For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Her True Claim by Reinaytany
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Married Man, Sexual Tension, Modern AU, No Powers AU, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Out of the Red by Reinaytany
Trapped by her father's massive debt, Mayumi is barely surviving her life in a shady hostess club.
Everything changes the night Kento Nanami unexpectedly buys her freedom.
Now sharing his penthouse, their arrangement slowly ignites into a dangerous and undeniable attraction
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Slow Burn, Roommates to Lovers, Domestic Fluff & Angst, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Limitless Blue by Reinaytany
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the “Stubborn-chan” who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
Tags: Romance, Drama, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Bound by Desire by Reinaytany
Nana plays to win until Yuuji stops being a game. His loyalty breaks her control and his strength melts her guarded heart.
She loses her edge and he forces her to face love that can’t be planned, controlled, or escaped.
Tags: Romance, New Adult, Explicit Smut, Mutual Pining
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Thanks for dropping by!
I use this cover art to go along with my fanfics.
I'm not profiting from it at all, nor do I owe anyone anything.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Married Man, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 3: Lingering Eyes
The Glass Tower’s high-end gym on the 30th floor was quiet in the early morning hours, the kind of silence only truly expensive buildings could afford. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a soft dawn view of the city waking up.
It’s three days after the lounge dinner, and Yuria stepped inside wearing the workout outfit she could justify in public: a tight black sports bra that strained against her breasts. Below that, glossy black leggings hugged her like a second skin, molding perfectly to the wide flare of her hips and the enormous curve of her ass, the material shiny and slick under the gym lights.
Yuta Okkotsu was already there, moving through a disciplined routine of pull-ups and dumbbell presses. His lean-muscled frame glistened with a light sheen of sweat, black hair slightly tousled, dark-blue eyes focused. He wore a simple gray tank and shorts that showed off the defined lines of his arms and chest.
Yuria picked a machine near him, deliberately loading only the lightest weights. She made a show of struggling, pouting cutely as she tried to adjust the seat for the third time. Yuta noticed almost immediately. His kind nature kicked in the moment he saw her “helpless” expression.
“Need a hand?” he asked, voice calm and warm as he approached with that gentle smile. “First few sessions in a new gym can be tricky.”
Yuria looked up at him with big, doe-like hazel eyes and beamed. “Oh, yes please, Yuta-san~ I’d really appreciate it.”
He corrected her form with careful touches, his strong but gentle hands lightly guiding her waist and shoulders, fingers brushing hers as he helped adjust her grip on the handles. The contact was innocent on the surface, but Yuria felt it like electricity. His dark-blue eyes softened when he saw the hint of loneliness she was carefully projecting.
“Megumi’s working overtime again,” she murmured, voice low and a little sad. The words hung between them as the weights clinked softly. “He’s always so busy lately… I barely see him.”
Yuta stood just behind her right shoulder, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hands hovered near her elbows, gently correcting her posture without quite touching.
“That sounds tough,” he said quietly, genuine concern threading through his calm tone. “New apartment… it can feel lonely even when you’re not actually alone.”
Yuria bit her lower lip and nodded, letting the movement make her heavy breasts strain visibly against the tight sports bra. She released the bar slowly, turning her head just enough to look up at him with those big hazel eyes.
“I have a two-year Associate’s Degree in Hospitality and Tourism Management,” she continued, almost shyly, like she was confessing something embarrassing. “I used to dream about working at high-end hotels or helping manage luxury events… the kind of place where everything feels elegant and exciting. But working those normal nine-to-five hours just felt like settling, you know? Like I was boxing myself into something small when I wanted… more.”
She let the last word linger, soft and loaded.
Yuta’s dark-blue eyes softened. For a moment he didn’t answer, simply watching her face instead of correcting her form. His gaze flicked, almost against his will, down to the way sweat glistened along her collarbone and the deep valley between her breasts before he quickly looked back up.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting more,” he replied carefully, voice lower than before. “You shouldn’t have to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s schedule. Or anyone’s expectations.”
Yuta listened attentively, nodding with genuine understanding. “You need to do what makes you comfortable. There’s no need to force yourself into something that doesn’t feel right.”
Yuria’s heart fluttered. She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Yuta-san… your words are so kind. No one ever says things like that to me.”
He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “I work from home today, so I’m in no rush. I’ll stick around and make sure you’re comfortable with the machines.”
“You always know exactly what to say, Yuta-san…” she whispered, letting a small, grateful smile curve her lips. “It’s nice. Talking to someone who actually listens.”
Yuta cleared his throat and took a half-step back, putting polite space between them again. But his fingers flexed at his sides, and the muscle in his jaw tightened, like he was physically stopping himself from stepping right back into her warmth.
He gave her a small, gentle smile that didn’t quite hide the conflict in his eyes.
“Keep your shoulders down on the next set,” he said, changing the subject, though his voice had grown a touch rougher. “I’ll spot you.”
Wow, she thought, biting her lip as heat pooled low in her belly.
He’s even better than I imagined.
But her mind was already racing ahead, scheming.
Working from home… alone in that penthouse all day…
The innocent physical contact continued as he helped her through a few more exercises, his hands steady on her waist, their fingers brushing again and again.
Yuria felt the spark building between them. She bit her lower lip, thighs pressing together as warmth spread between her legs. Yuta, for his part, had to force himself to step back after the last set, jaw tight, clearly fighting the way his body was reacting to her closeness.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
Later that afternoon, Yuria decided it was time to escalate.
She changed into a soft sundress that clung to every curve of her body like it had been poured on. She wears no bra, just smooth, lotion-soft skin underneath that smelled faintly of vanilla and flowers.
She took the resident elevator up to the rooftop lounge level first, the same place they’d had dinner the night before. The indoor pool sparkled beside the open-air lounge, but she didn’t stop there. Instead, she “accidentally” wandered toward the far end of the rooftop terrace where a discreet, unmarked private staircase connected the lounge level directly to the penthouse landing above.
