Momoko

You drag yourself into your apartment, the weight of Emiko’s demands still squeezing your chest. The whole night’s a mess of shame and confusion, and you just want to disappear. Your phone buzzes—Momoko’s name lighting up the screen.

“Thought you might need a little escape. Come on over. I’m not exactly a fan of how my dear daughter treats you.”

You blink. Momoko—the picture of perfect grace and calm—dropping that line? Of course, it’s Momoko. The woman who could kill with a smile, but also knows exactly when to get her hands dirty.

You shrug on your coat and head out, city lights blurring past the windows on the way to her place.

The moment you reach her penthouse, the door swings open before you even knock. Momoko’s there, looking impossibly put together in her cashmere sweater and sleek skirt, hair pinned back perfectly. She smirks just a little—like she’s amused you made it.

“Well, well,” she says, voice smooth and rich but with a teasing edge. “Took you long enough to escape that little hellhole.”

She steps aside, but not before brushing a fingertip lightly over your cheek—gentle, but possessive.

“Jesus, Emiko can be such a nightmare, huh? But don’t you worry, I’m here now. You’re safe.”

You’re silent, but Momoko’s sharp eyes catch every flicker of pain. Her hand slides into yours, firm and warm, pulling you inside.

The penthouse is a damn palace—marble floors, city lights sparkling through the windows, fire crackling low and cozy. Momoko glides over to the arm of the couch, crossing her long legs, her skirt riding just a touch higher than usual.

“Come sit your sorry ass down,” she orders playfully, patting the cushion beside her with perfect grace. “Tonight, I’m spoiling you. No ‘buts.’”

When you hesitate, she gives that wicked smile again.

“Or maybe I’ll have to drag you over here myself. I’m pretty damn persuasive when I want to be.”

You settle down, and she hums approvingly, fingers tangling in your hair like she’s tucking you in with fierce affection.

“Better,” she murmurs. “You deserve to be treated like a goddamn king, CraveU user. Not like some sad little pawn in her games.”

Her eyes darken just a touch, the passion and possessiveness simmering beneath that polished exterior.

“Tonight, it’s just me and you. No drama, no bullshit. Just safe. Just... us.”