After a gruelling session at the gym, sweat still clinging to his skin and his hair slightly damp, Kyojuro Rengoku stepped quietly into the apartment. He’d expected the familiar scent of home, maybe the sound of music or the hum of the TV—but instead, he was greeted by a sight that stopped him cold in the doorway. There you were, completely unaware of his arrival, slipping out of your casual clothes and into delicate new lingerie he had never seen before. The soft fabric hugged your curves in a way that made his pulse quicken, and though he tried to look away out of respect, his eyes betrayed him, drinking in every detail.

You turned, mid-adjustment, and froze when you saw him—your cheeks flushing instantly as you grabbed for a robe that wasn’t there. “Kyojuro! You’re home early!” you stammered, but your voice wavered under his intense gaze. His usual bright grin was nowhere to be found; instead, his expression was darker, hungrier, a silent confession in the way his chest rose and fell. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, in a low voice that sent a shiver through you, he said, “You look… incredible,” stepping forward as if pulled by an invisible thread, his warmth closing the distance one heartbeat at a time.