She had noticed it last night during dinner, clearly meant for penthouse access and maintenance, but the gate had been left slightly ajar by a staff member earlier that day. Yuria smiled to herself as she slipped through.
Perfect. If anyone asks, I was just exploring the building as a new resident and got a little lost…
She climbed the short flight of stairs, heart racing with excitement, and stepped onto the private penthouse landing. The door to Yuta’s unit was right there. She knocked softly, adjusting the sundress so it clung even more provocatively.
Yuta opened the door a moment later, fresh out of the shower. He wore only loose gray sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt that clung lightly to his still-damp, lean-muscled torso. His dark hair was tousled, dark-blue eyes widening slightly in surprise.
“Yuria? Is everything okay?”
She gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile.
“Hi, Yuta-san… I’m so sorry to bother you. I was trying to find the rooftop garden extension from the lounge and I must have taken the wrong stairs. I got completely turned around.” She held up a small empty measuring cup she’d brought as a prop. “I was going to borrow a cup of sugar for baking, but now I feel silly…”
Yuta hesitated only a second before his kindness won out. “It’s fine. Come in for a moment, I’ll get it for you.”
He let her inside.
Yuria’s breath caught as she stepped into the massive penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic breathtaking view of the city. Modern luxury furnishings filled the open space, sleek sofas, art pieces, a grand staircase leading up to a visible second-floor loft. Through the glass doors she could see a private outdoor pool and garden terrace that looked like something from a magazine. The entire place screamed refined success and quiet power.
“A real man deserves a place like this…” she murmured, voice soft and awed, eyes lingering on him.
She followed him into the sleek kitchen, stepping closer, much closer than necessary, until her breasts pressed firmly against his arm. This time she wasn’t even pretending to be subtle. She lingered there, looking up at him with big hazel eyes.
“Your home is incredible, Yuta-san. So warm and safe… I feel so much better just being here with you.”
The air grew thick with tension. Yuta’s body reacted instantly, his breath catching, muscles tightening, but his morals held firm. He gently created distance, stepping back with a polite smile. “I’m glad you like it. Let me get that sugar for you.”
Before she left, Yuria turned on the full charm. She clung lightly to his forearm, pressing her soft body against him one more time, voice vulnerable and sweet. “Just in case I need help again… could I have your number, Yuta-san? You’ve been so kind, and Megumi’s gone so much…”
Yuta hesitated. The conflict was clear on his face, he thought of Megumi, of their distant family connection, of Rika. But her pleading eyes and the way her fingers brushed his forearm made it impossible to refuse at that moment.
He gave her his number.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
Walking back down the private stairs and into the resident elevator, Yuria smirked to herself, lips curving with satisfaction.
Megumi is just temporary funding… good dick and a nice allowance. But Yuta? That’s a real man. Powerful, rich, kind, and that body… I want him. I’m going to have him.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
That evening, when Megumi finally came home from the firm looking stressed and exhausted, Yuria was ready to reward him, and to use him.
She greeted him at the door in nothing but a tiny silk robe that barely covered her ass. The moment the door closed she dropped to her knees in the living room, pulling his cock out and giving him a quick, sloppy blowjob, wet, eager, tongue swirling around the head until he was rock-hard.
Then she led him out onto the balcony. Megumi just follows her lead.
She bent over the wide glass railing, the city skyline stretching endlessly in front of them. Megumi gripped her big, soft ass hard, spreading her cheeks wide as he slammed into her soaked pussy from behind in one rough thrust.
“Ahh.. Megumi!” Yuria moaned loudly, pushing back greedily. Her breasts were smashed against the cool glass railing, sensitive nipples rubbing with every powerful stroke. The city lights twinkled below; anyone looking up from the lower floors might have caught glimpses of her heavy tits bouncing wildly.
Megumi fucked her hard, hips snapping, hands digging into the soft flesh of her ass. Yuria moaned louder than usual, voice breathy and desperate.
In her mind, it wasn’t Megumi.
It was Yuta, those strong, gentle hands on her hips, his dark-blue eyes turning hungry, his cock stretching her instead.
His hands… his cock… his kind voice turning rough with lust…
The fantasy made her wetter, tighter. She came hard, her pussy clenching around Megumi like a vice while she cried out, imagining Yuta filling her instead. Megumi groaned and buried himself deep, flooding her with thick, hot cum as he finished.
Afterward, Yuria turned and cuddled sweetly against his chest, kissing his jaw. But even as she whispered how much she loved to be with him, her thoughts were already upstairs.
I have Yuta’s number today… and tomorrow I’m going to get even closer.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
Later that night, in the quiet, empty penthouse, Yuta Okkotsu lay in bed unable to focus again.
He kept replaying the way Yuria’s breasts had pressed fully against his arm in the kitchen. He can feel she wears nothing underneath. The way the thin sundress had clung to her body. The needy look in her big hazel eyes when she’d asked for his number.
His cock twitched hard beneath the sheets.
A rare, unwelcome spark of possessive jealousy stirred in his chest.
She’s welcoming Megumi every night… he must be fucking her every day.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the framed photo of Rika on the nightstand.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the "Stubborn-chan" who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a chaotic pursuit of the “Stubborn-chan”.
But as his world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost.
Tags: Romance, Drama, Age Difference, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 2: The 5:00 PM Regular
Most people had routines. Riho’s routine was simple: wake up at 10:00 AM, drink bad instant coffee, arrive at Lune et Soleil by noon, bake until her arms felt like lead, and deal with customers until closing.
She liked the rhythm. It was predictable. It was safe.
Until him.
It had been exactly twenty-four hours since the "Strawberry Daifuku Incident," and Riho was currently piping crème pâtissière into choux buns with the focus of a surgeon. The clock on the wall clicked over to 5:00 PM.
Ding-dong.
Riho didn’t even need to look up. The shift in air pressure was enough. The shop, usually filled with the polite murmurs of Omotesando shoppers, suddenly felt… charged.
