In Naruto, I Have an Affair with Mikoto and Kushina

"Souta… I have a family," she reminded him, though her voice wavered. "I can't just leave."

He didn't flinch. "Are you happy?"

Silence.

Mikoto opened her mouth, but no words came. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell him that her life was perfect, that she had everything she had ever wanted. But the truth was suffocating.

He always saw through her.

"I can't ask you to abandon them," he said softly. "I know that. But if there's a part of you that wants more—if there's a part of you that wants this—then tell me." His fingers brushed against her cheek. "Because I'll give you everything, Mikoto. No matter the cost."

Her heart twisted painfully.

She wanted him. She wanted this. But wanting wasn't enough.

Her fingers clutched at his cloak, torn between logic and desire. "Even if we tried… we'd be hunted," she whispered. "Fugaku would never let me go. He'd never let you go."

Souta smirked faintly, his thumb grazing over her lips. "Let him come."

Mikoto's eyes widened. "Souta—"

"I'm not afraid," he murmured. "I'd face anything for you."

Her throat tightened, her emotions threatening to spill over again. This was dangerous. Reckless. And yet, standing here in his arms, she wanted to believe in the impossible.

Her head rested against his chest. "I don't know what to do," she admitted.

Souta pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Then let me decide for you."

Mikoto barely had time to process his words before she felt his hands sliding down her back, firm yet gentle, anchoring her to him. She should have pulled away. She should have told him this was madness. But instead, she tilted her head slightly, exposing more of her neck.

Souta didn't hesitate. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin before his lips brushed against the nape of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine, her fingers instinctively gripping his cloak tighter. Then, she felt it—a sharp, deliberate nip at the sensitive skin just below her hairline.

Mikoto gasped softly, her body tensing before melting against him. The sensation sent a rush of warmth through her.

"Souta," she whispered, her voice barely steady.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed another kiss over the faint mark he had left, his hand tightening on her waist. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Even if the world says otherwise."

Mikoto closed her eyes, her breath shaky. "We can't…" she tried again, but her protest was weak, crumbling under the weight of her own desires.

Souta turned her gently, his fingers tilting her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned into hers, dark and unwavering. "Stop me then."

She parted her lips, the words forming in her mind—but nothing came out.

Souta's smirk was faint but knowing. "That's what I thought."

He pulled her in again, his forehead resting against hers. "We don't have to decide everything tonight," he murmured. "Just tell me one thing, Mikoto… do you want me to let you go?"

Her heart pounded. Her mind screamed yes.

But her hands, still clutching onto him, told the truth.

"…No," she finally breathed.

As the night stretched on, the quiet between them settled into something heavier, charged with everything left unsaid. Mikoto's fingers traced idly through Souta's hair, but her mind was anything but calm.

Then, without warning, Souta's hand shot up, gripping her wrist. His eyes flicked open, sharp and glinting with something unreadable.

"You're thinking too much," he muttered.

Mikoto blinked, startled. "Souta—"

Before she could finish, he smirked and, in one fluid motion, twisted his body, flipping onto his stomach—his face now buried against her stomach.

Mikoto tensed, heat rushing to her face. "What are you—?!"

"Shh," he mumbled against the fabric of her clothes, arms tightening around her waist. "You're comfortable."

"Souta, you—"

He pressed his face in deeper, his breath warm against her. "I might just fall asleep like this," he said lazily. "What would you do then, huh? Sit here all night?"

Mikoto's heart was pounding in her chest. "You—! Get off!"

But when she tried to push him away, he only held on tighter, like a stubborn child refusing to move. "Nope."

Mikoto clenched her jaw, ready to scold him properly, but then she felt it—the sharp, teasing nip at her stomach through the thin fabric.

Her entire body jolted. "Souta!"

He chuckled, his grip unwavering. "You're cute when you get flustered."

Mikoto shoved at his head, but it was weak—too weak. Because, deep down, a part of her didn't want him to move.

Souta, noticing her hesitation, finally lifted his head slightly, his chin resting against her lap as he looked up at her. "See?" he murmured. "You don't really want me to let go."

Mikoto swallowed hard, glaring at him even as her fingers trembled against his hair.

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