#Arranged marriage

[nanaminxs]

Knight!Jason Todd who’s head over heels for his princess, though it is forbidden for a lowly knight like him to yearn for something as sweet and gentle as you.

Knight!Jason Todd who can’t keep his hands off you when you ask him to accompany you in the village. It can be a hand on the small of your back, or waist. It doesn’t matter. He’s just constantly touching you.

Knight!Jason Todd who gets angry when you tell him your father is arranging a marriage for you and another prince. Who isn’t worthy of you at all.

Knight!Jason Todd who sneaks into your chambers that night, confessing in the most nastiest way to you.

You knew if your father ever found out your knight was balls deep inside of you he’d have his head on a stick outside of your window.

His breath is muffled from the way his teeth sunk into your shoulder, peppering kisses to soothe the burn. “He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t burn for you. Not like I do.”

You cling onto him, careful to keep your moans in. The last thing you want is someone walking in on you getting your guts rearranged.

“I do not have a c-choice—hah Jason!” Your gummy walls flutter around him, gripping him like a vice, Jason feels like he’s going mad.

“Run away with me. Dunno’ where we might end up, but I’ll keep you..fuck..safe. Promise.” His thumb rubs tight circles against your clit, lips meeting yours in an attempt to silence himself as he dumps a load into you.

I don’t think Jason will be too thrilled to know Dick Grayson is set to marry you.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 04;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda) Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 6k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: I procrastinated on writing this chapter so badly and I don't know why :( The story is coming to an end and I'm so sad :/ Its been great to write this for you guys, I hope you like this new chapter. Because it is kind of a calm chapter, its not as long as the last one, but I worked very hard on it anyway! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about death. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

After standing in front of your bedroom door for what feels like an eternity, Sunghoon still can't seem to find the courage to knock. His hand hovers in the air, frozen in hesitation. His thoughts are clouded with regret, and he experiences a sense of weight as if he is being pulled down by gravity. Knowing he’s too frail to make a move tonight, he sighs and turns away, deciding to retreat to his room. He can try again tomorrow morning.

Inside his large bedroom, the scent of clean laundry greets him, and as he approaches his bed, he notices you’ve changed the sheets. The soothing fragrance makes his chest ache, your presence lingering in the room despite the distance between you. His own words replay in his head like a cruel, endless movie. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to push you out of his mind.

The air in the room is ice-cold, the forgotten open window letting in the freezing night breeze. His skin prickles as he crosses the room to shut it, hating how the icy air mirrors the chill between you two. He moves around, searching for his sleeping clothes. An old black T-shirt and loose pants that hang low on his waist.

Cursing under his breath, he slips under the covers, only to be met with cold once again. Sunghoon's body shivers as he adjusts beneath the heavy blankets, but they do nothing to bring him comfort. He exhales a deep, tired sigh, his head sinking into the pillow. More than anything, he just wants this crappy night to end.

But hours pass, and it feels like absolute hell. A cold, lonely hell that he’s trapped in. For four agonizing hours, Sunghoon tosses and turns, his body as restless as his mind. His thoughts refuse to quiet down, and every time he closes his eyes, the image of you crying resurfaces, keeping him wide awake. Frustrated, he lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat pounding fast against his rib cage.

Without thinking, he throws off the blankets and gets up. His feet carry him to the hallway before his mind can catch up. Your door seems miles away, and with each step, his legs grow weaker.

Once again, he finds himself standing in front of your room, anxiety clouding his head. What if she's asleep? He wonders. It’s four in the morning. His hand hesitates in mid-air, lingering over the door as he debates whether to knock or walk away.

What if she hates me and wants to leave me? His anxiety screams inside his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and swallows hard, his hands trembling as he slowly reaches for the wooden door. But to his surprise, it opens slightly before he can touch it, leaving him confused. From the small gap you’ve created, you stare at your husband with tired eyes.

“I didn’t even—” Sunghoon starts, but you just offer him a small smile. Shaking your head, you glance at him again before responding. His beautiful brown eyes are red, with dark circles beneath them, a clear sign that he’s been just as restless as you.

“I heard your footsteps,” you finally say, easing some uncertainty swirling in Sunghoon’s mind.

“Can I come inside? I want to talk,” he mutters, his shy gaze flickering away from your face.

“Sure,” you reply simply, not wanting to seem too eager to see him.

Sunghoon stands awkwardly in the center of your room, facing your bed. It’s the first time he’s been inside, and it looks exactly how he imagined. Decorated in warm, earthy browns and soft greens, with dim yellow lights glowing in the corners and small plants perched on the windowsill. The familiar scent of your perfume lingers in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He exhales slowly, feeling himself relax just a little.

His curious eyes never leave your silhouette as you quietly close the door and crawl back into the messy sea of blankets on your bed. He notices you’re wearing the same thing as the other day when he brought you tea. A plain, oversized deep blue T-shirt with no shorts. Sunghoon quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere before his body reacts to the sight of your exposed skin.

“Are you going to say something? Or just stand there in silence?” you tease, your eyes burning holes into him.

“I want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to say those things to you,” Sunghoon finally confesses, his voice quiet, his gaze still avoiding yours. “I was stressed and overwhelmed from work… I didn’t mean anything I said.”

As the last words leave his lips, Sunghoon’s warm brown eyes finally meet yours. The sight makes his chest ache; your eyes are still red and your face slightly swollen.

“Sunghoon, you can’t just say whatever you want and then blame it on stress. Those words… they… hurt me… more than I can even admit.” Your voice is low and unsteady, a knot forming in your throat as the words leave your mouth.

“I know, I know.” Sunghoon insists, stepping closer to your bed. “You’re absolutely right, and that’s why I couldn’t sleep until I came here to apologize. I’m sorry, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze until he finishes speaking, searching for any sign of insincerity. But the way his eyes soften reassures you that he means every word. Under his intense stare, you feel breathless, the air slipping away as his piercing eyes stay locked on yours. The tension in the room shifts in an instant, like a single spark igniting a space filled with gasoline. Frustrated, you throw yourself onto the bed, your back pressing into the mattress, legs slightly parted. You want to scold him for being so cruel, but your thoughts are a disorganized mess.

Sunghoon observes you in silence, his frustration growing. Your lack of response does nothing to ease the guilt twisting in his chest. He notices the way you cover your eyes with your arm, hiding from him. A sudden inappropriate thought crosses his mind, and a smirk tugs at his lips. Meticulously, he crawls onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs, his knee nudging them apart just enough to fit.

Your head snaps up instantly, and when you move your arm away, you’re met with Sunghoon. He is so close, you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Your cheeks flush under his intense stare, his dark eyes absorbing every inch of your face.

Still annoyed by your silence, he finally speaks.

“Do you forgive me, Y/N?” His voice is deeper, dripping with something that makes your stomach twist.

You want to resist, want to say something sharp, but instead, you just nod, too flustered to form a single word.

Suddenly, Sunghoon’s right hand gently pushes your right knee up, his warm fingers gliding over your calf in a slow, deliberate motion. A breath catches in your throat, your skin erupting in goosebumps at his touch. Then he leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as he whispers,

“I don’t like this silence you’re giving me. Use your words, princess. Tell me you forgive me for my stupid actions.”

You don’t know if it’s the unexpected nickname, the husky rasp of his voice, or the way his fingers continue their teasing path, trailing higher, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Your eyes flutter shut as a soft, unintentional moan escapes your lips, your body betraying you under his touch.

And it feels exactly how you imagined it—confident yet gentle, just like Sunghoon.

“Sunghoon…” You manage, your throat dry as your eyes lock with his once again. “I forgive you…” you breathe out, still trying to steady yourself.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens as he takes in your flustered state, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“See? Was that so hard?” he whispers against your lips, and you swear they brushed against yours for the briefest second. Just as quickly as he settled on top of you, Sunghoon shifted, falling onto the bed beside you.

You turn onto your side to face him, and the smug smile on his lips says it all. He enjoyed teasing you and relished seeing you so helpless beneath him. Your gaze wanders over his face, taking in how effortlessly handsome he looks dressed casually, his black hair slightly tousled, and a playful smirk curving his lips. Half of his face is hidden behind his dark strands, making him look even more alluring.

Your eyes wander lower, and your breath catches at the sight of his bare neck and collarbones, the loose t-shirt draping off his shoulders. His pale skin is smooth, scattered with small beauty marks that you never noticed before. Heat rises to your cheeks as your curiosity gets the best of you, and your gaze dips even lower. The way he’s lying down causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned waist. Your hungry eyes trace the lines of his abs down to his v-line, which is teasingly visible beneath the low-hanging waistband of his pants.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen your husband in such casual, revealing clothes, and it’s affecting you more than you expected. But before your gaze can travel any further, Sunghoon’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your head up, so your eyes meet his again.

“My eyes are up here,” he teases, amusement flickering across his face.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter. “Shut up,” you mutter, hating how easily he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I’m feeling so sleepy now,” Sunghoon sighs, ignoring your flustered state. Then he yawns, letting his body sink deeper into the mattress.

“Since you were good to me and apologized,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant as a tiny spark of confidence grows inside you. “You can sleep here with me tonight.”

Sunghoon lifts his head off the pillow, giving you a surprised look, as if not fully believing your words. Without another comment, you snuggle back under the covers and switch off the light on your nightstand. In the darkness, you turn your back to him, pressing your burning face into your pillow. The ghost of his earlier touch still lingers on your skin, making it impossible to calm your racing heart.

A moment later, you hear him shifting beneath the covers. Then, slowly, Sunghoon inches closer, his warmth seeping into your back as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you firmly against him, and you feel everything—his solid chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his legs press against yours. His head dips close to your ear, his hand sliding up, resting just below your chest.

��Thank you, princess. Good night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your earlobe.

With a tight grip on your waist, you hear his breathing begin to slow. Your eyelids grow heavy too, and without resistance, you drift off in his arms. Outside, the full moon shines brightly in the vast, star-filled sky, casting its bluish light into your bedroom, illuminating your tangled bodies.

The night slips away quickly, and soon, the sun begins to rise, bringing warmth and light into the world. Inside your bedroom, you and your husband remain entwined, both of you breathing slow and steady.

Sunghoon scrunches his face in irritation as the bright morning rays reflect off his closed eyelids, forcing him to wake. He yawns, then carefully pulls his arm from under your head, needing to stretch his stiff body. Beside him, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a mess, and soft snores are escaping your lips, but even like this, Sunghoon thinks you're the cutest woman alive.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against your serene face, he rubs his eyes and sits up, resting his back against the wooden headboard. The quiet atmosphere is comforting, and for a brief moment, he wishes it could always be like this—calm, steady, safe. He’s not sure if he can handle any more chaos.

His sleepy eyes wander around your bedroom, finally able to take it in fully in the daylight. As he scans the space, something catches his attention. A small frame on your nightstand, nestled beside the poetry book you always carry around. He leans forward to get a better view, but he is surprised that the picture inside is of a man.

He doesn’t seem much older than twenty, his blonde hair falling messily over his face as he makes a peace sign for the camera.

Sunghoon hesitates for a second before slowly leaning over your sleeping body, reaching for the frame. Just as his fingers curl around it, your body shifts, and suddenly, your face is too close to his.

“What are you doing?” you murmur sleepily, your eyes still closed.

Sunghoon grips the picture tightly before sitting back up, waiting for you to fully wake. He expects you to scold him—maybe even get mad for touching your things without permission, but instead, you simply roll onto your side, meeting his gaze with a soft, sad smile.

“Who is he?” Sunghoon asks cautiously, noticing the way your expression shifts despite the small grin on your lips.

“Nishimura Riki,” you say slowly, a lump forming in your throat. “He was my ex-husband.” The words feel heavy, and no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers.

Sunghoon watches you closely, sensing the weight behind your words. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his gaze unwavering, his tone gentle, trying to offer the same patience you always show him.

“Yeah, but maybe not now.”

The moment the words leave your lips, he nods silently and hands you the frame. He observes as your eyes flicker over the image, small tears forming as you stare.

Slowly, you set the frame back in its place, taking a deep breath as if trying to compose yourself. Sunghoon remains silent, but inside, confusion stirs. You’ve never mentioned being married before, not once. You’ve never even spoken another man’s name in front of him. And yet, the way you look at the picture sends a cold shiver down his spine.