"Yo! Stubborn-chan!"
Riho squeezed the piping bag a little too hard, burying a choux bun in cream. She sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, and looked up.
There he was.
Satoru was leaning against the doorframe as if he owned the building. Today, the drenched hoodie was gone. In its place was a crisp white t-shirt that looked suspiciously high-quality, the kind that didn’t wrinkle and loose grey sweatpants. He still wore the round, pitch-black sunglasses.
"It’s Riho," she corrected, walking to the register. "Not Stubborn-chan."
"Riho," Satoru tested the name, rolling it around his mouth like a piece of candy. He grinned, strolling to the counter. "Cute. Fits you. A little sharp, a little sweet."
"Are you going to buy something, or are you just here to critique my name?" Riho asked, her hand hovering over the POS system.
"Both," Satoru said cheerfully. He pointed a long finger at the display case. "I’ll take three of those Mont Blancs. And that weird green tea tart. And… hmm. A black coffee. No sugar."
Riho blinked. "That’s a lot of sugar for one person."
"I have a high-stress life," Satoru said, drumming his fingers on the glass. "I need the glucose to keep my brain from overheating."
Riho raised an eyebrow. "High stress? You’re here at 5:00 PM on a Wednesday. Most people are still at work."
Satoru paused. He tilted his head, the sunglasses sliding down just enough for Riho to catch a glimpse of those unnerving blue eyes again. "Work is… flexible for me. I’m sort of a… consultant."
"A consultant," Riho repeated flatly. She scanned him up and down. Expensive shoes. Perfect hair. Hands that looked like they had never washed a dish in their life. "Let me guess. Your dad owns a company, and you ‘consult’ on how to spend the dividends?"
Satoru burst out laughing. It was loud and drew stares from the two other customers in the shop. "Something like that! You’re sharp, Riho-chan. I like that."
He wasn’t denied. He didn’t even look offended.
Riho rang him up. "That will be 3,800 yen."
He tapped the black card against the reader without looking. "Keep the change."
"It’s a card transaction, sir. There is no change."
"Then add a tip. Buy yourself something nice. Like a smile."
Riho glared at him. She handed him his tray. "Please take a seat. I’ll bring the coffee."
For the next hour, Satoru became a fixture in the corner of the shop. He didn't check a phone. He didn't open a laptop. He just sat there, legs stretched out, dismantling the Mont Blancs with surgical precision.
Riho tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. He had a presence that sucked the oxygen out of the room. Every time she looked up, he was watching her, a small smirk playing on his lips.
Finally, the evening rush died down. Riho walked over to clear his table. The plates were empty.
"Well?" she asked, unable to help herself. "How was the glucose?"
Satoru leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "The tart was excellent. The matcha is high grade. Uji, right?"
Riho nodded, surprised. "Yes."
"But the Mont Blanc," Satoru clicked his tongue. "The chestnut cream is too heavy. It overpowers the meringue base. You’re using too much butter in the puree. It kills the nuttiness."
Riho froze. She had been fighting with the head chef about that exact recipe for weeks. She thought the cream was too fatty, too.
"You… you have a surprisingly refined palate," Riho admitted, clutching the empty tray. "For a.."
"For a trust fund baby?" Satoru finished for her, grinning.
"I was going to say ‘nuisance,’" Riho corrected.
"Ouch. You wound me." Satoru stood up. He towered over her, casting a shadow across the table. "I’m not just a pretty face and a wallet, you know. I know quality when I taste it."
He leaned in close, invading her personal space again. Riho smelled expensive cologne, sandalwood and ozone.
"And you," Satoru whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "are very high quality, Riho-chan."
Riho felt heat rush to her cheeks. She took a step back. "I’m closing the register in ten minutes."
Satoru laughed, straightening up. "Message received. I’ll get out of your hair."
He walked to the door, waving backward without looking. "See you tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow?" Riho called out, dismayed.
"Obviously!" Satoru pushed the door open, the bell chiming cheerfully. "I have to come back until you fix that Mont Blanc cream. I can’t let you serve mediocrity. It’s bad for my soul."
The door swung shut behind him.
Riho stood alone in the shop, clutching the tray. She looked at the empty plate where the Mont Blanc had been.
"Who is that guy?" she whispered to herself.
Outside, a black sedan idled at the curb. Satoru slid into the back seat, his demeanor shifting instantly. The playful grin vanished, replaced by a cold, bored expression.
"To the office, sir?" Matsuda, his massive, stone-faced chauffeur, asked from the front seat, adjusting his aviator sunglasses. "The board has been waiting for forty minutes."
"Let them wait," Satoru murmured, pulling out his phone and glancing at the bakery’s illuminated window. "They’re boring. This… this is interesting."
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Married Man, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
Chapter 3: The Invader
The bass vibrating through the floorboards made her teeth ache.
Naoya [08:42 PM]: Change of plans. Bringing the guys over. Order that spicy tuna thing from the place in Roppongi.
He hadn't phrased it as a request. He simply issued a directive, ignoring that her Art History midterm was eleven hours away.
Just past nine o'clock on Thursday, October 16 night, the front door burst open. The quiet of Mayumi’s apartment shattered under a cacophony of laughter, clinking beer bottles, and the thud of sneakers against the hardwood.
"I'm telling you, if the market dips another two percent, my old man is going to liquidate the secondary portfolio," one of Naoya’s fraternity brothers announced, collapsing onto the white sofa. His Rolex was too big for his wrist.
Naoya walked in last, shedding his leather jacket. "Let him. It’s a write-off anyway. Mayumi!"
She stepped out of the bedroom, a highlighter still gripped in her hand. Naoya had made her change into a ribbed knit dress earlier that evening. It clung to her ruthlessly. She didn't hate the dress itself, but she despised knowing exactly why he wanted her in it. The living room was already a disaster. A sweating beer bottle sat directly on the untreated mahogany coffee table.
"Hey," Naoya said, not looking at her as he synced his phone to the sound system. An aggressive rap track flooded the room. "Did you order the food?"
