over the kitchen and one of the front rooms.

It had been about two weeks since you moved in, and you were as settled as you could be, having adjusted beautifully to the environment.

You turned on your music and slipped your headphones over your ears, letting the world fade away as you created beautiful, fragrant products with your own two hands.

It was tremendously therapeutic—satisfying and relaxing enough to get lost in. You set your molds on the counter and poured one of your most aromatic batches yet, the fragrances filling the house as they drifted on the breeze that entered through your open windows.

You’d just completed the pour and removed your headphones as the doorbell rang the second they hit the counter.

You opened it to a rush of fresh air, swiping a wayward curl behind your ear as you took in the white–haired man towering on your doorstep.

“Um...” You frowned, peering around him for a car—or someone else who might have arrived with him—to clue you in on why he was there. “Hello?” you said, tilting your head as your lids lowered into a squint over a small smile.

He stood silently in a crisp, powder blue button–down and sharp slacks, hands stuffed in his pockets, lips parting slowly as his gaze lingered behind a pair of round vintage shades that looked as though they’d cost a mint.

There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, apart from the sleeves he’d rolled up just before the fold reached his elbow, revealing a glistening timepiece on the wrist of his chiseled forearm.

You waited patiently—what felt a tad too long—without speaking. “M~maaay I help youuu?” your eyebrows lifted slightly as your pupils constricted and you peered curiously through your lashes.

“Y-yea...” he finally responded. “I, uh...” He subtly shook his head, breaking out of his daze as he spoke up. “I’m sorry... I’m Mei’s colleague—Satoru Gojo?” He leaned in slightly, holding out his large hand to shake.

You reached out in response, slowly shaking it, still unsure what he was doing at your door.

“I’m here to pick up a package that was left for me?”

In the time since you’d last spoken to Mei, your mind had been completely submerged in your work. The task had been shoved so far to the back of your mind that you’d almost completely forgotten.

“Oh!” you flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as the memory hit you like a ton of bricks. You released his hand and turned quickly back into the house.

You practically power-walked past the unfinished front rooms, disappearing into the kitchen. You yanked open a drawer under the counter and rummaged for the envelope you were sure you’d left right there.

“Um... Mr. Gojo, please come in!” you called over your shoulder, wincing when you still couldn’t find it. “I’m so sorry—I’m all over the place right now.”

“No problem at all,” he replied, gently snapping the door shut behind him as he stepped inside. From the living room, he raised his voice just enough to carry. “I’m not exactly in a hurry.”

His eyes grazed along the walls and floors of your open foyer and living space, devoid of furniture, yet large paint cans and tarps lined the floor among other various materials. “Doing some painting”? He questioned.

You scoffed mockingly at yourself, “Yeah uh...” opening and closing another drawer. “Trying... well... I’m working at the moment... but...”

Opened another one, none of them assigned particular items yet as you hadn’t gotten that far after moving in nearly two weeks ago.

But you knew you’d put that envelope in here somewhere, for ’safe keeping’. “... that’s the next order of business.”

Gojo continued to look around, taking in what seemed like a boatload of work still left to do. Yikes... he thought. “Looks like you could use a little help?”

“Tch... story of my life...” you mumbled under your breath.

The fragrances you’d just blended drifted through his senses as he waited patiently for you to return with his package. “What smells so good?” he asked, leaning to the side to peek into the room.

“Oh... I’m making soap,” you replied over the rustle of papers, loose coins, and miscellaneous knickknacks shifting around in the drawer.

“Soap? Really?”

“Yeah... it’s, uh... it’s actually what I do for a living...” Where the hell did it go? you murmured to yourself. “Well... I make other things too. Candles, massage oils... you know, self-care stuff?”

He nodded slowly. “Nice...”

You finally found it in the island drawer, rolling your eyes. You’d told yourself it would be easy to locate if you put it there—but apparently your safe keeping was too safe.

Even from you.

You snatched it up and hurried back to meet him in the foyer.

“Sorry for the delay,” you murmured with a grimace, still holding it tightly as tiny beads of sweat formed while you walked toward him.

“No worries,” he said with a smirk, amused by your flustered state as he removed his glasses.

You met his gaze, your eyes narrowing as you made out the colors in his. You’d never seen any quite like them.

Tilting your head, you noticed what looked like flecks of light and dark within them, yet they still radiated a piercing, hypnotic, crystal-clear blue. They were mesmerizing.

Your lips parted as you stared, forgetting there was a man attached to them.

His smirk widened into a smile. “So, uh... what is that scent you’re making?” His voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Oh, um... it’s sandalwood... and bergamot rose?”

Despite your amazement at his eyes, he seemed to have just as hard a time keeping his off you.

Your entire body was almost completely covered to avoid being splashed by the chemicals you used, and the adorable safety goggles you donned were pushed up against your curly locs, held up by a floral scarf in a cute high ponytail.

Your face was decorated with glittery colorants you’d somehow managed to smear there and along your neck, and your big, pretty eyes—round and dark—were framed by long curly lashes as you gazed up in anticipation of his response.

He leaned forward. “Do you think I could have one when you’re finished making it?”

“Oh, of course.” You beamed. “You like it?”

“I do. It’s beautiful.”

A bright, proud smile spread across your face. “Thanks,” you said, ecstatic about your first satisfying, positive review on your brand-new product.

“Congratulations,” you replied playfully, tapping him on the arm. “You’re my first client to request that fragrance, though the process I’m using requires a four-week cure time...”

You turned toward the kitchen, then back to his gaze. “You think you can wait for it?”

His expression softened as he took in your radiant smile. “Definitely.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

His brows pressed into his forehead. “Twenty-five dollars? For a bar of soap?”

You nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so, sir... but...” You hiked out your thumb. “There’s a dollar store downtown that sells bars for much cheaper.”

He huffed, “Thanks, but I want that one. I hope it’s worth the bill.”

“Welp, there’s only one way to find out, right?” You held his envelope out toward him, which he still hadn’t taken.

He snickered, “Yeah. That’s right.”

Your eyes flicked down from his crystal blue gaze to your outstretched hand in a few intervals before a soft blush crept across your cheeks.

“Um…” you inhaled deeply, his resting gaze stealing your breath. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Gojo?”

“Satoru,” he murmured, his voice softening. “Call me Satoru.” His warm skin barely made contact with yours as he swiped the package from your hand.

He was likely the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and just your luck, he was also very much taken—considering you’d seen women coming in and out of the house that was supposed to be listed on his piece of mail.

You released it into his hand and averted your gaze to the floor, inhaling deeply before clearing your throat as you slid your hands up your thighs and into your back pockets.

“I’ll let Mei know I received it in one piece.”

“Thanks. I hope everything’s okay.” You nodded toward the envelope. “I’d hate to think something too important was left here.”

Satoru shrugged. “S’likely just a few bucks.”

“A few bucks?” you echoed.

“Mmm...” he hummed nonchalantly.

You frowned. “O-Okay.”

He fanned himself with the envelope, noticing the worry on your face. “Just a little commission check,” he reassured. “Likely no more than five thousand. No worries.”

“A ‘little,’ huh?” You scoffed. “I’ll have to kill Mei for that later.”

He turned on his heels with a smirk and headed toward the door. “See ya. S’nice meeting you. And I’ll look forward to using my soap.”

You followed him out as he walked to the end of your yard, fastening the gate shut before turning toward his own.

A beautiful woman stood in his front yard, her hair as white as his, an obvious frown on her face.

She glared in your direction, then turned to him, the crease in her brows deepening as he approached.

You could barely make out the words she spoke, but she didn’t seem happy. She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and turned back into the house where he followed.

“Yup. Story of my life.” You mumbled, taking another look up and down the street, filling your lungs with fresh air as the leaves brushed together in the trees.

You tilted your face toward the sky as the sun kissed your skin, and went back inside to finish your work.

∘○•········•∘ʚ֍ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You were happy to have washed off the day, sauntering around the second floor of your new home feeling fresh and renewed. You flicked on your favorite music, eager to curl up by the window with a good book.

You’d barely finished a couple of chapters when you decided to let in the evening breeze. You lifted the window, and with the open air came voices from the backyard.

“And just exactly what the hell were you doing over there?”

“I told you twice already. No need to make a big deal out of it.”

“Why shouldn’t I make a big deal out of it? You don’t seem to care how I feel about you wandering around some other woman’s house.”

“‘Wandering around?’ Tch. I have no reason to lie to you. Have I ever?”

It was obviously not a good idea to eavesdrop, but you told yourself you should at least know what was going on with your new neighbors. You leaned in to peek out the window, to be sure to match the voices with the people they belonged to.

Satoru stood on their patio with his hands stuffed in his pockets while the white-haired woman paced within a foot of him, yelling directly in his face.

“That’s bullshit.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

“And what the hell does that mean? It’s not like you’re ever here anyway. Seems your imagination is the problem you’re having.”

She raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.

You flinched, recoiling behind the window, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Even with the shock, you drifted back into the frame.

“Don’t play games with me, Satoru. You’re always fucking somebody—why the hell wouldn’t it have been her?”

Satoru just stood there, jaw clenched, his head turned in the direction of the hit.

She reached up and clasped his jaw, speaking through her teeth. “You do lie. You’re not fucking perfect.” She let him go, shoving his face away from her grip.

Satoru closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he tipped his face toward the sky, angling it just right—in the very direction of your window—as you watched.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she murmured with a scowl. “Just because you’re supposed to be hot shit doesn’t give you the right to be a fucking cheater.”

You stepped back from the window, heart racing, hoping to God he hadn’t seen you. Your body trembled. It made you angry—and… sad for him… for them.

“You were over there too fucking long,” she yelled, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. “Did you at least get what you said you would?”

“It’s only one check. She’ll send the rest next week.”

“More bullshit. If you can’t keep your promises, I really don’t want shit to do with you.”

“I told you; more is coming. Fucking calm down.”

“Just give me the card, then.”

“I’m not giving you my card. How you run it up so fast is beyond me, but it’s unnecessary if you have cash. Just take that.”

“It better be here, Satoru.”

He didn’t seem defensive, so it was hard to tell whether anything she said—outside of the ridiculous accusation that he’d had sex with you—was true. And since you didn’t know them, it’s not like you were aware of exactly why she was really upset.

You leaned in to close the window, still trying not to be seen. After witnessing something like that, focusing on reading seemed impossible.

They continued to argue for a while longer, so you plugged your ears with buds, turned your music up to drown them out, and went to sleep.

∘○•········•∘ʚ֍ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You spent the next week or so working on various projects, while also preparing for a meeting with a wholesale client you’d been looking forward to for months. They were, after all, one of the reasons you’d moved to this area.

Tokyo had many exclusive boutiques, and this one was renowned. They were looking for a new product to add to their collection of in-house, handmade fragrances, and you came highly recommended by some of the owner’s acquaintances.

After an entire day of creating with little rest or food, you woke the following morning with a dull headache, not realizing how dehydrated and stressed you’d become—or how warm it suddenly felt in your house.

You chugged nearly two full bottles of water, pulled on your favorite kimono top over your tank and shorts, and headed to the front to check your mail.

Of course, there was a wad piled up on your doorstep, bundled with a rubber band that you yanked off as you began to sort.

As you casually peered past the tall brushes lining the boundary between your yards, Satoru emerged from his home, closing the door behind him.

Your homes were quite closely set; you had a considerable amount of space in your front yard for gardening, and a quaint iron fence that kept wandering pups from invading.

But even from this distance, you could see and hear him clearly enough. His keys jingled loosely in his hand as he sauntered down his driveway, apparently on the phone.

“So, what time do you plan to get back here?” There was a long pause as he listened, stuffing his keys into his pocket, followed by an exaggerated sigh … “you mean like last time? … You promised this wouldn’t happen again.” He kept his voice low, though he was visibly upset. “I understand you’re tired, but I’m tired too.”

You shuffled the mail in your hands, pretending not to notice him, yet catching him from the corner of your eye as he ended the call.

He turned toward you, the sound of his footsteps growing louder as he approached.

“Fine. Okay. Bye” … “Good morning!” he said cheerfully, waving as he wandered toward your fence.

You reluctantly faced him, letting a small, phony smile spread across your face. “Good morning.”

You wouldn’t call yourself “happy” to see him, considering he’s quite literally more than occupied with an entire live–in girlfriend.

You'd decided when it came to men like him, being too nice couldn’t possibly end well. You were starting to think he should stay as far away from you as possible.

He made his way across the yard while you tried to keep your attention on your mail. The sun caught in his white strands, brightening them beneath its rays as if he were an actual angel.

He was stunning. Blinding, even.

And seemingly perfect.

But clearly there was so much more to him… to them. Of course there would be—you’d known him for no more than five minutes.

You shifted your gaze toward him as he stepped within a foot of your bottom step, wearing one of your favorite scents. It was a little sharper—maybe bespoke—and it nearly knocked you off your feet when you caught it.

He slid his large hands into the front pockets of his khakis, peering up at you from behind his shades—a rare perspective, since he was so impossibly tall.

“How’s your morning going?” he asked, his voice as smooth and unhurried as his gait, his smile as intoxicating as his fragrance.

You took a deep inhale, finding it difficult to concentrate in his presence. “It’s going well. Pretty relaxing so far,” you nodded.

“That’s good.” He paused. “I, um... wanted to apologize for the other night. I’m not sure how much you heard of us, but... I’m hoping we didn’t disturb you.” His tone was mild and genuine.

“It was a little disturbing, if I’m honest.” You peeked up from your mail. “I just hope everything’s okay.”

“Yeah... everything’s fine.”

Your lips puckered just a touch. “Everything didn’t seem ‘fine.’”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t,” you replied, shuffling again.

He nodded slowly, a squint behind his shades. “It’s complicated,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as you pretended to be interested in your mail.

“Isn’t it always?” Your eyes flicked up to meet his frames for a split second.

A small huff left his nostrils as he grinned, his chiseled arms crossing over his broad chest. “Stings, but... somehow still refreshing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your candor.” He replied, his smirk unchanged. “It’s nice to have that around here.”

You pressed your lips into a hard line. “I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just... how I feel. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Your mouth turned down at the corners as you shrugged a shoulder. “It just... made me feel bad for you,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He seemed a little surprised by your answer, especially after how frank you’d been. “.... We don’t know each other.”

His head cocked slightly, as if he were trying to catch your eyes from beneath the angle of your gaze. He pressed his foot boyishly against the edge of your porch step, feeling the strain tug at his shoe.

“Why should you feel bad for someone you only just met?” he asked.

You huffed. “Why shouldn’t I? Is empathy a bad thing?”

You met his hidden gaze, trying to make out his eyes for a moment before returning to the pile of paper in your hands.

A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks as his gaze dropped to his pristine Dior. “No, not at all.”

He seemed appreciative of your regard, yet you could tell there were words left unsaid—as if he didn’t want to, or couldn’t, elaborate for whatever reason.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the rustle of the trees, as his gaze drifted to your exposed legs.

Sunlight warmed your brown complexion, catching the sheen of your body butter as if tiny flecks of gold were embedded beneath your skin.

His eyes traced up to your arms, exposed now from elbow to wrist. They glistened with the same shimmery tint, though they’d been covered the last time he’d seen you.

His gaze traveled higher, landing on the hint of cleavage above your tank, your skin perfectly smooth.

Finally, his eyes returned to your face—relaxed, thoughtful—as if he were curious what else might be going through that pretty head of yours; a head full of fluffy brown curls that were loose this time, brushing gently against your skin in the breeze.

He decided that spending a little more time over here with you would be… nice.

To say the least.

He finally spoke. “I, uh... thought I’d ask if you still needed help with your painting,” he said, changing the subject.

A tiny smile tugged at your plump lips as you glanced his way, just as a blue envelope reached the top of the stack.

“You sure that’s something you can do?”

He shrugged. “That’s the kind of thing friendly neighbors often do, right?”

You snickered at the question—at the weight of it—and at his presence just five feet away at the bottom of the stairs, pressing down on you as heavily and warmly as a thick cotton blanket.

You figured that if this happened, it would likely be difficult to keep him as “far away as possible.”

And somehow, you knew he knew that too.

But then, a little chatting while painting among neighbors is completely harmless... right?

“I suppose so,” you muttered, glancing over again and trying a little harder this time to see past his shades—the tiny bite of anxiety feeling awfully close to something like desire.

You looked back at your papers, then did a double take when you noticed him staring at something. “What?”

With an upward nod, he said, “That envelope. It looks familiar.”

“You know it’s illegal to look through other people’s mail, right?”

“You gonna call the authorities?”

“I might. You seem a little out of control.”

“Tch, yeah. That’s me.”

You chuckled. “It’s an invitation from Mei. Some kind of social seminar event.”

“Think you’ll go?”

“Mei’s a good friend of mine, so... if I can, I definitely will. I have a few events coming up myself, so I hope the timing doesn’t clash with any of them. Lots of merchandise to make,” you sighed.

“So... it’d be better to get the painting done sooner rather than later, right?”

“Yup. I’ve called some painters. They’ll be by to work on it with me tomorrow.”

“You should save your money. I can do it.”

You frowned. “You?”

All kinds of questions popped into your head about his experience with manual labor—or… lack thereof. “You can paint? Like… professionally?”

He scoffed. “You think I’m some lazy rich kid who’s never actually worked before?”

Your eyes scanned his silhouette beneath a raised brow. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

“I’ll have you know, my parents were adamant that I learn to manage more than just money. I’m a pretty handy guy to have around.”

Your gaze narrowed into a squint, your lips tugging into one corner. “Okay…” You looked him over again. “On one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“You accept the product you ordered from me for free.”

He held out his large hand for you to shake again. “You’ve got a deal, neighbor.”

You held out your hand, surprised by how excited you were to touch him… as wrong as that seemed in your head. His hand was softer than expected, but his grip was still strong—nice.

How lucky that girl must be.

You thought to yourself as he held your hand a little too long, his fingertips grazing your palm when you finally let go—sending a faint spark up your arm, across your back, and straight to your head.

You cleared your throat, pulling yourself together, then offered another nervous smile.

He noticed, of course—a hint of a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh… um... one more thing, Mr. Gojo... I’d like to ask that you take this job seriously. I have a vision in mind, and I need it to meet my expectations.”

“Okay,” he replied. “No worries. I’ve got it.”

“And… you’re sure coming here won’t cause any problems?” A small grimace formed on your face. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It’s not worth you getti—”

“How does six pm tomorrow sound?”

“Sounds perfect. But...”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

You gave him one of those looks—the I-sincerely-hope-you-know-what-you’re-doing look. “Okay. Thanks,” you replied, deciding to trust that he was a big boy and could handle his own decisions.

“My pleasure,” he said with a faint bow, looking up at you with a smirk—still hiding those ocean eyes behind vintage frames—as he slid his foot from the porch stair and turned to leave your yard.

He walked to the edge, snapped your gate shut, then held up a finger. “... Nice kimono,” he called back without looking.

∘○•········•∘ʚ֍ɞ∘•·········•○∘

You’d worked through the night and all day the next, whipping up more product—soaps, candles, butters, bath bombs, and a few body creams—using distilled water and some of your favorite oils to match the brand-new soap you’d created.

Your house was full and fragrant, layered with lingering aromas from everything you’d blended.

You set the creams on the counter to cool, letting the heat escape and any condensation evaporate before capping them for sale.

It was nearly six pm, and you wondered if your friendly neighbor still planned to make it. The doorbell rang at six on the dot, and you were far happier to see him than you thought you’d be. Maybe that was okay… but maybe it wasn’t.

“Hey there.” He stood before you in a stark white V-neck tee and distressed jeans, still managing to look like a billion bucks.

Your heart fluttered at his direct, piercing gaze—this time without his glasses. And with that, you wanted to reach into your chest, pull it out, and wash it clean to quiet the uneasiness it carried.

You took a deep breath. “Hey,” you said, forcing a smile through your blush. “Thanks for coming.” You averted your gaze to the floor again, stepping aside to let him in.

Satoru’s gaze softened immediately as he recognized your consistent tendency to become flustered the second your eyes met. Somehow, it thrilled him—and that worried him, no matter how much fun it was. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” you said with a frown.

He shrugged. “You know what they say: ‘Early is on time, on time is late...’” He sauntered in, turning on his heel as he angled toward you with a raised brow, “...and ‘late is unacceptable.’”

You snapped the door shut behind him. “I do know that. All too well. I guess I’m often ‘on time late,’ then.”

He scrunched his lips together. “Tsk, tsk, tsk... then you must need more help than you let on.”

“You’re probably right,” you admitted. “Though I don’t like to burden others with my responsibilities.”

Satoru scanned the room, taking in how much work you’d done and how much still needed to be done. For some reason, he felt determined to be the one to do it for you.

“It’s not a burden at all for me. Just say the word, and I’ll help however I can,” he said, gripping the handle of a box of miscellaneous tools in one hand and a pole sander in the other.

“Thanks...” You glanced down and around, taking stock of his things. “So, um... I’ve prepped the area pretty well so far, I think,” you continued, gesturing to what you’d finished, wondering if he’d gone out of his way to purchase the items he brought.

“Did you buy things for this?” you asked, peering into his toolbox. “Some of this looks new.”

“Well, most of it—including the sander—is mine, but yeah. I did pick up a few things on the way home from work. Why?” he said, setting the toolbox on the floor.

“You didn’t need to buy anything,” you replied, uneasy at the implication of him spending money on your behalf. “You offered to help as a favor. I didn’t intend for you to spend your money.”

“It’s no biggie. It didn’t cost much. I was going to bring some supplies from home, but they were a little worn out, so I grabbed new ones instead.”

He rummaged through the box. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take everything back home with me.”

He straightened as he pulled out a pair of gloves, his eyes locked on yours as he towered at least a foot over you. “It’s just… whatever I do, I like to be thorough.”

You took a deep breath, one brow lifting. “Right.” You cleared your throat again. “So then… um…” you started, turning back toward the walls.