Something about the entire situation feels… discomfiting.

“What should we do today?” Your voice breaks the comfortable silence. Slowly, you shift under the covers, resting your head on Sunghoon’s thighs and looking up at him.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” he asks confidently, though his heart pounds in his chest. His hand drifts to your head, gently patting your hair.

You smile at him. “Of course I do, Sunghoon,” you reply, avoiding his gaze as a wave of shyness washes over you. The excitement bubbling inside makes you feel like a twelve-year-old girl falling in love for the first time.

“I’ll plan everything—you don’t have to worry about a thing!” he exclaims, his voice laced with excitement as he watches you fondly, his fingers threading deeper into your hair.

A peaceful silence settles between you, filled with the warmth of the blankets, the soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the soothing sensation of Sunghoon’s delicate fingers massaging your scalp. You stare at his face, admiring his cute moles and messy bed hair. Your tongue wets your lips as your gaze shifts to his plump lips, so inviting. It makes your stomach twist with the need to feel them against yours.

Sunghoon seems to sense the shift in your eyes because his fingers, that were in your hair, started to trail down to rest behind your neck. Slowly, he leans in, your sweet scent enveloping him as he lowers himself to reach your lips.

And once again, he stops just millimeters away, his warm breath ghosting over your eager lips. “We can't. Not yet,” Sunghoon whispers, turning his head at the last second. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at the tender touch and pout as he pulls away.

“I know it’s frustrating, but I’m waiting for the right moment,” Sunghoon explains, his fingertips gently tracing your warm cheeks.

Then, he carefully guides you to sit up on the mattress before leaving the bed, and you watch him in confusion. Just when you thought Sunghoon couldn’t get any more handsome, he proves you wrong. He stands before you with a soft blush dusting his cheeks, neck, and ears.

“Wear something nice—we’re leaving in two hours,” he tells you with a bright smile, standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.

You nod, biting your lip as your heart skips a beat under his gaze. His sharp fangs peek out as he grins at you one last time before disappearing through the door.

The atmosphere in your room will never be the same. His presence now engraved in your sheets.

“Can we go somewhere else before doing what you planned?” you interrupt the silence as the car comes to a stop at a red light. Turning to face Sunghoon, you watch as he furrows his brows before responding.

“Sure. Where do you need to go?” he asks, his eyes carefully flicking to the right mirror outside the car.

“The cemetery.”

This time, the silence that settles between you isn't comfortable or light. It’s suffocating. It eats away at your ability to breathe, making your chest ache. Sunghoon doesn’t ask any questions, and you’re grateful. You need all the courage you can muster to finally tell him about your ex-husband. Your unhappy gaze remains fixed on the window, the sight of the familiar place making you take a deep breath.

The sun blazes against your back as you and Sunghoon walk through the cemetery, the atmosphere heavy and uneasy. He follows a step behind, letting you lead the way. When your high heels click against the cement path, he realizes you’ve reached your destination.

You stop in front of a wall lined with unfamiliar names. Slowly, your delicate hands leave your pockets, reaching for a particular spot. Your fingertips softly graze over a familiar face, and as your teary eyes meet his, Sunghoon finally understands what was going on.

“He was such a sweet boy,” you begin, a melancholic smile forming on your lips as small tears start to fall. Sunghoon immediately steps forward, standing by your side. His hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers, silently giving you the strength to continue.

“Ni-ki and I grew up together; he was always there for me.” You pause, turning back to Ni-ki’s picture on his grave.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks carefully, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“We were planning our wedding when we found out he had late-stage brain cancer,” you say, your voice trembling. “I was devastated. I cried every single day. But… he stayed positive, always smiling, even when his hair started falling out from chemotherapy. We knew he had only a few months left, so I put on my wedding dress and married him in the hospital. I wanted to be his wife before he…” Your voice cracks as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

Sunghoon holds your shaking hands with unwavering care, his warmth grounding you.

“He died two days after we got married,” you whisper. “I was holding his hand. The last thing he said to me was, ‘I will always love you.’” Your breath hitches. “He was only twenty, and I was twenty-two. We were young, I know, but I couldn’t let him go without marrying him—”

A loud sob cuts off your words, your body trembling as grief crashes over you once again.

“It’s okay…” Sunghoon murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispers, his voice tight with emotion. You don’t notice the warm tears slipping down his own face, his heart aching at the sight of you in pain.

“Ni-ki was my everything. He was my only reason to live,” you admit brokenly. “My mom hated me; my dad was gone… I only had him. After he passed, I fell into a deep depression. I barely ate for months, and no one cared. Then, one day, I received a bill. A heavy debt that Ni-ki’s relatives refused to pay. He grew up in foster care, so no one cared about him. No one but me. Instead of telling me, he tried to cover the medical costs himself with what little he made from teaching dance classes. But it wasn’t enough. That’s why I agreed to marry you,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your father said he’d pay off the debt if I accepted.”

Sunghoon tightens his hold on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t love again.” Your voice trembles as you press your fingers together, nervous. “But then… you showed up.” You lower your gaze to your hands, too scared to look at him. “At first, I hated you. Then I started to accept you. Then I understood you. And now…Now I’m afraid of what I feel for you.”

Sunghoon gently tilts your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze is so warm, so deep, that for a moment, the whole world disappears, leaving just the two of you.

“I’m not afraid of what I feel for you,” he whispers. His thumb caresses your tear-streaked cheeks with infinite tenderness. “I never knew you were all I needed… but now that I have you, I won’t let you go.”

A smile grows on both of your faces as he speaks, love dripping from his words. You rest your head against his chest as you hug him, craving the comfort of his embrace and his familiar scent. Sunghoon hugs you back, pressing a kiss to your hair before resting his chin on top of your head.

You remain entangled in each other for a few moments, your gaze fixed on your ex-lover’s grave. You wish Ni-ki could understand how much you loved him and Sunghoon. The two men are so different, yet so alike. You hope he isn’t upset that you’ve made space in your heart for someone else, despite him never truly leaving.

The sun remains high in the sky, its warmth easing the ache in your chest. When you look up at Sunghoon, you find that he’s already watching you, making you smile.

“We can go now,” you assure him, taking a deep breath.

Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk back to his car. “Thank you for telling me this. I know it wasn’t easy.” His voice is laced with genuine affection, his smile soft.

“I felt like it was time.”

“Was Ni-ki as patient as you?” Sunghoon asks, encouraging you to talk about your ex-lover so that remembering him won’t hurt as much.

“He was way more patient than me.” You smile. “I learned patience from him. Mostly because he loved to get on my nerves. At first, I hated how childish he could be because I was never allowed to be. But he showed me kindness, love…” Your voice trails off as memories of his playful nature resurface. His loud laughter echoed through the small apartment you once shared, his grin mischievous as he ran from you, clutching your favorite chocolate half-eaten in his hands.

Sunghoon catches your smile in the rearview mirror as he drives to your date’s destination. The conversation remains on the same topic throughout the ride, with him asking questions about Ni-ki and enjoying the way you recount your memories—your voice filled with both excitement and tenderness.

Sunghoon could have never imagined you had gone through all of this. You always seem so calm and collected, as if you always know exactly what to do and say.

“Woah, what is this place?” you ask sarcastically, laughing as you spot the bold red letters of the sign above the building. “The movie theater?”

“It’s cliché, I know,” Sunghoon admits while carefully parking his car, his gaze flicking back to the rearview mirror. “But it’s perfect for a date. Plus, I haven’t been here in so long, and there’s this horror movie I really wanted to watch with you!” He explains as he turns off the engine, finally looking at you.

You adjust your black dress and nod, charmed by his adorable way of thinking. “Shall we?”

Sunghoon quickly gets out of the car and rushes to your side, opening the door for you. A giggle escapes your lips at the gentlemanly gesture, your heart skipping a beat. After closing the car door, he walks beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist and a smile engraved on his lips.

The theater is bustling with people and loud chatter. The queue seems endless, but after a few minutes, you finally get your tickets.

The movie room is packed, with not a single empty seat in sight. You steal a quick glance at Sunghoon, only to realize he’s already looking at you. He hands you the popcorn, and as you grab a handful, a few pieces spill onto the floor. He gives you a stern look, and you suppress a smile.

The movie turns out to be scarier than you expected. With every bloody scene on the screen, you squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively lean closer to Sunghoon. He notices your discomfort in the dimly lit space and reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. You hold onto him tightly whenever something terrifying happens, making him smile at your cute reactions.

“That was… something else,” you murmur as you toss the empty popcorn container into the trash while walking out of the theater.

Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

“I like horror, not gore. And that was all gore!” you pout, earning a laugh from him.

Suddenly, he stops mid-step and turns to face you. His hands reach for your cheeks, gently pulling at them, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re so cute,” he teases, his eyes locked onto yours.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Obviously,” you reply, pulling his hands away from your slightly sore cheeks.

“Are you hungry?” Sunghoon asks as you resume walking.

“I’m always hungry,” you respond teasingly, shaking your head dramatically.

He laughs again. “Let’s get dinner then.”

He opens the car door for you, giving you space to slide inside. Once you’re seated, you glance up at him with a nod, and he circles the car before driving to the restaurant.

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step inside. The restaurant is decorated in black and red, with tall windows and dim lighting that gives the place an intimate, sensual atmosphere. Sunghoon smiles at your reaction, admiring the way you take in the space.

He stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a table tucked away from the main dining area, the spot he always chooses, right by the window.

As Sunghoon pulls out the chair for you to sit in, he finally takes a moment to admire you. To his surprise, your dark, smoky eye-look remains perfectly intact despite the earlier tears, and your lips are still stained red from the new lip tint you bought. The black silk dress you wear drapes elegantly over your figure, hugging you in all the right places. A delicate pearl necklace rests against your collarbone, making your skin look even more alluring than usual.

The menu is already on the table, so you take the initiative and browse through it, still unsure of what to eat. Your gaze drifts to the prices, and your eyes widen in shook. If you had never married him, dining here wouldn’t even be an option.

“Shall we order steak?” Sunghoon asks, breaking the silence. You quickly glance at him, your eyes shining with excitement.

“Yes!” you respond with a smile. “And to drink… rosé wine?” You pout slightly, knowing your husband prefers red.

“Of course, princess. Whatever you want—today is all about you.” He flirts, flashing you a seductive smirk, his dimples on full display.

A sweet waitress takes your order, but your attention remains fixed on your husband. Sunghoon looks exceptionally handsome tonight, with his black hair neatly styled back, and a pair of thin glasses resting on his nose. He wears a simple white button-up shirt paired with a black blazer, but the confidence in his demeanor makes even the simplest outfit look effortlessly refined.

“You’re staring…” Sunghoon murmurs, trying to suppress a smile. His ears grow warm under your passionate gaze. Those beautiful doe eyes of yours will be his downfall.

“Sorry, you just look so handsome tonight, husband.” You compliment him with a grin.

“Thank you, wife. You look absolutely stunning, too,” Sunghoon flirts back, another smirk threatening to break across his lips.

The dinner passes slowly, filled with lingering glances and playful jokes. You feel calm and safe as Sunghoon shares funny stories about his old friends, his charming smile captivating you more and more. He remains attentive throughout the evening, always checking to ensure your glass is never empty and helping you cut your steak when the pieces prove difficult. His caring nature is one of your favorite things about him—because you’ve spent your whole life being the one to take care of others, when he takes care of you, it touches an area deeper in your heart.

Now, you walk side by side along the vast road by the Han River, enjoying the occasional cool breeze brushing against your skin. The moon has begun to rise, its glow casting a silver shimmer over the moving water. You pause to admire it, drawn to the soothing sound of the waves.

“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” you remark, stealing a quick glance at Sunghoon. He stands behind you, his eyes glued to your figure. The gentle wind causes your dress to ripple, accentuating your curves.

“It’s beautiful,” he agrees, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. “But not as beautiful as you.”

“You’ve been so flirty.” You tilt your head slightly to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“I do… It’s just…” You pause, locking eyes with him. “I have to get used to it, that’s all.” A soft smile curves your lips as you turn fully to face your husband.

Sunghoon realizes this moment is perfect. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, looking like an absolute goddess under the moonlight. He slowly slides an arm around your waist again, pulling you closer, his heartbeat hammering in his chest as he leans in.