"Delivery is twenty minutes out," she said, pitching her voice to cut through the music. "Naoya, I have a midterm at eight tomorrow."
"You'll be fine, you always get A's," he dismissed, dropping onto the sofa. "Grab some glasses for the guys, will you? We’re celebrating Kenji passing tort law."
Mayumi looked at the three men sprawled across her living room. They didn’t look at her like a host, or even a person. They looked at her the same way they looked at the expensive furniture, a high-end amenity provided courtesy of Naoya Zenin.
Dissociation settled over her like a familiar blanket. Her vision narrowed. She went to the kitchen. She pulled down three tumblers. She wiped up spilled beer. She smiled when Kenji made a crude joke about his professor. She nodded when Naoya complained about the delivery.
By 10:15 PM, the air in the apartment felt too thin to breathe. The music was a relentless pressure against her skull.
"I'm going to grab some ice," Mayumi murmured. No one was listening. Naoya was mashing the buttons on a PlayStation controller, shouting obscenities at the screen.
She didn't go to the kitchen. She walked straight to the front door, turned the deadbolt, and slipped into the hallway.
The door clicked shut, severing the noise. The sudden silence made her ears ring.
Mayumi took two unsteady steps toward the elevator before her legs buckled. She slid down the silk-papered wall until she was sitting on the cool floor, knees drawn tight to her chest. She buried her face in her arms.
She didn’t cry. Crying took energy she no longer had.
She simply focused on dragging air into her burning lungs, counting each frantic beat of her heart, trying to anchor herself to something, anything, that still felt like it belonged to her.
Clack.
The sound of a deadbolt turning directly across the hall made her flinch.
The door to Room 402 swung open. Kento Nanami stepped out, his expression tight with controlled irritation.
The bass had been leaking through the walls for nearly an hour now, faint at first, then insistent, vibrating through the concrete and into his living room despite the building’s solid insulation. He had tried to ignore it, burying himself deeper in his briefs, but when the volume spiked again and the laughter started bleeding through, he finally reached his limit. A quiet word with the neighbor was necessary. He wasn’t the type to bang on doors or shout, but he also wasn’t the type to endure unnecessary disruption in his own home.
He had already prepared a short, polite but firm sentence, something about reasonable hours and respect for other residents, when his gaze dropped to the floor.
Mayumi looked up, freezing.
He was no longer in his corporate armor. A navy cashmere sweater was pushed up to his elbows, revealing corded forearms, and he wore simple tailored lounge pants that somehow looked more imposing than any three-piece suit. The hallway light caught on the gold rims of his glasses.
The rehearsed reprimand died on his tongue instantly.
He saw her: barefoot, knees pulled tight to her chest, the oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder and doing nothing to hide the tight ribbed dress Naoya had made her wear. She looked small. Fragile. Like an expensive ornament someone had discarded in the hallway of her own building.
Nanami’s jaw unclenched. The irritation in his posture melted away, replaced by a quiet, assessing stillness. He didn’t need her to explain anything. The entire situation was painfully clear in one glance: the loud party in her apartment, the way she had escaped into the hallway, the way she was trying to make herself disappear against the wall.
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.
Mayumi braced herself, clearly expecting the pity she had seen two days ago, or perhaps a scolding.
But Nanami didn’t offer either.
“The hallway floor is cold,” he said, his voice low and even, cutting cleanly through the muffled bass still vibrating behind her.
Mayumi swallowed hard. Her arms instinctively tightened over her chest, suddenly hyper-aware of how much the knit dress clung to her body and how high the hem had ridden up her thighs.
“I’m sorry about the noise,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I can… I can just go downstairs and wait in the lobby.”
Nanami’s brow furrowed. A flash of clear distaste crossed his face at the idea of her sitting alone in the public lobby at 10:30 PM, half-dressed and exhausted.
“No,” he said simply.
He took one step backward into his apartment and pulled the door wider, leaving the entryway open. He stood to the side, hands sliding into his pockets, waiting.
It was an invitation.
Mayumi hesitated. The bass continued to thump against the wall behind her like a second, hostile heartbeat. She glanced at Nanami’s open door, warm lighting, pristine entryway, absolute order.
Slowly, she pushed herself up from the floor. The dress rode higher on her thighs as she stood. She tugged the hem down with shaking fingers, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
When she risked a glance at him, expecting his eyes to linger on her body the way Naoya’s friends had all evening, she faltered.
Nanami wasn’t looking at her legs. His gaze remained locked steadily on her face, calm, deliberate, respectful. He was giving her something Naoya and his circle had stripped away hours ago: basic dignity.
That quiet respect was what finally moved her.
She crossed the short distance and stepped over the threshold into Room 402.
Nanami closed the door behind her with a solid, final click. The lock engaged like a vault sealing shut. The pounding music from her apartment vanished completely.
He exhaled slowly, the irritation that had driven him into the hallway finally easing. This apartment wasn’t the most luxurious option in Tokyo, far from it. As a senior partner at a boutique firm handling high-stakes corporate finance and mergers, he has a quiet estate in Setagaya with a private garage. But he had chosen this building in Meguro years ago for the same reasons he still took the train and walked parts of his commute instead of keeping a car: efficiency, quiet, and minimal performance.
A larger place would only mean more space to maintain, more noise from neighbors who thought money bought the right to be loud, and more reminders of the shallow excess he dealt with every day at work. The morning trains gave him uninterrupted time to review briefs. The walks cleared his head. This apartment was sufficient, well-built, centrally located, and blessedly discreet. At least it had been, until the Zenin boy started treating the fourth floor like his personal fraternity lounge.
Nanami glanced at the young woman now standing awkwardly in his foyer. Mayumi. He had learned her name from the building directory after their first hallway encounter, though he hadn’t used it yet. She looked painfully out of place, barefoot, the tight ribbed dress clinging to her body. She was trying to make herself small, arms crossed tightly over her chest as if expecting to be appraised like an object.
