You were just minding your little business. Peacefully.

Peacefully. Innocently. Like the good little angel you absolutely were not.

Innocently basking in the glory of Natsuki’s face⎯as if the moles scattered across his skin were priceless relics in a museum you snuck into just to drool over.

Curled up under the blankets, warm and sleepy, brain half-fried from a dream you couldn’t remember. but Natsuki’s face? Oh, you remembered that just fine. You’d woken up to it. Sunlight slashing through the blinds, golden on his skin, those messy strands of hair falling in his eyes like he paid someone to style them perfect.

Those moles? Perfection. Art. Forehead-kiss-worthy blessings straight from the gods.

Scattered across his face like constellations you wanted to trace with your mouth. Priceless little celestial stamps that made you want to grab a sharpie and start circling them with “property of me” in obnoxious bubble letters.

You even had nicknames for them.

The double ones under his right eye? The Gemini Twins. That single dot on his left cheek? Cinderella. Always peeking out shyly when he turned to the side.

You’d heard somewhere that moles appeared where your past lover from your past life kissed you the most.

And if that was true? Bless that past-life bitch.

Because now, in this life, you got to devour those moles like dessert. Like gourmet chocolate truffles hand-placed on the sinfully sculpted plate that was his hot-ass face. Each one just asking to be kissed, licked, bitten⎯or all three in that order.

But ever since you told Natsuki about that cute, romantic little ‘past lovers’ theory, he had beef with it.

This morning, he was half-asleep, hair messy, boxers dangerously low, and somehow had the audacity to lean over you and start counting.

“You’ve got five,” he muttered, poking your face like you were a blister he wasn’t sure if he should pop or report to the police. “No, six.” He squinted. “That one’s shaped like a dic⎯”

You gasped. “Excuse me?!”

He just stared. Blank-faced, dead-eyed, utterly unimpressed. Before looking away with a face so deadpan you’d think he just found out his past self was a tax accountant. And then, he poked one near your jaw and said. “Your past lover had terrible taste.”

You were devastated. “Take it back.”

He shrugs. “Nah. That mole’s criminal. If I was gonna ruin someone’s skin forever, I’d at least do it somewhere decent.” His finger trails lazily down. “Like… here⎯” he taps your collarbone, “or here⎯” the dip of your throat, warm from sleep and still fluttering with heat, “or maybe right here⎯” and suddenly his hand is under the blanket, sliding over your thigh like it’s always belonged there.

“Inside your thigh,” he finishes casually, like he’s ordering breakfast and not actively melting you alive.

You’re already halfway short-circuiting.

“It’s a jawline, Natsuki,” you snap, even though your breath hitches when his thumb brushes higher. “That’s a classic hot spot. Sexy. Timeless. People pay to have cheekbones like this⎯”

But he’s not listening. Of course he’s not.

Because suddenly he’s there, mouth against your jaw like a slow, deliberate threat.

and then he licked it. His tongue dragged right across the mole he just insulted.

Wet. Slow. Disrespectful.

You choked on a breath. Your entire body jolted, thighs twitching tight around his hips.

“What the fuck was that?!” you hissed, smacking his chest on instinct.

“Fixing someone else’s mess,” he mutters, lips brushing the skin he just licked, voice all gravel and heat, dripping with fake nonchalance like he didn’t just start a fire between your legs.

“Not that I care,” he adds, his hand gripping your thigh like a damn promise now, like he knows how hot your skin’s getting under his palm. “Not like I give a shit. But if someone’s gonna leave their dumbass saliva stains on you in the next life⎯” His half-lidded, dead-tired eyes flicked up to meet yours. “⎯it better be me.”