Your hands grow slightly clammy as you grasp his wrist, your lips parting in anticipation—hoping, waiting for him to claim you as his. And then he finally does.

The moment his warm lips meet yours, the air leaves your lungs. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and a smile blossoms on your lips. Sunghoon feels it against his own as he kisses you, and it makes his head spin.

Uncertain if he should go further, he starts to pull away, but your hands fly up to his face, pulling him back toward you, craving more. He gets the message, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His lips move against yours with slow, deliberate care, savoring your taste.

Your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, and he grants it—just this once. You take the lead, eagerly deepening the kiss, your tongue tangling with his in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

When Sunghoon finally runs out of air, he pulls away, breathless but utterly satisfied. You rest your forehead against his, relishing the feeling of his breath fanning over your damp lips.

If you had any doubts before, now they’ve completely disappeared.

You love him.

Jiwon stares blankly at the white wall of her bedroom. The lights are dim, the room is warm, and she sits on the edge of the bed while a handsome man sits beside her. His fingers trace invisible shapes on her exposed waist as his lips occupy themselves with her neck, biting and sucking the soft skin.

It’s like she can see them right in front of her when she closes her eyes, the memories making her skin crawl. She had thought Sunghoon was distant because the company was taking up all his time, but she was wrong. And that is what pisses her off the most.

The man beside her presses down on her shoulders, causing her to lie flat on the mattress—but she isn’t there. She’s long gone, lost in the sight of you. She wanted to laugh when she caught you and Sunghoon at the restaurant she used to love. How dare he bring you to her favorite place?

At first, Jiwon thought she was imagining things, but Sunghoon’s face was impossible to mistake. She watched you both the entire time—how you laughed at his jokes, how his eyes lingered on your face, how at ease he seemed with you. She envies it badly. But deep down, she knows it was her fault for crushing his confidence.

As she closes her eyes to relive the moment, the man is now on top of her, unbuttoning her corset and completely unaware of how distant she is. Not that she minds. She chose him to make her forget about this stupid night. After watching you two have dinner, Jiwon followed you to the Han River. She needed to see just how close you two really were.

She had expected some light skinship, but when she saw Sunghoon lean in and kiss you, she lost control. Hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned away, heading back to her car. She wasn’t sad, she was furious. How could Sunghoon move on so quickly? How could he kiss you like that for everyone to see?

Jiwon was shaking by the time she reached her car, and once inside, she screamed until her throat burned. Her hands trembled as she pounded against the steering wheel, feeling betrayed, humiliated, and replaced.

Now, back in the present, she lets out a soft moan as the stranger’s fingers trail up the inside of her bare thighs.

A perfect plan begins to take shape in her mind as his hand ventures higher, grazing over her underwear. The plan will be flawless. She just has to enjoy her night first.

As the man slowly and teasingly pulls her panties down, she allows herself to relax—while a malicious scheme lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

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[diushek]

I started writing a Bingyuan fic concept to upload here and I've officially decided that I'm going to write it as a proper fic because it consumed me lol

But basically: Bingyuan arranged wedding, Bingge being charmingly creepy, Shen Yuan who was born in the PIDW universe in a rich family with parallels of 79 being his brothers, and a bit of Shen Yuan having some OP cultivation powers + beast tamer around there

(With the obligatory seriously ill Shen Yuan who needs to marry Binghe for his magical cure papapa, and a Luo Binghe who has taken several husbands into his harem some years ago and all of them are cold-beauty scholars with whom Shen Yuan gets along VERY badly, what do these spoiled bitches with their thin faces think they are, to be so hypocritical and two-faced with HIS husband?!)

Anyway, I just wanted to drop this lol I hope to post it for Valentine's Day

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty-one: Behind The Walls

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 31 | next

Series Masterlist

The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy, pressing into the space like an unseen force. You could feel it in the way In-ho’s fingers tightened around his cup, in the way his body remained unnaturally still, as if movement would shatter something fragile between you.

You should have let it go. Should have walked away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped closer, closing the space between you and him. “You can keep telling yourself that pushing me away is for my own good,” you said, voice measured. “But we both know that’s a lie.”

In-ho’s jaw tensed. “It’s not a lie.”

You studied him, the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the porcelain cup. He was so controlled, so disciplined—always. But there were cracks in the foundation, you could see them now.

“You think I don’t understand what you are,” you murmured. “But I do.”

His head tilted slightly, the mask giving nothing away, but you could feel the shift in him. “And what is that, exactly?”

You inhaled slowly. “A man who has spent so long convincing himself he doesn’t need anyone that he believes it.”

Something flickered in his posture, barely noticeable, but you caught it. A hesitation.

You pressed forward. “If you wanted me gone, you would’ve let Panther Mask do what he wanted.” Your voice lowered, steady and firm. “But you didn’t.”

Silence.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set his coffee cup down on the table beside him. “I don’t like repeating myself,” he said, voice quiet but heavy. “You don’t need to understand. You just need to listen.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. “And if I don’t?”

In-ho finally moved then, pushing himself to stand, his presence towering over you. The air between you shifted, electric and dangerous.

He took a step closer. “Then you’ll regret it.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to be intimidated. “No, I won’t.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it was different. Charged.

Then, without warning, he reached up, fingers curling around your jaw—not roughly, but firmly. His grip wasn’t painful, but it demanded your attention.

His voice was a whisper, but it felt like a command. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

Your heart pounded, but not with fear. You searched his eyes through the mask, searching for something—anything—that told you he didn’t mean the words he was saying.

But there was something else there. Something deeper.

“In-ho,” you murmured.

His fingers flexed slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin in a fleeting moment of hesitation.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. The distance between you felt colder than before.

“This conversation is over,” he said, turning his back to you.

You exhaled sharply, frustration flaring. “No, it’s not.”

He stilled.

You hesitated before pressing on, voice softer now. “I’m still here, In-ho. And I’m not leaving just because you think it’s what’s best.”

A long pause.

Then, finally, without turning around, he spoke.

“We’ll see.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there—confused, frustrated, and yet, more determined than ever.

———————

I might post some more chapters today if I have the time… let me know what you think! Thank you!! :)

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[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us || San

pairing: San x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, unprotected sex, teasing, edging (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For San, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside San's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. San was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long thick fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

San chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Choi wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, San. My reasons are my own."

The smirk faltered for a split second before returning, this time tinged with something bittersweet. "Fair enough," he said, straightening up and taking a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "But you'll have to get used to things being about us. At least, that's what everyone else will expect starting next weekend."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You kept your expression neutral, tilting your head just slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, this marriage may be inevitable, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

San smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing. 

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the strap of yourbag. "As long as you understand where we stand, this arrangement might work. We'll play the perfect couple for the public. But behind closed doors, we keep our distance until we sign the divorce papers. Simple."

San stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

As much as you wanted to deny it, your eyes were indeed on him the whole time. He was charming and captivating, it was impossible to move your eyes away from him. But that hypnosis lasted until his family came up with the idea of imposing that marriage on you. He lost all his charm just at that moment. 

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

San smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, San. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," San finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

San raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Choi. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body. 

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"Some deals suffer changes as they have to meet different necessities, don't you think?" the way his eyebrows arched, while his lips pursed on a mocking grin almost had you losing your patience. "Divorce was ever on the plate? Because I don't think it was one of my conditions".

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" San loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying. 

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

"Then you'll have to find another dumbass to agree to get married to you" you rolled your eyes, thinking that would be the end of your conversation, but his fingers hooked on your elbow to stop you from walking away. 

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks. 

"Don't try to throw a fist at me" he stopped you. "You're so used to getting what you want, don't you? You pout a little, you act a little bitchy and daddy gives you all you want. Let me give you a spoiler: that won't work with me. The moment you're my wife, you'll do as I say. And if I say I don't want to get divorced, then you won't get those fucking papers". 

Your eyes started to water: rage, sadness, frustration... All those feelings were building up as you realized you got to a no-exit stop. Your plans were crumbling down, all your ideas were getting ruined, and all you could do was tighten your lips and open your eyes as much as possible so tears wouldn't escape with a blink. 

Daddy's girl? He had absolutely no idea. If you were living in such a perfect place, you wouldn't have agreed in the first place, but the fact that your parents -or people who gave you shelter when you needed it- agreed on engaging their daughter with a complete stranger for money should've given him enough of a hint of your reality. 

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about". 

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do". 

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door. 

"I don't need any power for that." his eyes were dark, his threat becoming a promise "Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret ever messing with me. So you better come with a pretty dress and the best of attitudes next weekend". He let go of your throat slowly, calmly placing his shirt properly "I know you'll make the best decision" he finally said. 

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them. 

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and San, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up. 

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen. 

You weren't there.

He told himself you'd show up. You had to. But with each passing second, doubt sank its claws deeper into him. His heart pounded, and the polished facade he wore so well began to crack. Was this your way of backing out? A silent rebellion against a marriage neither of you had chosen? Were you actually telling the truth when you said you wouldn't show up if he didn't promise you a divorce? 

The doors remained closed, and San's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

You stood at the entrance in your wedding dress, the long veil trailing behind you, catching the soft light like a halo. For a moment, the room seemed to blur around you, everything fading except the heavy thud of your heart. You could feel every eye on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

San watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet San's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," San muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear. 

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. San's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

San went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

Everything you had prepared so mindfully disappeared at the feeling of being so watched, as if you were under watchful eye. You were sure it'd be obvious you weren't feeling either of the words you were pronouncing. 

San's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Choi San to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with. 

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt San's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it. 

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

San exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

San hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. San had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance. 

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, San leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

The reception was a spectacle of luxury and elegance, just as expected from a merger of two powerful families. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand hall, where hundreds of guests mingled, sipping champagne and exchanging polite congratulations.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on San. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

You had managed to avoid him all night. At the cake-cutting ceremony, his hand had hovered near yours on the knife, holding tighter over your skin as you threatened to let the long sword slide from your fingers to his throat. And for a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, yet he only smirked and moved closer to you. You were quick to turn away, disappearing into the crowd the moment the applause broke, trying to get away from him. 

San, however, was nothing if not persistent.

The moment you saw him again, his dark eyes locked onto yours from across the dance floor. This time, there was no escape. The crowd parted just enough for him to make his way toward you, his strides deliberate and confident.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Choi. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

The lights dimmed, and the soft melody of "You Are the Reason" by Calum Scott filled the air. A sweet, tender song -one that felt far too intimate for the situation, as if it was meant for two people who loved each other.

San led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up today," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. His eyes searched yours, the teasing edge gone now, replaced by something far more serious. "You made me worried."

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of San or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it. 

At least with San you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to. 

San's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a fleeting second, you forgot about the crowd, the expectations, the tangled mess of your circumstances. It was just the two of you, swaying gently beneath the chandeliers, the lyrics of the song weaving a story neither of you was ready to admit aloud.

As the final notes faded, San leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. San let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

And maybe you would. But for the first time, a small part of you wondered if running was really what you wanted. No, you stayed by his side, answering to his challenge with the same power he was showing off. 

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when San leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself. 

Now, the two of you sat in the back of a sleek black car, the hum of the city filling the silence between you. The driver navigated the streets with ease, the warm glow of streetlights flashing across the car's interior.

San sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and San's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

San's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. San simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you. 

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. San followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

The suite was exactly what you expected -grand and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Brandenburg Gate. A bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolates waited on the marble table, while a large king-sized bed sat at the center of the room, draped in crisp white linens.

You set your bag down and turned to San, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

San took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

You scoffed lightly, crossing the room to stand by the couch. "Not happening." You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll sleep here." you rushed to say, feeling your energy consumed by the small talk you made with all the guests. 

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, San sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good. 

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, San was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard San's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, San."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find San already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes flicking to yours the second you stirred. His voice was calm, but there was something smug lurking just beneath the surface, as if he was already one step ahead of you.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," San said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, San."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

San chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "San, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask San for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

San's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, San."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either. 

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it. 

Two could play that game. 

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. San gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second. 

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you. 

San blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious. 

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp. 

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much. 

You didn't need to ask, because San moved to the next item the moment you stepped away. 

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet San could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not. 

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, San felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again. 

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you. 

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response. 

He was insufferable. 

The car ride to San's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. San sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury. 

"Home sweet home," San said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," San said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you. 

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," San said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

San nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat. 