He didn’t stare. He never did. That kind of gaze belonged to boys like the one currently blasting music across the hall.
“Take off your shoes,” he said, voice calm and even. “The couch is to your left.”
He offered no tour, no drink, no questions. He moved to a leather armchair beside the sofa, sat down, and picked up a stack of financial briefs as if this were the most ordinary evening in the world.
Mayumi slipped off her shoes and sank into the cool leather couch. She pulled her knees up, though it did little to hide how tightly the fabric clung to her. She caught Nanami’s gaze flick toward her for the briefest second before he adjusted his glasses and returned to his papers.
That same thrilling spark from the bakery returned to her chest. She made herself as small as possible on the cushions, but part of her suddenly realized she didn't actually want to hide from him.
For the first time in months, Mayumi unclenched her jaw. The knot of anxiety in her stomach began to loosen, unraveling thread by thread in the quiet cadence of Nanami turning pages.
No shouting.
No demands.
No performance.
“It’s… really quiet in here,” she whispered.
Nanami hummed softly in acknowledgment, not looking up. “It usually is.”
Mayumi closed her eyes and let the faint scent of sandalwood and clean cotton settle over her like a blanket. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe.
She didn’t have to be anything here, not beautiful, not accommodating, not entertaining.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Married Man, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 2: A Married Man’s Smile
The afternoon sun poured through the windows of their new apartment, turning the living room into a golden haze.
Yuria Takahashi had spent the morning bossing around the team of movers Megumi had paid for, her voice sweet and pouty as she pointed at exactly where each box and piece of furniture needed to go. Now that they were finally gone, she decided it was time to play the perfect little housewife for the rest of the day.
She’d slipped into something that was barely “cooking attire”: a tiny baby-blue tank top that clung to her heavy breasts and tight brown short-shorts that rode high on her wide hips. Over it all she’d tied a crisp white apron. The shorts were so snug they hugged every curve, the fabric already starting to wedge between her soft cheeks.
Megumi sat on the new leather couch in the living room, laptop open on his lap, working from home like he sometimes did. He barely looked up as Yuria bent over to check the pasta sauce bubbling on the stove, the tight brown shorts riding higher and exposing the full, round underside of her huge ass.
“Mmm, smells good, doesn’t it, baby?” she called over her shoulder, voice bubbly and sweet. She stirred the pasta with slow circles, making sure to arch her back just a little extra so her ass jiggled.
Megumi grunted in agreement, eyes still on his screen. “Yeah. Thanks for handling the movers.”
Yuria smiled to herself, then turned slightly, letting the apron strings brush her thighs. “Hey… that guy from yesterday, Yuta-san, right? The one who helped with the box in the hall. He seems really nice. What’s his deal?”
Megumi finally glanced up, smirking a little. “Yuta-san? He’s the Managing Partner at this big investment firm he co-owns with his friend Miguel. He started from basically nothing and now it’s one of the most respected boutique firms in Tokyo. Smart, calm, always fair. Guy’s basically untouchable. Our families are distantly related, so I’ve known him since I was a kid. Real stand-up type.”
Yuria’s big hazel eyes sparkled with open interest.
Powerful. Rich. Kind. And married.
The thought sent a warm little thrill. She bit her plump lower lip, already imagining what it would feel like to have a man like that completely wrapped around her finger, someone who wouldn’t just pay the bills but actually see her.
Megumi kept talking without noticing her expression. “Oh, and he invited us to a dinner tonight on the rooftop lounge. Said it’d be a nice welcome to the building. It’s right above us, just below his penthouse.”
Yuria’s heart skipped. “Tonight? Perfect.” She turned back to the stove, hiding the hungry little smile spreading across her face.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
The rooftop of the Glass Tower was everything Yuria had dreamed a luxury high-rise should be, a sophisticated lounge seamlessly connected to a stunning indoor rooftop pool just beside it. Soft ambient lighting glowed along the edges of sleek outdoor sofas and low tables, while the pool’s heated turquoise water shimmered invitingly under delicate underwater lights, gentle steam rising into the night air.
Several open-air sections with no glass barriers allowed the cool evening breeze to flow freely, offering completely unobstructed, breathtaking panoramic views of Tokyo’s glittering skyline. The entire level sat directly above their residential floor and just beneath Yuta’s private penthouse, making the space feel incredibly exclusive, intimate, and tantalizingly close to the very top.
Yuria had chosen her outfit carefully: a tight royal-blue dress that hugged her hourglass body. The neckline plunged dangerously low, the supple of her breasts threatening to spill out with every step. The hem stopped high on her thick thighs, and the fabric clung to the wide flare of her hips and her ass like it had been painted on.
Megumi walked beside her in a casual navy button-down and black pants, one hand resting possessively on the small of her back. Yuta was already waiting for them near the railing, wearing a light-blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The casual look revealed strong, toned forearms and just a hint of the lean-muscled chest beneath. His dark-blue eyes lit up with genuine warmth the moment he saw them.
“Welcome to the building,” Yuta said, voice deep and calm, that gentle smile reaching his eyes. “I thought a relaxed dinner up here would be nicer than a stuffy restaurant.”
He was the perfect host, attentive, asking thoughtful questions about how the move had gone, how Megumi’s work at the law firm was treating him, even remembering the exact box Yuria had been struggling with yesterday. He subtly noticed how clingy she was with Megumi, constantly touching his arm, pressing her soft body against his side, but said nothing, ever the gentleman.
Megumi, lounging back comfortably, mentioned offhandedly, “We are a distant family so we go way back, so this feels kinda like old times.”
When the conversation drifted to Yuta’s own life, he kept his tone light.
“I met my wife through my Aunt Sayaka, she just wanted me settled. But Rika’s traveling for work again… she’s been quite busy lately.” There was the faintest hesitation in his voice, a tiny crack in the calm façade that only someone paying very close attention would catch.
Yuria caught it. Her thighs pressed together under the table.
