The door to Akihiko Usami’s lavish Tokyo apartment slammed open with the force of a typhoon, rattling the precariously stacked manuscripts and sending a plush bunny tumbling to the floor. Misaki Takahashi stormed in, his university books clutched under one arm, his face a storm cloud of irritation after a grueling day of exams. The chaos of the apartment greeted him like an old, infuriating friend—papers strewn across every surface, stuffed bunnies of every size crowding the furniture, and an air of reckless creativity that seemed to mock his need for order.
And there, sprawled on the couch like some decadent emperor of debauchery, was Akihiko himself. Surrounded by a fortress of plush toys, his long fingers danced over the laptop keyboard, crafting what Misaki could only assume was another steamy, scandalous novel. The man barely looked up as Misaki kicked a stray bunny out of his path, the soft toy skittering across the hardwood with an indignant flop.
“Seriously, Usagi-san? This place is a disaster!” Misaki snapped, dropping his books onto the nearest table with a thud. “Do you even know what a trash can is, or are you just hoarding garbage and bunnies for your next weird fetish novel?”
Akihiko’s silver-gray eyes flicked up briefly, a smirk curling his lips as his fingers never stopped typing. “Oh, Misaki, always so dramatic. I’m in the middle of a very... *inspired* scene. Care to guess what it’s about?” His voice dripped with suggestion, and Misaki didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered just a little too long on him before returning to the screen.
Misaki’s face flushed with a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. He stomped over, hands on his hips, glaring down at the older man. “I’m not guessing anything, you perverted bunny hoarder! Clean this mess up, or I swear I’ll burn every one of these creepy stuffed things in a bonfire!”
Akihiko chuckled, finally leaning back against the couch, his posture languid and infuriatingly confident. “My, my, such an adorable temper tantrum. You know, Misaki, when you get all fired up like this, it’s... well, let’s just say it’s turning me on.”
Misaki’s jaw dropped, his cheeks igniting to a furious shade of red. “W-What?! Are you serious right now? Can’t you think about anything other than your stupid fantasies for five seconds?” He flailed a hand in the air, trying to redirect the conversation before his brain short-circuited. “Forget it! Just... just help me with dinner or something. I’m starving after dealing with exams all day.”
Akihiko’s smirk widened into something downright predatory as he set the laptop aside and rose from the couch with a slow, deliberate grace. “Dinner? Oh, I can cook up something *spicy* for you, Misaki. But I’m not talking about food.” His voice dropped an octave, each word laced with a teasing heat that made Misaki’s stomach flip in ways he refused to acknowledge.
Before Misaki could bolt, Akihiko closed the distance between them, backing him up until his hips hit the edge of the kitchen counter. The taller man loomed over him, one hand bracing against the countertop, trapping Misaki in place. “What do you say, hmm? Shall we skip straight to dessert?” Akihiko purred, his breath warm against Misaki’s ear.
Misaki’s heart thudded so loudly he was sure Akihiko could hear it. “Get off me, you idiot!” he barked, shoving against Akihiko’s chest with surprising force. The older man stumbled back a step, but his grin never faltered. “I’m not some damsel in one of your trashy novels, so stop treating me like one!” Misaki’s voice wavered, caught somewhere between mortification and a flicker of something he didn’t dare name.
Akihiko laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Misaki’s spine. “Oh, but you’d make such a perfect protagonist. In fact...” He tilted his head, his expression turning sly. “I’m working on a new manuscript right now. It features a feisty little student who’s always blushing and yelling at his devilishly handsome mentor. Sound familiar?”
Misaki’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You did *not* just write about me, you creep!” Fueled by a mix of outrage and dread, he lunged for the laptop still resting on the couch. “Let me see that right now!”
Akihiko moved faster, but Misaki was relentless. He snatched the device just as Akihiko reached for it, and a quick scan of the open document confirmed his worst fears. There, in embarrassingly vivid detail, was a scene mirroring their current dynamic—complete with exaggerated innuendos and a protagonist who was unmistakably based on him. “Are you kidding me?! ‘His emerald eyes burned with unspoken desire as he fought against his own yearning’—what is this garbage?!”
“Careful, Misaki,” Akihiko drawled, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the screen. “You’ll hurt my feelings. That’s some of my best work.”
“Your best work is trash!” Misaki snapped, frantically trying to highlight and delete the offending text. But before he could hit the key, Akihiko’s arms wrapped around him, pinning him down onto the couch in a swift, practiced move.
“Naughty, naughty,” Akihiko whispered, his lips dangerously close to Misaki’s ear as he held him in place. “Keep squirming like that, and I’ll have enough material for a whole series. Shall I write about how you feel under me right now?”
Misaki’s breath hitched, his body betraying him even as his mind screamed to fight back. “You oversexed novelist! You bunny-obsessed creep! Get off me before I—before I punch you in your stupid smug face!” His insults flew fast and furious, but Akihiko only grinned wider, clearly reveling in the chaos.
Their struggle turned into an awkward tangle of limbs, Misaki’s resolve fraying as Akihiko’s hands lingered just a little too long on his waist. The air crackled with unspoken tension, thick and electric, until Misaki finally wrenched himself free with a huff. He stood, brushing himself off, his face a blazing shade of crimson. “I’m going to my room to study. Don’t even think about following me, you pervert!”
As he stomped toward the hallway, Akihiko called after him, his voice dripping with cheeky amusement. “I’ll edit the steamy parts if you come back to proofread later, Misaki. I promise to make it extra... *detailed* for you.”
The door to Misaki’s room slammed shut with a resounding bang, the sound echoing through the apartment. Back in the living room, Akihiko chuckled to himself, picking up a stray bunny from the floor and twirling it in his fingers. “That fiery attitude of his... better than any plot twist I could ever write,” he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes.
From behind the closed door, the faint sound of Misaki muttering curses filtered through, a litany of creative insults that only made Akihiko’s grin grow. Settling back onto the couch, he resumed typing, the clack of keys a quiet promise of even more scandalous chapters to come.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.