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered. 

San stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal. 

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," San said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with San, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. San always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out San filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when San nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

San leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, San! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

San was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, San didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have. 

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with San. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

San's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way San's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, San."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

San let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"San!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"San, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. San carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

San slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, San finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

San stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, San didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and San had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape. 

That's when you saw him, San, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, San didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" San stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced. 

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

San chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please". 

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" San's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," San said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice". 

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. San's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when San's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

San smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

San tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

San's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

San stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore. 

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck. 

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell. 

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," San whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck. 

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him. 

San broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you. 

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress. 

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him. 

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. San had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through. 

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though. 

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

San slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both? 

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him. 

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls. 

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more. 

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him. 

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him. 

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him. 

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm. 

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again. 

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. San barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it. 

You were so addictive. 

San picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom. 

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong. 

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you. 

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine". 

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod. 

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief. 

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot. 

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him. 

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. San softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. San was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was San's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Wooyoung’'s, you realized after a second. 

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

San let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Wooyoung asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," San said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever San tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. San's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. San sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room. 

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

San froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, San. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, San? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

San's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But San wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," San said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, San," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" San snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

San's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that San never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well. 

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, San. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this". 

Not when you couldn’t trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings. 

It was too much. 

San's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too". 

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until San appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" San said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"San, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

San crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Wooyoung. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

San laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 15)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Wife!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve part thirteen part fourteen

CW: Blood, gore

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Kyorlin adjusted his hold on Lythaera, his arms cradling her swaddled form tightly. Her small body was cocooned in dark fabric, preventing her from thrashing or trying to escape, but it didn’t stop her from wriggling in frustration. She glared at him with fiery defiance, her expression so much like her mother's that Kyorlin couldn’t help but smirk despite the situation.

“You can glare all you want, but you’re going to listen,” he said, his voice firm yet softened with an almost brotherly tone.

Lythaera grumbled, her lips pursed in a pout, but she stilled.

“Good,” Kyorlin said, adjusting her slightly as he began his tale. “Do you know why you’re so important, Lythaera?” He didn’t wait for her response. “It’s because of who we are—who you are. You’re descended from Liakyre, an aasimar, and a daughter of the goddess Eilistraee.”

At the mention of the name, Lythaera’s brow furrowed deeply. “Bad,” she said simply, her voice muffled slightly by the fabric.

Kyorlin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You only think she’s bad because that’s what Lolth and her priestesses have drilled into you. That’s what all of us were taught. But Eilistraee fights for our freedom, Lythaera. She doesn’t want us chained to the darkness.”

Lythaera squirmed at his words, her little face scrunching up in disapproval.

“No!” she declared vehemently, her voice rising. “Eilistraee betrayed Mother Lolth! She is an insult to all drow kind!”

Kyorlin sighed, rolling his eyes. “By the Abyss, you sound just like your mother.” He smirked a little at that. “She drilled that into you well, didn’t she?”

Lythaera gave him a triumphant glare, as much as her limited movements allowed.

“Fine,” Kyorlin said, shifting into a softer tone as he continued. “But let me tell you the real story—the one Lolth doesn’t want you to know.”

He began walking again, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the quiet tunnel.

“Liakyre was an aasimar, born of Eilistraee and a mortal man. She was a beacon of light, meant to unite drow and surface dwellers alike. But Lolth, ever the schemer, saw an opportunity. She seduced Liakyre with promises of power, twisting her into a weapon to use against her own mother.”

Lythaera tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

“Eilistraee tried to save her daughter, to bring her back to the light,” Kyorlin continued. “But Liakyre was too far gone. She led armies of drow to slaughter in Lolth’s name, spreading chaos and death. In the end, Eilistraee was forced to make an impossible decision. She killed her own daughter to stop her terror.”

“No,” Lythaera whispered, her voice small but defiant.

“Yes,” Kyorlin said firmly. “And she grieved, Lythaera. She grieved deeply. But she didn’t give up. She turned her focus to Liakyre’s children—our ancestors. She wanted to lead them into the light, to free them from Lolth’s lies. But Lolth had other plans. She kept us in the dark, downtrodden, using us as pawns in her endless schemes.”

Lythaera shook her head, her tiny hands balled into fists against the swaddling.

“Any of Liakyre’s descendants who showed power, she hid,” Kyorlin said, his tone growing more intense. “She used them for her gain, ensuring they never realized their true potential. And then, your mother came along.”

At the mention of you, Lythaera stilled completely, her eyes wide.

“Your mother,” Kyorlin said, his voice softening, “was something Lolth couldn’t hide. Her power was too great, her will too strong. Lolth bound her to House Baenre to ensure her loyalty, to keep her in the cycle. And now she’s doing the same to you.”

“No,” Lythaera said again, but her voice wavered this time.

“Yes,” Kyorlin said, his voice steady. “But you, Lythaera—you’re going to break that cycle. Eilistraee is fighting for you, and so am I. And whether you believe it or not, you’ll see the truth soon enough.”

Lythaera’s lips trembled, but she didn’t say anything more. Kyorlin glanced down at her, his expression softening.

“You’re stronger than you know, little one,” he said quietly. “And I’ll make sure you live to realize it.”

As he continued down the tunnel, the crystalline spider hidden in Lythaera’s robes clicked softly, its presence a silent promise that her true family was coming for her—and that Lolth’s wrath was close behind.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The air in the Underdark is thick, heavy with the promise of violence. Every shadow seems alive, every faint sound echoing like a war drum in your ears. You move with purpose, your body still weary from the ordeal of giving birth mere hours ago, but your resolve burns brighter than the pain. Lolth’s presence lingers around you, an invisible shroud of power and rage, fuelling your every step. Minthara strides beside you, the sacred cocoon bound securely to her chest, its silken threads pulsing faintly with life.

She shifts uncomfortably, still adjusting to the weight and balance of carrying a newborn in such a way. In all this horror it is the one thing you manage to find amusing, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the grim circumstances.

"Not so easy, is it?" you murmur, your tone teasing. "At least now you understand what carrying a child feels like."

Minthara huffs but says nothing, her focus sharp and her sword hand steady. Her other hand briefly touches the cocoon as if to reassure herself the baby is safe. She may not voice it, but her protective instincts have already wrapped around the child as tightly as the silk encasing her.

Ahead, the meeting point comes into view. Melinoe and Lesaonar wait in the shadows, their forms barely visible until you draw closer. Melinoe stands tall, her daggers sheathed but her posture radiating readiness. Lesaonar, as always, looks slightly out of place, his bow slung over his shoulder more for show than practicality.

As soon as they see you, Lesaonar's jaw drops. His gaze flickers between your face, still pale but determined, and Minthara’s chest, where the cocoon rests.

“Are you serious?” he exclaims, his voice carrying just a hint of a whine. “You just gave birth! I bet you don’t even have a name for her yet, and you’re out here?”

“Keep your voice down,” Minthara growls, her eyes narrowing. Though she doesn't answer him, it is true, neither of you had yet thought of a name for the babe. “Do you want to alert every Seldarine lackey in the Underdark?”

Lesaonar throws up his hands but lowers his voice, leaning closer.

“Fine, but you can’t expect me to pretend this is normal! A newborn strapped to your chest like some kind of battle talisman, and her,” he gestures to you, “barely able to stand, yet charging into battle!”

“I’m standing just fine,” you snap, your crimson eyes glinting dangerously. “And we don’t have the luxury of time, Lesaonar. Kyorlin has my daughter, and I will not let her be offered to that false goddess.”

Melinoe steps forward, her sharp eyes scanning you briefly before settling on the cocoon. Her expression softens, something akin to awe flickering across her features.

“That’s… sacred silk,” she murmurs. “The babe is blessed by Lolth herself.”

Minthara nods stiffly. “The healers believe she’ll break through the cocoon when she’s strong enough. Until then, she stays with me.”

Lesaonar pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are insane. Absolutely insane. And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agree coldly and Lesaonar cannot help but shrink within himself, remembering what happened to the duegar when he last say you in this state. You press them, “What have you found?”

Melinoe takes over, her tone brisk. “We’ve tracked them. They’re heading to the surface, but the Seldarine forces are larger than we anticipated. They’re attacking in waves, clearly trying to stall us.”

Lesaonar crosses his arms. “We believe Kyorlin is offering Lythaera to Eilistraee. To appease her, to gain her favour.”

The words hang heavy in the air. You don’t reply immediately, but the way your fists clench speaks volumes.

“Then we don’t have time to waste,” you say finally, your voice low and full of menace. “We press forward.”

Minthara’s hand briefly brushes yours as you both step past Melinoe and Lesaonar. The bond between you, forged in blood and strengthened by shared purpose, is unshakable.

Moments later, as the cavern walls narrow and the echoes of distant footsteps reach your ears, the seldarine ambush springs. It begins as all chaos does—sudden and violent. Melinoe tenses, her blades drawn in an instant, and Lesaonar stumbles back, fumbling for his bow. From the shadows, a group of Seldarine extremists surges forward, their weapons gleaming in the faint light.

“Ambush!” Melinoe hisses, already disappearing into the darkness, her movements swift and silent.

Minthara steps in front of you instinctively, her blade raised, the silk cocoon swaying slightly with her movements. You call forth your magic, the air around you crackling with power as bolts of energy fly from your fingertips. The extremists rush toward you, their chants mingling with the clash of steel.

The cavern is alive with chaos as the battle rages. Minthara fights with a ferocity that borders on reckless considering what is attached to her, her longsword cleaving through enemy after enemy with sheer brute strength. Her strikes send enemies staggering backward, her presence alone forcing them to reconsider their approach. Each movement is a calculated offense, her aggression an unrelenting tide.

Melinoe, on the other hand, is a shadow slipping through the battlefield. Silent and swift, she darts between enemies, her twin daggers flashing as they find vulnerable necks and exposed arteries. Her movements are elegant, each kill precise and clean. She’s almost invisible in the gloom, a predator among prey.

You stand at the center, the eye of the storm, waves of magical energy radiating from you. Bolts of eldritch power streak through the air, cutting down foes before they can even reach you. Shields of dark energy deflect incoming attacks, but your focus is split. Melinoe stays close, circling you protectively, dispatching anyone who dares approach too close.

Lesaonar, meanwhile, cowers behind you, clutching a delicate-looking bow that’s clearly seen little use. He occasionally looses an arrow, though his aim leaves much to be desired.

“I’m a courtesan, not a warrior!” he complains, ducking as an arrow narrowly misses his head.

Melinoe glances at him over her shoulder, a sly smile on her lips even as she plunges a dagger into an enemy’s throat. “This is why I love you, husband. You’re so… pathetic.”

Lesaonar straightens indignantly, sputtering. “Pathetic? I just saved your life!”

Minthara, cutting down another enemy with a vicious swing, snorts loudly. “How? By hiding behind your sister and missing half your shots? Melinoe, I’ll never understand what you see in him.”

Lesaonar pouts, offended, and turns to you for support. “Sister! Tell them I’m not useless!”

You sigh, hurling another bolt of magic that sends an attacker flying.

“Lesaonar,” you say, your tone dry, “you are still lovingly pathetic. But Minthara and Melinoe can save their bickering after we’ve dealt with this.”

“Thank you!” Lesaonar says, relieved—until your words sink in. “Wait, what?”

Melinoe laughs softly, delivering a swift kick to an enemy’s knee before slashing his throat. “Even your sister thinks you’re pathetic, darling.”

Lesaonar groans but doesn’t have time to argue as the battle intensifies. Minthara shouts over the chaos, “Focus! Unless you want to be dragging your husband’s corpse back to the infirmary!”

Lesaonar’s eyes widen, and he ducks behind you again as another wave of enemies closes in. You roll your eyes but can’t help the faint smirk tugging at your lips as you unleash another spell. Despite the chaos, the banter provides a strange sense of normalcy, a reminder that even in the heat of battle, your peculiar family dynamic remains unchanged.

But as another wave of attackers begins to close in, you feel a surge of frustration at their persistence.

“Enough of this pointless rabble,” you mutter under your breath, clenching your fists. The air around you crackles with energy, and with a sharp gesture, you summon two towering driders from the shadows.