The night went on like that, easy laughter, excellent wine, breathtaking views. Yuta’s kind energy filled the space in a way Megumi never quite did. Megumi provided luxury and rough sex. Yuta… Yuta felt like secure.
They were seated at an intimate outdoor table with Yuta on one side and Yuria right beside him, while Megumi sat across from her. Halfway through the main course, Megumi grew distracted, busily texting someone from work on his phone.
Yuria saw her chance. She “accidentally” let her napkin slip from her lap and fall to the floor right beside Yuta’s chair.
“Oh no,” she murmured innocently, standing up and bending over slowly, right next to him. The tight blue dress stretched across her breasts, the deep cleavage on full display, soft, heavy, and impossibly supple. The hem rode up in the back, giving him a clear view of the lower curve of her big, round ass. She lingered there for two full heartbeats, long enough for the warm scent of her vanilla-floral lotion to reach him.
Yuta’s gentle dark-blue eyes flickered. Heat flashed across his gaze for the briefest second before he forced himself to look away, jaw tightening. His hand gripped his wine glass a little harder.
Yuria straightened with a sweet, apologetic smile, catching that flash of conflict.
Got you.
A few minutes later, they all stood by the railing. But Megumi excused himself to take an important work call, stepping away toward the far end of the lounge. Yuria didn’t waste a second. She move gracefully and drifted over to where Yuta stood by the railing, the city lights sparkling far below.
She stepped close, closer than necessary, until the soft swell of her breasts brushed lightly against his arm.
“You’re so nice, Yuta-san…” she said softly, voice sweet and just a little vulnerable. “Megumi works so much. It gets lonely sometimes in that big apartment.”
Yuta’s empathetic nature kicked in immediately. He turned toward her, listening with real concern.
“New places take time to feel like home,” he replied gently. “If you ever need anything, just let me know.”
But he carefully shifted a half-step to the side, creating a polite sliver of distance so his body no longer pressed against the warmth of her chest. His dark-blue eyes were warm, kind… and guarded. Still, the air between them crackled with something electric and unspoken.
Yuria smiled up at him, lashes fluttering. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind them, Yuria’s sweetness turned hungry.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room, not even bothering to turn on more lights. The glittering city skyline stretched out behind her through the glass as she yanked Megumi’s belt open and freed his cock.
“Mmm.. ” She took him deep into her throat in one smooth, eager motion, sloppy, wet, enthusiastic. Her full lips stretched wide around him while her massive breasts pressed warmly against his thighs. She looked up at him with lust-filled hazel eyes, bobbing her head with filthy enthusiasm.
Between long, messy strokes she moaned around his thick length, the words vibrating against him: “Mmm… powerful men like Yuta turn me on so much… the way he looks at me… fuck, it makes me so wet…”
Megumi didn’t catch a single word. He just groaned, threading his fingers through her long black hair and fucking her face harder, hips snapping forward. The wet, gagging sounds of her eager deepthroating filled the apartment.
After a few minutes he pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the floor-to-ceiling window. Yuria braced her hands on the cool glass, arching her back and pushing her huge ass toward him. Megumi slammed into her soaked pussy in one rough thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
“Ahh.. yes!” she cried out, her breasts smashing against the glass, nipples hard and sensitive as they dragged with every powerful stroke. Her fat ass rippled and clapped loudly against his hips while he pounded her hard from behind. The city lights twinkled beneath them like they were fucking on top of the world.
In her mind, somehow it wasn’t Megumi’s hands gripping her hips. It was Yuta’s, stronger, gentler, more controlled. Those dark-blue eyes watching her instead of Megumi’s sharp ones. She pushed back greedily, moaning louder, lost in the fantasy.
Megumi fucked her faster, deeper, until he buried himself to the hilt with a low grunt and came hard, flooding her pussy with hot spurts. Yuria clenched around him tightly, milking every drop, a small orgasm rippling through her as she imagined Yuta filling her instead.
He stayed inside her for a moment, catching his breath, then gave her ass a satisfied slap. “I love doing you raw,” he murmured, voice rough with pleasure. “You’re so fucking sexy. Don’t forget to take your pill.”
Yuria smiled sweetly over her shoulder, still clenching around his softening cock. “I won’t, baby. Promise.” But even as she said it, her mind was already drifting upward, past the ceiling, past the rooftop lounge, straight to the penthouse above them.
One day I’m going to see what it looks like inside… and I’m going to make him lose every ounce of that perfect self-control.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
Later that night, in the silent, empty penthouse, Yuta Okkotsu lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw the same things: the way Yuria’s tight blue dress had stretched across her supple breasts when she bent over. The warm press of them against his arm on the railing. The hungry look in those big hazel eyes when she’d stepped close and whispered how lonely she got.
His cock twitched hard beneath the sheets despite himself.
Guilt crashed over him like cold water. He turned his head and looked at the framed photo of Rika on the nightstand, her elegant smile, the woman he’d married because his aunt had wanted him settled, the woman who was currently somewhere across the ocean on another business trip.
This is wrong, he thought, jaw tight. She’s my neighbor. And she’s Megumi’s… whatever she is.
But the first real spark of guilty attraction had already taken root, burning low and dangerous in his chest.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the "Stubborn-chan" who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
Chapter 2: The Silent Morning
The vibration of her phone against the nightstand sounded like a drill in the quiet bedroom.
Mayumi didn't open her eyes immediately. She pulled the duvet to her chin, bracing against the air conditioning. When she finally rolled over and tapped the screen, the blue light illuminated her face.
A second later, a text message populated on the lock screen.
Mother [07:15 AM]: Deposit cleared. Buy a new dress for the Zenin dinner next week. Something tight. Look expensive. Don't embarrass me, Mayumi.
There was no Good morning. No How are your classes going? Just a digital receipt confirming that her lease for the month had been renewed.
Mayumi stared at the zeros until they blurred. She locked the phone and let it drop onto the mattress.