Satoru’s gaze followed you across the room, taking you in—how adorable you looked in your tee shirt, denim overalls, and Converse, your hair tied up again in that curly ponytail.

He was used to people finding him attractive, even getting giddy around him, but though you were clearly affected, your disposition was different.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to such a beautiful Black woman. It was exciting.

Everything about you was a change of pace, especially after long hours with stuffy clients and colleagues, talking about money all day.

Even at home—where his girlfriend rarely stayed—someone like you brought a brightness to his life where so much had gone dim.

The only problem was, if he wasn’t careful, he’d get carried away… and likely take you with him.

It was also proving hard to focus around you. The way you made him feel—your honesty, sincerity, compassion, your drive—he hadn’t been around someone like that in a long while… not since… well, it was probably better not to think too hard about that right now.

“... so if you wouldn’t mind just starting on the sanding for me, that would be great.” You finished, swiveling back in his direction.

That was all he’d caught of what you’d said. But as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter. “My pleasure.” He nodded.

You hand him a pair of goggles, and he gets to work—reaching areas of the wall that would have had you climbing up and down your ladder dozens of times on your own.

As he worked, you sat on a small stool, drill-mixing and blending paints to create the custom colors you envisioned for a faux-stone finish—bringing the feel of a city loft, and a sense of familiarity, to your large new space.

Satoru worked diligently with very little instruction. As you created various shades and hues, your eyes drifted to his corner to check his progress—impressed.

He’d smoothed over many of the rough areas you’d worked on to the point you couldn’t see a single bump or blemish. It was nice to know he wasn’t just a pretty face—not that he needed to know how to do any of this, outside of volunteering to help.

As your eyes followed each pass of the sander, they trailed along his large, paint-stained hands and down his beautifully chiseled arms, catching the way his body moved beneath his perfectly fitted tee.

His clothes fit as though they’d been tailored—just enough room for his chest and back—curving over muscle as it flexed underneath.

His jeans fit like a glove, with a slight sag that let them slip just below his v-line, his smooth, porcelain skin showing the faintest shadows of veins at his abdomen as he raised his arm.

You swallowed thickly at the sight, absently tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth as he reached heights on the wall you could never—hoping to God that one day, the man you chose would have a fraction of what you saw in him.

“Looks like that part’s taken care of.” He turned to you with a proud grin. “See? Aren’t you ecstatic that I’m here?”

You averted your gaze as he faced you, hoping he hadn’t caught you ogling him. With a sigh, you said, “Yeah... it, uh... definitely takes a load off, Mr. Gojo.” You dropped your brushes and stood, ready to take a break.

But he had caught you. He turned away as if he hadn’t noticed, his grin softening into a thoughtful smile.

It felt nice to be wanted.

Wanted by an amazing woman like you.

The thought lingered longer than it should have as he climbed down the ladder he’d only needed a few times, having finished priming the entire wall.

He winced at what you’d called him. “Oof... only the elders in my family are called ‘Mr.,’” he muttered, half-joking.

Then he added, “Please—call me Satoru,” walking toward you as he pushed his goggles up to rest on his head and swept his white strands back with them, the small gesture somehow making him even cuter. “Or... just ‘Gojo,’ if you prefer formalities.”

You hesitated, wondering if it was appropriate—being on a first-name basis with someone else’s man. It certainly didn’t feel like it was.

But you also knew nothing would transpire between the two of you, so… “Yeah... okay...” you nodded, fidgeting with the paint on your hands. You reluctantly looked up at him, catching the hint of a smile on his lips beneath his hooded gaze—like he was waiting for you to say his name.

“S-Satoru.” The word slipped softly past your lips.

His gaze softened even more. “Atta girl,” he practically whispered, grinning as if he were enjoying this little bit of fun. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

You huffed, snickering under your breath at his playfulness. “I suppose not,” you said. “I just prefer not to overstep any boundaries if I can help it.”

The corners of his lips dipped as he nodded. “Understandable.”

You decided it was high time for a break; it had been a good hour and a half, at least. “Would you like something to drink while you’re working for me?” you asked, turning toward the kitchen.

“Do you have any coffee?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned back to him. “Coffee?”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like coffee,” he quipped.

“I love coffee... I just... wasn’t expecting you to ask for that… And I honestly have no idea why,” you snickered.

He chuckled as he walked closer, and you both drifted into the kitchen, where he settled at your island. “Well, I’m just full of surprises, I guess. And what’s wrong with a guy liking coffee?” He leaned into the counter, crossing his arms.

“Nothing’s ‘wrong’....” A thoughtful look crossed your face. “… I dunno… I guess I was expecting you to ask for a… beer, or… water. ‘Coffee’ just threw me off a bit. Sorry.” You said, still giggling as you covered your mouth.

He couldn’t help but laugh with you, finding your giggle infectious and your reaction endearing. He couldn’t resist teasing you more. “So now you’re expecting me to be some weird jock who only drinks alcohol?”

“Oh god, no,” you said, rolling your eyes and smiling even brighter. “I’ll get you some coffee right away, Mr. Go— I mean… Satoru.”

He propped his elbow on the counter, pressing his fist into his cheek. “Having a hard time getting away from it, it seems. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable coming up with a nice nickname for me,” he said, enjoying the banter.

“Hmm... yeah, no. That might be a little...”

“A little what?” he asked, hiking a brow.

“Intimate.”

He squinted. “You think?”

“I do.”

“Well, we’re becoming friends, right? Getting to know each other, hanging out. It feels pretty innocent to me.”

You turned to your cabinet for the sugar, then grabbed the cream from the fridge, his eyes trailing over your figure before returning to your face.

“I take sugar in my coffee,” you said, looking down at your cup as you added a couple tablespoons. “And... definitely some cream.” You stirred, then poured. “How do you take yours?”

“Black,” he said. “And sweet.”

You huffed, snickering under your breath, rolling your eyes at how that sounded—like a really bad pick-up line.

He was cute, and he seemed like such a great guy. It was hard to understand why—or how—he was in that situation with his partner.

At that, you stopped stirring your coffee. Silence settled between you as you murmured, “Satoru... I hate to sound… blunt… and frankly nosy, but…”

“But you’re gonna ask anyway,” he replied with a smirk, gaze fixed on you as he added a couple teaspoons of sugar to his coffee.

You took a deep breath. “I guess I just wanna understand. Why do you deal with that?” Your brows knit as you stared into your mug, then flicked your eyes back to him.

“I just… I realize it’s not exactly my business what’s going on between you two, but… that looked pretty bad from the outside. Bad enough to eventually get worse.”

His smile faded as he looked down at his cup, hands curling around the warmth. “We grew up together,” he began, nodding slowly. “Our families have known each other since we were children… but it’s been like this for a while. Me and her.”

Childhood friends.

Right.

But... the abuse? Honestly, if she were on the other side of it, you’d be having this conversation with her instead—no doubt.

“We’ve been best friends since the sandbox.” He smirked with a quick exhale. “She wasn’t like this before. Well, she’s always been... feisty...”

His blue eyes met yours, brows furrowing, but you refused to look away this time. “I’m sure she has her reasons, but... I’m hoping things get better.”

Your heart broke for him all over again. His sincerity felt like it seeped into you, settling straight in your chest. He was so... forgiving.

Calm.

Understanding.

It didn’t seem fair—being put through this. And still, it didn’t feel... “good”... to talk about.

Your lips parted as you inhaled. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sor—”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head, a finger tracing the rim of his cup. “I’ve gotta admit, though... I’m kinda bracing myself for the day she decides not to come home.” He paused, then added, “To be honest, I’m not even sure how I’d feel about it.”

He frowned, as if the notion had only just now crossed his mind...

You looked down at your hands, suddenly wishing you knew how to mind your own damn business.

“This coffee is perfect.” He took another sip, setting the mug carefully back down on the counter. “Sweet and strong... but a bit sharp.”

Ouch.

You chewed the inside of your lip as you reluctantly met his piercing gaze.

“We should probably get a move on before it gets too late, yeah? Or... would you rather me come back later?” he suggested, shifting as if to get up from the bar.

The air felt different after that heavy conversation—an energy hanging thick between you, like it needed to be cleared so you could both breathe again.

“I’d like to finish the first coat on all the walls, at least... if you don’t mind,” you answered, with no idea how to shift the mood.

“The primer should be dry... I have a busy schedule coming up—trade shows and a meeting with a boutique. It may be a week or so before I can get back to it.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be more than happy to come back and help you finish up if you just give me a yell.”

You wondered if that was a good idea after prying so relentlessly.

“Do I have to yell?” you asked, squinting one eye.

He huffed. “No, you don’t, but... if it’s okay with you, we can exchange numbers.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’d hate to cause trouble for you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

You hid your lips behind your teeth as you searched for your phone. You handed it to him unlocked so he could add his number. He did—then took a picture of himself and added that, too.

“The picture may not have been necessary,” you said, snickering as you shook your head. “I doubt I’d forget a name like Satoru.”

“Maybe, but then your contact list wouldn’t have been graced with my beautiful face,” he grinned haughtily. “Besides, you’re giving me a nickname, remember?”

“Hmm…” You scrunched your lips together. “Did I agree to that?”

“Not quite, but when you do, I expect a good one. I’m a man of high standards, after all.”

“Of course you are. And slick, too, apparently,” you said, flashing him a phony smile as your lashes fluttered. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He chuckled, propping his large body against the counter with one hand, pleased by the quick shift in mood as he watched you clean up the coffee supplies. “You’re cheeky. I like that. It’s always fun to meet people who can keep up with my wit.”

“Well, I have my off days, for sure,” you murmured.

“Mmm… Do you mind if I take my coffee in the other room?”

“I don’t mind at all. Just try not to drink any paint by mistake.”

“Tch… yeah. I think I can manage that much.”

You turned, grinning in his direction as you led him back to the front room.

His presence felt refreshing. You were usually so busy with work that you’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone around to talk to, and in the short time you’d gotten to know him, he’d seemed warm.

A pleasure.

You turned on some music to lighten the mood, and the two of you went back to painting, finishing the first layer by nine thirty.

Satoru gathered all of his gear. “Give me a ring when you’re ready for me.”

You nodded. “I will. Thank you, Satoru. I appreciate all the help.”

“Anytime,” he muttered, finally tearing his gaze from you as he strolled out the front door and down the porch steps—then turning back to give you one last long look before he left for the night.

“We’re neighbors after all. And you’re a young woman living here alone. It’s good to have someone around to help out, you think?”

“Yes. Yes it is. And I will.” You replied, locking the look in his eyes into your memory for safekeeping.

“Goodnight.” He said, his smooth voice humming in your ears before he headed down your walkway, closing the gate behind him.

Spending time with him was nice.

Despite the short time you'd known him, he was consistently a pleasure to be around. He was growing on you. You genuinely liked Satoru as a person, and wanted the best for him.

Even in his relationship.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘ 

The meeting with the boutique owner was exciting—and a complete success.

They were one of the best in Tokyo, and when they approached you about collaborating, you were more than a little ecstatic. It ended in a consignment agreement across three stores: a huge sale and incredible exposure for your business.

You’d also completed two trade show events, making far more profit than expected, but you’d burned through so much merchandise that it was time to restock—which meant even more work from home, making even more product.

You’d just spent days packing everything, loading your truck, hauling it there, unpacking on site, setting up your displays, handling nearly all sales, breaking the display down, packing the truck again, hauling it back, and now it needed to be unloaded into the house.

It was a shit ton of work.

It had been over two weeks since you’d seen Satoru, and you’d heard nothing from their home. You wondered if it was because of what you’d said, and whether he was simply hiding the chaos inside.

However, just as you arrived home after an event to unload your rental, Satoru pulled up behind your car in his Rover.

He hopped out of the cab, all smiles. “Hey there.”

You smiled brightly, ready to say hello—until your eyes landed on the person in the front passenger seat. His girlfriend cut a sharp glance toward you as he walked around to open her door.

Your smile faded when you caught her sneer. You wondered if Satoru had told her he’d been next door helping you. If he had, you weren’t sure you could blame her. She stepped out, her gaze raking over you with puckered lips.

“H-hello,” you said nervously, letting go of your heavy box of candles. You walked toward her, wiped your hands on the back of your jeans, and leaned in to shake hers as you introduced yourself. “... I just moved in next door. It’s nice to meet you.”

She held out her hand behind the half-smile she offered, not a single word leaving her lips as Satoru grabbed their things from the SUV.

“I think that’s everything,” he said as he approached her from behind, his hands full of shopping bags, facing you and your uneasy smile as you waited anxiously for the chance to get back into your house.

“Looks like you might need some help with all that, too.” He nodded toward the stacks of boxes and equipment in your ride.

“Uh... thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” you answered, your eyes flicking between her icy glare and his friendly blues. “I have a cart in the car. I can just—”

“No way. That stuff looks heavy, and I’m sure you’ve been lugging it around all day, right?” He frowned, noting that the load would likely take you at least a half hour to remove from the car. “I’ll be back to help you take it inside.”

You took a deep breath as he finished his offer, his girlfriend never taking her eyes off your face.

“I’m sure she’d be delighted,” she said.

“It’s really okay. I can do it on my own,” you repeated.

“I insist. I won’t allow you to do all that alone. There’s no point when I’m right here,” Satoru argued.

“Satoru, she said she can take care of it.” The woman sneered, her eyes narrowing on you. “I’m sure she’s used to manual labor. You don’t have to help her with everything, do you?”

Satoru’s jaw tightened as he cut his eyes toward her. “Uraume. Don’t. It’ll take all of ten minutes.”

“She’s right. I’m used to—”

“I’m ignoring you, and I’ll be back.” Satoru rested his large hand on the small of Uraume’s back as they turned toward their home, taking their belongings inside.

“Nice meeting you,” you called out to Uraume as they walked away. You turned toward your car, grimacing—eyes widening behind that stressful exchange—as you slid out your collapsed cart.

You pulled it free, popped it open in the street behind the car, then lifted it over the curb onto the sidewalk.

You’d just gotten one large bin into the cart when you saw Satoru power-walking toward you.

Your eyes flicked up to him as you pressed your lips together.

“Wow... this really is as heavy as it looks,” he said, lifting the bin you’d just placed there.

“Yeah... those candles weigh about a pound each—twelve in each box, six boxes per bin.” You nodded. “But you seriously don’t have to do this.”

“I do.” He frowned, like he was weighing whether to push … or listen … then sighed… his grip on the bin tightening. “Let me—please. If you still want me to stop, say the word.”

You stood there pondering a moment, knowing you really didn’t. It felt good to have help. You bit your lip as you grabbed another container from the car. “Thanks.” you murmured.

He smiled with his eyes, grateful for the opportunity to do this for you. “You do this alone every time you have an event?” he asked, following your lack of rejection.

“Yeah. I mean... I can't wait around for someone else to help me with everything. I have to take care of it myself if I wanna get it done.”

“True, but … you ever think of hiring some help?”

“I have, but that would require someone to commit.” You placed the last bin on top of your stack inside the cart.

“Relying on other people can leave you with unfinished work, and my events aren’t scheduled consistently at the same time each week.”

Gojo scrunched his lips to the side. “Well, you have someone to help you now. Please call me, and don’t do this by yourself.”

“Satoru, I’ve been taking care of this alone for years.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” He grabbed the handle of the cart, pulling it up your driveway and into the garage. “It’s not necessary if you have help.”

“It doesn’t seem like your girlfriend is going to be okay with this. I’d rather not cross her if I can help it. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair for me to carry your merchandise?”

You took a deep breath, “It’s not fair for me to impose on another woman’s relationship.

If she’s not comfortable with it, I shouldn’t do it.”

He leaned in, grabbing another one of the heavy bins out of the cart with the greatest of ease.

“I can make my own decisions.” He replied, and took a few long strides toward your door as you followed, taking twice as many.

You rolled your eyes as you opened the garage door.

“I’m sure you can, but – can you just put it on that shelf?” You pointed to an area it would fit. “– she didn’t look happy with it.”

He placed the bin in the designated area, then turned to you. You pouted, genuine concern written all over your face—worried you’d caused trouble for him or his girlfriend. The weight of it seemed to hit him more than he expected.

You had a few empty bins to bring into the kitchen; you’d refill them once everything else was settled in the garage. The two of you carried them in, both huffing and nearly out of breath.

“Haaaah … I think that’s all for now … haah … Thank you,” you said, wiping your brow with the back of your forearm.

“You look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Don’t you have brothers? Family that could help?”

You guzzled your drink, then lowered the bottle. “I just moved away from them. Besides, they have jobs, too.”

He nodded. “Right,” he said, looking around at your bins—the clutter in the garage, the unfinished walls—before peering at you again, spent as you leaned against the counter.

“And what is this about imposing on another woman’s relationship?”

You took another long swig, finishing the bottle, and lowered it as you caught your breath.

“What?”

He straightened, stepping toward you slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“You said… you’re ‘imposing’ on her relationship.” He stopped within a few feet of you, towering as he crossed his arms. “How so?”

You shrugged.

“Like I said, she didn’t look like she was okay with it.”

“And what do you care if she’s okay with it?”

“Satoru….”

You shifted your weight, hands moving to your hips, avoiding that insane gaze you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Do you think you’re a threat?” he asked, almost mockingly. His smirk made the question border on offensive.

You flinched—at the question, or his audacity. You weren’t sure which—but his stare didn’t waver as he watched for an answer in your lips, your face, your body.

“Tch.” You huffed. “What kind of question is that?”

He tilted his head from side to side. “An easy one,” he replied, and your flustered, pink-cheeked face flushed even more.

“What imposition… on my relationship… could possibly come from me carrying a couple of boxes?”

He continued, uncrossing his arms in front of him and re-crossing them behind his back.

“Or… painting a wall?” He stepped even closer. “What’s going on here between you and me that you think will cause my relationship to crumble?”

You frowned, averting your gaze as you actually considered the question—your heart pounding as you realized he wasn’t exactly wrong to ask, despite how comfortable he seemed openly picking through your headspace.

It was that part for you.

Where does he get off talking to you like that?

The bigger question was why it made sense—and why it bothered you.

Was it only about offending another woman? A woman you didn’t particularly like, but that was beside the point.

Maybe it was the feeling that anything you did that could possibly offend her—especially where Satoru was concerned—would somehow come full circle?

Yeah.

That was it.

Mostly.

But really—what about you? What were you actually feeling?

Just like he said, painting a room or moving things around your place should mean nothing more than what it was.

Your gaze traveled up his torso to his face, your chin tipping back to meet his as he towered over you. You wondered what the fuck this was.

Intimidation?

Fear?

No.

It was just… extremely frustrating.

He huffed, “You’re cute when you pout, you know that?”

You hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

“You can't say that stuff to me, Gojo,” you murmured.

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes burning into you as you stood only a couple feet away and he refused to look anywhere else. “Are you offended?”

“No… I just…” you replied, scrambling for an answer.

“S’just an observation…” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

The quiet that followed—thick with his words—was deafening. You looked away, your heart racing despite you.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what was happening in your body. “You should… probably ge—”

“You’re cute when you blush, too,” he continued.

“And I told you...

.

.

.

.

.

I need you to call me ‘Satoru’.”

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘ 

.

.

M. List | Line of Sight ~ Ch.02 >>

Thanks for reading! 💎🤍💎🥰

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2025 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Borders by @cocomanga & @saradika-graphics Animated Border Lines by @cafekitsune Stunning Fanart Art by Yoon, @dmsco1803

Taglist: (if you dont want to be tagged, please lmk!!🤍)

@lavender-hvze @another365 @vantadaes @chosolover @242422rc @kashiiwi @mintiroo @melaniemartinezloverr @sakura-blxssxm @neurydyta @distractionforyourthoughts @strangegirl7892:) @jasmionerose @bfejp @chosolovers @asramin @destinyfleur @louanneeeeeeee @randomly12aqua @watermelon-19 @sketchy-business @spidergirlnr1 @sillyoverload @flwrbbyx @firebonbon @slutkoo @doomsday08 @scrumptiouscarrotcake @jayeke @minjizziee @stressedand-obsessed @imtheprintt @menwhere

@strvqtt @rowwyboi @i-think-i-have-a-fever @itsswageyamatobiyolo @ms-shoja @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @milleriverr @everythingfits-here @ph4n-7om @chaxtic-euphxria @mafertl @fatiguedcow @vxnus101 @honey69b @wisteriaav @lystee @hazeyeyes @iyyshlymg @shelov3sstars @sollasollaahh @animewhur @ghostnotlovergirl @lulubluu @sacredyoongi @sleeplrd @alter-bananant @yuhhh7899 @riverrrrrrrx @luckyperfectionsandwich @insecuregirlblog @npx2 @shyplaidalmondfriend @kill-shoot @milkyyboyy @choupijk @s0ulz4-20 @xiscaprinz @doomalot @alonahh @adastinks @mjmjmhmhmh @otakuzdreamland

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ LOS ~ Playlist

LINE OF SIGHT: 1. The line between two points. 2. A line from an observer's eye to a distant point. 3. A straight line along which an observer has unobstructed vision.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘ Ch.02 - Formalities ∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

“I need you… to call me, Satoru.” he tells you.

The words swirl in your head as you stand beneath him.

‘Need’. You echoed quietly as you huffed, questioning his intent. Your gaze drifted from his persistent stare, his scent making your resolve falter.

You frowned for just a moment as your determination to hide the silly blush that appeared on your face fought to overpower it.

Possible responses floated through your mind—endless directions this conversation could take, depending solely on what you chose to say next.

You squeezed the empty water bottle in your hand as your nerves got the better of you, no doubt from how frustrating this interaction was becoming.

It felt like light teasing—something he was used to doling out.

The calm in his face and the faint satisfaction behind it told you he had some idea of what was bugging you, and worse—he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Is there a particular reason you won’t look at me?” he murmurs, the vibration from his voice rippling under your skin.

Your face angled up slowly, your eyes refusing to follow until they finally met his. The moment they did, your body tensed, the rest of you tightening with it.

He was annoyingly gorgeous.

And you were equally annoyed at yourself for how hard it was to respond with indifference.

You took a deep staggering breath, eyes fluttering lightly as you worked to compensate for what you were feeling.

You weren't the kind of person who’d casually display interest in someone who ‘belonged’ to someone else, regardless of how toxic their relationship might be.

Yet, you couldn’t just switch it off, whatever it is, that had apparently been turned on inside you.

“Is this really necessary… Satoru?” you probed, your voice barely above a whisper, lacing his name with sarcasm as you rebelled against his insistence that you say it—trying to understand his point and finally relax after a ridiculously long day.

Nevertheless, the smirk peeking from his lips widened at the mere sound of his name, despite your frustration and everything else. “Seems you have quite the feisty streak,” he murmurs in satisfaction. “And … is what... necessary?”

“The third degree,” you replied in a huff.

“I’m not interrogating you,” he says, his lips turning down in the corners. “I’m getting acquainted. Just … curious.”

“Fine. I’ll humor you if that’s what you want. I don’t know her, and I don’t need to.” You finally drew in a much-needed breath. “And no, I don’t think I’m a ‘threat.’ I’m just not an asshole—and I don’t want to be,” you muttered, though you still couldn’t peel your eyes away.

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, still searching for whatever he thought you were hiding behind them. “No. You’re not,” he replied. “I guess I’m just … trying to understand you.”

You shrugged lightly. “Why?” you asked, watching his expression.

“Because I like you.”

You froze—heat rushing to your core as your eyes snapped shut. “What?” Calm down, girl. you thought, hating how quickly your body had betrayed you.

He finally averted his gaze, swallowing thickly. “What I mean is, I think you’re a decent person,” he sighed, “and I don’t think you should be so... overly cautious, since clearly there’s no malicious intent.”

You took another deep breath, your fingers loosening around the bottle as relief settled over you like a warm woolen blanket.

You supposed it was good to know there was also no ‘malicious intent’ from him, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you wanted him to stay away—and why was harder to pinpoint.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “But you’re kind of a flirt.”

He hiked a brow. “Maybe a little. I mean—have you seen yourself?” He tossed the compliment out so casually it seemed to surprise even him, his smirk fading a little before he paused, “But a little innocent flirting doesn’t equate to a long-term relationship, right?”

His eyes didn’t move.

It was as if he were digging into your secret places, certain he’d find exactly what you didn’t want him to.

You let the question hang for a moment before you finally answered, turning your attention to… anything else. “Mmm… so there you go.” You shrugged. “It’s nothing.” You nodded, meeting his gaze again to punctuate the sentence.

“Yeah.” His gaze dipped to your plump lips for a split second. “Nothing at all.”

You swallowed thickly, your tongue tugging your bottom lip behind your teeth as you bit down—a tiny punishment for the feelings you knew were creeping in and taking root. You were determined to hold whatever ground you thought you had.

He stepped back slowly, grounding himself to this spot, watching his own hand as it slid against the cold island counter before heading to the side door leading to your garage. He gripped the knob, pausing as he peeked over his shoulder.

“I'll be back to help you finish as promised.” He stepped out, gently snapping it shut behind him.

You stood with your back pressed against the cool stainless steel of your refrigerator door, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You waited patiently for it to neutralize your temperature, which clearly didn’t work, then peeled yourself from it, turning to grab another water from inside.

“‘It means nothing’... that’s right,” you said audibly before you chugged the water, its contents like dry ice on molten lava as it soaked your insides.

You decided it was high time for a shower.

One much cooler than usual.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

Your phone rang, piercing the quiet darkness—loud and aggressive.

Your body tingled with fright as the sound tore you from sleep at five-thirty a.m. You rolled onto your back to pick it up, only to see a number you didn’t recognize on the screen.

The only reasonable explanation was that it had to be a potential customer.

“Hello?”

You answered in an extremely sleepy, but professional voice, carefully attaching your business name to the greeting.

“Hahaha. Only children sleep through their mornings. But I'll take it easy on you since your voice is so pretty.”

“What? Ugh... Naoya?”

“Who else?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined in a whisper, rolling onto your side and pressing your palm into your eye as your fingers curled to soothe the ache already forming in your head.

“How the hell did you get this number?”

“What does it matter? You can't run from me.”

You scoffed. “Stalk much?”

“You think I need to stalk you?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” you replied, practically interrupting him. “For obvious reasons.”

“Hmph. And what are those?”

“Oh, I’m sure you know why I left. No need to play dumb.”

“You can fix your mouth to talk to a man of my stature that way?”

“Boy, I'm hanging up in point zero two seconds if you don't tell me what you're doing on my phone at this hour.”

“I just thought I’d drop you a line and let you know I’ll be in town briefly. We need to talk.”

“Uh, no… we don’t need to talk. We’ve said everything there is to say, and you know that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean to forget to apologize, but I’ll give you another chance.”

“Bye, Naoya. Good luck with… whatever it is you’ll be here for. I’m sure we won’t cross paths anyway,” you mumbled, ready to hang up.

“I doubt that,” he called out just before you pressed the red receiver on your screen. “I was invited to an event by Mei. You recall I’m one of her clients?”

“God…” you rolled your eyes hard. This can’t be happening.

“It's a black tie event, so you should’ve expected I'd be present.”

“Why can’t you let this go, Naoya?” It was as if ‘no’ was missing from his vocabulary. “Don’t you have a hundred women you could call and harass right now?”

“Yet, I chose you. You should be grateful.”

“Oh, my God... bye.”

You ended the call, plopping the phone down on the bed next to you as you sighed, “Yet another headache I do NOT need,” you murmured, rolling over to finish getting your much-required rest.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

You made certain to give yourself at least one day off after events to catch up on rest.

The work you put in drained you, often from a combination of the weather and all the energies from the people and the work colliding. But somehow, doing it all in this new space felt so much more merciful than it had when you lived in the city.

You decided to take advantage of the brisk morning air and run off some of the stress you hadn’t quite shaken yet.

It was beautiful out, and it felt amazing. The cool air and partly cloudy sky were exactly what you needed to relax you. You sat on the porch stair, tying your sneaker, as an unrecognizable voice called out to you. “Excuse me... Ms.?”

You glanced up momentarily to see a beautiful woman leaning into your iron fence.

“Hi…” she waved kindly. “Um... I'm looking for my friend who was supposed to be home.” She held out her thumb on her right hand. “D’you happen to see him?”

“Your... friend?” you replied, head tilting.

“Yeah.” She replied through the cigarette hanging cutely from her mouth, despite the harsh smell that you ironically didn’t mind since it was clove. “Satoru Gojo? He lives next door.”

“Oh... Uh... I haven’t seen him this morning,” you answered, now quite curious.

“Okay.” Her head swiveled back and forth. “You wouldn’t happen to know when he'll be back, would you? It doesn't look like he's hiding in the house.” She stretched out her neck to see further past his yard to the back of the house. “I've tried calling and texting to no avail.”

“N-no... actually...” You stood, observing her relaxed and casual demeanor. “I last saw him come home yesterday evening, but not since. I can let him know you’re looking for him if I see him.”

“Perfect. Thank you so much.” Her eyes scanned you as if she was working to commit your image to memory. “I'm Shoko,” she said, hinging past the fence to shake your hand.

“Oh…” you replied with a shake of your head and a frown, refusing to allow your first meeting to be barred by your iron fence.

You opened it before finalizing the shake, introducing yourself with a smile, happy to have encountered another welcoming soul in this new area. “I could try texting him as well... if you want.”

Shoko flinched. “Texting?” Eyes fluttering. “You have his number?”

“I do,” you replied.

“Cool.” She smirked and nodded slowly, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I’m glad to see he’s making so many new clients.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if performing surgery on your brain for more information...

“Oh… I’m... not his client.”

“Really?” she replied, her kind eyes now meeting your gaze with newfound interest.

The upward inflection at the end of her question intrigued you. What was the big deal? you wondered.

“Yeah… just neighbors,” you shrugged as you explained. “He helped me out a bit since I’ve only just moved in recently, but...” You paused, questioning her bewildered, wide-eyed expression. “I-Is… that okay?”

“Y-yeah, I mean… it’s none of my business; it's just... not exactly... common.”

Your eyes grew smaller. “Common?”

“Well,” she went on with a light huff, “he doesn't usually hand out his info to anyone unless they're a client... and definitely not his personal number.”

“Oh.” You replied, perplexed, hesitant to say much more now for fear you’d somehow implicate him, or yourself.

Shoko flashed a tiny smile that easily reached her eyes, emanating a warmth that you rarely got the opportunity to see, especially as of late.

“He and I went to college together. I just wanted to let him know Geto and I were in the neighborhood. Thanks for relaying the message. I’ll try him again, too.”

“Of course.” You replied, wondering how you seem to keep getting involved deeper into his life now, with yet another reason to reach out to speak with him. “It’s nice to meet you, Shoko.”

“You too. Thanks again!”

You watched her walk away toward her adorable sporty car, her long, sleek bronze locks swaying lightly against the breeze as her cool stride led her further into the distance.

Such beautiful people surrounding him constantly. You thought to yourself, locking your fence as you turned the opposite direction, heading toward the park at the end of the division of homes you lived in.

And now, these beautiful people orbit around you as well, despite how busy you were—almost too busy to take the time to make friends of your own.

You continued your stroll as you ventured off the beaten path of your street, the fresh air filling your lungs as the only sound that accompanied you was the soft tapping of your sneakers on the pavement.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

Your walk led you to a pavilion in the heart of the park.

Two flights of stairs lined with lush trees sat on either side, providing you with the perfect amount of cardio without the bother of using a treadmill or bike.

You'd traveled up one side, stretching and hitting a few crunches at the top, then down the other, continuing the cycle for about thirty minutes.

At the end of the last cycle, you turned the corner, heading toward a large pond lined with trees when you noticed a voice in the distance that sounded considerably familiar.

“It was nice to finally get to see you,” she said. “I was tired of sitting around that house.”

“I'm happy to have obliged. As always.” A deep, masculine voice responded as you drew closer, your eyes traveling along the gate lining the edge of the pond where the two bodies stood.

“He shouldn't be back 'til evening,” she said with a sigh.

“Well, I haven't seen him yet, but I'm sure at some point we'll be able to have that talk.”

“I hope so. I'm getting tired of waiting.” Her response was almost a whine, which didn't quite match any tone you remembered.

You drew even closer, following the path back home, sure to not make yourself seen as the foliage which blocked their torsos and faces parted.

Your eyes traveled up her body, pausing at her stark white hair, cut perfectly blunt as her eyes rested on the face of likely the second most ridiculously attractive man you’d ever seen.

He smirked, speaking confidently under a head of perfectly coiffed red hair and piercing eyes. He appeared to be doing well for himself somehow, donning an expensive-looking jogging suit, and a watch that seemed to sparkle, even from the distance you stood.

“He’s not a difficult man to get through to, but this will likely be difficult for him to get over,” he murmured, reaching to cup her face. “You’re out of his league. Perhaps you should take it easy.”

The look in her eyes was gentle, almost pleading, and warmer than any you’d seen grace her face since you’d first laid eyes on her. “He’ll survive.”

In that moment, you felt … angry.

For several reasons.

It was easy to see that Satoru was more than willing to sacrifice what could have been at least a bit more comfort, or happiness to continue his relationship with her, but now, seeing that she wasn’t willing to do the same, disappointed you.

And if you were honest, the emotion was a little stronger than that.

Somehow, and strangely, you expected better from her, even if you barely knew her.

Satoru Gojo was amazing as far as you could tell—a subjective perspective—but again, none of this was any of your business. You actually just wished you’d stop running into theirs.

This time, literally.

A deep frown formed between your brows as her smile grew even softer, right along with his as they held each other’s gazes. You broke yours on them, shifting your attention to your hand which you hadn’t realized had formed a little fist as your nails began to dig into the flesh of your palm.

You loosened your grip, lifting your eyes back toward the two just as they leaned into each other. You slammed your lids together as you winced, your jaw clenching as you detoured toward an alternative route home.

Well this is fucked. You said to yourself as you approached the edge of your block, hoping to never see what you saw again.

You couldn’t help but question—you had so many questions.

Was Satoru abusive to her? Mean? Was he really a liar as she accused him of being? And, well, even you called him out on his flirting, which he’d even admitted to, but again … you saw no malice, no advances, no disrespect.

Satoru mentioned they were friends since childhood, so even if she didn’t want to be with him anymore, which she had the right to, you just couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t be willing to just tell him that. She seemed capable enough.

Your mind immediately flashed to the image of Naoya in your head, reminding you of the history you had; his reckless and disrespectful behavior, minus the cloying charm he displayed the first time you met, presenting that to you as if it was who he really was.

You spent two years with him, only to watch the layers peel back, showing you something darker inside him each passing month.

This … was all too familiar. The way it starts; charm turning into control, then simmers beneath the surface until you're bubbling over with anxiety, questioning your reality, your sanity, even who you are.

Which begs the question, who is Satoru?

It was seemingly impossible to determine, since you barely knew them, yet … your reflexes tugged at your better judgment. That’s not fair. You told yourself, regardless of how hard it was to just accept him at face value.

The detour—and the flood of intrusive thoughts—made the long walk home feel much shorter than it had before.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

You finally made it to just about a block from your home when you noticed Satoru’s tall frame stepping out of his vehicle. He rounded the hood to the passenger side and opened the door for someone inside.

Another woman?

Living next door to him was proving to inject far more excitement into your life than you ever could have anticipated.

You watched—almost despite yourself, since your path led you right past them—as he reached in to take her hand.

She stepped out with his assistance, her long, bone-straight, perfectly coiffed white hair sliding forward as she moved. Satoru closed the door behind her as she made her way onto the sidewalk.

She wore designer navy pumps beneath a knee-length pencil skirt that fit perfectly against her slim frame, paired with a cream silk top with a bateau neckline and a soft, button-down cardigan.

She was absolutely stunning, and obviously older than Satoru, yet her age wasn’t easy to guess.

Satoru’s eyes caught yours as you approached, the woman turning toward you as she noticed his attention had been redirected elsewhere.

“Well, look who it is,” he turned to greet you, his smile genuine and bright, but with a hint of something else in his eyes as he took in your appearance.

“Hello,” you smiled back shyly; you glanced her direction, noting the same beautiful eyes that belonged to Satoru staring back at you from her pretty face.

You slowed your stride enough to acknowledge each of them while still making an anxious attempt to reach your home instead of stopping to converse, as you needed a breather after what you’d just witnessed at the park.

She smiled small but genuinely, turning immediately to Satoru as she straightened his collar and brushed his chest lightly with her palms.

Satoru introduced you, not minding your attempt to simply pass. “Mom, this is my neighbor. She’s new to the area. To Japan.” His eyes met yours as he mentioned you.

She turned her full attention to you, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction as she assessed you. She offered a polite, regal nod. “A pleasure.” She smoothed her hands down his jacket once more before stepping back.

“Hajimemashite,” you replied with a subtle nod.

She looked you up and down with a critical eye, then nodded in response. “Nice to meet you too, dear. How is your morning going?” she asked genuinely.

You sighed. “Just getting some fresh air; enjoying the day. It’s beautiful out.”

“It is,” Satoru replied, his smile widening.

You blushed a little as his mother’s eyes rested on your face, offering a smile as well before turning to tend to her son.

“Satoru, honey, we need to get started.” Patting his chest gently where she rested her hands lightly, she continued. “Shoko and Suguru will be here any minute, and I’ll need to finish preparing the miso.”

“Oh, uhm…” you interrupted politely as she stood on the tips of her toes, pulling him down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I was given a message for you from a woman named Shoko a little earlier.”

Gojo turned to you with surprise. “Really?”

“Yes… she mentioned that she and… Geto? … were in town, and that she attempted to contact you a few times.”

He stared for a moment, his expression softening as he listened to you explain your interaction with one of his closest friends.

“I told her I’d try you also,” you continued, “since she hadn’t received an answer.”

“Perfect,” he replied.

Your eyes shifted from his mother’s to his at a few intervals as you explained yourself. “I hope… that’s … not an issue. She said you don’t give out your number often … so…”

“He doesn’t,” his mother chimed. “You must be rather trustworthy. Considering...” she said, her eyes meticulously observing you once more.

Your lips parted as you turned your attention to Satoru as a frown flashed across his otherwise pleased expression behind his mother’s comment.

You shook your head. “Well, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s … fine…” he interrupted. “Thank you.”

“Okay then,” you said, offering another nod goodbye as you pressed your lips into a hard line, turning on your heels toward your home.

“You should join us,” Satoru called out.

You stopped before you could convince yourself not to.

“Oh, that’s …” You glanced toward your house, painfully close now, its quiet little porch looking more like a finish line than a home. “I have a ton of work to do. I’m just gonna grab a quick burger later.”

“You’re more than welcome, dear,” Mrs. Gojo said. “We’ve prepared plenty.”

There was nothing forceful in her tone—nothing that should have made refusal difficult. And yet, somehow, the invitation settled around you with the weight of expectation.

“When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal?” Satoru asked.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

The honest answer was more pathetic than you wanted to admit.

Since arriving in Japan, most of your meals had been eaten standing over the kitchen counter, half-distracted by invoices, supply lists, and the quiet ache of rebuilding a life from scratch. You had told yourself you preferred it that way. Independence. Peace. Control.

But standing there, with the smell of miso drifting faintly from his open door and his mother watching you like she already knew the answer, you felt something in your chest loosen against your will.

“Come.” Satoru said, softer this time. “Eat well with us.”

With us.

You glanced between them, searching for a graceful escape and finding none. Or maybe finding one, and choosing not to take it.

“Okay,” you said, the word leaving you before you could dress it in more caution.

Satoru’s smile brightened like he’d won something he had no business competing for.

“Good. Seven pm. Sharp. Come say hi to Shoko.”

You nodded, already regretting it. Already curious.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you said, though your smile felt less excited than bewildered.

As you finally turned toward your house, the distance between your front door and his suddenly felt much shorter than it had that morning—

And much harder to pretend was only distance.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

You had no idea what to bring to this dinner, having only attended one other gathering of this nature with friends during your first week in Tokyo at a formal restaurant.

After pondering probably too much throughout the day, you decided to simply be yourself and create a side dish that could possibly be a crowd pleaser, albeit quick and easy for you to make.

You gathered some sweet potatoes, preparing them with brown sugar, loads of butter, Ceylon cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, and similar spices. The entire house smelled of spicy sweet goodness, and when you pulled them from the oven, the sauce boiled beautifully with the butter, the top browning perfectly.

You were sure to be careful of the sugar content, as you understood Japanese cuisine to refrain from cloying sweetness, as opposed to much American cuisine, or even more specific, Black American.

Regardless, and knowing a bit about Asian culture, you were sure that, at the very least, it would be appreciated and welcomed, yet you couldn’t be absolutely certain for the other individual who resided in the house where Satoru stayed.

How was this going to go over with his girlfriend?

Let alone the food, but … you? You being there… inside their home?

It hurt your brain to even consider it, yet you hoped that whatever she felt, she’d be cordial, or at least polite in the company of Satoru’s closest people.

Which led you to wonder … why invite you?

The next order of business to determine was what on earth to wear.

Clearly it was a gathering of family and friends, so extreme formalities would be unnecessary.

You decided to wear a slinky, comfy Henley dress, fitted in the torso to waist, A-line, midi length, cap sleeves, with a cute, modern floral print.

Simple, adorable, and perfect for a dinner at home.

‘Nervous’ wouldn’t begin to describe how you felt about this evening.

You stood in front of your full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress down with your palms, heart pounding a solo against your ribs.

You decided to wear your hair down in long, soft, fluffy curls, stopping at the mirror to double-check it, then your teeth for foreign particles before slipping on some cute, strappy wedge sandals.

You’d already guzzled a full glass of wine, shaking off whatever jitters were tremoring beneath the surface of your skin.

You took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay,” you said, working to calm your nerves as you closed your eyes for a moment, imagining that everything would go smoothly.

Your heels clicked as you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the platter of sweet potatoes from your island on your way out the door.

With the first step off of the porch, the evening welcomed you with a cool breeze, the lingering aroma of ozone, fresh flowers, and cut grass filling the air.

You could hear distant laughter from the house, warm lights emanating from the windows, and the faint scent of delicious food wafting over as you headed toward Satoru’s home.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

You reached the front door, pausing before you rang the bell, praying that the nervous tension you were feeling would all just be in your head.

The door flailed open to reveal Shoko’s smiling face, accompanied by light music floating in the air as the breeze seemed to pull you in.

“I know you,” she said through her widening smile.

You returned it nervously, pressing your lips together. “I made something to share,” you murmured, holding out the platter for her to take. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Mmmm! Delicious food? Of course it is! Come on in,” she replied, stepping aside as she widened the door.

You stepped into the “genkan” entryway, slipping your feet from your shoes and into the cute, comfy indoor slippers provided for guests.

The place was immaculate. As expected.

Much bigger than yours, decorated with a crystal chandelier, marble flooring, and minimalist décor, but the character carved from the structure was stunning. It was absolutely beautiful, yet you couldn’t help but notice the faint chill in the air.

You snapped the door shut behind you as Shoko led you to the dining area where she set your platter.

“The boys and Uraume are out back having a drink. Mrs. Gojo is here in the kitchen finishing up. Do you drink?”

“Yes,” you answered, almost too quickly. “You have any wine?”

“Technically no … Is sake okay?”

“Yes. Please,” you replied. “With dinner is fine.”

“Awesome. I’ll pour,” she said with a smirk and an upward nod.

You returned her smile. “Thank you,” you replied, eyes widening as you observed the spectacular spread they’d prepared, complete on a traditional chabudai table.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Yeah, I know,” Shoko responded. “Mrs. Gojo is a phenom in the kitchen. And she tends to overdo it when she’s entertaining guests.

Her son is useful with prep too, believe it or not. He’s also really good at leaving a mess.”

You chuckled under your breath as your eyes drifted toward the back window, where you could see the large backyard through the kitchen.

It was hard to prepare yourself for Uraume’s response to your presence, and even more difficult to know how to act around her.

Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing.

Acting.

Acting as if you were comfortable. Acting as if you wanted to be around her when all you’d seen from her was abuse.

Abuse toward a man that only showed you restraint … maybe even too much restraint. Because there was something behind Satoru’s eyes that felt … caged.

As if with the turn of a key, it’d be unleashed. And whatever it was that emerged, somehow, you were quite curious about.

“By the way, thank you for relaying my message,” Shoko said, breaking your train of thought.

“Of course,” you replied. “I’m glad you were able to get a hold of him.”

“I figured we’d find him eventually, I was just hoping he could come to lunch with us earlier.”

You smiled, unconsciously glancing toward the front door as she spoke.

Her expression morphed from joy to concern. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to get out of this.”

Your head snapped back to meet her gaze, your eyes narrowing.

She shrugged, lips pressed together hard. “When his mind is set on something, it’s difficult to get him to consider much else.”

You huffed softly. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” you replied, kind of lying as you squeezed your thumb with the opposite hand.

Shoko’s smile widened. “Something tells me you will,” she murmured, pulling a hard pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of her designer jeans. “C’mon, I’ll show you to the patio.”

You followed her through the dining room and around the corner where Mrs. Gojo stood, rinsing her hands at the sink, not looking at all like she’d just prepared a gargantuan feast.

“Our final guest has arrived.” Shoko gently squeezed her shoulders affectionately as she passed behind her.

Mrs. Gojo flashed a welcoming and warm smile as she dried her hands, then extended one to you as she approached.

You rested your hand in hers as she cupped it gently. You were a little surprised at the gesture, as you wondered if she’d even felt comfortable inviting a foreign stranger to a dinner prepared for close friends.

“Well aren’t you a vision in a floral dress?” she murmured, those familiar blue eyes scanning you with care. “Welcome. We’re happy to have you.”

You smiled shyly. “Thank you. I brought a dish. I hope you like it.”

“Well thank you,” she replied, brows raised with a nod. “I hope you don’t mind brutal honesty.”

“No ma’am, I don’t,” you responded, your hand still cradled between hers. “I actually prefer that over brutal lies.”

She huffed a chuckle. “Very well, then.”

“Also,” you added, “thank you for the invite. I hope this isn’t an imposition.”

“Of course not,” she objected. “There’s more than enough to go around. Thank you for coming. Satoru insisted that you be here, after all.”

“Did he, now?” another voice chimed in as the back door opened then closed behind her.

“Yes, he did.” Mrs. Gojo continued. “The more the merrier. There’s no better way to welcome newcomers to our neighborhood than with a home-cooked meal. Right, Uraume?”

“I guess,” Uraume said with a shrug as Mrs. Gojo blatantly disregarded it's snide edge.

Shoko rolled her eyes considerably hard as she took your hand, pulling you toward the back door. “C’mon. Let’s get some air.”

You locked eyes with Uraume on the way out the door, nodding in an attempt to acknowledge her before going outside to greet her man.

You couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable knowing what you know, but regardless, this is her home.

As you trailed Shoko toward the back door, it appeared as though Uraume was moving to follow, yet was gently obstructed by Mrs. Gojo redirecting her toward the living room.

“I’ll need your help with something, dear,” she whispered into Uraume’s ear. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Shoko, would you mind bringing the boys in with you? Dinner’s ready,” she said as they disappeared around the corner into the dining area.

“She saved me twice in less than two minutes,” you mumbled to Shoko as she led you out. She giggled as she pushed the door open, wafting the cool fresh air inside.

You both stepped out onto the large patio area, where Shoko paused to spark another cig from the pack she pulled from her pocket.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

This place—that carried a harsh memory of your neighbors amid toxic words and a heated exchange—now held an atmosphere of sophistication and warmth.

There was Satoru, caught in an earth-shattering smile, gleaming beneath his platinum locks in the dim evening light.

He sat with one leg crossed at an angle over the other, leaning into the arm of another extremely handsome man with long black hair.

They lounged in their chairs as the long-haired man chuckled into his ear, as if he’d just delivered a hilarious joke.

Across from them sat an older man with dusty white, neatly coiffed hair. He puffed a cigar and chuckled, as if he already knew the punchline.

“Dinner is just about ready, boys,” Shoko announced, her voice cutting—gently—through their banter.

All the men turned toward her as Gojo muttered, “Wonderful. I’m…” His eyes met yours mid-sentence, followed by a deep inhale as your appearance derailed his thought. “…starved.”

“Tch.” The man with the long dark hair countered Satoru’s comment. “One would think you’d have had your fill by now. You eat quite a bit while preparing food, Satoru.”

“And who is this lovely lady, Shoko?” the man with the cigar asked.

“This is our new neighbor,” Satoru said, his eyes still locked on your face. The pause after his half-introduction was awkward enough that you hoped someone would fill it with words you didn’t have.

“This is my brother, Suguru Geto,” he continued, nodding in the direction of each person. “… You’ve met Shoko, and this… would be ‘Mister’ Satoshi Gojo.”

You snickered, noting the reference to your refusal to call him by his first name.

“Nice to meet you all,” you nodded.

“Satoru tells us you’re in town for business. Where are you from?” Mr. Gojo asked, working to re-light his cigar.

“America,” you replied. “The US, specifically.”

Suguru lowered his beer, brows raised. “Really?” he chimed. “Wow. So I take it you won’t be heading back anytime soon, since you’ve taken up residence?”

“Mmm, that’s right,” you affirmed. “This is home, as far as everything stands now.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to Satoru as he noticed his white-haired friend still hadn’t looked away since you approached.

Geto nudged Satoru’s elbow where it rested on the arm of his chair, his hand half-covering his face as he watched you with a persistent, not-so-subtle stare.

“I appreciate that,” you muttered, avoiding Satoru’s palpable gaze like the plague.

Shoko clasped her hands together. “Time to eat, everybody. Mom says come on in,” she repeated, her cigarette still hanging from her lip as she lingered to be the last to enter.

Suguru stood, leaning into Satoru’s personal space as he set his half-empty bottle on the patio table.

“What’s that about?” he murmured. “Are you being creepy or curious?” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Intrigue is a difficult expression to hide on a face like yours. You know that, right?”

A thoughtful look crossed Satoru’s face, the corner of his mouth lifting into a quiet snicker. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah. Right,” Suguru shot back. “Because you already have ‘something’?” he said, recognizing that familiar glint that flashes in Satoru’s eyes when he locks in.

He’d known his friend too well for too long to believe Satoru’s “nothing” actually meant nothing.

“Obviously,” Satoru answered, his chest tightening at what churned inside his head.

He glanced toward you as you walked into the house beside Shoko, noticing how the atmosphere stayed warm in your presence—warmth that seemed to course through him more easily than he remembered it ever doing before.

“There’s lots of beauty in the world,” Geto continued. “No need to sacrifice a lifetime of friendship for a fleeting meeting.”

Gojo huffed, cutting his eyes toward Geto. “It’s not like that,” he murmured. “She’s… something else.”

Geto studied Satoru’s face, his gaze narrowing for a moment. “Maybe. But does that have to have anything to do with you?”

Satoru swallowed thickly, the thought weighing on him.

He sighed. “Let’s just eat,” he said, stepping over the threshold into the house before Suguru. His father puffed from his cigar as he followed them inside, quietly noting his son’s fixation.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

As everyone migrated to the dining area, you took in the aromas: a rich tapestry of fine Japanese cuisine—miso, seafood, and perfectly seasoned rice. Beneath it all, high-end incense burned softly in the corner.

“And… here’s your seat,” Shoko said, standing over it as she was motioning for you to come to the opposite side of the table—conveniently, directly across from Satoru.

“Spring,” Satoru murmured as you passed on your way to Shoko, close enough that the narrow wall forced you into his space. “Your scent… it’s like… cherry blossoms and rain.”

His voice rumbled just beneath the others’, including Uraume’s conversation with his mother.

A smile curled at your lips; his accurate read of your fragrance pleased you. “Ozone,” you replied.

He tilted his head, curious.

“Ozone,” you repeated with a nod. “It’s a fragrance note used in perfumery and soaping to mimic the smell of rain.” You appreciated his attentiveness. “And cherry blossoms. Well done, Satoru.” Your smile widened as you continued to your seat.

His eyes flashed with amusement—and something deeper—at your explanation.

Satoru appreciated your knowledge, but it was the ease of it that caught him. You didn’t wield intelligence like a weapon or polish it into a performance. You simply offered it, warm and unbothered, nestled in a quiet confidence that settled over the table as naturally as cherry blossoms and rain.

“You ready for your drink?” Shoko asked as you finally reached your spot.

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

Uraume’s eyes tracked you with renewed interest, having overheard your exchange with Satoru. Your knowledge of fragrance hadn’t been lost on her.

“Soap maker?” she said, taking her designated seat at the table. “Interesting career choice for someone with your … connections.”

You knelt onto your zabuton, smoothing your dress beneath you before resting back on your legs, hands folded neatly in your lap. Then you gave her your full attention.

“My ‘connections’?” you echoed, genuinely curious what she meant.

She took a sip from the glass Satoru had poured, her piercing eyes studying your every move. “You’re brown, well-spoken, dress like old money, know luxury fragrances like a pro, and you just sat down as if you were born in a palace.”

She set the crystal back down on the table. “That doesn’t scream ‘small-town soap maker’ to me.”

Your brows lifted as a genuine snicker bubbled up from your chest. “Wow. What an amazing compliment. Thank you,” you replied, your smile reaching your eyes.

Her lips curled into a faint smirk, clearly amused that you took her blunt observation as high praise rather than an interrogation.

Suguru chuckled softly from his seat on the opposite side of Satoru.

Mrs. Gojo smiled approvingly at your directness, exchanging a look with Shoko that suggested you’d passed some unspoken test.

She’d watched plenty of women squirm under Uraume’s scrutiny—most cloying or evasive. You were neither.

She nodded toward your glass as Shoko poured. “The sake is Junmai Daiginjo. Best in our collection,” she said, smoothing her silk blouse.

“I’m honored,” you replied.

You swirled the glass, taking in its fruity, floral aroma. Resting your lids over your eyes, you took a sip and sighed in approval as the crisp flavor sparkled across your senses.

The entire room watched your reaction with open appreciation. There was no pretense—you genuinely enjoyed the sake, recognizing its quality without needing to posture.

Satoru’s expression softened in admiration. “Impressive palate you have.”

You looked down at the crystal glass, noting the subtle sparkle in the cut. The fragrance notes wafted up as you set it down, pausing to consider your next words carefully.

“I think… not being born into luxury taught me to appreciate beautiful things without taking them for granted. Fragrance has always intrigued me—it took ten years for me to learn it the way I have.”

Shoko rested her elbow on the table. “Ten years,” she said. “That explains the precision.”

You nodded. “The stories I have of trial and error… I could tell them for a lifetime,” you chuckled under your breath, recalling endless mistakes and triumphs.

“Probably one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is that I still have a lot to learn. And there’s… so much I want to know.” Your gaze drifted briefly to Satoru’s, then quickly back to the table as a light blush brushed your cheeks.

The way his lids relaxed over those beautiful eyes slipped beneath your composure far too easily, and you hoped you were the only one to notice.

But Mr. Gojo watched the exchange with sharp eyes.

“So… tell us more about your business,” Shoko interjected. “Are you a reseller?”

“I actually make everything from scratch,” you replied, earning a nod and raised brows. “Bath and body mostly—soaps, creams, oils, and butters—but I also make candles.”

“Interesting.” Mr. Gojo finally spoke. “You do all of this professionally.”

“Yes, sir, I do.” You turned to him, offering your full attention as he sat at the head of the table.

His gaze held the same intense scrutiny as the rest of his face. “I feel Uraume makes an interesting point. Your connections are… unusual,” he emphasized the word carefully. “A woman of your background, yet you move effortlessly in elite circles. It’s curious.”

“My… background?” you asked, watching as he took his time, snuffing out his cigar.

His scrutiny seemed to deepen—not quite hostile, but something harder. More questioning.

Mrs. Gojo and Shoko both stilled, sensing the shift in tone. Even Satoru leaned slightly toward his father, as if bracing for what came next.

“You’re not Japanese,” Mr. Gojo said plainly, “and yet you seem remarkably comfortable in rooms that aren’t always quick to welcome outsiders.”

You took a moment, allowing the statement to simmer.

“Comfortable...” you echoed softly, nodding once. “Unfortunately… I’ve had plenty of practice doing that even within the U.S., despite my ancestors practically building it from the ground up. Still, I consider it a blessing.”

The shape of his comments unsettled you, but you hoped there was curiosity beneath the scrutiny. You couldn’t help but ask, “Does everyone in Japan move in elite circles?”

Satoshi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight pause before he answered. “No,” he admitted slowly. “But most who do are… homogeneous.” He paused, eyes fixed on you.

Mrs. Gojo intervened smoothly. “Japan can be quite insular culturally,” she said, flicking her eyes to meet Mr. Gojo’s gaze.

Your expression softened as she spoke, your heart aching a little at the revelation behind his perspective. You turned to Mrs. Gojo, hoping to reassure her as you replied.

“Mmm…” you hummed. “Unfortunately, even in huge melting pots like the U.S., many people remain insular, despite the privilege of access to multiple cultures.”

You sighed, your gaze shifting between both of Satoru’s parents. “I personally believe that if we take opportunities to truly get to know one another, we’ll find we have far more similarities than differences.”

A heavy silence followed your words. Mr. Gojo stared thoughtfully into his glass, as if considering your perspective.

Satoru’s lips curved into the tiniest, most genuine smile—one that reached his tired eyes.

“Remarkably wise perspective,” Mrs. Gojo said warmly, her expression tender.

“Well,” you said, looking around at their beautiful faces, “this particular ‘elite circle’ that my line of work has brought me into has been an honor to know.”

You raised your crystal glass. “I’d like to thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

Mrs. Gojo immediately raised her glass.

Suguru and Shoko lifted theirs with respectful nods. Uraume joined without making eye contact, and Satoru raised his crystal last, his blue eyes locked intensely on yours.

“Kanpai,” He said gracefully, the rest of the table echoing in unison.

Despite the warm toast, and dinner continuing with effortless grace, Satoshi’s gaze lingered with quiet suspicion.

The spread was breathtaking: sashimi platters arranged like art, simmering miso black cod, and seasonal tempura.

Your years of studying fragrance made it easy to pick out the herbs, spices, and flavor notes woven throughout the meal.

Each bite danced across your taste buds, and Satoru glanced over now and then, smiling at every soft sound of appreciation you made.

“This is beyond incredible, Mrs. Gojo,” you murmured.

She beamed. “Thank you, dear. I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“What’s this?” Satoru asked, reaching for the platter of sweet potatoes you’d prepared.

“Oh… it’s a contribution from our ‘resident fragrance specialist,’” Uraume mumbled.

Satoru’s eyes flicked to yours. “You made this?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well come by empty-handed now, could I?” You smiled warmly. “Tell me what you think.”

“Well, I’m not waiting for him,” Shoko said, scooping out a healthy portion with a serving spoon. “It smells amazing, so I already know it tastes good.”

You giggled as she leaned in. “What if you don’t like it?” you asked, but she waved the question off with her hand.

As your giggle stretched on, you caught Satoru’s eyes resting on your flushed cheeks.

Your eyes quickly scanned the table for somewhere to rest your gaze other than his. Finding none, they locked again, making your heart skip and your body tense.

He scooped a portion of your dish onto his plate, his fork hovering over the sweet potato before he finally took a bite. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavors—the potato’s natural sweetness balancing perfectly with the spices.

His expression shifted from curious to pleasantly surprised as a smile spread across his lips. “Where did you learn this?”

“My grandmother,” you replied. “She’s ninety now—and brilliant in the kitchen. She still gardens in the city I was raised.”

Mrs. Gojo chimed in, “It’s delicious.”

Mr. Gojo had already tried some, but motioned for Satoru to pass the platter back down to him for seconds.

Your heart fluttered at their warmth. Despite his father’s seemingly deep-seated skepticism, dinner went far better than you’d anticipated.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

As the evening came to a close, people began leaving the table in intervals—some outside for a smoke, some into the living room to chat—as Mrs. Gojo started clearing empty platters to take to the kitchen.

You emerged from the bathroom, noticing the time: late enough to head home, but early enough to enjoy a few minutes of quiet before bed.

You wandered over to where Satoru and Suguru stood in the living room, politely interrupting their conversation.

Satoru turned toward you, his hands still tucked in his pockets.

“Um… excuse me, guys. I should probably get going—it’s getting late,” you said, looking up at Satoru as he towered beside you. You tilted your head. “Thank you for dinner.” You smiled warmly.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“We enjoyed you,” Suguru added. “It was very nice meeting you,” he said with a subtle nod, flashing a last glance at Satoru before wandering off to join the others on the back patio.

“Here you are, dear,” Mrs. Gojo said as she approached you and Satoru, placing a small, sealed Tupperware container in your hand, cold to the touch.

“Thank you, Mrs. G–”

“Call me Akari,” she said, cupping her hands around the container.

“Okay.” You looked down at the gift, curious.

“Lavender matcha ice cream,” she replied. “Satoru’s been making it since he was a child.” She leaned in to hug you. “You’re welcome back anytime,” she said, just before gracefully parting to join her husband outside.

“Wow.” You looked up at Satoru as he looked down at you. “Really?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “She taught me. I’ve always liked sweets.” He murmured as his gaze lingered on your face.

Your eyes flicked down to the sealed bowl in your hand as you slid your thumb slowly across the lid. “Well…” you huffed softly, “Then I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Your gaze met his again as the room seemed to still, the muffled laughs in the background slowly disappearing into the distance.

“Hey!” Shoko’s voice cut through the thick tension between you. “I came to say goodbye,” she said, also reaching for a hug. “Satoru, have you seen Uraume?”

“Actually, no,” he replied, not since she left the table.

A frown flashed across Shoko’s face before turning back to you. “I’m sending you my number through Satoru. We need that sweet potato recipe… AND some soap!”

You giggled. “No problem.”

“Good. See you later,” she replied as she bounced back out to finish her cigarette.

“That reminds me,” you said, turning back to Satoru. “I have a package for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. Your order is ready for pickup,” you murmured. “I suppose I could have brought it by, but…”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “No. It’s fine. I guess I’ll just have to come get it.”

The words were casual enough. Innocent, even.

But the way he looked at you made the short walk between his house and yours feel suddenly, dangerously intimate.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

It was a beautiful evening.

Your shoes tapped softly against the sidewalk, the sound echoing louder in your ears than it should have as Satoru strolled beside you. His height, his warmth, his quiet gravity—everything about him seemed to pull at you like a magnet.

“Is it cold?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the small bowl of homemade ice cream in your hand.

Funny. You hadn’t even noticed.

Your palm had been warming the container into something closer to soft serve from how tightly you held it.

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “We’re almost there.”

The walk between his house and yours wasn’t long. It never had been. But tonight, with him beside you and the night air brushing softly against your skin, the distance felt different. Smaller. More intimate. As if the few steps separating your lives had quietly disappeared while you weren’t paying attention.

This… thing developing with Satoru—without your permission, without your consent, without the decency to wait until things made sense—suddenly seemed far less complex than it had that morning.

Maybe you were wrong for thinking so.

But something had shifted.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that meal for quite some time,” you murmured, your eyes following the pathway in your yard to your porch stairs as the realization settled over you that the evening was nearly over.

“Well, you’re always welcome back,” he replied.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as you took one step up, turning to face him with the container still pressed between your hands.

“You’ve already heard it from them,” he added, his voice softer now. “I figured I’d tell you myself.”

“Uraume w—”

“She’s not here.”

The words left him too quickly.

Too sharply.

He seemed to realize it at the same time you did, his brows pulling together as he looked down the quiet street.

A slow breath left him while his fingers slid through his white hair, tousling the already imperfect strands before his hands disappeared into his pockets again.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You weren’t sure what to say.

But you knew what you felt.

Hurt.

Not because of what he’d said exactly, but because it weighed on your heart with an excruciating familiarity.

You knew what it was like.

To love someone—or at least believe you did.

To spend years building memories with a person who was supposed to care for you, only to realize they couldn’t be bothered to return even the smallest measure of respect.

And despite your best efforts, despite the part of you that had been trying—desperately, stubbornly—to keep her in the room between you, to keep this from becoming something it shouldn’t—

Satoru had removed her from the moment with three simple words.

And the worst of it was, you weren’t sure if you were relieved or disappointed in yourself for wanting him to.

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable in the porch light.

But it was clear he was bothered.

And you couldn’t help wondering how much he understood about her behavior.

“She’s not,” you said carefully, your heart breaking a little at the contrast between his beauty and the ugliness of his circumstances, “but she’s part of this.”

His jaw shifted faintly.

“Yeah,” he replied, still avoiding your eyes.

It was hard to imagine having someone like Satoru by your side, and just … neglecting him. As far as you’d known, men like him were a fantasy. Something you’d only dreamed of.

But here he was.

Real.

And he looked malnourished.

Standing beneath your porch light like something beautiful left out in the cold.

Deprived.

You froze, wishing there was something you could do. Or say. Something that might ease the burden sitting so plainly on his shoulders.

But it wasn’t yours to bear.

“You’re …” you began, then stopped yourself, before you crossed another line you had no business approaching.

Your fingers tightened around the container in your hands.

“I’m sure … everything will turn out fine.”

He remained still, the breeze lightly mussing his hair.

“You don’t have to do that.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

His eyes finally lifted to yours. “Make it prettier than it is.”

You huffed softly, your lip curling gently in one corner. He’d commented on your candor before, yet now it seems he’d forgotten how direct you could be.

Even if things go awry with Uraume—unless the damage is severe, to the point he feels he can’t recover—you couldn’t imagine Satoru not being able to.

Not him.

“I mean it,” you said, holding his gaze.

His eyes searched yours, cautious now. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” you admitted. “I don’t.”

The honesty seemed to quiet him.

“But I know what it looks like when someone is being eaten away at by a person they care about.” Your fingers tightened around the container in your hands, the cold finally beginning to register against your palm.

“And I know what it feels like to convince yourself you can survive on crumbs because, at some point, crumbs started feeling like proof of love.”

Satoru’s expression shifted.

Not much.

But enough.

You swallowed, glancing briefly toward his house, where warm light still spilled from the windows and faint laughter floated through the night air.

“But you’re not alone in there,” you said softly. “Not really.”

His gaze followed yours.

“You have people who see you. People who know when something is wrong even when you don’t say it. People who would probably tear the world open before letting you disappear into someone else’s neglect.”

A faint, humorless breath left him.

You looked back at him.

“So no, I’m not making it prettier than it is.” Your voice softened, but didn’t lose its firmness. “I’m saying I think you’ll be okay because I’ve seen what lonely looks like.”

The words settled between you.

“And that isn’t what I saw tonight.”

His eyes returned to yours slowly.

For once, he didn’t seem to have anything clever to say.

You shifted the container in your hands, suddenly aware of how intimate the quiet had become.

“And besides,” you added, a little quieter, “if I could figure out how to be okay, I imagine you can too.”

The breeze gently tousled your curls as you remembered the container slowly warming in your hands, and the package still waiting inside.

“I’d better get my ice cream to a freezer before I regret it,” you said with a small smirk, turning toward the door.

“Hey.”

Satoru’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Your smile softened before you could stop it, your bottom lip disappearing behind your teeth as the moonlight deepened the blue of his eyes into something even more devastating.

“Wait here a moment?” you murmured.

He nodded.

You disappeared into the house, the warm light swallowing you as the door closed gently behind you.

Inside, you carried the half-melted ice cream into the kitchen and placed it carefully in the freezer.

Your heart gave a small, ridiculous leap at the thought of curling up somewhere comfortable later and tasting Satoru’s dessert ...

Somehow that felt like more than you were prepared to handle.

You stood at the open freezer door for a moment, breathing in the cold air as it flooded your lungs and cooled the heat beneath your skin.

Then you exhaled … slowly.

Once you felt somewhat collected, you turned and grabbed the bag waiting on the counter, the soap Satoru had requested tucked carefully inside.

You’d added a few extra items as well—small things meant to thank him properly for all the work he’d done in your home.

When you returned outside, he was still there.

Waiting.

You stepped down a couple of stairs to reach him, closer than before, and placed the bag carefully into his hand.

“It’s heavy,” he said, tilting his head to peek inside.

You chuckled softly. “I appreciate all your help.” You glanced over your shoulder past the storm door. “Though there’s still one coat left to finish.”

You hoped the relaxing fragrances would help put another smile on his face, even if only for a little while.

“Take a load off,” you added, your voice gentler now. “It’s been a long night.”

𓍊 ₊˚✧𓍊 ₊˚✧

The evening breeze felt cooler on the walk back.

Satoru crossed the short distance between your porch and his own house with the bag hanging from his hand, the fragrance of its contents slipped through the wrapping in soft, layered waves.

Even outside, he could smell it.

Clean.

Warm.

Deliberate.

Like everything you seemed to touch.

He glanced back once before he reached his door, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to see.

Your porch was empty now, the warm glow from inside your house spilling faintly through the window.

A few minutes.

That was all it had been.

A few minutes beneath your porch light, and somehow he felt steadier than he had in weeks.

He had everything anyone could want.

Homes. Cars. Money.

A family name that polished every room before he ever stepped inside.

Nearly everything around him glittered.

But nothing he owned had ever shined as brightly as you had while telling him, plainly, that he would be okay.

And that irritated him almost as much as it comforted him.

Because you were right.

And because he wanted you to be.

By the time he opened the door, the living and dining areas were clean and mostly empty, the warmth of dinner reduced to faint traces of incense, sake, and fading conversation.

The guests had retired elsewhere in the house or gone to bed.

“There you are.” Suguru approached from the hall, one brow lifted with quiet suspicion.

Satoru barely resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uraume hasn’t come back,” Suguru said. “We were wondering if you’d seen her outside.”

“No,” Satoru answered, frustration tightening the word. “There’s someone—or … something—keeping her away.”

“That’s a logical presumption,” Suguru replied. Then his gaze dropped to the bag in Satoru’s hand. “Where have you been?”

Satoru’s fingers tightened around the handle before he lifted the package just enough for Suguru to see.

The corner of his mouth curled. “Just out to pick up a little something.”

Suguru eyed the package with clear interest, the fragrance wafting toward him as Satoru held it close enough for him to make out the branding on the face.

“Smells incredible,” he said, examining the name and imagery, impressed by both the aroma and the packaging. “She’s talented. In more ways than one.”

Satoru huffed, “She is.”

“What are you doing?” Suguru asked, his eyes growing smaller.

“I don’t know.” Satoru paused, averting his gaze to the ground as he rested his lids over his eyes and sighed. “But I know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

Satoru cut his eyes toward him. “Whatever’s going on, it’s gone on long enough.”

“And yet, you don’t know what it is.”

“I know what it’s doing to me.” Satoru snapped back quietly. “I don’t have to keep doing this,” he said. “Why should I?”

“Because you love her.” Suguru answered. “You’ve loved her for years.”

Satoru shrugged, his frown deepening. “So I should just put up with whatever?”

“No,” Suguru crossed his arms. “You should try to work things out. Like mature adults do.”

“You think I haven’t?”

“It doesn’t look like it.” He said, his eyes flicking down to the package Satoru held tightly.

Satoru looked away, inhaling deeply as his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. His jaw flexed, the words landing like he’d already spent a lifetime turning them over.

“You’re here more often than she is. I eat alone. Every night. We haven’t sle––” he stopped himself, his jaw tightening as Shoko approached from the patio.

“Well, this looks like an interesting conversation,” Shoko joked, eyeing Suguru’s crossed arms and Satoru leaning into him like a turtle snapping at its prey.

“I’m just reminding Satoru that he needs to be reasonable,” Suguru said snarkily.

“Since when does he do that?” Shoko said past the chocolate Pocky sticking out from her mouth. “Don’t tell me… this is about his absentee girlfriend, right?”

Their heads both swiveled her direction, Suguru’s smirk disappearing completely, while Satoru feigned a smile.

“Exactly,” Satoru said, turning his face back to cut his eyes at Suguru. “It’s clearly no secret what’s going on here, but its like a bad joke, and apparently I’m the punchline.”

“And the punching bag,” Shoko quipped, her eyes meeting Satoru’s glare. “Sorry.” She apologized with a small grimace.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Satoru complained. “There’s only so much I can tolerate.”

“Just ask her about it. Talk things through.” Suguru replied.

“Why?” Satoru spat. “So she can tell me what I already know? You said it yourself—I’ve loved her for years. Why is it always on me to do the talking?”

“That part,” Shoko added, and now it was Suguru who cut his eyes her direction.

“What? It’s true!” she said, as Satoru shook his head. “And what is that amazing smell?” Shoko continued, reaching for the bag Satoru held in his clutches.

“Is that her soap?” She asked, her eyes widening with excitement.

Satoru nodded. His gaze moving back to meet Suguru’s. “I’m going to bed. If you’re staying, you know where everything is.”

He wrapped an arm around Shoko’s shoulders before kissing her on the forehead.

“Good night,” he said, and headed up to his room.

𓍊 ₊˚✧𓍊 ₊˚✧

Satoru sauntered up the stairs, the house growing quieter with every step toward his bedroom.

He snapped the door shut behind him, shutting out the world, then sank onto the edge of his bed and set the bag beside him.

For a moment, he just sat there, turning the evening over in his mind—everything that had happened, and how it had all come to this point.

How had the things he’d been avoiding suddenly ended up on everyone’s radar?

Including yours.

His mind reeled as he considered what could possibly happen next.

Was Suguru right? Did he need to ‘talk it out’? His head hurt at the thought of yet another conversation about how far gone this relationship has been.

And about what would… what could happen next.

He truly had no idea.

The possibility that he and Uraume had come to a breaking point was obvious. And it was clear she already knew that.

Leaving during a gathering like that, without so much as a word, seemed to come so easily to her that the only logical conclusion was that she’d grown completely careless.

And Satoru had become tired—nearly to the point of exhaustion.

Yet somehow, you sparked the flame in his heart where it had nearly completely been snuffed out.

It would be easy … too easy … for Satoru Gojo to find a substitute.

A fix.

A person with little substance … or one that wanted no substance from him, to use for the time being.

To become a use he’d soon tire of after realizing there was nothing to gain but a temporary high.

Of course he could do that.

Despite the dullness of his current situation, Satoru was sharp. And needed someone just as sharp. Like iron sharpening iron.

He closed his eyes, sighing as he decided he’d had enough of that for one night.

He took the package and rested it in his lap, glancing down inside it with a smirk curling into his lip as he realized just how excited he was to open it and finally see what was inside.

He pulled the box from inside the small bag. The packaging was relatively simple; textured kraft with gold embossed lettering, your logo branded with simple script across the cover.

Graceful.

Delicate.

Thoughtful.

He opened the box to find two large bars of soap nestled inside, swirled in multiple shades of blue. The bars were weighted, and smelled incredible.

There were two other items included.

One, an amber glass jar, and one jar of clear glass. Both were products of the exact same fragrance. The clear jar was filled with a silky body cream.

The amber jar contained a candle, complete with a wooden wick and trimmer.

Before he knew it, the entire room was subtly scented with the fragrance he’d complimented the first day he met you, Sandalwood and Bergamot Rose.

He decided it was high time for a shower.

He brought the entire package to the bathroom where he turned on his shower, prepping the water to the perfect temperature.

He removed his clothes, leaving only his boxer briefs on as he held the bar of soap in his hand. The packaging had a handmade natural feel, and was so attractive it was almost a shame to remove it.

He removed his final article of clothing and stepped inside, closing his eyes as the water fell over his skin. He stepped back, allowing it to soak into his white hair, turning it silver beneath the stream as it cascaded down his back.

Behind his eyes, your face appeared.

A flash of you looking up from the pile of mail you held in your hand as he observed you on your porch stair, your kind, yet sharp eyes, reading him like an open book.

He remembered your skin, smooth and beautiful, shimmering in the sunlight.

Your hair, the gentle breeze brushing curls along your neck as you smiled.

He opened his eyes beneath the rush of the water falling from the shower head, realizing his heart had begun to beat twice as fast.

He looked down at the bar of soap he held, his large hands cupping it as the water activated it, rubbing together as they created a creamy, rich lather.

It was almost as if the fragrance had evolved... deepened as the bar was used, a hint of freshness, even the ozone he mentioned, and bottom notes of both sandalwood and musk coming through now.

He took the bar and rubbed it slowly across his broad chest, closing his eyes again, recalling the way you looked tonight; pretty, soft, and sweet as you crossed the threshold of the backyard patio door, a welcome interruption from his conversation with his father and best friend.

He inhaled deeply as he slid the bar, cool to the touch, down from his chest to his abs, the bubbles frothing and building as he smoothed it across his porcelain skin, riding the highs and lows of each muscle.

Your eyes...

Dark.

Deep.

And how you looked away shyly as his stare persisted. He could clearly see the red beneath the surface of your skin as you worked to look away but couldn’t.

His heart pounded heavily now.

He rolled the bar again in his palms, the puff of bubbles growing bigger.

The way you spoke so confidently at dinner. The way you met his gaze as you mentioned wanting to know more.

His hands slipped lower, below his abdomen, his eyes rolling back as his large hands slipped along his skin.

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of you this way.

But it was just him here.

It was always just him.

His thoughts struck harder than they should have.

He lifted his hand, leaning into it as it stilled against the tile, water coursing over his shoulders as your voice slipped through him again.

Satoru.

Soft.

Certain.

Dangerous in its tenderness.

His breath left him in a broken rush.

He closed his eyes, but that only made you clearer — the curve of your smile beneath the porch light, the careful honesty in your gaze, the warmth you’d pressed into his hands without ever touching him.

He wanted.

God, he wanted.

Not just the shape of you. Not just the softness his mind had no right to imagine.

He wanted the quiet after. The sharpness. The warmth. The way you looked at him like something wounded could still be whole.

Steam gathered thick around him, blurring the glass, the tile, the edges of the world until there was nothing left but water, fragrance, and the ruin of his own restraint.

When it was over, he stood beneath the spray longer than necessary, one hand braced against the wall, the other pressed over his eyes.

The soap still lingered on his skin.

So did you.

And that was the problem.

∘•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•∘

It was cozy in your place now.

Cozier even than it had been in over a month since you moved in.

Tonight’s events rolled over in your mind as you curled your bare feet up on your plush couch in front of the TV, having just taken a warm shower, your skin still slightly damp.

Your couch sat in the middle of the room, the walls still waiting to be coated with the last of the paint. Paint that Satoru promised to help you finish.

And now, at that thought, you found yourself excited.

Anxious.

You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you recognized foolishness and the concern lingering behind those emotions.

You stared at the screen, wondering just how pathetic you must seem.

Yet, even knowing he wasn’t available couldn’t make you want to disappear from his life.

You wanted him happy.

You wanted him to smile.

Even if you could see it from afar on your porch stair as he kissed his woman goodbye on his way to work.

That smile could brighten anyone’s day.

You rested your head on the arm of your couch, wondering if he was … happy.

Hoping that maybe when Uraume got home, she’d come back with good news.

Maybe she would come back softer. Perhaps she ran into an old friend, or maybe she just needed some air and when she returned, wrapped her arms around him and made him feel better.

But you knew none of that was likely.

Regardless, even if he weren’t happy, you hoped you could make him feel good. Even from a distance.

I hope he liked it.

You thought to yourself about the items you gave to him as a ‘thank you.’ And in that moment, you remembered that he’d given you something, too.

You lifted yourself from the couch and made your way to the freezer where you’d stashed the lavender matcha ice cream.

You swiped a silver spoon from the drawer, and returned to your cozy spot on the couch, pulling the cashmere throw over your legs as you opened the container.

The moment you did, the first thing you noticed was the beautiful lavender floral, blooming with a hint of citrus, lemon to be exact, as it wafted softly up from the container.

A flash of Satoru, and the watch on his wrist as he stood at your door, appeared in your mind. The shimmer of the metal catching light from the sun, as it also shined through his stark white locks.

Fresh.

Bright.

Herbaceous, bordering on romantic.

A smile curled into your lips as you took another whiff, then dipped your spoon in, noticing that despite re-freezing from melting it earlier in your warm grasp, it maintained its supple, malleable texture.

You scooped a spoon into your mouth, closed your eyes, and allowed the flavors to flood your taste buds.

It melted on your tongue smoothly, the coolness slipping down your throat as you swallowed, a soft Mmm… vibrating from your vocal cords.

Satoru making ice cream. That alone was fun.

Sweet.

The lavender settled into its soothing, powdery aroma, as it made way for the naturally familiar, comforting, warm, and woodsy foundation of vanilla.

You wondered how much fun Satoru must have had as a child, making ice cream with his mother, the anticipation in waiting for the sweet treat to finish its process before he could enjoy it.

You could only imagine his bright blue eyes, peering up to his mom as she smiled warmly back at her son. How happy she must have been to see him so excited.

Even now, she must want that for him.

Now, as strong, and beautiful, and successful as he’s become... She must still want him happy.

You took another spoonful, recalling Satoru’s stunning gaze that sent a faint shiver down your spine, just as the chill of the ice cream in your hand had, and then, as if presenting itself as the headliner, the star, the foundation, was the matcha.

Rich.

Robust.

Its earthy fragrance wafted up from the back of your throat, blending with the vanilla and lavender perfectly, just as the creaminess of the vanilla finished.

It was decadent.

Delicious.

You slid your tongue along the roof of your mouth as the treat melted away, and you recalled how relaxed and comfortable Satoru was on his back patio.

One leg crossed over the other, smiling in his personal space with his closest friend, and his father who loves him.

Yet when you arrived, his gaze remained locked on you, sending goosebumps tickling up the back of your neck as you tried desperately to avoid it.

How could it be that he’s not happy?

You slowly finished your treat.

One spoonful after the other, loving every second.

And somewhere between the lavender, the matcha, and the lingering warmth of his smile, an idea began to take shape.

.

.

.

.

Perhaps it was time to make another soap.

.

.

.

∘○•········•∘ʚ ֍ ɞ∘•·········•○∘ 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

< Line of Sight ~ Ch.01 | LOS ~ Ch.03 (Coming Soon) >

Thanks for reading! 💎🤍💎🥰

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel they may make me a better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2025 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Borders by @cocomanga & @saradika-graphics Animated Border Lines by @cafekitsune Stunning Fanart Art by Yoon, @dmsco1803

Taglist: (if you dont want to be tagged, please lmk!!🤍)

@lavender-hvze @another365 @vantadaes @chosolover @242422rc @kashiiwi @mintiroo @melaniemartinezloverr @sakura-blxssxm @neurydyta @distractionforyourthoughts @strangegirl7892:) @jasmionerose @bfejp @chosolovers @asramin @destinyfleur @louanneeeeeeee @randomly12aqua @watermelon-19 @sketchy-business @spidergirlnr1 @sillyoverload @flwrbbyx @firebonbon @slutkoo @doomsday08 @scrumptiouscarrotcake @jayeke @minjizziee @stressedand-obsessed @imtheprintt @menwhere

@strvqtt @rowwyboi @i-think-i-have-a-fever @itsswageyamatobiyolo @ms-shoja @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @milleriverr @everythingfits-here @ph4n-7om @chaxtic-euphxria @mafertl @fatiguedcow @vxnus101 @honey69b @wisteriaav @lystee @hazeyeyes @iyyshlymg @shelov3sstars @sollasollaahh @animewhur @ghostnotlovergirl @lulubluu @sacredyoongi @sleeplrd @alter-bananant @yuhhh7899 @riverrrrrrrx @luckyperfectionsandwich @insecuregirlblog @npx2 @shyplaidalmondfriend @kill-shoot @milkyyboyy @choupijk @s0ulz4-20 @xiscaprinz @doomalot @alonahh @adastinks @mjmjmhmhmh @otakuzdreamland

bf!choso, who watches you shower through the glass pane door just to masturbate and drool over your pretty body.

bf!choso, who loves being on top just so he can watch your face while he ruins you.

bf!choso, who watches you get ready through the mirror, pretending he’s not staring while absolutely memorizing every movement you make.

bf!choso, who clings to your waist when you walk past, like he physically can’t let you out of reach for more than a second.

bf!choso, who sneaks peeks at you changing clothes through the cracked bedroom door, his hand slipping into his pants to stroke his hardening cock while imagining burying his face between your thighs, lapping at your wet folds until you beg him to stop.

bf!choso, who drops to his knees the second you snap your fingers, eyes wide and pleading as he nuzzles against your inner thighs, inhaling your scent deeply before spreading your legs wide and diving in to suck on your clit with desperate, sloppy hunger, his tongue flicking relentlessly even as tears stream down his face from overstimulation.

bf!choso, who begs you to ride his face after a long day, gripping the sheets as you grind your pussy against his mouth, his muffled moans vibrating through you while he swallows every drop of your arousal, refusing to let you pull away until he's made you cum at least twice.

bf!choso, who watches you sleep at night, his gaze fixed on the way your shirt rides up to expose your panties, leading him to carefully pull them aside and lick slow, worshipful stripes along your slit, waking you with soft whimpers of need as his obsession takes over.

bf!choso, who follows you around the house like a lost puppy, stealing moments to press his face into your crotch whenever you're sitting, inhaling greedily and humping your leg subtly, his submissive whines growing louder if you tease him by denying him a taste.

bf!choso, who masturbates furiously to the memory of your last encounter, replaying how you pinned him down and made him eat you out for hours, his cock leaking pre-cum as he edges himself, whispering your name like a prayer until you catch him and punish him by sitting on his face again.

bf!choso, who gets on all fours for you without hesitation, arching his back as you finger his ass while he eats your pussy from below, his tongue thrusting deep inside you in rhythm with your movements, completely lost in his submissive haze and the intoxicating flavor of your juices.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

“The Sweetest Beat“ Spotify Interactive Playlist: 

▶SET 7 Crazy – Gnarls Barkley After Dark – Mr. Kitty The Rain Song – Led Zepplin Into the Blue – Galleaux Frozen – Sabrina Claudio Whale and Wasp – Alice in Chains Paranoia Purple (Live at Electric Lady) – Yebba Wild Horses – The Sundays Stay the Night – The Internet Middle of the Night – Elley Duhe Sweet Tea – Snoh Alegra How to Disappear Completely – Radiohead Nude – Radiohead Shape of My Heart – Sting

Quick Note: HEY GUYS!! You’re probably wondering why I split this chapter. Well, its because Tumblr wont allow me to post it all on one thread.🙄 Its twenty thousand words long, and I didn’t feel like sitting here for hours trying to figure out how to satisfy Tumblr’s 1000 block limit. 😅 I took the time to format this work the way I wanted it read/seen, so I kept it that way. I hope it isn't an inconvenience for you guys. Set 7 is posted in its entirety on AO3 and Wattpad right now, along with the Spotify Interactive Playlist. As far as I'm concerned, this has taken far too long.😩 Please forgive any hiccups. I was SO ANXIOUS to get this released. As usual, I'll correct any errors I catch later, including any music I wanted to add. I love and appreciate you all for hanging in there with me! 🥰 In the meantime, please enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Wait... What?” you squinted, shaking your head as if something that made no sense at all was inside and you wanted it gone. “You know him?“

“Yeah... but... how do you?” Megumi replied, as

Crazy – Gnarls Barkley

played from the stage.

You scoffed, closing the small gap between you. “He works with me.“

“Since when?” He frowned.

“Since like... a week ago? My manager brought him in to help out. I’d never seen him before then.”

Your eyes darted to each part of your man’s face, wishing you could jump inside his brain to find out what exactly It was he was thinking... or feeling. “Were you friends or something?“

Megumi peered over at Yuji who was serving Sukuna another drink, as apparently the one you just saw in his hand was already gone.

His gaze then drifted toward Choso, who stood on stage looking equally puzzled, the left side of his face grimacing as he held out his hands and a “What the fuck?” mouthed from his lips.

“Friends? No. He was the lead in a rival band back in college, and one of the reasons we were more than happy to move back home.“

He huffed, rolling his eyes, his normal I-don’t-give-a-fuck expression cracked by his frustration, yet, as always, he still managed to keep his cool. “But... even if he is working with you, I still don’t get what the he’s doing here?“

The longer Megumi’s confused expression lingered, the more frustrated you got that his night could be ruined by this random and obviously unwelcomeguest.

And just then, something dawned on you.

Sukuna had been sitting at your desk for quite a while that night with your flash drive poking out of your computer before you showed up at work. You immediately winced at the conclusion you drew. “Nah, no way he did that.“

Megumi’s head swiveled to face you, “Did what?” he asked, his pretty blues scanning your dumbfounded face as you realized you’d said that out loud.

You hesitated, wheels still turning in an attempt to make sense of it all. “He was at my work desk... rummaging through my computer the night we rehearsed at your studio.“

You glared over toward Sukuna and the ridiculous smirk he had plastered on his face as he leaned casually, confidently against the bar.

Megumi scoffed, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes again, finishing the rest of his second beer. “Yeap, sounds about right.” He raised his hand to get Itadori’s attention.

“What ’sounds about right’?” you questioned, your frown growing deeper the more anxious this situation made you.

“Sukuna’s a fucking asshole.” His brows pressed into his forehead, yet his lips remained tight as he began his explanation. “He gave us hell throughout campus and elsewhere, talking shit about our band, following us around to every event and competition, working overtime to give us a bad name.“

He quickly glared toward Sukuna’s smug face, then turned back to rake his gaze over you again as his wheels turned. 

Megumi was always quick on the uptake, that big brain of his rivaling every other part of his greatness as he put two and two together with an abundance of speed. 

Your work. ... Your computer. ...Your face, your voice. ... You…

Currently in what some would consider to be Megumi’s “possession“. Especially after tonight.

And now that Sukuna knows that, well, it doesn’t take rocket science to determine what that would mean for the three of you if he wanted nothing more than to be the bane of Megumi’s existence. 

And a woman like you, looks aside, after what he’d seen of you at this show, He’d perceive you to be no less than the perfect vessel for his malice.

Even if the end result was for him to have you to himself. You remained glued to Megumi’s side, your eyes fixed on his face, the inner corners of your brows turned up as you waited to hear what he’d say next.

After all that had passed through his mind like a shock-wave, his gaze simply softened before resting back at yours, his lips manifesting a single request with a subtle upward nod.

“Take a shot with me.“

Yuji handed Megumi two shot glasses of Yamazaki, having overheard your conversation. “Unfortunately, his band is just as badass as he is an asshole.” He whined, as he poured a third for himself.

Megz continued. “His presence here won’t be anything less than hell. I’m sure he’s only here to start more shit.“

You puckered your lips, taking the shot from Megz’s hand.

Of course they finished first as you allowed it to submerge your tongue and fill your senses on the way down. You grimaced as the heat gathered in your throat and you set the glass back down on the bar.

Yuji stacked them, taking them behind the bar as he leaned in to talk to Nobara.

“What do you think he could possibly be up to this time?” you questioned. “I mean, specifically. You guys are already practically established here. What could he do to change that?“

The concern on your face was more than enough to soften even Megumi’s heart. So innocent. So considerate. So cute.

So... naive.

Perhaps it was a good thing that the obvious didn’t cross your mind for Megumi’s sake. Considering especially as he looked at you, he would be the one with the most to lose should anything be done ’to change that’.

Your emo boy flashed a sneak of a smile as everything in him wanted nothing more in this moment than to lock you up, chain you down, and keep you safe. 

From everyone except himself, of course.

His lids rested over his contemplative eyes as he let how cute you were stir up his anxiety to get you out of here.

“Who knows?” Megumi answered, breaking his never-ending train of thought with raised brows, lips turned up in the corners and exhaustion already gracing his face, though nothing has really happened yet. “But whatever it is, it’ll probably be fucked up.“

You huffed, “I can’t believe he went through my shit like that.” You shook your head in disbelief, especially at the fact that he’d do something like that so blatantly in front of Geto. You wondered how close they were. “I gotta report him.“

“Be careful.” Megumi warned quickly, peeking at you out the corner of his eye, watching the wheels in your brain turn right in front of him.

“What? Why?“

He shrugged, “If he went that far, he’ll do more“. Megumi’s demeanor was characteristically calm, considering the implications of his accusation. “I haven’t dealt with him in a while, but I know he can be pretty relentless.” he spoke with a hint of genuine worry in his voice that you could recognize even in this crowd.

“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t wanna waste any more time thinking about it now...” You stood in front of your lover, between his propped up legs, removing his third beer from his hand as you pulled his arms to drape them around your waist. 

“It’s your birthday.” you tilted your head, “Don’t you want your present?“

Megumi’s lids lowered slowly as his sights dropped to rest at your chest, lowering more as they cascaded further, tracing the curves of your hips as he allowed the affects of the alcohol to woo him into a chill daze, not remotely replacing the one your presence had on him.

He was finally drunk, but not blind.

With his face still angled in the direction of your thighs, his eyes lifted first to meet your gaze as he murmured, devoid of a smile, “There’s more?” with a hike in his brow.

“Yeah. There’s more.”

He stood to hover, his shadow nearly swallowing you whole as he leaned into your ear. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.“

It was hard to hide the deep blush forming beneath the shimmery highlights on your cheeks as you quickly glanced around, checking for prying eyes.

There were a few, but even a million couldn’t stop you from indulging in this moment. Your tongue pulled your bottom lip behind your teeth as your eyes met his, that pout still on his lips as his gaze darkened at the sight of your adorable face.

“Feeling possessive birthday boy?” you gripped his tee in each of your hands at his sides as he leaned into you to inhale you again, his jet-black strands tickling your neck. “Just so you know,” you droned, “That’s a done mother-fucking deal.“

“Megz!” Nobara yelled from near the front where she and Yuji waited with Tsumiki, giving a sideways nod for the two of you to get lost with them before the crowd made an attempt to follow.

Megumi’s eyes were attached to your neck, your supple skin exposed under your glistening necklace, sparkling with that pretty oil he could smell on you, all of the above making him far more than merely excited to get you wherever you were going next, and quickly.

Mr. Kitty – After Dark

played from the stage as another set of Ino’s friends followed up with a few crowd favorites, allowing you the time you needed to escape, at least a little unnoticed as Toge and Choso hung back a bit to keep them entertained.

Your hands pulled the fabric of his top as he leaned into you even more, “tipsy” describing him fully in this moment, keeping his warm body close as you led him toward the door.

You’d gotten maybe five steps as yet another large body hindered your ability to go any further.

“So you’re not even gonna speak?“

Your smile faded immediately at the sight of him. Sukuna. His full, relatively intimidating frame towering over you.

“Not much to say... We’re on our way out.” You murmured, bluntly.

He stood, swirling his lowball, with a quite pungent iced drink inside that only halfway hid the shady ass smirk on his face.

“That’s all well and good but uh...” an upward nod, “I’m talkin’ to your friend.” his smile grew wider as he tipped his glass into his mouth, eyeballing Megumi.

“Tch.“ Megumi huffed, pressing his body into yours, his chest warm against your shoulder blades. His left hand softly gripped your left arm, sliding down as his fingers curled around until they reached your hand where he threaded them between yours.

His right hand curved around your waist. “She spoke for both of us.” He practically hissed, eyes half lidded. “Sumt’n you need?“

Weird he was able to drink at all with the corner of his lips curved up like that, his gaze never leaving Megumi’s. His glass turned down slowly before he swallowed, “Oh I think I’m fully capable of getting that regardless.“

You rolled your eyes hard, filling your lungs with air as you sighed even harder. “Lets go Megz.” you replied as you pushed past Sukuna, dragging your emo boy along.

Megumi knew it was gonna be a serious problem if you, of all people, were in the middle of whatever Sukuna was up to. He’s at your job, now here.

He knew he could practically count the seconds it would take for his bullshit to be revealed, whatever form in came in.

But never mind that. You were leaving with Megumi.

And that’s all that mattered...

*~*~*~*~*

You arrived at Megumi’s place before anyone else, as your bestie had arranged for you to have an Uber get you there safely.

Excitement engulfed you as you scanned the quiet, dark atmosphere, despite the subtle chill brushing across your skin. It was a little cold as it often was, the consistent excuse you used to constantly wrap your body around him whenever you came to visit.

It was easy to see the reason he loved having you around. Your warmth brought the kind of life to his space that simply didn’t exist unless you’re there. You or Tsumiki, of course.

At this moment, the only light that shone in the apartment glowed through the tall windows from the streets outside, which was now dusted with white from snowflakes fluttering quietly to the ground.

Megumi closed the door behind you with a soft click as you wandered in, the jingling sound of him dropping his keys in his deep pocket was just about the only thing you heard as he walked past you toward the couch.

You were both quite intoxicated, eyes small, the room spinning ever so slightly, but somehow completely tolerable since you were safe and sound.

Reflections of the night’s events flashed in your mind, adoration sparkling in your eyes all over again as you called out to him, your voice piercing softly through the quiet of his space.

“Hey.”

He turned your direction, brows raised, glassy, lidded eyes meeting yours with curiosity, that dark gaze somehow even sexier right now, the shadows in this wide open room complementing his dark features, making your heart skip as always.

“I have something for you.” You murmured, nervous, yet excited to present it as your heart fluttered in time with the falling snow.

“You’ve given me too much already.” He replied, his voice soft and slightly raspy, yet somehow still didn’t fail to display the adulation that floated on its frequency, despite the rejection. 

“You think so?” You frowned, whining. “I like giving you things.” You mumbled as your hand disappeared into your bag.

He took a few steps back, his calves reaching the couch before he plopped down lazily, sinking his torso against the back, and lifting a leg to rest his foot against the table in front of it.

You plopped down on his left side, crossing your left leg toward him as you placed a small package in his palm.

“It’s um... just a little something I thought you’d like.” You presented it as you shyly hid your lips in your mouth, resting the side of your head on the back of the couch.

He observed your expression through his tipsy gaze, your timidity and the soft glint behind your eyes, warming his heart enough to ignite a fierce spark.

He received your gift reluctantly, cutting his eyes toward you as he opened the small black paper bag that shrouded the package, pulling out a container made of stained wood with a tiny hinge on the lid. It was covered with black roses that appeared to be lightly etched in.

You smiled nervously, pressing your shoulder into the back of the couch. “Do you remember that one song you played the night we met?“

“Played a lot of songs that night.” He replied.

“A lot of perfect ones.” You retorted.

He smirked, looking down at the “Heart Shaped Box.“ His softened gaze rested on the object in his hand before meeting yours again, “Of course I remember, silly.“

You pursed your lips as you continued. “Well... since then... I think... you’ve always had mine. My heart, I mean.“

You couldn’t pinpoint why, after all this time, it still felt difficult to tell him how you feel, as whatever the hindrance was still haunted your heart. “I uhm... the box was too plain. I etched the design in.“

He observed it again, astonished. 

The tiny roses, thorns, and leaves meticulously designed in the etching was stunning, the notion that it was done by hand forcing a wrinkle in his brow. Was there no end to your talent? He thought, a huff escaping his nostrils behind a faint smile.

“You did this?“

You shrugged a coy shoulder, “Open it.“

He pressed his thumb against the flattened side of the heart shaped box to lift the lid. On the inside, which had a black fabric lining, was what appeared to be a black bracelet.

It was genuine leather, braided, and sturdy, but thin enough to not weigh him down. In the center of the bracelet was a small, round, black crystal.

He tilted his head as he hooked a finger through it, lifting it from the case, sliding his thumb across the braiding. The texture felt good on his skin. “S’nice.“

“Now, look inside.” You grabbed the remote from the table, clicking on the light, dimming it in response to his retreat from the sudden harsh glare from the ceiling.

He met your gaze, confused. “Inside?“

Another nod, “Look inside the crystal“.

He squinted, at the thing, and first glance, it appeared that what you said didn’t make much sense. But he lifted it, bringing it closer to his eyes. 

“Allow a little light to shine through.“

He followed your request, lifting it higher, passing light through it. The inside revealed a photo of you. An image that he recalled from the very first night he’d met you.

It was a shot of you sitting, leaning back at the bar, in the very outfit and hairstyle you’d worn as your head tilted back and your eyes looked directly into the camera.

Your lips were slightly puckered over the stunning curve of your neck, and the affect of the light from behind the crystal perfectly complemented your natural glow.

That look in your eyes, the one that had already been etched into his memory from that night as he stood at the bar, the moment he realized you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen was right there, vividly preserved.

And he could see it again any time he wanted.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight, then pulsed again like a thousand drums.

He stared into it a few moments, waiting for his heart rate to calm before he blinked slowly, turning back to glance at your face. Your beautiful anticipatory smile shining back at him.

“What do you think?“

That disappearing smirk flashed again, “No more gifts.“ as he turned toward you.

He leaned in, the bracelet slipping around his palm as his calloused drummer hand cupped your face and his fingers curled around to your nape.

His thumb lightly brushed your chin and across your neck, “It’s my turn to give stuff to you.“

You huffed, clicking the light back off to restore the darker, more comfortable mood as you frowned, “No way, rock-star. It’s your birthday.“

You turned on his system,

Led Zepplin – The Rain Song

playing softly in the background.

“I don’t care.” He purred, his thumb pressing against your chin to turn your head as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling you. His parted lips slid along your pulse point, and then up to your earlobe which vanished between his lips.

The ticklish sensation shrank your shoulder toward your kissed lobe. You giggled as the feeling of him messing with you had your entire body tingling and a shiver trickling down your spine.

“Our people will be here soon.” You complained, as if you wanted him to stop, and his right hand slipped beneath the left shoulder of your jacket.

“Will they?” he breathed into the shell of your ear.

“Y-yeah...” You settled into the moment, soaking up his energy as the tingling sensation crept deeper toward your spine and down your leg. 

Yet you paused, eyes widening, as a light bulb went on in your head. You peeled your neck from his lips, staring at him in shock. “What did you do?“

A grin played at his lips as his big sleepy eyes held your gaze. “I told them to get lost.“

Your jaw dropped, “Are you kidding me?“

“Tch... I kid you not.“

“Megz!“

He met your words with his lips, swallowing them whole, his hand still wrapped in his bracelet, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. The taste of your tongue sending a tingle straight to his groin, spreading through every limb.

Yet somehow, in the middle of this intimate moment, a flash of a face belonging to none other than Sukuna, appeared in his mind.

His fingers twitched against your skin, his face scrunching into a frown, even as your lips were connected, and your soft, warm mouth parted wider to welcome his eager tongue.

Out of pure instinct, or maybe just reflexive reaction, Megumi nearly broke the kiss behind the image in his head, yet rebelled against his overly intrusive thoughts.

His thumb slid down your throat as his fingers curled around, resting in that familiar and comfortable position which, somehow now, carried a touch more intensity and possessiveness as you shuddered against it.

“You were... fascinating tonight“. He spoke, his lips still connected to yours.

You giggled as his lips made yours tingle. “Thank you.” you whispered back, the sound of his voice vibrating straight to your core. “And you already said that.“

He pulled back a little to take in your smile, pausing a long moment to enjoy it. He shook his head slowly, “You don’t understand. You were spectacular.“

He rendered you completely timid all over again, complementing your performance. It was the kind of acknowledgment you don’t remember ever receiving from others.

Well, some did say that you were good. But none as professional and supportive as he. His validation meant more to you than your own father’s. 

Not that you’d received much in that area from him.

Calling you to help him with work is one thing. But giving you real credit for your work was a stretch, and usually followed by an insult, or an expectation for you to humble yourself immediately after.

“You’re special...” Megumi continued, still watching you shrink, your gaze leaving his as he poured it on thicker with a straight face... “and brilliant. And your voice is beautiful. Everyone should hear more.“

You buried your face in his palm as it rested in his hand, only to have him turn it to face his.

“Let me be your drummer.“

… What? …

You nearly said that out loud.

But… It was a simple statement. Or... question? 

Regardless, you didn’t think you’d even heard him correctly.

And if you did, you didn’t believe it was feasible. 

Megumi? Playing for you? No way. 

You can’t pay him for that. And you didn’t know if he’d even have the time with all of his own work.

Your head began to shake slowly as it tilted to one side, “M – Megz, you don’t have to...” you cut your self off, entertaining the notion that he’s just being nice, offering out of obligation or... “I can’t ask you to” – you sighed. “I can’t afford to pay you for that kind of...“

“I’m your drummer.” He stated, matter-of-factly. “And you didn’t ask. I did.”

Your breath staggered on your inhale, fear welling up in your gut that somehow, someway... you just might disappoint him.

If he actually did this for you.

He stared at your face for a long while, watching your wheels turning again.

“Stop that.” he frowned. “You’re worthy. Just like any of the rest of us.“

You nodded faintly, embarrassed that you’d done exactly what you were trying to avoid. Again. As far as you were concerned, this man was already larger than life, and it was hard enough to believe you were such a huge part of his.

“I told you, I’m giving to you now.” He murmured, closing the gap between your face and his lips as he slid them along your jaw.

“I won’t allow you to neglect my favorite person. Let her have what she deserves.“... He pulled back, your glazed over eyes threatening tears. “Are we clear?“

Your blush swept softly across your cheeks as you nodded again, a tiny smile forcing it’s way through. “Crystal.“

“Good.” Megumi replied, his hand wrapping halfway across your neck as he leaned in to kiss you again. “And now that I have your heart,” he squeezed gently, murmuring between kisses, your pulse beating softly against his palm, “It doesn’t belong to you anymore.“

A warm smile, “That’s the idea, genius.” you drawled against his lips.

A huff of air ghosted across your face from his nostrils with before he continued, “Yeah, but... what about the rest?” his expression melting again into one more serious, his eyes searching and stopping briefly at every beautiful feature on your face, before meeting yours again. “Is that mine, too?“

You lifted your left thigh to relax it across his lap as you turned settling into his space, even closer. “Obviously.” you replied, your hand moving to grip his top at his waist as you pulled him closer still.

A whisper leaves him, like a prayer. “Then don’t leave.“

“What?” you huffed, “Why would I le–?“

“Ever.” He interrupted. “Don’t leave... anymore.“

Your heart felt as if it had suddenly expanded, beating against your ribs. You swallowed hard, the haze of the alcohol clouding your mind as you attempted to grasp what you thought he meant. 

Or... what you thought you heard maybe?

“Y –You mean... you want me t –to...“

“Yeah.“

You froze, unable to break your gaze from his. You blinked, or... tried to blink, despite your eyes as wide as a deer in headlights.

It would have been nice to respond.

To say something...

But it seemed all you could do was breathe.

Your lips moved ever so slightly, as if in an attempt to form words but they wouldn’t come. Especially since you had no idea which ones to release first.

But just for the record, “You want me to… stay here?” you clarified.

He nodded. “I can’t...” his eyes left yours for a moment, “uhm...” frowning again as he rationalized.

An uneasiness stirred in him as he raised his hand to swipe his fingers quickly through his jet-black crown, then squinted as he spoke. “I just… need you here.“

He noted your hesitance, “You don’t have to answer now.“ and rested his head slowly against the back of the couch, then turned his face again toward you.

You fixed your eyes on his pout, wondering if the liquor had gotten to him too much this time. “You’re too tipsy.“

He sighed, unable to subdue the anxiety that seemed to press into his chest, then laughed at himself and your comment with a subtle huff. “I have two keys on my ring. Whenever you want one, it’s yours.”

It was nearly impossible to imagine. At least for you at the moment. Is he serious?

That serious?

“Too much?” he asked, far more than dead serious, despite the liquid courage.

Your body seemed to implode within itself with a million emotions. Regardless, he’d stolen your breath all over again.

Through the still and quiet, the kind you were used to in his place, the wind whistling softly across his windows as the cold fell from the sky.

The dim moonlight reflected from the snowflakes like sparkles as you drew closer to him, your body temperature opposing that of the outside world.

Your warm breath ghosted across his lips as you planted a soft, lingering kiss. The only sounds in the room were of your lips and beating hearts as you gripped the side of shirt and the kiss deepened.

Megumi relaxed into the plush of the couch, melting into your touch, his hands limp at his sides as you took your kiss.

His darkened gaze floated across the pink of your cheeks heightening his anxiety to have you in this place that’s filled with your presence far more not than often.

Into the Blue – Galleaux

played softly into the room as you lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

He shuddered as it slid lower, fingertips trickling along the curve of his Adams apple, goosebumps pricking across his skin. His pulse quickened as your tongue slipped deeper into his open mouth.

A soft moan vibrated from your chords against his lips, his eyes rolling back as the feel, taste, and sound of you filled his senses since for the first time tonight, he finally had you all to himself.

Your fingers traveled lower, riding the curves of his chest, brushing lightly across his perked bud from over his shirt, then lower, slipping under the fabric until his obliques constricted against your fingertips.

Pleasing Megumi made your heart ache, and watching him squirm under your controlled touch was enough to drown you in the depths of desire.

Your thumb pressed into his belly, tickling his side until It was his turn to moan, the deep, guttural vibration piercing straight to your core.

His right hand gripped the thick fabric over the edge of the cushion as your soft hands against the taught skin of his defined abdomen sent rushes of excitement through him.

He opened his mouth wider as your fingers reached their destination and you took your time at his leather belt. You pulled the strap over the buckle, anxiety building as the metal clinked loudly in your ears.

You then tugged the fabric around the button on his jeans that enclosed him, pulling it loose, then gripping the zipper to slide it down slowly as its length curved around his now rock hard manhood.

Your hand slipped past the opening, consuming the space between his boxers and his jeans, the heat from his cock warming you even more.

Megumi pressed himself against your hand, another helpless moan leaving his lips, breaking the kiss to beg. “Can I fuck you, please?” he grunted breathily, his blown out pupils burrowing into yours as you slowly groped his impressive length which snaked along his leg from under his pants. “I’ve been waiting all night.“

Your palm rested along its wide curve, then smoothly slid against its length as he anxiously watched the movement from over the blue fabric.

“You’re asking so kindly...” you whispered as a shudder trickled down your spine, and you walls clenched in anticipation.

The chill in the room seemed to have gone completely, eclipsed by the overwhelming heat between you.

“Hmph…” he breathed with a fading smirk. “You won’t think I’m so ’kind’ in a minute.“

“Mmm… Is that a threat, Fushiguro?“

Megumi’s hand moved from the couch to the curve of your neck to pull you in, closing the small distance filled with your words as he spoke into your lips, “Is that a ’yes’?“

You snickered, “I haven’t decided yet… Maybe I just wanna play with you.“

“Such a fucking tease.” he replied through his teeth.

“Maybe I am. But you like it.” You murmured, your hand gently squeezing his length which continued to grow. “And I thought you didn’t want anymore gifts?” you said, his free arm rested between your breasts.

“And I meant it.” he huffed, bucking into your hand again. “You’re already mine.”

“Touché.” Your hand slid slowly from his groin, up his solid abdomen as it passed his trail of jet black, then back down, slipping under the waistband of his boxers, then gripping his hot length that had grown so hard it was starting to hurt.

Frozen – Sabrina Claudio

played as a low growl erupted from his chest, and your soft hand curled around his cock, his heart drumming a solo against his ribs. “Fuck.“

You worked to release it from its confines, your eyes widening as they rested on its shiny round head. You tightened your grip a little, his hot muscle sliding through your rounded palm.

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut as he pumped himself through your grip, his parted lips touching yours as he practically whimpered.

“Feel good, baby?” you breathed into his mouth.

“Ha~ah… yeah.” he pumped faster. “Stop teasing me...“

You flicked out your tongue, sliding it along his lips, bottom to top, another soft kiss to the bottom. Your thumb traced smoothly along the curve of his glans, capturing the clear fluid that escaped.

He hissed as your soft hand stroked his entire length, precum making the glide smoother. His eyes fluttered shut, hips bucking erratically faster.

His veiny length grew hotter against your palm, your legs pressing together, hips responding as you recalled the feeling of him stretching you with that beautiful tool.

You licked your lips as you left his face, leaning in to his cock, planting an open mouthed kiss to the head, wetting it with a drizzle of your saliva.

Megumi’s eyes flicked open to watch as you kissed it a few more times, teasingly, only the tip, your tongue sliding along his slit.

You hovered, dropping more saliva, pupils blossoming as you watched it drip against your hand and you jerked him off faster.

The wrinkle in his brow deepened and his head fell back against the couch as you wet his throbbing cock.

More liquid seeped from him as you watched his beautiful face with fire in your eyes; red cheeks, parted lips, deep, sensual, broken moans erupting from his chest as he was unable to decide whether to keep his head rested against the couch, or watch you finish him off.

With your free hand, you gripped the hem of his shirt, lifting it to his neck as your eyes took in every curve of his chiseled torso.

He lifted his back from the couch, pulling his top off completely. You leaned in to plant open mouthed kisses on his lower abdomen, and your hand continued to stroke him faster, kisses moving higher up his chest.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck as your hand worked him toward orgasm and you whispered, “Cum for me baby.”

He thrusted even harder, eagerly, heaving sharp breaths through his teeth.

“F-fuck,fuck!!!” he murmured, one hand gripping the life from his cushion, the other slipping between your clenched thighs, fingers grazing your intimacy.

You tightened your grip a little more, stroking a few more times, skin taught around his hard, veiny muscle, until finally he warned…

“I’m … gonna cum! … a~ah! Cumming!“

His body convulsed, deep groans erupting from his chest as he pumped creamy white into your soft hand.

Your bottom lip disappeared behind your teeth as you smoothed his arousal along his thick length, your lusty gaze resting on his reddened face as you watched him ride out his high.

He cut his glazed over eyes toward you, his mouth hanging open, still hard as he huffed.

“So fucking hot.“ you mumbled, barely above a whisper as you smirked, trembling as your hand slid along his shaft, the look on his face driving you nearly feral.

Whale and Wasp – Alice in Chains

You looked absolutely predatory like that, hovering over him, his cum melting along your hand as you lifted your fingers, slipping one past your lips as you tasted him.

“You… fucking… gorgeous creature.“ He panted, shuddering as his dick twitched at the sight of you, his grip tightening around your inner thigh.

You quickly wiped your hand clean, then straddled him, hinging forward, knees pressing into the couch as you cupped his face with both hands, your lips hovering before pressing softly against his, a deep, passionate kiss.

He lifted his hips from between your legs to remove his pants, pulling them down to rest at his thighs as he used his legs to kick them off completely.

His hands slid up your outer thighs, your bare skin warm against his.

His thumbs hooked under your top as he removed it in one swift motion, your hair cascading in wispy bundles over your face and chest.

His hands glided along the curves of your back as they indulged in the suppleness of your flesh, his right hand curving to rest between your right ass cheek and his thigh, and the other around the line of your back, gripping you at the waist.

He squeezed, hard enough to elicit a moan from your lips as he sucked hot pink blotches into the skin of your supple breasts.

“I want you inside me.” you breathed.

Megumi responded, moving to pull down your panties from under your skirt that now rested like a belt around your hips. His hand was met with yours, as you gently guided it toward your sensitivity.

“You... can unbutton it from here.” you murmured.

His fingers slid between your legs, following the curve of your intimacy, back, and forth... Back, and forth, gliding along your soft middle, a tiny moan slipping from your lips as they finally located 2 small snaps on the fabric of your panties at your entrance.

His bows pressed into his forehead as he felt where to pull them loose. He flicked his gaze up to yours, and your surprisingly embarrassed expression.

“Really?” he quipped.

Your face reddened as you buried it in his neck.

“Tch... shy now?” He drawled, his left hand tightly gripping the back of your hair to pull your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes as he slipped his middle finger around the snap without undoing it, sinking it into your opening with ease as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

His tongue pulled his bottom lip behind his teeth as his thumb moved the buttoned fabric out of the way of his hand for better access.

He slowly thrusted a second finger in and out of your soaked opening, feeling you tighten around them each time.

He leaned into your face, fist still full of your hair, “I told you not to hide that face from me.” he purred, pulling back a little to watch every change in your expression.

Your breaths left your lungs in small pants, “More...” you begged, as your hips rolled into his hand.

He smirked as you soaked him, his fingers curling inside to reach that sweet spot that always made you fall apart.

You moaned, desperation gripping you as he thrusted them inside, removing them suddenly to detach the snap from your undies, and moved his large hand to grip his throbbing cock.

You lifted your body as he slid the head around your slick against your folds, moistening it with your arousal. It pressed slowly past your entrance, sinking in just past the head, the stretch absolutely delicious.

“Ngh!!!” you whimpered, shuddering from the fierce electric current.

He pressed in more, a grin curling into his lips as he felt your walls close around him.

He tightened his grip on your hair, leaning in closer as he pressed his lips into your cheek at the corner of your mouth. “Open up, baby“, he purred, as he pressed in even deeper.

“Ha-ngh!!!” Your moan was louder this time, velvety walls stretching to accommodate him.

It was music to his ears. He couldn’t imagine a better sound.

He grunted in response, “Louder.” … he commanded, his cock throbbing from the sound.

He sank deeper… bottoming out and resting there, offering you a moment to adjust before pulling back, only to see tears prick at your eyes as they rolled back over your quivering lips.

“So fucking perfect.” he murmured, deeply satisfied with your beautiful expression.

You trembled as you tried to move, his length reaching places inside that you never could, and your body already responded, threatening a fierce release.

You pushed yourself up by your thighs, pulling him out just a little, the drag along your walls like the perfect massage, eliciting another deep moan as you gripped his hair with one hand as the other arm draped his shoulders.

He rested his hands on your hips as he guided your movement, thrusting up to reach even deeper as you came back down.

“Aaaah….” you whimpered and gasped, as he continued his thrusts, pulling you down on top of him as the friction generated more heat. “M-Megumi!”

“Ngh, fuck…” His name dripping from your lips sent him into a deeper frenzy as he buried his face in your chest, filling his mouth with one of your supple breasts, sucking hard enough for his cheeks to cave around your perked nipple.

Your moans became louder, your arousal causing him to slip even deeper, kissing your cervix with every thrust until you wailed,

“I’m ... gonna cum!!“

Megumi wrapped his arms around your waist, pounding into you at a steady, perfect pace until your core gripped him like a vice, and your heat coated him like molten lava.

You were everything he could ever need. And gifting you multiple orgasms in the course of an evening was the best way he could imagine spending his birthday.

Or any other...

*~*~*~*~*

You walked into your corporate gig’s building early the next morning, the skip in your step and the glow in your skin making you more radiant than you had been for days. 

The harsh florescents beating down from the ceiling pulled no frustration from you today as they normally did. Your body still felt Megumi all over it, and was enough to keep your mind occupied for good.

Or, at least until you saw him again.

You spoke to a few people, flashing genuine smiles, and some muted ones to the meanies out of professional duty.

Some came by your desk for answers about manuals you’d recently completed, as there was a rumor going around that there were already plans to use them to train yet another group of employees.

As far as you were concerned, that was perfectly fine since it likely meant you’d have your load lightened at this place even more. That was a welcome change since ironically it seems to have gotten heavier since... he showed up.

You finished a teachable moment with a colleague as you made your way to the coffee station, grateful that someone made a fresh pot before you’d arrived.

“Ah, nice”. You murmured as you pulled your favorite mug from the cabinet, sighing to yourself as you washed it at the sink in warm water.

You turned to grab the coffee pot only to see a familiar face out of nowhere, smirking down at you, nearly startling you to death.

Sukuna.

You flinched hard, “God!” you nearly yelped, pressing your free hand against your chest.

“Not quite.” He responded, his smirk quickly widening into a sly smile. “I was wondering if it was gonna be a good morning.” he swiped the hot pot from the maker before you did, pouring its contents into his over-sized cup, taking way too much.

“Looks like it is.” he said, casually turning the cup into his mouth as if it wasn’t scorching, or bitter.

You raised a brow, gripping the handle of the pot as you took it for yourself, pouring the remainder in your pink Volkswagen mug. “Good morning, Sukuna.” you spoke with an exhausted tone, rotating your shoulders to pass him as you headed to the fridge.

He took a quick glance around the room, checking for passers by or listening ears. “You’ve uh... got quite the set of pipes on you.” he praised, relaxing his large body against the sink as his biceps bulged from his arm propping himself up with it.

You looked up at him from your angle at the refrigerator door, pulling out the “Italian Creme”.

“Thanks.” you said dryly, suddenly remembering to address something.

“Speaking of... would you mind telling me exactly what you were doing at that venue last night?“

His lips turned down in the corners as he shrugged, “Listening to music?” he replied, squinting as if he didn’t understand your question, then smiling as if he did.

“You know what I mean, Sukuna.” You tried not to slam the door before you walked the creamer back over to your coffee. “That was a private event.“

“Hmph, well that doesn’t make much sense. If that were true, I wouldn’t have been allowed in.” he replied mockingly. “Besides that, where I go outside of work hours is none of your business now, is it?” He said smoothly.

You huffed, “That’s the point though, right?” you finished stirring in the cream, turning toward him. “There’s like...” you shrugged, “I dunno... thirty different clubs in this area? Of all of ’em, how did you end up there?”

“I got a tip from a friend that there was a show.“

You scoffed. “A friend?“

“Yeah.“

“Did that ’friend’ happen to have that information on a computer?”

“Like I said, none of your business.”

“It is if you took the location from my personal files.” You stared at him, shaking your head. “Let’s not play this game. How could you invade my privacy like that?“

He cocked his head sideways, “We’ve already made you aware that these computers, and all the information on them are company property.”

He leaned forward a bit, careful to maintain a healthy workplace boundary as he continued. “If you want privacy, perhaps you should use a different computer.”

You clenched your teeth behind your jaw. “You had to have a reason.” your eyes cutting into his nonchalant gaze, “No one does something like that for nothing.“

His eyes raked over you in a mildly inappropriate manner. He smirked, crossing his chiseled arm over his broad chest, propping his hand under the bicep that held up his ridiculously large mug.

“I’m a musician.” his lips turned down in the corners with a shrug. “I tend to be where music is.”

“Tch. So I’ve heard.”

“Have you?”

“You know I have.”

He held your gaze a moment, his devious smile widening. “Then did you also hear my band’ll be playing there in a month?”

“What?!” you flinched at your own voice, which was a little too loud for the office break-room. Your eyes quickly scanned your surroundings, colleagues passing by with confused faces, your blood nearly reaching a boiling point.

“Yeah... get some good music coming out of that spot for once. Show this city what a real rock band sounds like.” His smile was far too bright and genuine for such a disrespectful comment.

If looks could kill, you’d have gotten him workman’s comp at the very least. “You cant be serious.“

“As a heart attack.”

You scoffed, “Unbelievable.” you stared at him a while, blown away by his audacity, yet he just seemed to like the attention. “Don’t you have something better to do?“

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” His eyes raked over you again, slower this time, enough to send a little shudder through you. “And so do you.“

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled darkly as he turned on his heels out of the break room wearing a sly grin, another employee stopping him for help almost immediately as he hit the corridor.

Your face scrunched, nose flared, eyes fluttering as you grabbed your mug and walked to your desk thinking how that man was truly a piece of work. 

Literally.

And off all places, you had to be here with him, for hours on end.

You settled into your seat, re-adjusting, remembering that you wanted to finish a few lyrics to a new song today while you were on your break. Yet, after that little run-in with Sukuna, you felt it really would be best to just to leave all of your personal work at home.

You couldn’t imagine putting Megumi in another difficult situation.

Not after this.

After a few minutes, your phone dings with a text:

Tsumiki: Hey Love! Nobara and I are getting soba for lunch. Wanna come?

You were so happy to hear from them. It was an immediate relief.

You: Absolutely! I miss you guys, already. Sorry about last night.

Tsumiki: no need to apologize, it was his day. we understood.

You: yeah, but... well... we’ll talk about it later. Text the addy?

Tsumiki: Yup. C u there!

You’d actually felt a little guilty that Megumi cut them off last night, especially since Tsumiki only had so much time to stay with you all before she had to be back.

If she hadn’t planned to stay for several days, you likely wouldn’t have let him get away with it, but she didn’t have to leave yet and as she said, it was his birthday.

“You’re here.”

A familiar voice called out to you as you’re hunched over at your desk on your phone. You turned to see Geto sauntering toward you.

What’s up? you asked, taking another sip of your coffee, the warmth actually relaxing you a bit as you swiveled your seat around to face him.

“So... it looks like we’ll need you on another training module.”

“W-what?” Your knee-jerk reaction was frustration, displayed far to clearly in your expression. You quickly straightened your face as you remembered you were in front of a person who could actually fire you. “S-sorry.”

Geto paused a moment, chuckling to himself as he smacked the back of the pen he was holding in his opposite palm. “Look, I’m not picking on you, okay? If you recall, we discussed that there’d be another one.”

“I just... wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

He nodded, “Understandable. But you are one of the best and primary trainers on the team, so naturally you’d be chosen to participate. This is your work, remember?”

You grimaced a little at his very valid point. “Right, but I cant get a break on this? I volunteered to fill in last time.”

“True, but this one is mandatory for leads. We just finalized the details in a meeting yesterday. It’ll be our second module for this term, and hopefully the last for quite some time.”

What’s the time frame looking like?

“We won’t be leaving for another two weeks, so no rush this time. But we’ll be heading to Okinawa.”

“Wow. Okinawa?“

“Yes. Sukuna says it –”

“Sukuna?“

“Yes. It was actually his idea. He’s responsible for handpicking staff and location for training modules. He felt the serene atmosphere will be a nice break, and...” he snickered a little, “considering how hard he’s worked, hoping for a personal vacation that likely won’t come for a while. I think he’s right.“

Your wheels turned violently in your head as your brows threaded together, “Right...” your eyes darting to and fro as you tried to make sense of it all.

“It’ll be a two week stretch so... not as long as the first trip. And no big language gap this time.“

“Okay... Uhm–”

“Also, there happens to be a convention there for the higher ups, so we’ll have a dinner to attend... be sure to be prepared for that. It’s formal.“

Your heart sank into your chest as Geto went on, talks of formalities, fancy rooms, cocktail dresses, business dinners and beaches.

But a light bulb went on in your head, a glimmer of hope, even excitement behind your eyes as you posed the question. “I noticed that some of the staff, on the last trip, were able to bring a plus one... can I–?“

“I’m afraid not. We’ve already hit capacity and...” he frowned “...Well, I don’t mean to sound presumptuous but... I wasn’t aware that you had someone. I might’ve considered that had I known.“

You smiled, uncomfortably, the notion of bringing work colleagues into your personal life making you cringe. “I do. I’m really hoping I could bring him along.“

“Yeah, that’s not possible... Maybe next time.” Sukuna says happily, boldly cutting into your conversation as he sauntered toward you and Geto.

You pursed your lips as you hiked a brow, body tensing as you took a deep breath, hoping he’d leave soon.

“We’ve already chosen the staff, and this trip will be a little different. No ’plus-ones’ this time.” You raised your gaze and he met it with a tilt of his head. “Just us.“

Clearly, Megumi was right. But then, when was he not?

Sukuna’s already infiltrated your work, Megumi’s work, and now you have the sneaking suspicion he’s attempting to interfere in your relationship?

It was getting out of fucking hand.

And you obviously had no idea how far Sukuna was willing to push. But you were getting one. And fast.

You took a deep breath. “Okay then.” your eyes met Geto’s. “I’ll be sure to prepare myself. Will you send details?“

“I will.” Sukuna interjected, crossing his thick muscular arms against his chest again, his weight shifting backward a little as his tattoos peeked through the sleeves of his perfectly pressed oxford. “I’ll be sure to give you everything you need.” he replied, his lips turning up ever so slightly in the corners.

You nodded slowly, noting his slick talk, thanked them as they wrapped up, then turned back to your desk to finish your work.

*~*~*~*~*

Megumi’s band decided to rehearse at Nanami’s since the studio was being rented out by another band. Choso had disappeared into the office for a while, as Megumi and the others went over a few things.

“We can take a break for now. But we’ve still got three more to finish, including Maki’s.” Megumi said, changing one of the high hats on his kit.

“Its about damn time!” Yuji yelled from the bar, receiving deliveries and prepping for the night.

Yuta raised a brow, “Yeah, it is.” he murmured.

Maki snapped her head toward him. “What?! Not you, too...”

Yuta shrugged. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to let us play it. You’re too good to let your music sit this long without exposure.”

“Well, I need it to be exactly the way I want it before I let anyone else in on it!”

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but... neither is he.” Megumi interjected.

“Oh, be quiet.” Maki grumbled.

Yuta chuckled as he and Megumi shared a knowing glance.

“It’s not like I haven’t wanted to perform it.” She replied. “It’s just... a certain someone kind of inspired me recently.” she hiked a shoulder.

“Awww I’m glad to have encouraged you.” Yuta responded with a warm smile.

“Not you, idiot!” Maki snapped. She shook her head, eyes meeting Megumi’s. “That girl’s got no idea how much of a force she can be.”

Megumi looked down at his hand as he quickly twirled his stick, his heart warming as he thought of you. If only Maki knew how right she really was.

At that moment, Choso sauntered out of the office, nose flared.“You’re not gonna believe this shit.” He said, relatively calmly to Megumi as he walked up, despite the implied urgency.

Choso’s eyes scanned the room, catching eye contact with each of them. “Come with me.” He turned toward the bar, “Yuji! You too, bro.” he said, waving for him to join them as they migrated to Nanami’s office.

*~*~*~*~*

“He’s just going to do a couple nights a week to help bring in more cash.” Mei advised, arms crossed as she helped Nanami deliver the news to the band.

Megumi scoffed, arms sinking into his pockets as he closed his eyes, his head dropping down, ‘I knew it’ written all over his face.

“Excuse me?” Maki squinted under a deep frown, working to grasp what the hell was going on.

“You can’t do everything alone Megumi.” Nanami added. “This is business.“

“I haven’t been.” Megumi retorted, head still angled down as he looked up at Nanami. “And there are other bands here. Bands who’ve been waiting in line, patiently, to open for us.”

“True, but none as popular as they are. And with the growth you guys have brought to this venue... we can’t go backwards. You’ve raised the bar, and the crowds are expecting every show to be good.”

Yuji flicked his eyes back and forth between Megumi and Nanami, scrunching his lips in one corner of his mouth.

“We’ll lose money if we don’t get better acts in here. Ones that can meet the standard you’ve set for this place.” Mei continued. “This can’t be about personal issues. It needs to be about profitability. For everyone.”

“How is this even happening?” Yuta asked. “Isn’t there a … process or something?”

“He’s already had a conversation with me.” Nanami replied after a long sigh.

“When?” Toge whined.

“Right?” Choso added, “He just got here like five minutes ago.”

“A couple days ago, actually. Before Megumi’s event. He called us and let us know he was in town.” he looked around at all the disappointed faces.

“Her even brought video footage of his band. And reviews. Plus, the only band here that has a bigger following than they do is you.”

“This Is fucking crazy.” Maki commented.

“Just like the good old days.” Yuta murmured.

“Wild.” Toge chimed.

Megumi’s eyes cut toward Nanami in frustration. But he knew to expect something of this nature. Sukuna was a troublemaker. And he was prepared to have to deal with whatever popped up.

Unfortunately, they really were a spectacular band, and the business part was understood. But this was Megumi’s livelihood. And his home.

Not to mention, you.

Sukuna liked getting under his skin, so Megumi knew, even if a little, he’d involve you in the process. And nothing here besides his family and the people in this room were a bigger part of his life now than you are.

“Look, they wont take your place.” Nanami reassured them as he leaned against a stool with his arms crossed. “They cant. I won’t even allow it. But we’ll still be here when you guys move on to bigger and better things. We need more great bands here. Please work with us on this Megumi.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Are you fucking serious?”

You met her gaze, rolling your eyes. “Girl…” Your heart seemed to twist a little at the tiniest notion of yet another something causing issues in your relationship with Megumi. “I’m already exhausted with his antics. Megumi couldn’t have possibly been more right about him”.

“Why the hell does he need to perform here? Isn’t he leaving soon?” Nobara whined. Clearly aggravated.

“Not that I know of.” You replied. “He’s supposed to be at the office for quite a while now, God knows how long. He worked at a branch closer to the college he attended with Megumi.”

Tsumiki nodded slowly, a knowing look on her face.

You glanced over, feeling the knot in your chest tighten, working to make out the meaning behind her expression behind a wrinkled brow. “What?”

“This is kinda typical.” she sighed, “I mean… It’s not like the same thing will happen between you and Megz, but… Sukuna had a lot to do with his breakup… from Nanako.”

Paranoia Purple (Live at Electric Lady) – Yebba

played on the speaker as your lips parted and you panicked inside. You flattened your back against the cushion of your chair, eyes widening as a quick huff exited your chest.

Tsumiki leaned in, her hand resting on your forearm. “Look, I only mentioned it because he’s trouble. It’s just a heads up. That’s all. He’s not the type to back off easily. I just want you to keep that in mind.”

Your heart felt heavy in your chest as your gaze floated over to Nobara who looked just about as concerned as you felt.

“Noby?” you said her name as if pleading for some sign of relief.

“She’s right.” Nobara said, genuinely. “Your relationship with Megumi is about you and him. Not Sukuna.” She smiled. “You love him, right?“

You huffed, nodding. “Without question.”

“Then everything’ll be fine.” She reassured, “You love him. I mean, the only real question we’re asking here is, what could Sukuna possibly do to change that?” She rested her hand on your other arm. “Right?”

You glanced back and forth between the two of them, with another nod. “Right.” You echoed. “The answer is simple. Nothing.” You swallowed hard as the bad feeling in your chest seemed to spread through to your nerves.

Regardless how you felt, or what you thought, this entire scene was exhausting. This shouldn’t be happening. You were sure it wore on your friends too, as they practically consoled you.

But It was.

Why though? Because some random guy decides he wants to play around in your personal life? Toy with your well being as if it were worthless?

“This is … ridiculous.” you said, your head shaking in disbelief. “Why is this happening?”

Tsumiki scrunched her lips in the corner of her mouth. “How could it not?” she then smiled, pressing her lips together. “You have a great thing going with Megumi. That’s not easy to find. People who feel they can’t, will either want to take it, or destroy it.”

She leaned in, relaxing her shoulders. “You don’t have anything to prove. But sometimes we all have to protect what we love.”

You turned to see Nobara smiling as well, clearly in agreement. Her eyes then suddenly flicked around as if she were in deep thought.

“You recall what happened when Nanako showed up at Megumi’s?”

You crossed your arms in front of you, resting them on the table. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, you never told me what happened out there.”

It suddenly dawned on you that you hadn’t even bothered to ask Megumi.

“He checked her. Cleanly.” she said, her brows pressing into her forehead. “She practically whined like a baby about how she was the greatest girlfriend he’d ever had, as her sister stood by and said nothing.“

She continued: “Megumi said, ’What makes you think that?’

Her reply was, ‘Isn’t it obvious? Sukuna and I tried so hard to help you, and you just –’

Megumi Interrupts her and says, ‘I’m gonna stop you right there. Do you hear yourself? Even now, as you blatantly disrespect my work, my friends, my home, and my girlfriend, you bring up another man.

Nanako pleaded, nonsensically, ‘Sukuna knows all kinds of people in the industry! He was just trying to help. To make things better for you!’”

“It didn’t mean much to me at that time to hear his name, since I had no idea who he was. But now, it all makes sense.”

“Megumi realized how sad she looked, still gnawing away at that bone, with no understanding of how sick it was making her. ‘And just exactly how well did putting him before me work out for you?’”

“Oof… When he said that, even I felt bad for her. It was fucking embarrassing. But kinda hilarious at the same time, because… well, we all know how much trouble she’d caused.”

“He stepped closer to her, with a straight face, and asked, ‘When does your shame kick in? You were so sure I wouldn’t be where I am. That I wouldn’t go where I’m going.’

‘You have light years to travel before coming anywhere close to the woman I have now. I’ve never met anyone better. Go home. And don’t come back here, or things’ll get a whole lot worse for you.’”

Your froze in place listening to her, your lips parting as your heart skipped.

You had a clue, based on his behavior those nights in his office, but you didn’t realize how commanding, and frankly a little scary Megumi could be.

If it were at all possible, you suddenly found him even hotter, wondering how you could get in trouble with him again...

Wild Horses – The Sundays

]played on the speakers as you recalled how you’d passed out after he went to talk to her. Yet you had no recollection of the conversation, since nowhere in your mind did you think you couldn’t trust him.

And you were absolutely right.

“Megumi is head over heels for you.” Nobara said. “He wont just let some guy come in and ruin that.” Her heart warmed as she spoke of it.

She’s been there with you through several relationships, always wanting for you exactly what you have right now.

“Yuji told me he’d never heard Megumi speak of any woman that way. The ball’s in your court now.”

Your cheeks warmed visibly at the thought of him. “Yea. You’re right.” You replied, your heart swelling in your chest.

You glanced toward Tsumiki, who’s lids rested softly over her eyes as a huge smile graced her face.

“What was it like for you living with Megumi?”

“Tch, oh my God.” She murmured, rolling her eyes playfully. “Not much different than now.” she replied, her smile widening.

“He’s always been a very serious person. And that was understandable considering what happened with our parents. But I often worried about him since … sometimes … it was like he held the whole world in contempt.”

You peered down at your mug of tea through your lashes, a wrinkle forming in your brow for a moment as you curled your hands around the warm ceramic. “I can only imagine what that must’ve been like”.

“It was tough for a while.” She nodded slowly, “We made it through, though. Took good care of ourselves. I did laundry and kept the house clean, he made sure to get our groceries and cook the food. And it was always delicious.”

You huffed. “Still is.”

“And… he was the one who made sure my grades didn’t slip. He was so structured. Focused. And loyal. Always has been.”

She pressed her lips together through her smirk. “Until Jr. High, that is.” She chuckled. “I recall often wanting him to relax, and I’d tease him about it. But in the end, I think we both had a healthy influence on each other.”

“Yeah.” you smiled warmly. “You’re lucky to have each other”.

“And he’s lucky to have you. He knows that.”

“Speaking of,” Nobara interjected, “are you planning to go home anytime soon? I feel like I hardly see you these days.”

“Oh, uhm… Yeah.” Your body tensed as you remembered something else you wanted to bring up. You’d considered not, but you figured they should be the first to find out. You took a deep breath before releasing the words.

“He uh… he offered me … a key.”

Complete silence fell on all of you, as four large eyes locked in on your face. “What?!” they nearly yelped in unison as you peered at the elderly couple nearby who could’ve been given a heart attack.

“I know…” you squealed. “I wasn’t ready.”

“What do you mean you weren’t ready?” Nobara wailed again too loudly. “I’m not ready!”

You and Tsumiki both laughed.

Tsumiki’s face brightened, “Are you gonna do it?”

You grimaced through your blushy smile, “I don’t know, guys!” you shook out your hands, then planted your palms on your cheeks, “I don’t knooooow!“

You’d never been asked that before, and still weren’t sure how or what to think about it. It was a huge step.

Even the relationship itself, was of a sort you’d never experienced. And because of it, your world seemed to get bigger and more exciting every day.

In a nutshell, it was fucking scary.

Incredible, but absolutely terrifying.

“WOW.” Nobara replied. Glancing away as it seemed wheels were turning in her head. “That’s… Wow.”

“I know.” you retorted. “I need some time to think about it. And he told me there’s no rush.”

“Yeah, that’s what he told you.” Tsumiki added, “But knowing him, he’ll want some kind of an answer soon, especially for something that huge. I don’t recall him even staying over with, let alone living with anyone besides me.”

“I could kinda tell he was hoping I’d answer ‘yes’ right away.” you replied, “But like Noby said, I haven’t been home for a while, and doing so will give me some time to consider it thoroughly. I owe him at least that, whatever my decision is.”

“I agree.” Tsumiki reassured, “Rushing into big decisions is the easiest way to make big mistakes.” she rested her hand on your arm again, “Not that I think it would be a mistake.“

You smiled widely, “Thank you. And you’re right. Maybe answering when I get back will give me the time I need.”

“Yeah. Take a few days, relax, then you can answer with a clear head.” Nobara noted.

“No, I mean… it’s gonna be a few weeks.” you sighed, hunching as you angled your head toward the ceiling. “Sukuna. He planned another business trip for my department.”

“Oh my God girl... Enough with the bombs! I need to recover!” Nobara whined. “What the hell? How is he able to do that?“

You filled your lungs with air before you shrugged. “Geto hired him for that kinda thing. I used to be on that team, but it’s his responsibility now, among other things.”

“Ugh. I’m already too sick of him.” she complained, “Can’t you get someone else to go in your place?”

You sighed, “I wish. I can’t opt out, and I can’t bring anyone along. Best believe I tried.” You pressed your first two fingers into your temple. “And, it’s to Okinawa of all places.“

Nobara plopped her back into her seat as she shook her head. “What a fucking asshole.” She glanced back toward you. “He’s trying to corner you.”

“Seems like it.” You replied, becoming more annoyed every moment you spent thinking about it.

“That guy...” Tsumiki murmured. “He’s pretty relentless … Just… prepare yourself. For anything.” Her brow wrinkled. “He’s probably got all kinds of tricks up his sleeve.”

You nodded again in agreement. “I will. For sure.“

The table vibrates as you all look down for the location of the hum… It was Tsumiki’s cell. She’d received a text message from the looks of it.

“It’s Toji.” She says. “He’s here to pick me up.” She turned toward the large window you all sat next to in the restaurant. You and Nobara both met his gaze. He was waiting just outside in a black Mercedes.

“He wasn’t going to let me just hang out here without spending some time with him, too.” Tsumiki smiled at the two of you.

You smiled back warmly. “Well, I cant say I blame him.”

“Yeah. He can be an ass sometimes but… we love him.”

You and Nobara both chuckled before you asked, “Will you be here a little while longer?” You were hoping to see more of her before she returned to the States.

“Yeah. I have a couple more days.“

“Kay. Then we should do this again before you go.” You suggested.

“Sounds good.” She says, standing and grabbing her bag before she headed out. “See ya. And don’t for get what I said, ok? Protect what’s yours.“

“I will.” You promised as you watched her wave goodbye.

You locked eyes temporarily with Toji as he noted Tsumiki leave the building and head for his car. You raised your hand as if to wave, hoping he’d notice.

He did, and offered you an upward nod as Tsumiki entered the car.

*~*~*~*~*

Nobara walked with you back to your building, the clacking of your heels on the sidewalk accompanying the sound of miscellaneous vehicles rushing by in the busy square of Shinjuku.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You called out to her as you took a few steps toward your office building’s entrance.

“Uhm….” Nobara began, her tone indicating something was on her mind.

“What’s up?”

“Are you sure Megumi’s okay waiting for your answer?”

Your brow furrowed as you eyeballed her expression. “Yeah. As far as I could tell, he was fine. Maybe a little hopeful, but he didn’t seem worried.”

“Okay.” She replied. “How long is your trip going to be?”

“Two, maybe three weeks”

“Really?“

“Yeah…” you replied, your smile fading as you observed her unsettled expression. It was always easy to tell when something weighed on Nobara’s mind. “Is something wrong?”

“No… I’m just. Wondering if Megz can hold it together for that long without you nowadays.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that big a deal.” You frowned, “He often has all kinds of company around him.”

“But he wants you. Apparently all the time now.” she huffed past a tiny smile. “A key? … that’s… major.” she looked more concerned than happy. “Do you remember what Yuji told us about him? How he spent a lot of time alone, and that work was so important to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he also told me that Megumi is constantly thinking about you. What to do for you, how to take care of you, how to help you... I think he’s hooked. Like… in a good way, but … a serious way.”

You tilted your head, “What makes you say that?” your eyes growing smaller as you considered the implications of her words.

“Are you saying he loves me?” you huffed, “We all know that, right?”

“Of course but…”

“I mean, that’s …” you looked away, suddenly recalling that night when he asked you to stay, a few moments that made you wonder a little. “I believe he loves me. But … living together is…” you shook your head. “he sees women constantly. Gorgeous ones. All the time.”

“So?” Nobara frowned.

“So… what if he sees me on too many bad days in a row? What if … I like… pass gas around him?“

Nobara snickered, covering her mouth.

“No, for real!” You snickered with her as you pushed her shoulder. “What if he just... looks at me too long and decides he’s tired of me?”

“Oh my God, girl.”

“I’m so serious right now.” And then your concerned look matched hers. “What if he can’t stand the sight of me after like a month? I’ll be devastated.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” she scoffed. “Did you not hear a word I just said? He’s gone for you, girl. I honestly think you’re it for him.”

“I like things the way they are. I don’t wanna lose him due to his exhaustion with our proximity.” You could feel your heart already hurting at the idea of him finally growing tired of you, as if that had ever happened or threatened to. “Megumi isn’t exactly easy to please… I don’t wanna mess things up.”

Nobara sighed, the look of concern morphing into one of pity. “We can talk about it later, okay?” She replied, leaning in as she gripped your arm. “Have a good day at work, love.

You lifted your arms, wrapping her in a tight hug, then kissing her on the cheek. “You, too.”

*~*~*~*~*

Your workdays were always pretty stressful.

But today it seemed they, well, Sukuna specifically, were extra desperate to have all of your time since there was a trip to plan. However, you managed to rip yourself away after briefly speaking with Geto about your job description in detail, avoiding an excessive dig into your personal time.

You usually got home around five, but today it was seven forty-five before you even left the building.

Your legs and back were aching, so you decided to request an Uber during your last meeting since you were too exhausted to bother walking to the station, sitting around on cold benches to wait for the train, or standing in one for a prolonged period, then walking the rest of the way home.

The Uber arrived on time, and you were quite satisfied that Geto ordered a nice one. Your eyes felt like weights as you entered the vehicle, and the nice condition of the ride made you even more relaxed. The seats were plush and soft to the touch.

Just as you tilted your head against the leather cushion of the back seat in the car, the nice fragrance in the interior, the hum of the engine, and the muted nightlights outside the window lulled you right to sleep.

Your head bobbed along the back of the seat, seemingly for just a moment, only for the driver to suddenly call your name as he reached your building. “Ma’am, you’re home.” He said, peering through the rear-view, waking you up just before you reached rem.

“Ugh…” you were slightly disoriented, just making out the front of your building as your eyes adjusted. “I’m so sorry... Thank you!” you replied as you opened the door to exit.

You started up the stairs to the apartment, just realizing you hadn’t turned your phone back on at all after turning it off when you returned from lunch. It seemed you were needed every moment at work, and had no time to use it.

“Oh my god…” you grimaced, searching for it as you walked in, only to hear multiple consecutive ‘dings’ on it from texts and missed calls the moment you turned it on.

Most of them were from Megumi.

Megumi: hey. hope ur day is good. what time will u be home? 2:30PM

Megumi: coming back to my place tonight? I’m making udon. 3:46PM

Megumi: u must be really busy. 5:00PM

Megumi:??Haven’t heard from you. Everything OK?? 7:03PM

Megumi: Starting to worry. Call me when you get home. 8:30PM

You called immediately.

“Hello?”

“Megz!” you called out to him, clearly anxious, yet your heart was relieved the moment you heard his voice.

You hadn’t spoken with him since you left his house last night. “God, I’m so sorry! It’s been fucking ridiculous at work today.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replied calmly, relief lacing his voice as you spoke. “You home?”

“Yeah. I just got back. Like, literally two minutes ago.”

“Wow.” he paused, a wrinkle forming in his forehead. “Overtime?”

“I’m really sorry, Megz. Geto even scheduled the Uber for me. I passed out in the seat the moment I sat down. I forgot to turn on my phone.”

“You got an Uber?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you getting an Uber when you have a man at your beck and call?”

You chuckled, dropping the keys on the kitchen counter along with the rest of your stuff. “’Beck and call?’ Really? You had rehearsal didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but… I own the place?”

Another chuckle. “Right. M’sorry sweetie. I promise I’ll call you if this happens again.”

“You don’t have to apologize … But I’d rather you promise me you’ll never pass out in one of those alone again... or… at the very least, text me or Nobara your info and location.”

“Yeah… You’re right.” You grimaced, realizing you could have awakened in any number of strange places… or not at all.

“Well, hopefully soon you’ll be staying here more often instead.” he replied casually.

It fell silent on the phone for a moment, your mind reeling a little.

“… Or … not?” he murmured.

You stopped yourself just before apologizing again. “I’m just... taking some time to think about it.”

Megumi’s heart sank a little, enough for him to actually feel it move. “What can do to help you make your decision?”

“Nothing really… I guess I’m … just… wanting to not rush it. I’ll have to say goodbye to everything.”

He sighed audibly, “I get it.” his fingers running through his black hair again as he sank deeper into the cushions of the couch.

“I’m starting to miss you too much already.” he said nearly under his breath, looking around at the random little things you’d left behind in his place.

He slid the bracelet you gave him off of his wrist, holding it up to the light to view your pretty face through the crystal.

“Kinda lame of me, huh?“

You felt your heart warm as you recalled everything Nobara mentioned about his feelings for you. “Of course not.” It was difficult to hold back your smile as it widened behind a deep blush that he wasn’t able to see over the phone. “And I miss you, too.”

You figured maybe this wasn’t the best time to tell him, but you might as well, since you didn’t wanna take the chance that some one else would do it first.

“Uh…” you sighed a tired sigh, one that he could tell had a little something extra behind it.

“What is it?” he asked his eyes leaving the bracelet as he waited for your reply...

.

.

.

<<< SET 6 | SET 7 - PART 2 >>>

@whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @milleriverr @everythingfits-here @ph4n-7om @chaxtic-euphxria @mafertl @fatiguedcow @vxnus101 @honey69b @wisteriaav @lystee hazeyeyes iyyshlymg shelov3sstars sollasollaahh animewhur ghostnotlovergirl lulubluu sacredyoongi sleeplrd aldebrana alter-bananant yuhhh7899 riverrrrrrrx luckyperfectionsandwich insecuregirlblog npx2 shyplaidalmondfriend kill-shoot milkyyboyy choupijk s0ulz4-20 xiscaprinz doomalot alonahh adastinks mjmjmhmhmh

@lavender-hvze @242422rc @kashiiwi mintiroo melaniemartinezloverr sakura-blxssxm neurydyta distractionforyourthoughts strangegirl7892:)

@jasmionerose @bfejp @chosolovers @asramin @destinyfleur @louanneeeeeeee @randomly12aqua @watermelon-19 @sketchy-business @spidergirlnr1 @sillyoverload @flwrbbyx @firebonbon @slutkoo @doomsday08 @scrumptiouscarrotcake @jayeke @minjizziee @stressedand-obsessed @imtheprintt @strvqtt @rowwyboi @i-think-i-have-a-fever @itsswageyamatobiyolo @ms-shoja mikko-mikko

Thanks for reading! ✨🥰✨

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖🎶

©cocomanga 2025 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

"I never said I don't have any big moves" - M. Fushiguro

You saw it in the news. First, the funeral of the former Zenin clan head, who died of old age. And then the killings. Half of the Zenin clan was wiped out. In the official news, it was called an attack between rivaling clans, and they said that the police didn't have any suspects yet.

The rumors you heard, though, clearly state two names: Maki Zenin and Megumi Fushiguro. Both are Zenins by blood but were never bound to the clan by honor. Blood traitors, who worked for another family. But that still doesn't change the fact that Megumi Fushiguro is the highest-ranking male Zenin now.

You don't know exactly why Megumi's father left the Zenins all those years ago, but what you know is that the Zenin clan has a bad reputation. While the other clans were interested in making business contracts and mostly kept the peace, the Zenins were the ones who were to blame for most of the violence that put this city into fear.

Until the Zenin Killings happened and the clan got a new leader.

And now he is walking into this bar, in his tailored black suit, with an aloof expression on his pretty face, and his cold, dark blue eyes glaring at everyone as if he hates nothing more than being here.

Before today, you knew him as the bodyguard of The Young Tiger, Sukuna's younger brother, who was sometimes sent here to attend meetings in the name of the Itadori clan. And Megumi Fushiguro was the silent shadow following Yuuji Itadori, tagging along behind him, blue eyes stern and attentive to their surroundings. Only sometimes risking a small smile or soft laugh when Yuuji said something to him.

Tonight, the man who walks into this bar is another person. This isn't Megumi Fushiguro, the loyal bodyguard who only exists to protect someone else with his life. This man in front of you is Megumi Zenin, the youngest Yakuza boss this city has had in years. He is now one of the most powerful men in this country. One of the most dangerous. And he is clearly not happy about being here.

He is towering over you, tall and intimidating, his fine black suit not able to hide how fit he is beneath it. His face is a clear giveaway that he has the Zenin genes. Beautiful, elegant features, framed by unruly black hair and dark blue eyes, which stare you down coldly.

The woman behind him steps forward, Maki Zenin, you realize, his cousin, or first cousin once removed, if you remember correctly, who also used to work for the Itadori clan, and now apparently functions as Megumi Zenin's bodyguard. She gives a curt nod,

"Megumi Zenin, for the meeting, please."

"I don't need you to state my business, Maki."