The first drider steps forward, its spider legs clicking ominously against the stone floor. Its twisted form is unmistakable: it was once the acolyte who betrayed you and Minthara on your wedding day, forever cursed for her insolence. The second drider emerges a moment later, and Minthara and Melinoe both freeze in shock.

“Valindra?” Melinoe’s voice is incredulous as she stares at the familiar face twisted into a monstrous form. “She was supposed to be on the front lines.”

Minthara’s eyes narrow. “She made it back months ago. Why is she—” Her gaze shifts to you. “What did you do?”

You glance at Valindra, her monstrous form looming over you, and shrug nonchalantly.

“She made a comment about Verona,” you say simply, referring to Valindra’s daughter, the head of your mistress’ guard. The latter the only ones trusted to hold down House Baenre in their absence. “I didn’t like it.”

Minthara stares at you, her expression torn between disbelief and amusement. “You cursed her into a drider over a comment?”

“Of course,” Melinoe murmurs, shaking her head with a smirk. “This kind of pettiness is usually beneath the Mistress, but when it comes to Verona…”

Minthara chuckles, despite herself, and raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re full of surprises.”

You turn and glare at them both, your crimson eyes flashing. “Do you two mind? We’re in the middle of a battle.”

“Don’t mind us,” Minthara says with a faint grin. “We’re just marveling at your ability to hold a grudge.”

Melinoe smirks. “It’s inspiring, really.”

You shake your head, ignoring their teasing as you stride forward. The driders loom behind you, their presence enough to send a ripple of fear through the enemy ranks. Whatever doubts or distractions linger are banished by the renewed urgency of the fight.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The battlefield falls eerily silent in the aftermath of your summoned driders' rampage, their monstrous forms casting long, jagged shadows in the flickering light of glowing fungi. The air is thick with the scent of blood and the tang of magic, and yet you find no satisfaction in the victory. Your crimson eyes scan the ground, noting the shattered remains of enemy weapons and the lifeless forms of the Seldarine extremists. They had been reckless in their assault, and now you understand why.

“They targeted the mounts,” Minthara growls, stepping beside you. Her voice is low, almost a snarl, as she adjusts the silk sling cradling the newborn. “Ours and theirs. They wanted to slow us.”

Your gaze shifts to the remains of the spiders you rode in on, their legs curled inward in death. The extremists’ mounts are no better, their bodies strewn across the battlefield as if the attackers had slain their own to ensure you would be forced to continue on foot. Your fists clench at your sides, magic sparking along your fingers.

“This will cost us time,” Melinoe murmurs, returning from the shadows where she had been scouting. Her voice is calm, but her sharp eyes betray her concern. “If we wait for another scouting party to find us, we’ll lose hours. By foot, it’ll take half a day to reach the surface.”

“A half day?” you snap, your voice echoing through the cavern. “By then, Kyorlin will have done whatever twisted ritual he has planned. Lythaera…” You can’t finish the sentence, your rage surging at the thought of your daughter being offered up to Eilistraee.

Lesaonar shifts uncomfortably behind you. “Sister, calm yourself,” he says hesitantly, gesturing to the blood still staining your fresh robes. “You’re going to reopen your stitches from labor.”

You whirl on him, your eyes blazing. “Calm myself? You expect me to be calm when my daughter is in the hands of traitors? When we have no mounts and precious little time?”

Before Lesaonar can respond, your attention is drawn to a faint, pained groan nearby. One of the extremists is still alive, clutching at a bloodied wound as they murmur prayers to Eilistraee. In a few swift strides, you are upon them, your hand gripping the front of their armor as you drag them upright.

“Where is my daughter?” you demand, your voice a low growl that reverberates through the cavern. “Where is Kyorlin taking her?”

The extremist’s eyes are unfocused, their lips moving in a ceaseless prayer. “Eilistraee’s light… she will guide us… guide her…”

Your patience snaps. The raw power coursing through your veins surges outward as you hurl the extremist to the ground, a blast of magic tearing through their chest and silencing their prayers. The echo of the strike reverberates through the cavern, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

“Enough of this,” you hiss, your hands trembling with the lingering energy of your spell. The glow of your magic reflects in the widened eyes of your companions as they stare at you, their expressions shifting from frustration to astonishment.

“Behind you,” Minthara says softly, her voice tinged with awe.

You whirl around, magic sparking at your fingertips, but the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks. Emerging from the shadows is the crystalline matriarch, her massive, shimmering form radiating an otherworldly light. Her multifaceted eyes glint like prisms, and her eight legs move with deliberate grace. Behind her, two large crystalline spiders flank her, their chitin glistening like polished gems.

The sight is both awe-inspiring and deeply familiar. Memories flood your mind—of your youth, when you sought refuge in the crystalline caverns, earning the respect of the matriarch and her brood. Now, as she looms before you, it is clear her presence is no coincidence.

The matriarch’s towering form looms over you, her crystalline body shimmering faintly in the dim light of the cavern. Her multifaceted eyes glint like polished gems, reflecting your bloodstained, exhausted figure in sharp fragments. She steps closer, her long legs clicking softly against the stone floor, her movements deliberate and cautious.

You stand still, allowing her approach, your breath catching in your throat as she lowers her massive head toward you. One of her sharp yet delicate legs brushes against your arm, the touch oddly tender for such a fearsome creature. It’s as if she can sense your exhaustion, the deep ache in your body from giving birth just hours ago, and the raw, protective desperation that fuels you.

The matriarch chitters softly, the sound reverberating through the cavern. You’ve heard it before, long ago, when you sought refuge among her brood as a young drow. Her presence was a sanctuary then, and now, that same comfort washes over you. She knows. She understands.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly, and place it against her crystalline surface.

“I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “She’s gone. I need her back.”

The matriarch lets out a low, resonant chitter, and her antennae twitch in what feels like acknowledgment. Without hesitation, she shifts her body lower, settling herself into a position that allows you to mount.

Minthara steps forward, the silk cocoon cradled protectively against her chest. She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering between you and the matriarch. You nod, and she moves with careful precision, climbing onto the matriarch’s broad back beside you. She adjusts the cocoon, ensuring it is secure before placing a steadying hand on your arm.

“Are you sure about this?” Minthara asks, her voice low.

“I am,” you reply, though your voice wavers slightly.

Behind you, Melinoe and Lesaonar stand before the two smaller crystalline spiders that flank the matriarch. Both creatures are imposing, their jagged legs clicking as they shift impatiently.

“I don’t like this,” Lesaonar mutters, eyeing the spider nearest him with open apprehension. “These aren’t battle spiders. They’re…” He trails off, his face pale. These spiders were notoriously savage and Lesaoanar was not going to disregard that over convenience.

“They’re my allies,” you say sharply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “They won’t harm you.”

Melinoe steps forward without hesitation, her daggers still in hand. She places a hand on the spider’s smooth surface, her expression calm despite the obvious danger.

“If they’re with us, then I trust them,” she says simply. She climbs onto the spider’s back with practiced grace, casting a glance over her shoulder at Lesaonar. “Come on, darling,” she says, smirking. “It’s not so bad.”

Lesaonar groans but reluctantly approaches the other spider. “This is not what I signed up for,” he mutters, climbing onto the creature with far less elegance than his wife. He clings to its back, his knuckles white. “I’m a courtesan, not a spider rider.”

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a drow,” Minthara mutters under her breath, earning a sharp glare from Lesaonar.

“Enough,” you snap, your tone cutting through their bickering. “We don’t have time for this.”

With everyone mounted, you turn your gaze to the driders that loom nearby. Their grotesque forms shift in the shadows, their monstrous eyes fixed on you.

“Scout ahead,” you command, your voice cold and firm. “Deal with any Seldarine ambushes.”

The driders hiss in acknowledgment and skitter off into the darkness, their presence a chilling reminder of your power and wrath.

As the matriarch begins to move, her steps deliberate and purposeful, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you. She isn’t wandering aimlessly. Her movements are precise, her path deliberate. She knows where Lythaera is.

The realization hits you like a tidal wave, and your throat tightens with emotion. Tears prick at your eyes as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against the matriarch’s smooth surface.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to her crystalline head. The matriarch chitters softly in response, her legs moving with unwavering determination.

Behind you, Melinoe and Lesaonar exchange a glance. Melinoe’s expression is soft, a rare show of vulnerability. Lesaonar, clinging tightly to his spider, mutters something about needing a drink when this is over.

Minthara rests a hand on your arm, her grip steady.

“We’ll get her back,” she says quietly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The surface air is thick and stifling compared to the cool, damp depths of the Underdark. Kyorlin pauses at the cave's threshold, the harsh glow of the sun spilling into the entrance like molten gold, stark and unforgiving. The extremists gather around him, their expressions tense. They are drow, born to the dark, and while they have dedicated themselves to Eilistraee’s path, stepping into the light still feels unnatural—dangerous.

One of the extremists, a younger male with wide, wary eyes, swallows thickly before speaking.

“Our scouts reported… strange things.” His voice is low, uncertain. “They say we are being hunted. That driders stalk the tunnels behind us.”

Kyorlin turns to him sharply.

“Rumors,” he says, though there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Fearful whispers. Lolth’s filth may be chasing us, but they do not command driders.” He forces confidence into his tone, even if part of him wonders whether that’s a lie.

The extremists shift uneasily. Kyorlin knows they feel it too—the growing weight of bloodshed, the echoes of slaughter in the distance. The presence of something monstrous closing in. But they cannot falter now.

He exhales and turns to the still-unconscious form of Lythaera, cradled between two of the extremists. She is their future. Eilistraee’s chosen. He kneels beside her and murmurs an incantation, weaving protective wards over her pale skin. A soft silver glow spreads over her, sinking into her flesh. It should shield her from the worst of the sun’s wrath—enough to let her stand beneath it as she was meant to. With a final glance at his followers, Kyorlin nods.

“Step forward,” he commands. One by one, they move, emerging from the cave’s mouth into the blinding light.

The moment Lythaera’s body touches the sun, she screams.

A raw, agonized sound tears from her throat as her skin begins to sear. She thrashes, breaking from the extremists holding her, and collapses onto the ground. Smoke rises from her exposed skin, and blistering burns bloom across her arms and face.

The wards—his protection—are failing.

“No—no, no, no—” Kyorlin moves swiftly, reaching for her as she convulses, her cries turning hoarse.

The extremists drag her toward the shade of a nearby outcropping, their voices panicked.

“It’s Lolth,” Kyorlin hisses, his hands shaking as he hovers over Lythaera. He clenches his jaw. “She’s punishing her for embracing the light. For choosing Eilistraee.”

The extremists murmur in horror, their eyes darting between Lythaera’s trembling form and the bright, cursed sky above.

But Lythaera doesn’t hear Kyorlin’s words. She chokes on a sob, curling in on herself, her body wracked with pain.

“I—I'm on fire!” she gasps. “Fire!"

The words cut through the group like a blade, hearts breaking for the girl, their resolve beginning to waver. And then, a new sound—high-pitched, sharp, frantic.

A small, crystalline spider scuttles from the folds of Lythaera’s robe, its iridescent body catching the cruel sunlight. It chitters in distress, its delicate legs twitching as it presses itself against Lythaera’s burned skin. Kyorlin recoils. His heart stutters.

Lolth’s spawn.

His hands clench into fists, his breath coming in ragged, furious bursts. He lunges, hand raised, ready to crush the wretched creature beneath his palm—

But his fingers never connect. The crystalline spider moves faster than his eye can track, darting out of reach and vanishing back into Lythaera’s clothing.

“Damn it,” Kyorlin snarls. “We've been tracked this entire time, which means they are close. We need to move now!”

The extremists scramble into motion, hefting Lythaera’s barely-conscious form between them. Kyorlin grips the hilt of his sword, his eyes flashing with rage and something else—something dangerously close to fear. Behind them, deep in the tunnels they left behind, the shadows stir with movement. And Kyorlin knows: whatever is coming for them is nearly here.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn. I promised another chapter and here it is. Poor lythaera... but seems she isn't as powerless as Minthara thinks if you are picking up what I'm putting down...

Hope you guys enjoyed it, please let me know in the comments and I cherish and adore every single like and interaction. Love you all! Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[verobatto-messy-art]

Chapter 3/14 is up on AO3!