Mr. Tanaka wasn't her father. He was her mother's current "benefactor", a mid-fifties real estate developer with enough money to treat Reiko like a trophy and Mayumi like a necessary investment. Reiko had made it very clear from the beginning: Tanaka paid for the upscale apartment in Meguro and Mayumi's private university tuition because it kept her daughter "presentable." A well-dressed, well-educated daughter made Reiko look like a refined mother rather than a woman chasing older men for security. It was all part of the performance. Appearances mattered. Especially when your daughter was dating a Zenin.
The Zenins were old money wrapped in new arrogance, a family whose name still opened doors in certain circles, even if their influence had shifted from cursed techniques to corporate boardrooms and political connections in this world. Naoya, the spoiled youngest son, carried that entitlement like cologne. Dating him had been Reiko's idea of a strategic win. "Lock him down," she'd said more than once. "The Zenins don't marry for love, but they marry for legacy. Make yourself indispensable."
Mayumi had never felt more like a bargaining chip.
The apartment was silent. Naoya had left his empty San Pellegrino bottles on the coffee table and a wet towel slung over the bathroom door, but his absence left the space feeling like a museum after hours. Cold. Staged. Empty.
She needed to hear another human voice. Not someone asking for a favor, not someone telling her what to wear. Just ambient noise.
Fifteen minutes later, Mayumi walked down the street in Meguro. She had thrown an oversized sweater over her leggings, burying her hands in the pockets. The morning air was crisp, but the shivering wasn’t from the temperature. It was a tremor of exhaustion. The knit of the sweater was a relief, swallowing the curves Naoya usually demanded be on display.
The bell above the door of the bakery chimed, washing her in the scent of roasted espresso and browned butter.
She stood near the back of the line, staring blindly at the display case. Her mind felt unmoored, floating somewhere near the ceiling. She barely registered the queue moving forward.
"Next, please?" the barista called.
Mayumi blinked, realizing she was at the register. "Just a drip coffee, please."
"Are you sure? We just pulled the pain au chocolat from the oven."
Mayumi looked at the pastries. Eating felt like a chore she didn't have the energy for. "Just the coffee. Thank you." She reached into her bag, fumbling for her wallet. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped a receipt onto the floor.
Before she could bend down to retrieve it, a charcoal-suited arm reached past her.
A matte-black Amex was set firmly on the counter.
"Put her coffee on this," a resonant voice instructed. "And add the pain au chocolat. The warm one."
Mayumi’s breath hitched. She turned her head.
Kento Nanami stood beside her. He was the picture of corporate armor: a three-piece suit, a precisely knotted silk tie, and gold-rimmed glasses. He smelled of sandalwood and the crisp pages of a new book.
He didn't look at her immediately. He kept his eyes on the barista, his posture projecting an authority that made the teenager scramble to process the transaction.
"You don't have to do that," Mayumi stammered, her voice raspy. "I have my card."
Nanami finally turned to look at her. He analyzed her with the same sharp clarity from the hallway last night. He took in her trembling hands, the dark circles under her eyes, and the way she seemed to be collapsing inward.
He didn't offer an empty smile. He didn't ask if she was okay, the answer was obvious.
Instead, he took the paper bag from the barista and turned back to her. He held it out, his hand steady.
"You look like you haven't eaten a real meal in days," Nanami said, his tone devoid of pity, replaced by quiet instruction. "Start with this."
Mayumi reached out, her fingers brushing the warm paper. As she shifted, the collar of her sweater slipped, exposing the slope of her collarbone. Nanami’s eyes didn’t linger, but she felt the sudden weight of his awareness. A new spark of heat flickered in her chest, a quiet realization of how she affected him.
"Thank you," she whispered, her throat tight.
Nanami gave a brief nod. He took his espresso from the counter, adjusted his briefcase, and walked out of the bakery without another word, checking his watch as he merged into the morning traffic.
Mayumi stood by the register, clutching the bag to her chest. It was a five-hundred-yen pastry. It was nothing compared to the diamond earrings Naoya bought her, or the half-million yen her mother had wired her that morning.
But as she took a bite of the warm chocolate, a tear spilled over her lashes.
It was the first time someone had given her something without expecting a single thing in return.
The warmth of the chocolate hadn't faded by the time Mayumi reached the concrete steps of the humanities building.
"Mayumi!"
Satsuki bounded down the steps, her canvas tote slipping off one shoulder. She looked vibrant, hair pulled into a messy bun, holding a dented travel mug. She was the picture of normal college life, a universe Mayumi felt exiled from.
"Tell me you memorized the Baroque slides," Satsuki gasped, falling into step beside her. "I fell asleep at 2:00 AM reading about chiaroscuro and woke up with ink on my face. I'm going to fail."
Mayumi wiped a lingering trace of moisture from beneath her eyes, fixing her pleasant, vacant smile into place. "You're not going to fail, Satsu. The professor curves the midterm."
Satsuki let out a dramatic sigh before her eyes dropped to the bakery bag clutched in Mayumi’s hands. "Wait, you actually ate breakfast? Usually, Naoya just drags you to that terrible juice bar. Did he finally do something sweet?"
Mayumi’s fingers tightened around the warm paper. The phantom scent of sandalwood and ironed cotton suddenly felt like a protective secret in the crowded hallway.
"No," Mayumi murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor tiles. "Someone else bought it for me."
#ʚଓ Limitless Blue by Reinaytany
.#Ი⑅𐑼 Out Of The Red by Reinaytany
#❀ Her True Claim by Reinaytany
.#⚝ Bespoke Devotion by Reinaytany
#-`♡´- Bound by Desire by Reinaytany
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a chaotic pursuit of the “Stubborn-chan”.
But as his world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost.
Tags: Romance, Drama, Age Difference, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 1: The Last Strawberry Daifuku
The rain in Omotesando didn’t just fall, it assaulted the pavement. It was a torrential, relentless downpour that turned the neon lights of Tokyo’s most fashionable district into blurred streaks of watercolor on the asphalt.
Inside Lune et Soleil, the high-end patisserie where Riho Minami spent fifty hours of her week, the world was quiet, smelling of vanilla beans and caramelized sugar.
"Finally," Riho sighed, wiping her hands on her apron.
She looked at the display case. It was empty, save for one solitary, perfect white sphere resting on a gold cardboard tray.
The Premium Strawberry Daifuku.
It wasn’t just a sweet. It was a structural marvel of soft mochi, red bean paste, and a whole Amaou strawberry, topped with a whisper of fresh cream. It cost 1,200 yen, a ridiculous price for a ball of dough, but to Riho, it was the holy grail. She had spent the last eight hours dealing with entitlement, spills, and a broken espresso machine. This daifuku was the only thing standing between her and a mental breakdown.
She reached into the case, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.
Ding-dong.
The electronic chime of the automatic door shattered the peace. A gust of wet, cold wind swept into the warm shop.
Riho froze, her hand hovering over the daifuku. She plastered on her customer service smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
"I’m so sorry, sir, but we are closed for the.."
"Just made it!"
The voice was cheerful. Too cheerful for a Tuesday night in a typhoon.
The man standing in the doorway was… a lot. That was the only way Riho could describe him. He was absurdly tall, easily over 190 centimeters, looming in the entryway like a soaked skyscraper. He wore an oversized black hoodie that looked expensive despite being drenched, and wet black jeans that clung to long legs.
He shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying onto her freshly mopped floor. "Man, it’s coming down out there. You’d think the sky was crying over a breakup."
He strode to the counter, invading the space with a casual confidence that made the small shop feel suddenly cramped. He leaned over the glass, grinning.
"You’re still open, right? The sign still says ‘Open.’ I checked."
Riho’s eye twitched. She had forgotten to flip the sign. "Technically, yes. But we have sold out of almost everything, sir. The ovens are off."
" almost?" The stranger tilted his head. Even through the black lenses, Riho felt like she was being scanned. "I see one survivor right there."
He pointed a long, slender finger directly at the Strawberry Daifuku.
Riho’s heart dropped. "Ah."
"One Premium Strawberry Daifuku, please," he said, tapping his fingers on the glass. "I ran all the way from the station for that. Literally. I think I ruined my shoes."
Riho looked at the daifuku. Then she looked at the man. Then back at the daifuku.
"I’m terribly sorry," Riho said, her voice steady but firm. "That item is actually… reserved."
"Reserved?" The man raised an eyebrow. It appeared above the rim of his glasses, white-blond and perfectly shaped. "By whom? I don't see anyone else here."
"By… staff," Riho lied. "It’s a quality control sample."
"Quality control?" He laughed. It was a bright, magnetic sound. "Come on. You were going to eat it, weren't you?"
Riho bristled. "Sir, we are closing. Please..
"I’ll pay double," he interrupted.
Riho blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Double. 2,400 yen. For the mochi." He reached into his wet hoodie pocket and pulled out a sleek, black leather wallet.
"It’s not about the money," Riho said, crossing her arms. "I’ve been on my feet since noon. I haven't eaten dinner. That daifuku is my dinner."
"Triple," he countered instantly. "3,600 yen. That’s enough to buy a strictly better dinner than a rice cake."
"No."
"Five thousand."
"Sir!" Riho snapped, losing her customer service veneer. "You can’t just throw numbers at me! This isn't an auction!"
The man paused. He seemed genuinely surprised. He slid the sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, peering over the top of them.
Riho’s breath hitched.
His eyes were… unreal. A crystalline, electric blue that seemed to glow in the dim shop lights. They were vibrant, bordered by long white lashes. They were the kind of eyes that stopped traffic. The kind of eyes that belonged on a billboard, not on a soaking wet weirdo in a bakery.
He stared at her, blinking those impossible eyes. "You’re saying no to five thousand yen? For a sweet?"
"I’m saying no to you," Riho said, clutching her apron. "Money can’t buy my happiness, sir. And right now, happiness is inside that box."
The man stared at her for a long second. The silence stretched, heavy with the sound of rain drumming against the glass. Riho braced herself for a tantrum. She knew the type, rich, spoiled, used to getting whatever they wanted.
Then, the man laughed.
It wasn't a mocking laugh. He threw his head back and cackled, a sound of pure delight.
"Happiness in a box, huh?" He chuckled, pushing his glasses back up. "You’re funny. You look like a gust of wind could knock you over, but you’re stubborn."
He slipped a card out of his wallet, a heavy, matte black card that Riho recognized as one of those invite-only credit cards for people who owned islands. He placed it on the counter.
"Alright. I accept defeat. I won't take your happiness."
Riho let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Thank you."
"Give me a plain croissant then. And a coffee. Black. To go."
Riho stared at him. "We… we have yesterday’s croissants in the back. I was going to throw them out."
"Perfect. I love vintage pastries."
Riho quickly packed a croissant and poured a coffee from the lingering pot, her hands moving efficiently. She rang him up. He tapped the black card without looking at the total.
He took the bag and the coffee cup, the heat radiating off him. He turned to the door, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
"I’m Satoru, by the way."
Riho blinked. "Okay."
"You didn’t give me your name," he noted.
"I’m not required to," Riho said, moving to finally flip the sign to Closed.
"Cold!" Satoru grinned, his white teeth flashing. "Well, enjoy your happiness, Stubborn-chan. But I’m warning you, I don’t give up easily."
"It’s just a daifuku," Riho muttered.
"Is it?" Satoru pushed the door open, the wind howling again. "We’ll see about that."
He stepped out into the storm, not bothering to put up a hood or an umbrella, disappearing into the blur of Omotesando as quickly as he had appeared.
Riho locked the door and slumped against it. The shop was quiet again.
She walked back to the counter and looked at the Strawberry Daifuku. She boxed it up, sat on a stool in the back room, and took a bite. It was sweet, soft, and perfect.
But for some reason, all she could think about was the electric blue of that stranger’s eyes.