Title: The Meaning Of Ugliness

ORIGINAL WORK

Writer: BENKA79

Rate: Explicit

Warnings: Violence

Tags: Historical Romance, Arranged Marriage, misunderstandings, slow burn, falling in love, loyalty, royalty, strangers to lovers, battle for the throne, cute, fluff, smut, multiple POV alternate, blood, suicide (no main characters), family found.

Summary:

Aila has been crowned the new empress of Enbor, but her reputation as a reckless woman quickly spreads throughout the palace. To quell the growing unrest, an arranged marriage with the unattractive eldest son of the Duke of the North is proposed. Despite the threat of betrayal looming from her own uncle, Aila is determined to protect her younger brother at all costs, even if it means sacrificing her own name. But will she be able to maintain appearances, even with her new husband?

Link to fic on AO3 (Chapter 1/14) Appearances.

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, Sukuna calls you little bunny lmao, soft Sukuna in places, reader is a lil innocent thing, gonna get A LOT freakier as we go, true form Sukuna

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: Finally writing Sukuna oof I'm nervous aha- SMUT with feelings. Gonna be like four parts to this, so a short fic! Monsterfking and fluff lol- Taglist open <3 Comments/ reblogs appreciated ❤️

Part Two>>>

Part One

Today, you are to marry King Ryomen Sukuna, the demon king of curses, you’ve known this your whole life, this is what you were chosen for. The special girl in your village raised to one day be his bride, however you did not feel special growing up, if anything you were just different. You could not even play with other children normally, you had to have special care taken, and others whispered of you.

You were now twenty years old, the wedding was supposed to be a couple of years ago, but was put off due to Sukuna being away during a war, battling and being gone for long. He was now back, and claiming what was his, though you had never even met him, you had heard the tales, the frightening ones of him, how he ransacked villages, ended lives.

Your village was protected and saved because of you, as if you’re a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter, a thing to be whispered of, because you alone possess energy, energy you truly have no clue of, but it makes you special. You now are standing in the most beautiful and elegant robes, everyone was speaking of your beauty, smiling at you, but you saw it, the fear in their eyes.

The tears in your mother’s eyes, and the sullen look on your father’s face, even your terrified little siblings, and you have to wonder, is he so terrible and cruel? And is your life over already? You take several breaths, clutching the flowers in your hand so tightly a thorn pricks your finger, crimson blood dripping down.

You peer at the finger, sighing now, inside the high castle walls of the king, contemplating how everything had happened so quickly. Even knowing your life belonged to him, you still lived relatively normal, until that royal emissary had come, and told you now was the time, the great honor bestowed upon you.

The way they speak of him… Would you even survive?

Your steps feel heavy as you walk through the halls of the palace, your heels clicking on stone floors, decked out in royal, beautiful robes, guards on the other side of you, for if you choose to run you will be captured. You knew that, and had no intention of running, for you want your family and the village to be safe, even if they seemingly threw you to the wolves.

Or, wolf that is.

Your heart beating a frantic rhythm in your chest, you try to stop your heavy breaths, to slow them, as the guards open the ornate doors, revealing the enormous room before you, where many have gathered to see. You look down at the floor beneath you, trembling at the thought, feeling his immense presence before you even look upon him.

It was as if the entire room trembled in fear from him, and you could feel it, his gaze upon you, as you continued to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, now the eyes of everyone in the room were on you. You feel the weight of this arranged marriage heavy on your shoulders, the fate of so many depend on it.

You finally get closer and look up slowly, studying his form in his white robes, thick and muscled and so tall, so big he towers over everyone. You trail your gaze up his broad chest, to his four broad arms, the veins wrapping around each forearm, huge hands on each one with long black nails, like daggers. You nearly trip then, and one of his large hands grasps your waist, taking it over like you’re nothing.

You’re shaking now, eyes darting up to his face, an arrogant smirk on it, and ruby red eyes staring down at you. Four of those eyes, assessing you in that gown, his long fingers curling at the nip of your waist, burning you through the robes. His presence is so intimidating and intense, but…

You’re not scared?

His hand feels so… you cannot describe it, the burn of his touch, the insane feelings you’re having all at once, like you can’t breathe. He’s so huge everyone has to crank their necks, you feel so small in his grasp, next to him, barely reaching his chest, which you see somewhat from the opening of his robes, the strong muscles and taut skin, before darting back to his face.

“Tch, clumsy girl.” He huffs, setting you in front of him now, and you curtsey low in your robes, eyes down.

“Forgive me, my King.” You murmur, trying to be obedient, it’s what you were taught, right? He scoffs, crossing one set of his arms, tilting his head at you, he has shockingly light pink hair, a color you’ve never seen, raising a dark arrogant brow, the candles are flickering and casting shadows in the grand hall, making him look even more intimidating.

“Hmm.” Is all he responds, taking your hand in one of his, it absolutely swallows yours, and you both turn to look at the orator, who now will start the ceremony, and you stand and bow your head, as he locks you both together.

You are now Ryomen Sukuna’s bride.

You look up as he is supposed to kiss you, it would be your first kiss, he leans so low, bending at the waist, and you prepare for it, shutting your eyes, how would it be, to kiss the King of Curses? However he merely brushes his lips against yours for a brief moment, before stepping away, and announcing you as his bride.

The anticipation kills you every moment, as you watch his concubines dance for him, but his ruby eyes keep flickering back to you, constantly, even as he drinks from his golden goblet, and even as several women run their hands on his chest. You think that’s for the best, perhaps he will have no interest in you, for you’re a simple village girl, many speak of your beauty, but you’re not worldly or experienced like them.

Perhaps he will not do more than what is necessary, and spare you from supposed cruelty. You’ve heard so many tales of what he has done, however you did not feel any cruelty when he held you, when he brushed his lips upon yours, but maybe you’re a bit naive, so sheltered to be the perfect wife for him.

You’re taken to your new chambers now, they are luxurious and beautiful, regal and fit for a Queen. You are a Queen, aren’t you now? It’s insane to take in, while your lady’s maid begins undressing you, you take in the surroundings, the red and gold ornate decorations, the low bed that has a canopy above it, draped with the same white and gold Sukuna himself wears.

Your peer in the looking glass, draped in a thin red yukata, with nothing underneath, your breasts are apparent, the opening exposing the valley between them, making your cheeks heat up. You feel the silk against your bare skin, floating across your body, knowing you’re naked under it makes you so nervous, as you know your duty will be to give the King his heirs.

You have very little knowledge, your mother had said to lay there and endure it, and that you would love your children, so that would get you through. The thoughts about that are purely horrific, you do not know anything aside from that, that he would lay on top of you and give you babies. You also know men seek pleasure elsewhere, not with their wives.

You don’t know what to think, but your heart falters when the door to your chamber opens, and Sukuna’s standing in your doorway, so massive he takes it over entirely. His eyes glint as he studies your body slowly, his sharp tongue darting to lick a lower lip, you fiddle nervously with your hands as he shuts the door behind him with a resounding click.

“My king, I hope I please you.” You say, dipping obediently, and he laughs then, the sound booming, a snarky look on his face.

“You’re trained to say everything right, perfect little thing huh?” He walks to you, one of his hands tilting up your chin, the sharp black nail pressing under it.

“I am meant to bear your children. It’s my duty.”

He scoffs now. “Your duty, hmm? Tell me, are you afraid of me little bunny?” You glare then, earning his chuckle.

“Little bunny!”

“A lamb for slaughter, surely, but also a little bunny frozen, afraid of the big bad wolf hmm?” His hands trail down the edges of your wrapped kimono, you struggle to keep any composure.

“You need not tease me, I know how it’s done.”

He’s grinning now with his sharp teeth, his two bottom eyes squinting to almost lines, the top two crinkling at the corners. “Oh, show me then, wife.”

You stomp over to the bed now as he laughs, taking several breaths and laying on your back, staring up at the canopy. Now he’s laughing louder, and you peer your head down. “What, you’re supposed to… give me babies.”

“Holy fuck this is rich.” He snorts now, walking to you, hovering over you.

“Well I know I… here.” You slip the knot of your robe off, baring your body then, and watch his breath catch, desire flaring in his eyes. “I’m supposed to be naked for you… do I displease?” You ask, as he backs away then.

“Displease… foolish brat.” He looks away for a moment, before exhaling and sitting you up on the bed instead, eyes drinking in every bit of your body slowly, tantalizingly, you’re breathing even faster, knees knocking from your nerves. “You’re terrified.”

“I am not! You may… do it.” You spread your thighs, eyes shut now, and he sighs, two of his hands slipping up your thighs now, the other two cupping your face, surprising you.

“You think it will be so terrible, your duty?” He speaks through gritted teeth, you keep your eyes shut, staying still.

“My mother said I shall endure it.” He sighs now, tracing your jaw, his huge hands surprisingly delicate, then you gasp as his other hands sliding up your thighs grow tongues. “Ah! What!?”

Your eyes lock onto his, and he’s so close you can inhale him, this musky heady scent that makes your tummy clench. “You think I, King of curses, don’t please those who enter my bed?”

“I… you mean all those girls?”

He tilts his head, the tongues lapping at your skin again. “I’m in here, aren’t I?”

“But you’ll find pleasure with them, I am only your duty.” You murmur, looking down, he hums to himself.

“Tch, you are… your body…” He trails off then, sighing. “I will not sleep with you tonight.”

“So I do displease!” You blink back tears.

“God you’re quite annoying. Just… shut up.” You glare now, and he grins. “I like that angry look, little bunny.”

“I am not a bunny! I… ah!” Sukuna’s hands are slipping up your thighs further, his other two sliding to your breasts, exhaling as he squishes them, black nails pressing into tender flesh, but it feels so good. You’re getting wet between your thighs, confusing and embarrassing you, making you pull away.

“Ah-ah, brat. Where do you think you’re going?” He’s moaning now, kneeling between your thighs, the King is kneeling before you!? It seems like insanity, his hot breaths now between your thighs, his eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Y-you said you will not lay with me tonight? Please don’t look at me there like that, I’m all…”

“Soaking wet.” He slides his long tongue against your soppy wet cunt now, licking a stripe up your slit as he moans. “Fuck you taste good.”

“What are you doing! I… ah… mmm!” Sukuna has two hands shoving your thighs wide, as you go to pull his head off you, the sensations of his wicked tongue are so overwhelming, only for him to moan when your fingers entangle in his pastel locks, two eyes glaring up as his tongue flicks on your clit, making you gush. “My king… I…”

“I want you to cum all over my face, be good for me bunny, would you? If you do a good enough job, I’ll reward you tomorrow.”

“A good job!? This is wicked… it feels… s’good- ah!” Your head is thrown back now, and you’re shoving his face against your cunt, you gasp then, realizing your folly. “I’m so sorry-”

“Shut your mouth, I only want to hear your cries.” His head dips back between your thighs, tongue lavishing your velvety walls, you’re gushing honeyed arousal all over his handsome face, yes he is handsome to you. You’re not afraid of him right now, especially as he’s touching you everywhere.

You’re crying out and shaking, thighs struggling to close, but he holds them firm, his other hands squishing your breasts again, tongues on his palms lapping at the sensitive peaks of your nipples. His tongue is fucking into you, one of his rough fingers rolling your clit now, making you go fuzzy, your walls are pulsing around his wet muscle, clit twitching under his fingertip.

You feel tension pooling in your tummy, feel yourself getting hotter, on edge, like something is ready to explode, overwhelming you, you’re sobbing almost, tears flowing but they’re from the insane pleasure. How his big hands grip you so tight you’ll bruise, how his tongue’s devouring you, you can hear yourself, how wet you are, mixing with your hoarse moans.

You never knew your duty would feel like this, you never knew you could crave a demon king’s touch, and you certainly never knew his tongue could bring you to the brink of ecstasy, or that he would want to give you pleasure. His eyes glint up at you, as he flicks his tongue faster, his hands pinching your nipples, the pleasure making your eyes roll back in your skull.

Your toes curl, draped over his broad shoulders, as he works you more and more, everything is heightened, you can barely see, hearing the squelching wetness, hearing him drinking you. “Ngh- my King-”

“Cum, let me feel you. Drink you.” He whispers, and you have no clue what he means, he sees it clearly. “Release, now. An order.” There’s the military leader, the demanding king, but it just makes you wetter for him, makes your hips arch up for more of his caresses.

You nod weakly and he groans, his tongue lapping you up, his hands massaging your breasts, making your back arch, so filled with pleasure, and for the first time in your life you feel desired, you feel alive. Your first orgasm rocks through your body, your cunt clenching around his tongue, your body shaking, your heart racing, your eyes blurry with the intensity. 

“Oh my god… oh my!” You’re soaking his face, taut nipples lavished by his tongues, and he’s smiling against your cunt, you feel his lips curve, tongue sliding out to flick up to your sensitive clit, watching you shake violently, walls fluttering around nothing as you breathe in heavy pants. “I… we… you…”

Sukuna pulls back then, smiling smugly up at you, licking his lips clean, your juices glistening on his tongue, even the strong jut of his chin is coated in you. “Good girl, now how is your duty going?”

“I… I cannot think.” You whisper, he leans up over you, his heavy, tattooed chest weighing on your soft breasts. Your hand touches his chest tentatively, feeling the burning hot skin, the strong muscles, his steady heart beat.

“You taste so sweet, little prey.” He kisses you then, not a kiss like the wedding, no it was brutal, taking you over, and you embarrassingly taste yourself, surprised at how the flavor is. His tongue darts in your mouth, his four hands gripping your waist and hips as he presses you into the bed, you gasp as you pull back. “Ah, those eyes, already drunk off me.”

You look at his lips, tracing them with your finger tips, his quiet moan does not escape you. “Do I do it back? The…”

He’s chuckling at you, making you angry again, a sarcastic look on his face, a brow raised. “What a slutty virgin, you wish to suck my cocks?”

You blink. “Cocks!? Two!?”

He’s laughing now, kissing down your jaw, moaning against your ear as you tremble under him. “You’re so tiny, it would be so easy to break you. So fun to break your pretty little head.”

That only serves to make you wetter, and he notices, moaning as you feel hardness between your thighs, under his robes. You tentatively raise your hips, earning his hiss, him pinning your hips down, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. He looks down at you with four dilated eyes, tongue licking his lower lip, one of his other hands brushing back your hair.

“Mmm, you will go to sleep, and tomorrow, I shall show you how much more there is to your duty than just bearing my children.” He says, you nod carefully as he stands up, leaving you on the bed, breathless, overwhelmed.

“And will you… lay with those concubines?”

He raises a brow, eyes trailing down your body. “Will that anger you, little bunny? Should I be afraid of your little paws?”

“It would upset me.” You say, pouting now, and he glares, clearly irritated. He then rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Tch, already annoying me. Fine then.”

“Really?” You sit up, hopeful, suddenly craving more of him, your hands slipping up his strong biceps, you watch his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Yes, irritating creature. Now go to sleep.”

“Will you sleep with me?”

“Sleep in bed with you? No, I need to care for my precarious situation, caused by a bratty new bride.” You giggle and he glares, sobering you up. “You’re giggling at me, the king?”

“N-no. Sorry, my King. I shall see you in the morning.” You say softly now, he scoffs once more, eyeing your body lustfully as you slip back on your robe.

“Tsk.” Is all you get, as he leaves you alone in your chambers. You hesitantly touch yourself, seeing the sticky, glittering wetness still left, from your arousal and his tongue.

Lay there and endure? More like lay there and beg for more and more, blinding fucking pleasure from his tongues. Perhaps everything you think is completely wrong? What more is there to your duty, if you can call it that? You simply must know… and you’re very curious about his… cocks, fuck just the thought makes your pussy clench.

You’re snuggling up to a satin pillow in your new bed, lewd insane images flitting your mind, and for some reason you’re able to shut your eyes, and fall fast asleep, still feeling his touch on you.

Part Two

[bethanydelleman]

To expand on my girl sad about her arranged marriage trope post, I think the trope can be subverted (woman is happy about arranged marriage) but it can also be done well and without modern sentiments (ew, sex with someone I don't love is yucky/I want to marry for true love/I want to be a GirlbossTM)

For example, princess is sad about her arranged marriage because:

-Her nation and the prospective husband prince's nation were at war five minutes ago and many members of her own family died in the war. The marriage is designed to cap off a peace treaty but what happens if peace doesn't last and she finds herself the queen of a nation at war with her own homeland? If you want real angsty enemies to lovers, the prince himself killed her own brother in the war.

-The nation the princess is marrying into is very culturally different from her own, very far away/a dangerous journey, and she hasn't been able to learn the language. She will be bringing some of her ladies-in-waiting but fears being very homesick in a place so different from her homeland.

-The princess already married for political reasons and her husband has now died. This time she wants to make her own choice because she's paid her dues (there is historical precedent for this)

-Princess has known her future spouse since childhood and was happy to marry him, he died suddenly and now she's being asked to marry his weird younger brother whom she knows well and dislikes.

-Princess is heavily prejudiced against the nation she is marrying into because of racism/xenophobia or whatever but they have a resource her kingdom needs and a baller army, so marriage it is! She overcomes her pride and prejudice as she falls in love with her husband.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I had an arranged marriage with "the bee king" who was just normal guy with yellow skin and a beard made out of live bees.

[superbat-love]

AU of the Wayne family history. At the batkids’ insistence, Alfred finally agreed to read them an old, leather-bound book he’d been holding—a memoir of the very first Wayne.

Clearing his throat, Alfred began in his usual calm, measured tone. "Long ago, a celestial being descended from the heavens, landing in a field owned by a struggling farmer. The celestial arrived in a dazzling ship, unlike anything seen on Earth. But the farmer, desperate to survive, dismantled the ship and sold its parts, making himself a fortune. When the celestial discovered what had happened, he was furious and sought out the farmer to demand justice."

The kids leaned in, totally hooked.

Alfred continued, "The farmer, terrified, begged for forgiveness. He promised that one day, his descendant would marry the celestial's firstborn child to atone for his crime. The celestial, after much thought, relented. He gifted the farmer the rest of the ship as dowry. From that moment on, the Wayne family flourished, their wealth growing beyond imagination."

Bruce, who’d been half-listening while skimming through some files on genetic engineering from the Fortress of Solitude, snorted. "Someone clearly had quite an imagination."

Without saying a word, Alfred flipped the book around and held it up for Bruce to see. The smirk faded from Bruce’s face as his eyes landed on the page. There, drawn in faded ink, was a detailed sketch of the ship… emblazoned with a symbol Bruce recognized immediately.

The crest of the House of El.

Alfred straightened, his tone subdued. "It would seem, Master Bruce, that the promise made to Jor-El must now be honored, given that his firstborn son has arrived on Earth."

Bruce froze. He recalled the Fortress’ eccentric behavior toward him and broke out in cold sweat.

[backinmyphase]

Not your chosen one

"I do." No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

Synopsis: Two Clans, only one goal. Have a Gojo heir and keep them in power. Satoru and you couldn't be more different. You two were raised completely different. While he is reaching for freedom, you can only hope to have a good prison.

Could your marriage ever be a success?

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Contains: strangers to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, angst to comfort

Status: ongoing

Author's note: I really don't know when this will be finished, I can be very inconsistent with my writing, so be warned! I try to keep my writing without any grammar mistakes but please have in mind, English isn't my first language!

Not your husband

Contains: arrangement between the clans about your marriage, origin of your marriage, Gojo is a bit of an asshole, traditional trauma

Not fulfilling meals

Contains: Gojo sucks at communicating, first meeting with the higher ups, talking about pregnancy and 'heir', first step towards each other

Not my honeymoon

Contains: the discussion of your honeymoon (who would have guessed?), little argument with Gojo, Gojo tries to be more approaching

Not alone

Contains: a nightmare, Satoru trying to be charismatic, fluff,

Not your letter

Contains: daily nightmares, Satoru being a sweetheart, pressure from your mother

Not the whole truth

Contains: much Angst, questioning trust, trowing up, self hate, mention of curses

Not your wife

Contains: much Angst, fighting, screaming, higher-ups, talking about loveless marriage, meeting with the higher-ups, hurt to comfort

Not my mother

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu Clans suck, reader's mom is a warning alone, talking about drugging a person, dark implications

Not my friends

Contains: Geto and Shoko (who would have thought), Angst to comfort, NOT OUT YET

More to come...

Not my kids

Finally my husband

Ongoing Taglist (I will try to add everyone here, as the series progresses, but I will still tag everyone on every part):

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[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You would have never imagined, but as it turns out, you’ve only known your spouse 48 hours and you’ve already begun to love married life.

In this time, lots has occurred, for one, you had to explain to your husband repeatedly that you really, truly, genuinely, had absolutely no opinion on where to spend the honeymoon.

He didn’t take too fondly to that…

--

"Please-" You had insisted, "Wherever you'd like! Whatever you choose, I'll be very happy with."

He had sighed, running a hand down his face, "I would much prefer to hear where you enjoy traveling."

You had confessed that you never really had the chance to leave the estate or school. Only on rare occasions were you presented the opportunity to venture outside, even when working as a sorcerer. You hadn’t even been on a school trips.

"Mountains or beaches?" He asked, the two of you were seated on the shared couch, his morning coffee in hand.

"I don't mind. I would love to see either."

He seemed to blink for a second too long, breathing in, he offered, "Do you have an interest in cities? Or do you prefer the countryside?"

You just smiled, "I promise you, I don't have an opinion either way, whatever you like."

"Alright... Do you care to fly, or would you like a cruise?"

The idea stressed you out a bit. Shrugging, before you answer, he grumbles your name, "What do you enjoy? Shopping? Hiking? Sightseeing?" He doesn't give you time to respond, "Eating? What cuisine do you like, by the way? That might help you decide."

You hold up a wobbly hand, "Woah...um can I be honest?"

Your husband sits up straight. Just a day before, you would have never even considered speaking so casually, but, just as you anticipated, he reasures you quickly, "Please do."

"Well... the things is, I would really just prefer you to choose..."

Nothing would feel worse than if said anything he didn’t like. You can tell your husband is a cooperative guy, he would likely just go with whatever you offered. The problem is that you want him to be happy. And frankly, you're not really sure what you like. Making a decision would be too much right now. You hardly know the things you enjoy yourself.

--

That same day, Nanami had requested you view him as a friend, any mention of your "wifely duties" and he would grimace. Eventually, through your easy back and forth, you were able to persuade him into telling you what part he played in this union the two of you shared.

"I... well, I'll speak freely as you have done... I took very little pleasure in Jujutsu society for some time." He huffed.

You had known this much, but as he continued, your dread mounted even more.

"The higher ups were not so fond of this idea-"

"But-" You interrupted, "Oh, I'm sorry, but, you're not from a clan, how could they have any sway in your decision?"

He just grinned, "You must not know, in your position, but the higher-ups have lots of sway in any sorcerers life, despite my...birth status."

"I had no idea..."

This, at least, was news to you. "They believed that an arranged marriage would keep you in the world of sorcery?"

He looked at you strangely then, "Yes, they were sure of that much. That is, marriage to a fellow sorcerer, and," He paused momentarily and cleared his throat, tugging at his collar, "The prospect of a child." He finished.

Oh.

There was an awkward silence between you two. Neither making eye contact.

Too uncomfortable…

Mmm, we have a nice coffee table...

Should you say something...?

You grin slowly, "We’re more similar than I thought."

He looks up at you and suddenly you are cold in the heat of his gaze. He hums low in his throat, "I'm very glad you think so."

--

After much prattling, and assurance on your end that you REALLY did not want to pick the location of your honeymoon, Nanami made a slight offering of an opinion. That being an “adventure train”.

"Oh! That sounds lovely!" You immediately respond. Just grateful he finally said something he could look forward to.

You had no idea what an “adventure train” entailed.

He squinted accusatorily, "Oh, please, I know you're just saying that."

"No, I'm not" you pout, "I love trains...on summer and winter breaks I would ride the train from Tokyo home..."

Chuckling he smirks, "Yes, well, this would be a little different from those trains” he calls your name, “honestly, I would like to hear about you." He settles comfortably into the sofa.

Suddenly confused by this, you start, “Oh... what would you like to know?"

"About you." Hes so matter of fact, "I want to know about the real you. Not....this person you are right now."

You straighten your spine, "What-" you scoff, "What are you talking about?"

He just laughs, it's deep and his chest shutters a bit, "I'm talking about how you just live by what other people want. You haven't told me a single thing that you enjoy since we've been together, which I must admit hasn't been very long-"

"Exactly!” You point at him. Almost stick your tongue out, then think better of it.

"Which hasn't been very long-" he restates, "But really, just last night you couldn't even tell me the kind of food you wanted-"

"Because I really didn't mind! I would have loved anything!"

"Precisely. I want to know-" He leans in close and you almost gasp at the suddenness of it, "What you like." He twists a hair out of your face and grins, "If I asked, I doubt you could answer me your favorite color."

"Well...I-"

He tilts his head and suddenly you feel accused. "You like them all, don't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with that." You smirk.

"No." He finally gives you room, leaning back and examining you now. “No, not at all. But I doubt you have anything you could name me that you would like right now, like for me to do, or say, like to be given, like to-" "I'd like-" You start, "For you to stop with all this nonsense."

"Very good...that's a start, I'm sure you would like that- you little people pleaser."

"I don't think there is anything...wrong with trying to make people happy." You stare firmly. You mean it.

It's strange, just a moment ago, you felt uncomfortable making eye contact, but now, your gazes rival one another.

"Just so long as you're not... making yourself into whatever you think someone wants to see. Just so long as you are being yourself." He hums.

Okay, this wasn't fun anymore.

You lose the fight, looking at your hands instead of those striking eyes. If you were being honest with yourself, you don't even know those things that he spoke of. What you like, what you think, who you really are. Is it so wrong to just try to be... what everyone else wants?

"I'm not lying though..." You look up once more, "I really would rather you just pick what we eat and where we go..."

"I believe you." He's not smiling now, "Really, I do. But what I would like is to learn of what you want."

There's a small flare inside of you that burns iron hot with his pushing this point, you extinguish it, finally saying, "I don't know what I want. I think I just…want what you want." You roll your eyes, shrugging our more. You know he must find you ridiculous.

Nanami purses his lips, the hand that was previously on your hair, is now on your chin. He looks so serious, yet somehow, kind.

"I'll teach you."

Your heart thumps.

It won't work, you think.

What you don't know, is that Nanami Kento is the most persistent and dedicated man to walk the earth and he, unlike you, does not so easily give up.

--

The next morning, while you riffle through the luggage you have packed for your multi-destinational luxury excursion, you recall that moment on the couch when he brushed his hand across your jaw.

He had been so soft. How could a sorcerer, one of his caliber even, have such a gentle hand?

You shudder.

Shaking your head, you zip up your suitcase, run a hand across your goose-bumped arm, and try to focus your energy on things other than your husbands hands, or his laugh, or his voice-

You shut your door to your room a little too harshly.

A form in the kitchen startles at the noise and quickly shuffles to the hallway,

The energy you had so determinedly focused on less appealing thoughts fades to nothing as Nanami makes his way toward you, a mug in hand.

His hair looks tousled in an annoyingly handsome way, he’s dressed casually, but it looks undeniably attractive, his shirt is loose everywhere and when he moves, it outlines his waist.

His waist? God. Get yourself together.

"Are you alright?" Nanami calls your name. His brows are taught and he’s bend towards you slightly.

"What? Yes, yes I'm quite well. I-I've just finished packing, see?" You pull your over-large suitcase in front of you.

"Oh..." He smiles, "Well done. Well, would you?

Huh? “…Would I what?"

"...Like honey…” he lifts the cup he hold in a large hand, “in your tea?"

My tea?

Oh god, you hope he hadn't already asked you that. (He definitely had.)

"Oh! Uhh is there already some in there?" You point to the steaming cup in his hand.

He grins, and it looks unbelievably feline in nature. "No, first you tell me if you like honey in your tea."

You scoff. He was still on about this. "I drink it both ways.” You raise your nose up at him.

He comes in close, suddenly appearing much taller than you remember, "Yes. I know you do. But how do you like it."

You reach for the mug but he doesn't let go, allowing you to grip his hand. "This is just perfect." You grunt, trying to pull the mug from his grasp. It doesn’t budge.

"So you don't mind that I sweetened it?" He looks at you, blond locks flopping into his face.

You grin, "Perfect." Your shoulders roll back, recalling how much you adored when a maid would add sugar to the tea pots back home. "I adore honey."

"Oh, good." He only then tugs his hand from yours, waltzing into the kitchen.

You follow behind in a very “lost pet” sort of fashion. It's only when he pulls a jar of honey from the cabinet and begins to spoon some of the golden nectar out that you realize he has played you.

You gasp. "Auh! You lied!"

He just grins. But you continue, "I like it both ways, really.” You cover your face, “really, a-and you don't have to make this for me, you know, I can do it myself."

He finishes stirring it and holds the mug out, handle facing you. He's leaned on the kitchen counters. He must feel very accomplished now, with that smug look covering his face.

"Don't worry, I'm well aware. Can't I do even this for you?" He gives you a funny smile. "I figured you liked sweets. You seemed to enjoy dessert the other night."

"You are a strangely observant creature Mr. Nanami Kento." You huff, taking the tea outstretched to you and sip.

It's delicious.

He hums, grinning, but you don’t see, "Is that right?"

You look up again and realize he's been watching you drink.

"Yes, you are."

He just chuckles, leaning further back on the counters.

"I was asking about the tea, honey."

He just laughs, leaving the kitchen. You take a deep breath, eyes closed and try to compose yourself. Somewhat peeved because, yes, the tea really was just right.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags:

If you ever want to be taken off of the tag list please just let me know :] (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

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[anorlondo00]

Please give us more ace marriage proposals

A mysterious pirate crew has offered Whitebeard a ridiculous sum of money for the hand of his second commander, Fire Fist Ace.

The kid loves free booze and food— no reason not to show up, right?

Part 1

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty-two: A Line in the Sand

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 32 | next

Series Masterlist

The tension in the room lingered long after In-ho had left, settling into the very air you breathed. You stood there, staring at the empty space where he had just been, frustration burning beneath your skin.

We’ll see.

Those two words gnawed at you, an infuriating mix of dismissal and challenge. You weren’t sure what he expected—to scare you away? To make you question everything that had happened between you? If that was his goal, he was failing spectacularly.

Because the more he pulled away, the more determined you became.

With a sharp breath, you turned on your heel and left the lounge, your mind already racing. You needed answers—needed to understand what was happening beneath the surface of In-ho’s carefully constructed exterior.

And there was only one place you might find them.

The control center was quieter than usual, but the guards stationed near the entrance barely acknowledged your presence as you walked through the doors. By now, they had grown accustomed to seeing you move freely through the compound—something that, at first, had been met with stiff resistance but now had become an unspoken allowance.

You spotted the surveillance screens first, a wall of flickering monitors displaying every inch of the facility. Your gaze skimmed over them until you found what you were looking for—In-ho, standing at the main observation deck, arms crossed as he overlooked the arena below.

Typical.

He buried himself in his work when things got too complicated, retreating into the one thing he could control.

“Looking for something?”

The voice startled you. You turned sharply, finding a familiar figure leaning casually against the console. The Square Guard. The same one who had led the charge against the Panther Mask.

His uniform was the same as the others, but there was something different about him—an air of authority that set him apart.

You hesitated before answering. “Just looking.”

His head tilted slightly, studying you. “You won’t find what you’re looking for on those screens.”

Your brows furrowed. “And what exactly am I looking for?”

The Square Guard didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the console, stepping closer, lowering his voice just enough to make you uneasy. “You want to understand him. But you won’t—not by watching.”

Your stomach tightened. “And you think you understand him?”

A low chuckle. “I understand the way he works. He keeps people at a distance for a reason.”

You crossed your arms. “And what reason is that?”

The guard studied you for a long moment before finally answering. “Because getting close to him is dangerous. For both of you.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“No,” the guard agreed. “But you should be afraid of what being close to him will cost you.”

A beat of silence passed between you before he nodded toward the screens. “If you really want to know him, stop looking for him here.” Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the hallway.

You stood there for a long moment, his words weighing heavy in your mind.

Stop looking for him here.

You exhaled sharply, your decision made.

If In-ho thought shutting you out would keep you away, he was wrong.

And if there was a cost to getting close to him…

Then you were willing to pay it.

———————

32!!!! Lemme know what you guys think!!! Thank you!

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[lilacgaby]

katsuki didn't expect to be here today.

with you, a gorgeous woman at that, laid in his arms. found passed out in the meadows, a flower bed beneath the two of you. time still, wind blowing through your bodies as you rested.

he had been out hunting, blowing off smoke. annoyed at his current situation of being forced to marry a woman he didn't know, one who'd likely never love him. one he knew he'd never love.

a life of loveless marriage, one he was raised under, scared him more than he'd pray tell.

he'd rushed out quickly, barging through the servants, the large doors, and his grand estate. only his bow and sword on him as he trekked through. familiar lands enveloped him, but the sight of you didn't. more importantly, the sight of you, who had started falling.

he was moving before he realized, catching you in muscled arms, the sad crunches of ruined flowers beneath him. though none compared to the sight of the one he held now.

his bow and sword discarded, hands moving out of instinct to wipe the tears off of your face. it was clear you weren't supposed to be out here, your dress one of a high noble, silks too expensive for a common folk to afford. a satchel.. one that bore an emblem that seemed all too familiar. thoug it didn't take his full attention. his body seemed all to keen to focus on you, his chest sought to match your breaths, hearts beating in tandem.

you awoke just a few moments later, eyes wide at the sight of him. he settled you next to him, as you spoke to him. "thank you, i don't know what came over me." you spoke gently, a tone of unconfidence as you looked down at your hands. a ring on your finger.

though it looked unfit on you.

"i understand." he replied gruffly, picking up his weapons behind him, hands feeling antsy to be occupied at the sight of the gorgeous stranger in front of him. "bad feelings 've been in the air lately, it seems."

you looked up at him finally, allowing him to get a clear view of your face. with eyes puffy, lips swollen and bitten, and cheeks red. he fought off a smile, this wasn't the time to be thinking of how cute you looked.

you let out a sigh of sorrow. "it's been getting to all of the heirs of age, it seems."

he held you for a minute longer, hands grasped together tightly, wordless comfort based of mutual understanding given. neither of you said anything, but you both felt like you needed it. he knew it in the way you didn't want to let him go. and you knew it in the way he didn't. it was hard for him to pull away, but he knew he had to.

after a beat, he stood up. lowering a hand to you. "no sense in worrying about the inevitable," you smiled slightly and took his hand. "right."

he looked at the sun, it was slowly falling, prime hunting time. "you should head back to wherever you came, it'll be night soon." you nodded, and brought a bag up from the floor, you opened it, and a bracelet was in your palms.

you handed it to him, the red ruby of the beads matching his eyes as they shinned in the sun. "take this, please."

he was taken aback, seemingly unaware of why you would do this for him. he tried pushing your hand away, but it was unrelenting. a stubborn look in your eyes and he rolled his, sliding it onto his wrist.

he moved to leave, when you grabbed your wrist. it was out of impulse, he felt the internal panic in your stance, your mouth hung open slightly, though no words escaping. finally though, you manage a weak, "your name?"

for the first time since his arrangement, he laughed. laughed at the simplicity of the gesture, at your expression, at his situation.

with a boyish smile, he rested your hand at your side, touch lingering for a second too long. "call me katsuki."

he turned to leave, feet feeling a little more heavy now, knowing he was walking away from you. someone he seemed to get along with so easily.

you yelled your name after him, the crunches of the grass underneath your shoes fading away too. you were gone now.

he looked back at you, feeling the beads of the bracelet under nimble fingers, before squeezing it in his palm.

the hunting went poorly, he was too distracted to aim. the night went painstakingly fast, the arrival of the family, his wife, the agenda for the day.

uncomfortable traditional clothes felt even heavier now, the chains of being binded to someone he didn't know being heavier than any chain he could break physically.

his head that was slumped on the table was now forced up, his mother kicking him in the foot to remind him to at least try and be polite. he sighed, a feeling of dread hanging over him as the footsteps neared.

each one was sealing his fate, the door click the nail in the coffin.

but all his negativity vanished, all poor thoughts ceasing at the sight of you. your eyes were just as wide as his, your hand over your face in shock. the entourage beside you confused at your expression.

"madam?"

"katsuki?" you whispered under your breath.

though he managed to hear you. how could he not when you demanded his attention so seamlessly?

but now it was his turn to be speechless. speechless at the prospect of your rank, of your arrival,

and at the realization that he'd be married to you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles