#the cursed duty series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvsicktyun · 2 months ago

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A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock. “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words.

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you.

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.”

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father.

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.”

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips.

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out.

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it.

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were.

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful.

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before.

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip.

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?”

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough.

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out.

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess.

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was.

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.”

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you.

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.”

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight.

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal.

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all.

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak.

“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole.

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.”

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he?

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties.

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.”

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot.

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow.

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders.

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.”

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical.

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.”

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?”

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.”

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words.

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.”

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter.

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you.

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul.

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you.

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip.

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient.

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.”

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done.

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.”

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here.

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean.

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.”

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists.

“Do you understand?” your father demands.

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head.

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless.

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right.

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart.

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again.

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head.

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin.

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint.

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right?

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.”

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—”

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.”

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money.

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter.

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods.

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again.

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her.

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs.

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun.

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.”

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour.

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes.

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly.

Kai’s face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—”

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold.

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by.

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.”

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

It was her hair.

Pink.

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own.

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool.

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was.

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.”

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger.

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—”

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute.

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.”

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way.

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it.

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?”

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye.

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened.

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered.

And you’re reckless,” he shot back.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?”

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question.

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit.

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart.

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars.

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun.

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth.

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again.

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.”

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?”

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do.

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.”

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you.

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.”

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation.

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin.

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside.

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly.

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally.

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—”

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.”

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair.

“I’m not scared,” he shot back.

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.”

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me.

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.”

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him.

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go.

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.”

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again.

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.”

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.”

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you.

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.”

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him.

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.”

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?”

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.”

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.”

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time.

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.”

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.”

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly.

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer.

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you.

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it.

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire.

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly.

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you.

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.”

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy.

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff.

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.”

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss.

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair.

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment.

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.”

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses.

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back.

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons.

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures.

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable.

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away.

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-”

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly.

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.”

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile.

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing.

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured.

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy.

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?”

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that.

“Use your words sweetheart.”

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch.

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape.

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath.

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..”

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you.

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance.

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding.

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes”

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you.

“My god.” You whispered.

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand.

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips.

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless.

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze.

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight.

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you.

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine.

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving.

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.”

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain.

“No. Please move.”

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out.

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely.

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.”

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.”

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you.

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub.

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face.

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train.

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge.

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling.

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment.

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.”

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.”

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening.

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed. “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.”

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief.

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.”

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?”

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?”

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.”

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.”

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it.

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real?

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door.

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?”

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.”

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—”

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.”

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—”

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm.

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.”

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.”

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him.

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.”

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?”

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.”

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?”

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?”

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers.

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.”

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained.

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.”

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.”

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest.

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game.

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only.

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words.

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty.

Yeonjun.”

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back.

“Yeonjun,

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun.

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened.

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him.

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure.

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax."

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied.

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this."

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again.

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill.

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised.

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it.

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession.

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai.

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?"

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it.

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—"

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it."

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered.

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want."

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise."

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.”

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary.

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was.

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks.

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face.

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want."

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free."

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will."

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of."

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think."

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it.

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours.

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters.

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered.

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance.

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could.

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm.

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up.

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips.

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother.

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known."

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking.

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise."

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother.

"I love you," you whispered.

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know."

You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her.

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist.

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all."

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried."

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been.

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how."

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully.

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them.

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately.

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world."

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.”

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart.

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.”

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them."

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else."

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted."

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest.

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else.

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest.

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.”

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear.

Her marriage announcement.

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one.

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin.

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears.

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it.

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was.

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table . Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him.

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation.

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude.

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner.

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her.

Kang Taehyun.

The one she was supposed to marry.

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil.

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her?

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now."

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him.

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough.

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—"

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him."

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast.

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world."

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide."

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of.

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do."

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me."

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you.

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone."

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together."

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure.

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake.

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand.

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed.

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all.

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning.

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked.

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control.

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.”

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow.

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him.

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.”

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai.

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy.

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold.

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon.

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him.

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward.

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined.

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor.

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent.

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.”

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.”

“But-”

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob.

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest.

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.”

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.”

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.”

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was.

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses.

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor.

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered.

His breath caught. It was her.

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look.

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists.

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.”

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.”

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.”

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn.

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—”

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion.

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness.

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried.

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.”

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.”

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.”

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.”

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief.

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days.

Yeonjun.”

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.”

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.”

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.”

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

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sv3t1ana · 24 days ago

Text

SYNOPSIS ᯓ You were always meant to be nothing. A servant, a shadow in the grand halls, another soul swallowed by his world. And yet, he sees you. Knows you better than you want to be known. When you stop running, was it ever a chase at all?

PAIRING ᯓ trueform! Sukuna x fem! reader

WARNINGS ᯓ fem! reader, throat fucking, Sukuna is murderous, choking (barely), oral (m + f receiving), two cocks (one hole), second mouth, he's lowkey down bad for you, stomach bulge, he cries, choking on it, he wants everyone to hear you, you're lowkey jealous because he fucks you so well.

WORD COUNT ᯓ 3.4k

SERIES ᯓ GOJO ⋮ GETO ⋮ CHOSO ⋮ SUKUNA

No time for anything but duty.

Dawn was yet to break when you stirred from your thin, pearl white bedding, the distant toll of a gong signaled the start of another day to service the King of Curses. Frigid air coming from your open window causing goosebumps to kiss your skin, fingers stiff while you pushed upward to swing your feet off the bed.

The grand hall awaited.

Moving quickly through the dim corridors, your footsteps slapped against the stone. Other servants were bouncy, murmuring among themselves as they hurried to their own tasks. For some reason, Sukuna preferred you. That fact alone ensured you were allowed no leisure, no freedom, no pleasure.

The grand hall was vast, towering pillars with gilded braziers. It was your responsibility to rekindle them, to sweep away the remnants from last night’s indulgences. Scattered bones, wine stains, the destruction Sukuna left wherever he went. You worked in silence, sweeping, scrubbing, making sure to leave not a trace of mess before he entered.

By midday, your monotonous duties led you to Sukuna’s chambers. A cavernous space lined with dark silks and the ever-present scent of blood. You moved with your usual practiced efficiency, wiping down the lacquered surfaces and straightening furnishings. All while listening, there was always something to hear.

Today it was Uraume’s voice, calm and collected.

“They begged for mercy.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Did they?”

“You slew them anyway.”

“Their supplications did but offend me,” he spoke, tone laced with disdain, waving his hand dismissively. “To levy demands upon one such as I… how unworthy the breath spent.”

Uraume didn’t argue. They never did. No one did.

It was always like this, he destroyed for no reason. No one dared to question it.

A heavy presence filled the room as you straightened the last piece of furniture. A kind of presence that made the hairs along your arms raise before you turned. You knew what was about to happen.

“You are slow today.”

His voice was smooth. You kept your eyes down, focusing on the task at hand.

“I am thorough,” you corrected, wringing the cloth in your hands over the soapy water bucket.

“Hm.”

A single sound. You’ve been here long enough to hear his smirk.

You swallowed the sharp retort that rested on your taste buds and moved toward the door when you finished your last task. Before you could reach it—

“Woman.”

You stopped, not by choice but because it was a command. Even if it wasn’t meant to be.

“Do you find my chambers displeasing?”

You blinked once, face expressionless. “I find them filthy.”

Another pause, then a laugh. Though not cruel, but entertained.

“Good.”

He merely watched as you turned on your heel and left.

You hated him.

You hated everything about him.

His arrogance, his amusement of suffering, the way he looked at you as though he were waiting for something, like one day you might offer him more than disdain.

You hated being here at all. That all your life was to serve him. Losing all purpose and reduced to serving a homicidal monster who thought himself a god.

And yet, he preferred you. That was the worst part.

He would never let you be. That's why you were the only servant allowed to perform duties inside his personal chambers. It made you wonder why you were always given the task of cleaning up after him, it was like he wanted you to see what he did.

It had been weeks of the same grueling routine of your new schedule, of enduring his presence and feeling the unwieldy weight of his gaze even when you weren’t looking. You should have expected it, that sooner or later he would grow tired of the silent treatment.

Your summons came at dusk. One of the lesser servants palpitating as they spoke.

The lord has requested you.

His chamber was dimly lit, braziers casting shadows against the silk-draped walls. Sukuna was reclined, one arm against the curve edged atop his throne.

“Woman.”

You stopped a few paces before him, reluctantly bowing to the floor.

“Lord.” The word seared your tongue, burning like embers from a growing flame.

A slow smirk grew on his lips. “How obedient.”

He studied you for a moment, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Exhaling through his nose like he was disappointed, “you hate me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Is it amusing to state the obvious, my lord?”

He chuckled, “I find amusement in many things.” A pause, then quieter, more deliberate, “you, most of all.”

Your fingers twitched, brows furrowing slightly as your eyes narrowed. “Then find new entertainment.”

His smirk widened. More certainty than mockery from before.

“You loathe me,” he mused. “And yet, here you stand. When I call, you come.”

“I am a servant.”

“A servant whose words do not wane. And yet, you do not leave.”

You swallowed, no response to give. Truth is you took up being a servant for added protection and the free rent. Beforehand, you had been struggling to make ends meet for years. Now, you are one of the longest lasting servants Sukuna had the pleasure of employing. You could leave, sure, at the expense of your life. But you already gave your life up to serve him. It was this or death.

Sukuna leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Is it duty that keeps you here?” His eyes flickered, “or something else?”

Your breath caught halfway down your throat.

There it was, the shift. The shift you refused to acknowledge, the one he stoically waited for you to realize.

The thing is, he didn’t demand it. He didn’t ask. He simply made it inevitable.

And you hated him for it.

The silence between you stretched. You should have scoffed and turned on your heel already, leaving without another word. But here you were, feet remaining on the polished floor, fingers gripping the inside of your sleeves.

Sukuna only watched, an unreadable expression you’ve grown to detest. He had no smug grin, no sharp amusement. Only patience. He was waiting like he always did.

Your jaw clenched while your eyes darted to the floor. “You are mistaken if you think—”

He shifted and rose to his feet in one shift motion. The space between you disappeared too quickly. His presence was overwhelming, looming over him the thousands of innocent lives taken for the sake of amusement. Entertainment. One clawed finger reached forward, catching the edge of your chin and tilting your face upward.

“Am I?”

His voice was low, deep. Something sent heat crawling through your blood vessels, blaze threatening to set your skin on fire.

“You assume much,” you bit out. Resisting the instinct to pull away, resisting the urge every cell in your body was screaming at you for to pull away. After all, he would win if you did.

“I assume nothing.” His thumb brushed the curve of your jaw, cocking his head back to truly look down at you. “I see.”

Your breath was uneven, rage and something else twisting in your chest creating the perfect mixture of rage, uneasiness, desire? “And what is it you think you see?”

A deliberate smile spread across his face slowly.

“A human who does not flinch.” His fingers traced lower, skimming your throat before resting his fingers around the back of your neck and thumb resting lightly in the curve between your collarbones.

“A human who has spent years writhing over a hatred that wavers.”

“No.” You answered, “you’re wrong.”

He hummed, stepping back and releasing the hold around you. Giving you just enough space to breathe, but not enough space to release you from the metaphorical tether he tied, binding you both together.

“Perhaps,” he pondered. “Or perhaps you are afraid of what hatred becomes when it festers too long.”

There was an invitation, a challenge in his tone. Something else entirely different from the usual amuse present in his gaze.

You should leave.

Walk away.

Turn and never come back.

But you didn’t.

That was all the answer he needed.

The worst part was he never saw you as weak, he didn’t dismiss you like he did other servants. He knew you would kneel before him willingly so there was no point in asking. Instead, he lured, pulled, and twisted until you were the one standing too close.

He leaned in, breath ghosting over your ear and down your neck. “Tell me, human,” he murmured. “If your hate is so pure, why is it that you linger?”

You could only shake your head, will your heart to stop its swift pace.

Moments of silence pass, Sukuna feeling you through his eyes, arms crossed across his chest while you kept your gaze low and head slightly bowed.

“What is it that you want?”

He smiled, slow and knowing. “Ah,” he said, tilting his head and bringing his hand up to his chin as if he was in great contemplation. “Finally, the right question.”

“You know what I want,” he continued, his voice nothing over a small rumble. “The real question is, what is it that you seek?”

Your breath stilled, he was doing it again.

Twisting, digging, forcing you to see something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You hated him.

And yet—you wanted him.

He hummed and walked away, turning around half way to curl his finger at you, petitioning you to follow. You did just that, unsure of how this all happened. How had you got here in the first place? Your own feet brought you here, yet you barely remember the journey. Here you remain, following your lord where his bed lay.

It’s then that he grabbed your body whole, whipping you around to face him while he sat on his bed as you stood between his legs.

“Well?” He began after moments of stillness and silence. “On your knees.” While he gripped the crown of your head and pushed you to the floor.

You didn’t resist. In fact, you obliged without hesitation.

You skillfully opened his robe to reveal his rock hard length. Holding back a gasp at the sight before you—two cocks. Nimbly gripping both with each hand, choking each while you lapped your tongue on both tips, spitting and letting it drip to his base, giving each equal treatment.

He watched before you, an expressionless face as you loved on his cocks, reacting indifferently.

You gazed up with inquisition to watch his reaction as you dragged your tongue down one and began pumping a steady rhythm with the other in hand.

He let out a quiet hiss, almost too quiet for your dept ears to hear when you completely enveloped him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his length while his cock head grazed your uvula, causing you to gag. You coughed around his cock, letting dribbles of spit mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his base. You sucked and sucked, pinching your cheeks around his thick veiny circumference.

You only popped! your mouth off him when you felt his hips jerk in attempt to throat-fuck you. It wasn’t now that he was allowed that control. Not after the nauseating consciousness he forced upon you earlier.

Lowering your lids while you traced the veins up and down his second cock, using your free hands to jerk his other, twisting in tandem, squeezing tightly when you reached his angry red tip. You pointed your tongue and circled his tip and opening, as if to tease the one you serve.

You watched as his eyes narrowed, you saw the way he held back his moans. You saw the way he had to fight his body going limp by positioning his arms to brace his upper body behind him.

You embraced his second cock in your mouth, this time letting one hand pump the length your mouth couldn’t reach. He brought his hand out to smack yours away, gripping the back of your skull and pushing you down.

You choked, coughed, gagged. Tears brimming the corner of your eyes when you moaned and adjusted to the sensation of his cock in your throat.

And he was so deep you were sure he could see the outline of it. His breath quickened for a moment before he pulled you off. “Enough.” He said calmly. He wasn’t calm.

He grabbed your forearms to pull you atop him, forcing your clothed pussy to graze his spit covered, sloppy cocks.

“Your garments. Remove them at once.” He demanded.

You did as told, taking your time in attempt to mock him. Pulling your shirt over your head slowly to reveal your braless chest. You watched his blank face, not missing the way his pupils dilated ever-so-slightly when your rotund tits bounced out from the fabric holding them back. He gripped one firmly in his large hand, letting the plush tissue of your breast pillow between his fingers as he massaged with greedy desire, letting out a quiet hm like he was deciding something, or rather, coming to a conclusion.

He wanted this just as much as you.

When you removed your pants and panties he grabbed your waist tightly to position you so your pussy would grind against his cocks that lay on his naturally-defined abs.

“Hah,” he laughed. Feeling your dripping cunt coat him in even more of your sweet fluids. “Ready for me already, are you?” He still gripped you with two hands, using an extra hand he slapped your pussy. The sound of it squelching filled the empty room as he kept slapping it, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull.

You splayed your fingers on his chest for support, looking up at him with a distressed look on your face when he positioned his first cock at your entrance.

“Human, can you not handle me?” It was a rhetorical question. Not that you’d give him the pleasure of hearing your answer even if it wasn’t.

You furrowed your brows and sat down as if to prove a point, filling yourself up immediately with one of his cocks, ignoring the pain, the sting you felt while he nearly tore you apart.

He gritted his teeth, “I see now.” He smiled, “you are too inexperienced.”

You stuffed yourself repeatedly, almost seeing stars every time your hips descended at the limited capacity your small body had in comparison to him. “Inexperienced?” you huffed out between breaths, tears rolling down your cheeks and eyes pinched shut. “My lord… should you… expect me to… lay with more men?”

“I never said such a thing.” He growled, seeking the strength to resist stuttering his hips from your painfully languid pace. He didn’t want to hurt you too much.

You felt your walls begin to flutter around his cock already, your clit hitting the wet tongue of the mouth on his stomach every time you filled yourself with him. It had been only a few minutes of this, and yet your body still hasn’t adjusted. He had a good two inches that wouldn’t fit. His tip was already kissing your cervix, the ache that rang through your entire body like a bell when your poor pussy couldn’t keep up with even a slow pace. He was painfully large.

“Make haste, human.” He spoke, lowering his lids and sucking an inhale through his lips. “Hasten your pattern. Reach your precipice.”

You felt the building pressure in your stomach when he spoke, the coil tightening in your abdomen as you lost composure and came from a single one of his cocks alone when you felt him internally grunt and muscles tighten beneath your palms. Your body nearly went limp, as when you went to collapse forward he caught you, switching positions quickly so you lay on your back with him between your legs, now pulled out from your entrance.

“Inadequate,” he voiced, gripping both cocks with either hand, centered at your entrance. “This shall be rectified at once.”

And before you knew it, he was inching both of his cocks inside you. It burned, it felt as if he was searing you apart, like you were a fly compared to an elephant. The throb you felt radiating through you that started at your center, the sweet, sweet throb.

You saw the way he looked up at you, looking for permission to continue. You threw your head back whimpering, gripping the sheets at your sides with your mouth agape. Looking at him once more to see him avert his concerned gaze turn into a more nonchalant one.

“You must take this.” He looked down, having the tongue on his lower stomach dart out to lap at your folds, caressing your clit with care as if to soothe your pain.

He took the hint when you linked your ankles behind his sculpted back, pulling him in. He gripped your thighs, threw your ankles above his shoulders and pulled your body to him. Letting him fill up as much as possible before hitting the limit.

Getting in another inch or two, he began his erratic pace. Grunting as he thrusts, he held a wicked, evil smirk on his face while he gripped your waist like you’d run away.

“I… I still hate you,” you reminded him. Sukuna made you drunk. It was the pain, the pleasure, the agony from losing this fight with him. He only let out a demented laugh in response.

You panted loudly, clenching around his length as if it were a lifeline. You’d gotten somewhat used to his size with just one cock, and now he fucked you apart with both. It was truly a transcendental experience, pain morphing into pleasure, hate turning into a reluctant passion.

He removed one cock and began fucking you at an erratic pace with the other. His other cock slapping your stomach each time he snapped his hips, rutting into you and grunting like an animal.

You were still so tight, and now his one cock could fit fully inside you, like he really did stretch you out to fit him. He saw the bulge of himself outlining your lower abdomen, giggling to himself.

“You humans,” he huffed out, voice low and gritty, “are so fragile.”

Your moans only became louder when he pounded faster, deeper. At one point deciding to cover your own mouth in attempt to lower your voice from being heard, he smacked it away.

“You must not.” He commanded. “The estate must be apprised of our connection.”

He then brought his calloused hand to rest at the base of your neck, teetering on the edge of just barely gripping you but still keeping you in his hold. Your fingers linked behind his neck, beckoning him to come closer.

Your lips met, kissing for the first time and sharing breaths, moaning in his mouth. And fuck, was he a good kisser. You wondered if he’d ever done this before… and with who.

His lips devoured yours like he’d been waiting years for your arrival. Like he could never get enough. It was such a stark contrast to his usual bloodthirsty demeanor. He was ruthless in having you, lying in wait for you to realize what you already knew. The festered hatred splitting in two to create something new. The fire burning in your chest with hate wasn’t so different from the fire in the pit of your stomach as his cock alone made you cum for the second time tonight.

Sukuna rarely demanded, and he never chased. He simply stood, watched, and waited.

When the moment came, and years lying in wait for the moment when you turned toward and not away, he would not gloat. He would only smirk, as if to say, finally.

For all his taunting, smug certainty, he was just as bound to you as you were to him, your lord. Something about you was different than the rest of the servants. The care and precision you put into your duties was different than their usual mindless acts of submission. Your defiance was sharp and deliberate. You may serve him, but you never belonged to him.

And that was what he sought most from humans and rarely found. Not a servant, not obedience, but you. Entirely and willingly consumed by something stronger than hatred.

That’s why he gravitated towards you, and that’s why he picked you to be the first human to ever become intimate with him.

Therefore he waited. He waited for the moment you’d stop resisting the inevitable. For the moment you were his just as he, in the depths of his cruel, stubborn heart, was yours.

Which is why when he expended himself, painting your walls with thick ropes after ropes of cum, room filled with the slowing slap of skin, grunts, panting, smelling of shared sweat and sex, you just had to ask,

“My lord, are you crying?”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #hate fuck #jjk fic #he's lowkey in love with you #sweet but psycho

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gojoest · 9 months ago

Text

ENTANGLED ━━━ chapter one

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin f! reader

series masterlist┊next chapter

synopsis: you — the daughter of zenin naobito (the head of the zenin clan), born with no cursed energy and therefore deemed to be the disgrace of the clan — have only one dream. to escape from your own blood that’s rejected you ever since birth, even if it means you have to dirty your hands in the process. when simply running away is not an option, for they would indubitably find you and drag you back for worse, you find your getaway in the arms of an enemy clan

warnings: MDNI, canon divergent, non-linear narrative (a lot of jumping back and forth between past & present, it’s indicated accordingly), female reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a zenin born without cursed energy, discrimination, abuse and bullying during childhood (she gets the toji treatment :/), brief mention of direct maternal death (regarding reader’s mother), childhood friends that fall out but come together, marriage of convenience (but with a twist), eloping, pining, kind of slow burn ngl, ijichi, shoko, geto, naoya + naobito cameo, mentions of food and alcohol, terms of endearment (calls you miss zenin, bride-o-mine, then mrs gojo later on + sweetheart <- so do you but with a lot of sarcasm behind it), sexual tension, male masturbation, although it’s left vague there’s some elements of incestuous behaviors on naoya’s end, wc: 9.3k

chapter one guideline & timeline:

I. The News — takes place in the present time.

II. The Proposal — two weeks prior to The News.

III. Sealing The Deal — two days after The News.

IV. The Past — flashback to the past, mainly from reader’s pov. this part is to be continued in chapter two, from satoru’s pov.

V. The First Night — after Sealing The Deal.

VI. Bad Faith — the day after The First Night.

The News

Nobody could ever predict what Gojo Satoru was up to, except for one specific behavioral aspect of his — those who’ve spent a fair amount of time around him could easily figure that whatever it was on that man’s mind, it was, without any doubt, unorthodox and crazy.

Yet every now and then, Gojo Satoru managed to outdo himself and exceed even their wildest expectations. This time — by dropping a bomb nobody saw coming, especially not from him.

“Gojo-san, there’s an upcoming mission assigned to your students, and you are to supervise them throughout it”, Ijichi hands a document regarding the occasion, but his arms hang in the air as the blindfolded man is absorbed in a rather peculiar activity, patently unwilling to receive the papers.

“Eeeh”, Satoru drags out a displeased whine, without even bothering to look at Ijichi. Currently seated and mindlessly spinning around in a swivel chair that he rummaged out earlier that day from one of the storage units in Jujutsu High and dragged into the classroom for god knows why. His entire attention focused on keeping his long legs up in the air as he spins as fast as he can without possibly breaking the chair, but still, he shows some semblance of interest. “When? Where? What’s it about?”, the words spoken in slow monotone.

If you look at the papers, you might know the answer to all these, Gojo-san. Ijichi thinks to himself but, of course, doesn’t dare say it out loud. “It’s in two days from now, the location is—”

“Stop right there”, Satoru cuts him off, ceasing his childish ministrations with his feet landing a heavy stomp on the floor. He slowly gets up. “In two days?”, he rubs his chin, thinking, “I am afraid, I can’t. I am getting married then”

Of course, you are. Ijichi thinks in an internal monologue.

“With all due respect, Gojo-san”, he clears his throat to push back the laughter that’s about to climb up and out his throat. “You could’ve come up with a better excuse than this to, umm—”, after fixing his glasses, he continues, “—ditch your duties”

“That was not an excuse, Ijichi, nor was it a joke. I can’t believe you think so lowly of me as a teacher”

For a second there, the evident seriousness in his voice sends a shiver down Ijichi’s spine, which, to be honest, is not entirely caused by the way Gojo spoke to him, but also what he spoke of just now. “I really am getting married”, he repeats.

“Oh?”, Ijichi’s eyes widen, unable to utter another word other than an exclamation while processing the credibility of his words. This man is not joking? This man, of all men, is getting married? For real?

“To be more precise — in two days from now, I will be busy kidnapping this bride-o-mine”

“Oh?!”, still speechless, another gasp leaves Ijishi’s mouth. “You’re eloping?”

“That is correct, ten points for you Ijichi!”, Satoru claps his hands. “Keep this a secret for the time being. I know it's a matter of time for everyone to know, but I'd rather they found out after it’s official since prying eyes might get in our way and spoil our plans. Got it?”

Ijichi only nods in return.

“Good. As for the mission — let Nanami handle it in my stead, the students will be fine as long as he’s with them”

After Satoru left, excusing himself with a “oh, so many things to do before the big day, you know?” spoken with his trademark silly chuckle, Ijichi stood there in the empty classroom for a while, frozen. Shocked to his core still, but now also curious. Who was that woman to make Gojo Satoru want to marry her?

The Proposal

(two weeks ago)

“To say I was surprised to get a call from you would be an understatement, Miss Zenin”, Satoru grinned at you, taking off his sunglasses immediately upon your arrival and placing them on the table.

It’s not that you were late — he was simply early, something quite bizarre for him honestly. Already ordered drinks for the both of you and waiting for you to show up with his legs crossed and fingers nervously tapping on the table — again, being nervous was something quite unusual for him as well.

“And to ask me to meet you here of all places—”, he sprawled out on the chair, leaning his back against the wooden splat, his long legs reaching the other side of the table from beneath and pushing the chair there with his feet to invite you to sit. He was being a gentleman in his own way, to which you rolled your eyes but made no remark. “Are you going to ask me to kill someone for you?”, a mocking chuckle escaped his lips after he finished his sentence.

“Not necessarily”, you replied, unamused.

The day before, you called him. Asking to meet you here, in this secluded spot disguised as a cafe which regular people avoided, since it was a place swarmed by dangerous individuals and illegal activities. Drugs, kidnapping, assassination — whatever shady dealing you could think of. It had to be this place, after all there was no way for a Zenin to meet a Gojo out in the open, considering the bad blood between the two clans since generations ago. Especially not the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the clan head, and Gojo Satoru, the pride and leader of the Gojo clan. It would’ve caused consequences, for you at least.

“You’ve got some balls to come here alone though, I must admit. As intriguing as always”, Satoru scoffed. “I don’t remember the last time I sat this close to you. Not since we were kids”, his lips slightly curved into a nostalgic smile as he reminisced about old times. “Now you avoid me anywhere you see me, like I’m some sort of disease”, and the smile shifted back to a regular one, although you could tell it was forced, just to keep his usual nonchalant appearance. “Not that we meet outside of clans’ gatherings, but still—”

“Can we skip the yapping and cut to the chase? I don’t have much time”, you interrupted. “Sure, Miss Zenin”, he shot back.

Miss Zenin. The way he called you that annoyed you abysmally, and that probably was his intention all along. But you had to ignore it for now, you really didn’t have much time on your hands — you had to go back home before anyone would notice you weren’t around.

“I have a favor to ask, actually — it’s more of a proposal”

“Listening”, his head tilting to the side, eyes locked on your lips, awaiting the words.

“Will you marry me?”

Silence.

It took him a few seconds before he could speak, pondering in his head whether he heard you right. Eventually the only word he could utter was “What?”, to which you said nothing. You figured it was best to give him some time to process the information.

“What’s the catch?”, he spoke again, eyes now squinting.

“Glad you asked”, you gave him a knowing smile.

“Of course. I would say it’s a joke but no way you’d call me out of the blue just to pull my leg”

“True, it isn’t a joke”

“I believe it’s not out of love either? Unless... I am wrong? Have you been harboring such strong feelings towards me all these years?”, his tone slowly transitioning back into mocking after the initial shock had faded.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You wish. See, that would only happen in your dreams”

Laughing, he slowly shifted in his seat. Leaning his body forward to rest an elbow on the table and press a cheek against his palm, his other hand playing with the straw of his drink. “So, you want out of the clan, huh? And finally have the courage to do it”

“You figured?”

“Well, I grasp things quickly. Considering how the Zenins treat women and especially those born without cursed energy, like yourself, this wasn’t hard to predict. But I am surprised by the choice of your method”

“And I am surprised you didn’t cut me out by now since this was a shot in the dark”, you eyed him, baffled but pleasantly.

“Let’s say I am intrigued by your proposal, which turned out to be quite unromantic, but I'll look past it”, a mystifying grin splattered on his lips. "Also, as you already know, there’s a Zenin or two I am willing to help”, he laughed. “So, tell me — what’s in that beautiful head of yours?”

"Well, as you already guessed — I want to leave the clan. Being a Zenin is not for me, never has been. I’ve been treated like an abomination all my life, looked down upon like I barely fit the criteria to be human in their eyes just because I was not gifted with abilities, and I am done with it”, you paused, trying to hold back the cracking of your voice. All the years of mistreatment washing over you as you spoke. You took a deep breath, “Simply running away is not an option, they will find me and drag me back for worse. You know it. But if you help me—”

“—their hands will be tied”, he finished your sentence.

You nodded. “They can’t go against you. Well, there might be a slight commotion, namely coming from my brother, Naoya. But he won’t do anything brash without father’s approval”

“That lousy brat? I didn’t know the two of you were so close”, Satoru lifted an eyebrow, a bit bothered by this.

“We’re not, but it’s complicated”

He got the message — you did not wish to talk about it. And he’d let it slide. For now. “And you think you’ll be free once you become a Gojo?”

“Not immediately, but eventually — yes. I don’t plan on staying by your side until death do us part, you know”

“What an eventful meeting this turned out to be — first I get a marriage proposal, and now a divorce, all at once”, he laughed, covering his eyes with a hand. Perhaps to hide something in them that didn’t quite align with his laughter. “What if I get attached and refuse to let you go?”, he spoke, with a tone more serious that it took you aback a bit. “Have you considered this?”

“Are you a comedian now?”, you brushed it off. “We both know such thing won’t happen”

“How come you’re so sure?”

“It’s happened before, you know it”

“We were kids back then”, he smiled softly, with a sprinkle of regret on his lips. “We used to sneak out to spend time together, but things are different now”

“But you stopped coming”

“My training got more intense, didn’t have time for games anymore”

“You bet. I know you did it to keep me out of trouble. You were aware I was getting scolded and punished for meeting you”

“Oh?”, he gasped. “You knew?”, a powerless laughter followed the realization that all these years you didn’t just avoid him out of spite. Part of him felt at ease about it, that you always understood him, even without words. Just like back then. Maybe because you were both a mutation of a different breed — a special boy put on a pedestal by many, a monster if you will; and a nonspecial girl looked down upon by her own blood as a disappointment, barely a human — yet the loneliness you carried weighed the same on your hearts.

“Yea”, you sighed. “Back then you did it to keep me out of trouble, now you’ll do it to get me out of one. When the time comes, we’ll separate but keep it a secret. If my clan finds out, they won’t let it slide. I’ll show up for gatherings every now and then, to dodge any possible suspicions, but that’s all. Treat this like a deal”

“That’s all good, but deals require an equivalent exchange so both parties benefit from it. You get your freedom. But what about me — what do I get in return?”

Your lips curved into a scarce smile, delighted that he was willing to negotiate. This could actually work, you thought. “Well, it’s not like your family will be very pleased to have me but still. The most important thing is, you won’t ever have to deal with the blind dates your clan sets you up on, with an arranged marriage in mind. I bet they’re nagging you about it constantly since you’re pretty much of age now”

“What my clan is concerned about is an heir, marriage is just a stepping stone. How will this temporary thing between us do that? Temporary and fake on top of that?”, he questioned through a scorn.

“I’ll give you a child”, you shot at him in a heartbeat, voice unwavering. This was part of the plan after all.

“What?”, he laughed, tilting his head in pure astonishment at your offer.

“We will lead a normal married life, like a proper wife and husband. I’ll have your child, this secures me even better. That way I’ll be tied to the Gojo clan forever, not the Zenin”

“You’re aware what we need to do in order for you to have my child, right?”

You were, but when he put it like that your face got hot against your will, heat burning your cheeks and sizzling on your ears. “I am”, you mumbled, unable to look him in the face. Petrified to meet his gaze.

“You really are insane”, he covered his face with both hands. Perhaps he was petrified, too.

“Coming from you that’s rather concerning. Now back to the point — you up for it?”

“Alright. Let’s do it”

Sealing The Deal

(back to present)

For the past two days Satoru pulled all the strings possible in order to speed up the marriage procedure. He diligently prepared all the needed documents to officially register your matrimony. All that was left was to go to the ward office and submit the marriage application after signing it along with two witnesses.

With that, today would mark your last day as a Zenin.

“Do you know who the girl is?”, Shoko asks, leaning against the wall in the ward office hallways, waiting for Satoru and the mystery bride to arrive.

Geto shrugs from next to her, “Nope, no clue. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is happening — he is actually getting married”

“You of all people didn’t know he was involved with someone?”, she scoffs, turning her head in his direction. “Strange, maybe he was hiding the love of his life from you so you wouldn’t snatch her away”

“He wasn’t involved with anyone, if he was — we both would’ve known. Besides, what do you mean by that? I would never break the bro code, come on”

A semblance of a lazy laugh slips through Shoko’s lips. One can tell she didn’t get much sleep (again) by how lethargic and unenthusiastic her reactions were. “Girls end up falling for you always, so maybe he chickened out to introduce her”

“That’s because he sucks with girls”, Geto snorts.

Satoru wasn’t exactly the sweep-you-off-your-feet type of guy. His looks were bewitching, that was a given, and women would latch on him, only to give up shortly after. And all the reviews were unanimous — I want someone that will put me first, but with him — I don’t see it ever happening, his mind is elsewhere.

“Maybe he finally caved in after years of his family pestering him to get married”, Shoko throws another guess.

“Satoru caving in to an arranged marriage? Seriously, Shoko... Does he look like the type to listen to what elders tell him to do?”

“He never looked like the marrying type either, yet here we are”

“I don’t know”, Geto sighs heavily. “This is way too odd”

“Hey, hey~”, Satoru’s voice echoes through the hallways. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my bride was barely able to sneak out from the Zenins. You know how the old farts there are”

Hearing the name Zenin, Shoko and Geto glance at each other with the same perplexed look in their eyes. A Zenin? Sneaking out?

Forcing a somewhat adequate smile, you shake their hands. You could tell they were taken aback after hearing your name, it was written all over their faces that they didn’t quite endorse this insane whim of Satoru’s.

“Satoru, can I have a quick word with you”, Geto pulls him to the side after giving you a polite smile as a form of apology.

“Are you eloping?”, he whispers, although quite audibly, “With a Zenin? Have you actually lost your mind, Satoru?”

“Suguru”, Satoru lazily drapes an arm over Geto’s shoulder, “Yes to your first question, as for the second — have you ever seen me be normal about anything?”, he laughs.

“Not the right time to humor your misery, Satoru”, Geto says through gritted teeth all while forcing a smile looking your way, to avoid any awkward impression on your end that the two of them were talking about you (even though that’s exactly what was going on). “There’s existent animosity between your clans already, are you trying to start an actual war all over again?”, he snaps, giving a sharp nudge to his side.

“Ouch~”, Satoru yelps. “Come on, Suguru. What can they do to me?”, his words brimming with confidence compel Geto to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Do you remember, that one time on the rooftop back when we were still students in Jujutsu High, I told you about a girl from my childhood?”, Satoru continues.

Geto nods. He does remember it vividly, after all it was the first and last time Satoru has ever talked about a girl of his own accord and with so much passion behind his voice.

“That’s her.”

“It’s our turn”, Shoko interrupts. “Let’s go get you married”

As you all entered the hall, Suguru gave Satoru a soft pat on the back and glanced over his shoulder at Shoko with a validating nod.

Satoru got a pass from his moral compass.

Signatures were inked, rings were exchanged, and vows were made to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part.

It is said that vows are crucial in a marriage, they set the tone for your relationship going forward and serve as a ground to build your values on. Whatever values could be built on a soil soaked with lies, you thought to yourself as you all walked out. As soon as the ceremony was over Shoko rushed out to get the dose of nicotine her body was yearning for the entire time inside the ward office, leaving you three behind.

There was nothing holy about your union, it was a lie to begin with. And, naturally, so were your vows. It shouldn’t bother you this much that you were to break the fake promises you just made to the man that handed you a one-way ticket to your freedom.

“What’s with the face, Mrs. Gojo?”, Satoru softly pokes you in the arm, the unease in your expression doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “We just tied the knot, yet you look like you just walked out of a funeral”

A funeral. Right. That’s how it felt to you.

You buried yourself, your past, in there. You got what you wanted, but part of you was terrified of the new person you were to become. Mrs. Gojo, huh? You were not in the right headspace to be snarky about it now.

“I’m fine. All these formalities are draining, that’s all”

“Then we’ve got to recharge”, he grins, then turns around and shouts at Geto who’s walking a few steps behind and scrolling on his phone, “Suguruuu, let’s celebrate, shall we?”

“Geez, you’re loud, Satoruuu”, he cracks an irked grimace, sticking a pinky finger into his ear.

“There’s no need for that”, you whisper, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Satoru’s fingers trace over your knuckles, hesitant to get a proper hold of your hand, but he gives in anyway, “We have to pretend there is”, he speaks in a low voice, and wraps his hand around yours. “Besides, it’s lunchtime. We need to eat”

You don’t resist, neither his touch nor his words.

On your way to the restaurant that your (now) husband made a quick call to reserve a table for four, Satoru sat on the driver’s seat — a rare occasion, usually Ijichi drives him everywhere — glancing at you beside him on the passenger seat at every opportunity, studying your features and how much they’ve changed compared to his childhood memories of you. It’s not like he never saw you after that. But you’d never let him take a good long look at you, always running away the moment you noticed him around. Before he could know it, he was smiling, mouth agape — a soundless “ha” passing through the crack of his lips, the sunlight hitting his eyes, yet he couldn’t blink — he had to take you in. He was back to being a child at that moment, wearing his genuine feelings on his face without knowing how to mask them. And you... you were even prettier now.

The two sitting on the backseat exchanged an astounded look after observing the scene unfolding before their eyes. Who would’ve guessed that their friend had such a hidden, soft spot for someone and could make such genuine faces?

The Past

You were born with bad luck.

That’s what you told yourself. And that’s what others, who felt sorry for you, thought so too. Mostly those unfortunate enough to be servants in the Zenin clan that have witnessed way too many things happen to you.

First, you were born into the Zenin Clan as the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the leader — that alone was the biggest mishap the heavens bestowed you with. A problematic clan with questionable values, where owning powerful cursed techniques was held in highest regard and considered the measure of your worth as an individual and whether you were fit to be a Zenin. Rejecting, without an ounce of remorse, their own flesh and blood and looking down at them like inferior beings did they deem their ability weak and unworthy.

With that being said, here comes the second — you were born into that clan, with no cursed energy. You didn’t make the cut ever since the beginning. The clan didn’t even mourn the fact you were lacking, they simply treated you indifferently, and sometimes with disgust, like you were one of the servants — easily replaceable. “It’s not enough that you were born a girl, but you are also lacking the gift. You were never meant to be part of this family to begin with, the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”, your grandmother would often tell you, right before throwing you into the disciplinary pit with curses. Till then, maybe through some miracle you could manifest some cursed energy if she locked you up there for long enough, so you could be at least a little bit useful.

Wait. There’s a third, too — your mother lost her life giving birth to you. It’s not like you felt any guilt for that, you never knew what parental love was anyway, therefore didn't see it as a burden that weighed on your conscience. In fact, you were partly relieved that there was one person less to mistreat you there.

Your older brother, Zenin Naoya, would often use this to harass you. Telling you “Maybe you’re not that hopeless after all, since you killed mother. Or maybe that’s even worse — she’s going to be your only kill” with that revolting laugh of his.

Other kids looked down on you too, avoiding you like you carried some disease. There were rumors even, how childish, now what you think back — that if you came closer to them, you’d rid them of their powers and of their mothers too. Oddly enough, those rumors were started by none other than your brother. Perhaps he wanted to be the only one to pick on you. While he made every woman walk three paces behind him, he’d keep you close, telling you in a condescending manner “How am I to look down on you if you keep walking behind me, little lamb?”

And you truly were a little lamb. Living and growing only to get the life in you eaten away by the Zenins. A sacrifice for no good.

But the summer of your sixth year was different.

You met a boy.

He looked like winter in the middle of summer. Snow-white hair falling over his face and likewise lashes, sitting like tender snowflakes on his eyelids. The bluest blue in his eyes you had ever seen in your life, and if you stared long enough it’d throw you into a trance.

There was a sense of loneliness to him akin to winter too.

How when the cold months came around, people would spend less time outside and instead run to their homes to warm up in front of the fireplace. He was the winter people were hiding from.

And you figured, you had heard of him. He was the special boy of the Gojo Clan, the first in centuries to inherit both The Limitless and The Six Eyes, whose birth alone shifted the power balance in the world, who had a bounty over his head at such a young age for being a force too great to be kept alive.

He was the complete opposite of you, yet somehow the same as you. One rejected for being too much, and the other — for not being enough. Both were similarly exhausting, arduous, and lonely.

You first met during a clans’ gathering. The big three brought together under one roof to discuss some matters you can’t quite recall now, just like you don’t remember the reason you were brought along. Perhaps to carry stuff around, like you always did.

An exchange of shy glances as you waited outside, sitting on the wooden engawa (veranda) led you both slowly scooching over closer to one another, until the gap between you was small enough that you could see how his heartbeat made the collar of his kimono flutter ever so slightly.

“Is it sweet?”, the boy pointed at the popsicle in your hand. “It is”, you answered along with a nod. Bringing it up to his mouth — “Want some?” — you invited him to take a bite as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. A blush painting a beautiful cherry hue on the pale complexion of his cheeks. He nibbled on the side of it — “It is!” — his eyes grew wide, a glow in them.

“You’ve never had one? — surprise in you voice. “Of course, I have”, he lied, scratching the back of his head, a bit embarrassed of possibly seeming uncool in your eyes.

He had a strict regime when it came to the food he consumed. Whatever he put into his mouth had to be of great value and nutrition, diligently prepared by the best chefs, so his body, or as others saw it — the shell where a god resided in — would grow healthy and strong to be on par with his powers.

It was the first time you shared food with someone else. You usually ate alone, disgusted by the Zenins surrounding you around the table that your throat felt too tight to swallow anything that you put in your mouth, be it water even.

And it was the first friend you ever made. While everyone up until now turned a blind eye and avoided you, he didn’t run. He even stayed.

Introducing himself as “Satoru" only, he deliberately refrained from saying his full name at first. When you never pushed him to reveal it, he turned a bit fidgety.

“You never asked about my last name” — lips slightly pursed, the muscles on his face fighting off a pout but failing eventually. “Maybe I’m not that interested in you” — tilting your head, you teased, yet — “Just kidding, I know who you are” — you quickly added upon seeing his brows knitting in dejection. “But you can be just Satoru with me”

From that day onward you’d meet in secret every now and then, whenever both of you could manage to sneak out. For just a little bit. To eat popsicles and other sweet things together.

That was, until your brother found out.

Naoya always kept tabs on you after all. You were a prey to him, and chasing you was like a game. It was only a matter of time before he knew. Or perhaps he did already but let you sneak out on purpose so he could use it to his avail and torment you further.

Naturally, the time you spent with Satoru fell shorter compared to that spent in the disciplinary pit. “That’s to teach you a lesson, little lamb”, Naoya would say with a twisted look in his eyes as he locked you up in there.

At times like this, you’d remember your grandmother’s words — “the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”.

...and an idea brewed in your mind.

If you could run away right now, you would. But where would you go? What would you do? You were only six. If your own flesh and blood was this cruel to you, how could you expect the outside world to treat you any better?

You were not that naive. You knew you had to wait.

You endured the endless hours that felt like days and weeks in that pit, surviving by pure miracle every time. Or was it hope that kept you fighting? Because you knew, by the end of it, as long as you were alive, you’d find a way to meet your friend, the only one you had. And maybe he could save you one day. Maybe, tomorrow you could make a promise to each other — that when the time came and you were both of age, you would take his last name and be freed of the curse you were born with.

...but Satoru never showed up.

(to be continued)

The First Night

(back to present)

It was getting late. You spent more time than originally planned at lunch with Shoko and Geto as everyone had already cleared out their schedules for the day to join you on your escapade.

You thought at first, that the entire time you would have to dodge questions such as How did this happen? When did you start seeing each other? When did you decide it was time? Who proposed? How? Doesn’t the animosity between your clans worry you? Have you considered the consequences even? Are you perhaps pregnant? Is this why all the rush is for?, etc...

But that never happened. Neither of them pried, nor made you uncomfortable invading your personal space. In fact, they made you loosen up a bit by being warm and friendly, already treating you like one of them, mocking Gojo’s constant mischiefs in front of you. The setting resembled that of a parent-teacher meeting where you were in the role of the parent, and they were the teachers complaining to you about Gojo. It was a rather humbling experience for the whitehaired man who sat there pouting and subtly gesturing for them to cut it.

But when he heard you laughing at their stories, he ceased. Sucking it up, he let them continue playfully bashing him. He had really missed your laugh.

“So~ we’re here — welcome to your new home”, Satoru points at the huge mansion after helping you hop out of the car. One of the bodyguards in the yard immediately took the keys from his hand and drove the car away to park it in the garage area.

To say this thing before your eyes was huge would be an understatement actually. After you quickly scanned the place you noticed there were a few more houses built around the mansion, and perhaps even behind it.

The Gojo household was located in a huge, fenced area with a single front entrance, for security purposes (so it would always be known who walked in and out under meticulous surveillance), leading to a big yard with a well-kept garden befitting the Gojo Clan. The first house in front, and the biggest, was the main mansion — inhabited by Satoru’s parents and grandparents (from his father’s side), while extended family (like aunts, uncles, cousins — basically the most important members of the clan) resided in the ones around it.

Satoru, despite being the clan head, did not live in the main mansion. His place was relatively isolated from the rest (ironically resembling the life he led and the powers he had), situated far behind all the houses, right before a path that led to a forest-like area as part of the Gojo property.

“No way”, you gasp — “Don’t tell me you live with your entire clan?” — as you quickly pad forward, leaving him a few steps behind, to further inspect the place.

“Not technically but yea, we stick together — clan traditions deem it this way”, he sighs.

“Never took you as the tradition following guy, to be honest”

He chuckles, “What can I say — I am full of surprises~ But truthfully, as the clan head I can’t just up and leave, you know? Besides...” — a pause, observing you as your eyes roam around studying the place, head turning from one side to the other in astonishment. Then his gaze shifts to his left hand. Lifting it slightly and spreading his fingers to look at his ring, and then back at you. “...sometimes deeply rooted habits are hard to break. Especially if one holds onto them for too long. It’s hard to let go no matter what kind of person you are”

“There’s something even beyond you, Gojo Satoru?”, your voice almost mocking but somehow lacking the right tone to it, too distracted by your surroundings.

He laughs, “Maybe. Just one little thing only” — words mumbled under his breath, too soundless for your ears to catch on.

After you made it in, he gave you a full tour around the house. Walking you through each and every room, thoroughly explaining where things were and how you could touch up anything you desired and change it to your liking — this was now your home, too.

The last stop was the bedroom.

“Should I carry you in bridal style? That’s how newlyweds do it~”, Satoru smirks at you, arms crossed around his waist, his side leaning against the doorframe.

You were about to make a face there for a second and give him an eyeroll, maybe even pick on him for watching way too many romcoms, but you held back.

“Sure, why not”, you mumble instead, looking down.

After all, before you was the room where certain things were to happen in, according to your deal, and you thought it’s best to let him indulge in this play pretend and carry you in as your feet were frozen in their tracks anyway. Nervous of what was ahead, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Oh?” — caught off guard, not expecting you to actually go along with it, he gasps, but then — “Right?” — quickly plays it cool. “Alright, bride-o-mine, here we go”

Charging towards you with a slow step, he leans down so your eyes are on equal level, face an inch away from yours. So close that, as he cracks his lips open to swipe a tongue across them his hot breath feels like steam against your skin. Licking his lips, a habit you were painfully familiar with, it was something he did when he got nervous that seemingly didn’t change from when he was little.

He scoops you up effortlessly, holding you tight but tenderly at the same time. His fingers clutching firmly around you yet at the same time careful enough to not bruise you. “Almost there”, he pushes the creaked door open with his foot and carries you in through the doorway.

Flustered, you turn your head the other way in an attempt to hide the heat eliciting from your face. You were way too close. His scent invading your nostrils, you could almost distinguish his natural body odor from his perfume.

“Oh, my... If you shy away this easily”, he carefully sits you on the bed — “how are we to make that baby~ Hm?” — and smugly smirks as he plops down next to you right after, his knee scarcely brushing against your leg.

“Tch...”, you click your tongue, heat still spreading like fire on your cheeks, and even far up to your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted to bed me right away?” — is he really going to jump on you now? Why bring up the baby talk otherwise...

He gasps in an overexaggerated manner, gluing fingertips to his mouth, “Thought I could give you some time to adjust, but if you insist...”

“Ugh, Gojo”, you aim a reflex eyeroll his way.

“What now, are you talking to yourself?”

“Excuse me?”, you lift a brow.

“You’re a Gojo too now, you know?”, a grin on his lips, the kind he makes when he’s about to win something. “When you refer to me, you have to say my first name — Sa-to-ru — to avoid any confusion~”

See, that was his goal all along — to make you call him by name, just like in the past.

...but two can play this game. You had no intention of losing this battle to him.

“Sweetheart”, your tone overly delicate on purpose, as you tilt your head, cheek pressing against your shoulder. “Isn’t this better?”, you flutter your lashes at him.

His reaction comes slow. The full grin from a second ago is now a half, the other half — a surprise, with a sprinkle of a new, unknown to you glint in his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, sweetheart”, he breathes, scooching closer to you. An arm finding its way around your waist, wrapping itself from the small of your back all the way front, hand stopping at your navel.

A flinch shudders through your body, but he’s got you still, you can’t pull away. “What happened to giving me time to adjust?”, you mutter, not as feisty anymore. This was a side you haven’t seen to him, which you figured was natural. You knew him as a kid, now — he was a man. And like all men do, he was acting on his urges.

“You push my buttons”, he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, until your noses are brushing and breaths are exchanging. His free hand rolling up and tucking the few strands of hair falling on your face behind your ear, then slowly sliding to the back of your neck. “Trying to get me excited?”

“If a mere endearment excites you this much, what will become of you when I say your name?”

He laughs, his breath infesting your mouth. Lips accidentally grazing yours from the action itself, which draws a low, helpless hum out of him. “Care to find out?”

You jolt — something about the way he was looking at you told you this wasn’t just some simple teasing — and finally bring your hands to use and push him away and get up. “I need a shower”

“Ah, got all hot and bothered? It’s okay, I am used to it — I have this type of effect on women all the time~”, he chuckles, earning yet another eyeroll from you. Reaching behind to grab a pillow and sit it on his lap, subtly hiding the fact that he got all hot and bothered, too. “You know where the bathroom is, sweetheart”

He won this round.

Satoru is still sitting in the bed, back relaxed against the headboard with one foot thrown over the other on the mattress, as you make your way out of the bathroom. You smell like him now, he thinks — only natural after having to use his shower gel and shampoo — as your freshly showered self approaches the side of the bed your pajamas were carefully folded and placed at. He took it upon himself to buy them for you, along with some clothes, and shoes, and bags, since you couldn’t pack and take anything with you.

“Can you, umm”, you fidget, “turn around or something? I want to get dressed”

“There you go again, shying away from your own husband”, he smugly teases.

“Oh, you want to watch so bad? How perverse of you, sweetheart”, you mock, loosening the belt of your bathrobe so the fabric covering your shoulders slides down a bit, revealing more of your flesh.

There’s a good chance for this reverse psychology to backfire now, you think, but you just couldn’t make peace with him picking on you like that.

He shifts in his place, now sitting up on the opposite side, legs touching the ground and his back turned against you. The transition was so quick and instinctive as if he, by sheer luck, dodged a bullet aimed to take his life. “I’d love to stay for the show but, you see...”, he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to check the report regarding my students’ mission from today”

“I see”, a victorious smirk on your lips as you watch him walk away.

This round was yours. Now you were even.

You were going to be trouble.

The report was, of course, an excuse. He had to make it out of the room, or he would’ve done something terrible to you.

His face burning hot as he quickly stripped himself of his clothes in one of the guest rooms downstairs and went straight into the bathroom to cool off. An aching pulse on his groin dragging inaudible curses from his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A stream of ice-cold water hitting his face, hugging his shoulders, cascading down the rest of his well-built body before washing down into the drain. He stands there still and completely unaffected by the temperature. He was burning inside.

Eyes shut, he thinks about you — about the way that bathrobe loosely enveloped your frame, about the gap temptingly revealing bits of your cleavage, leaving little to the imagination... about sliding his hands down into that very gap and pushing it open, taking the fabric covering your shoulders in his hands and pulling it down your arms to expose your breasts... about clasping both of your wrists behind the small of your back while his other hand moves to the side of your face and holds your chin before kissing you hungrily... then moving to your jawbone, and then lower, and lower... and lower, kissing and nibbling until he reaches your nipples, and then further below...

His hand relentlessly stroking his cock to the visual of you in his imagination. Part of him absolutely disgusted by what he was doing right now, thinking how he was tainting the innocent girl from his memories. But then another, the one he couldn’t suppress — shamelessly trying to picture even beyond, making up in his mind what he thought your sweet expressions and obscene sounds would be like under his touch.

His balls tighten up to him as he pumps himself from base to head with firm strokes, low growls rising from his throat echo through the walls the faster his hand works up and down his shaft.

The tension soon leaves his body, his cum oozing out from between his fingers and spraying all over the bathroom tiles.

Oh, you were going to be trouble for sure...

“What puzzles me though, is that nobody has called you all day”, he walks into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. “In all honesty, it’s been bugging me for a while now”, a hand brushes back his damp hair.

“They think I’m staying over at a friend’s place”, trying to ignore the view before you, you avert your gaze from him and his ridiculously lean body and well sculpted six pack that looked way too perfect to be real. He probably came here half naked, on purpose, to get back at you for earlier... Say nothing, say nothing, say nothing — you kept internally repeating to yourself. Play it cool.

“And they let you?”, he casually saunters over to you, his hand reaching behind you to grab a hold of his nightwear sitting on his pillow. Seriously? He had to walk all the way to your side only to reach for the pajamas placed on his? What a sore loser...

“Mhm”, you hum, lips tight and eyes looking down at your lap, “I managed to convince father. The odds were in our favor, I guess? — But I have to pay them a visit tomorrow, to deliver the news”

“We will pay them a visit”, he corrects you. “I’m coming with you”

“You don’t have to”

“But I want to”, he insists, his resolve is solid.

“Okay”, you don’t resist any further. “What about your family? When are we telling them?”

He makes his way to the bathroom inside the room, while still speaking to you from over there. At least he’s not as shameless to get dressed in front of you.

“They’re easy, I’ll talk to them some time tomorrow. Might organize a little thing to introduce my wife properly, heheh”

“How do you think they’ll take the news? I mean, I know they won’t endorse it but — on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it will be?”

“What does it matter when it’s fait accompli? Besides, they can’t go against my decisions, so”, he shrugs after making it back, fully dressed now. Thanks god. But wait...

“Did you seriously get us matching pajamas?”, you look him up. He was wearing the exact same pair in blue, while yours was a light shade of pink.

“Yea?”, he emits a dorky snicker. “Don’t you think it’s cute?”

“Ew, cringe”, you fight back a snort.

What a truly bothersome man...

Bad Faith

— (n.) dishonest behavior with the intention of deceiving someone. “bad faith” refers to dishonesty or fraud in a transaction. depending on the exact setting, bad faith may mean a dishonest belief or purpose, untrustworthy performance of duties, neglect of fair dealing standards, or a fraudulent intent

You slept well for once in your life, despite being in a new place, a new bed — you knew you owed it to the fact you were away from the Zenins.

The same can’t be said about Gojo though.

He stayed wide awake all night, restless, turning and tossing, making occasional visits to the shower even, to calm it down. Annoyed to some extent by how he was the only one in turmoil while you innocently slept next to him, unaware of his condition. He felt like an insatiable teenager all over again. How embarrassing, he thought...

During the whole car ride to the Zenins, he kept yawning and rubbing his eyes from beneath his pitch-black sunglasses that were adeptly hiding his dark sleepless circles caused by none other than you.

“You can wait in the car”, you try your chance one last time after arriving.

“I said I’m coming with you, so don’t waste your breath”

“Fine”

After you both make it past the gates of the Zenin household, the few of the servants standing in the veranda quickly pad inside — most likely to bring it to your father’s attention, you think.

All the rest you got the night before instantly leaves your body now that you’re in Zenin territory, your chest filled with unease as you cross the threshold of the place that, despite being so big, could never quite fit you in and be a home to you.

Your mouth feels too dry, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it keeps sitting there like an immovable object, growing bigger even the further you step in.

Unknowingly, you’re grabbing Satoru’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Relax. I am right here”, he leans in to soothingly whisper in your ear, which makes you realize your actions. You pull your hand away, picking up your pace.

...only to slow down and take a step back the moment your eyes fixate on none other than your brother, Naoya, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Waiting for you. His hair falling on his face, covering the look in his eyes but by the way his teeth bite into his lower lip, you can tell — he’s not thrilled by the view of you together.

“Well, well”, a loud, hysterical laughter erupts from Naoya’s mouth as he strolls over to you, thumbing the bridge of his nose. “If this doesn’t remind me of good old times when my little sister would sneak out to play with you — are you perhaps falling back into that bad habit of yours, little lamb?”

You flinch as Naoya’s claw-like hand reaches for your shoulder, ready to hook his grip on you, but with a swift move Gojo stands in front of you and stops your brother, leaving him unable to go any further due to his infinity. “Hello to you too”

Naoya clicks his tongue, not pleased with the impenetrable intrusion. “Tch... Move, don’t butt in in family matters”

Satoru chuckles condescendingly, “I am family too now, you know? — Dear brother-in-law"

A jarring burst of inconsistent, unsettling laughter follows this declaration, each sound leaving Naoya’s lips grows more hectic and twisted, the tone wavering between low and high, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Huh... sis... that true?”, the deranged madness in his voice dying down now, but he speaks with a timbre of sinisterness. His eyes wide, unblinking and staring right at you with piercing lunacy in them.

He had the same exact maniacal aura to him right now, just like years ago when he first confronted you about the secret escapades with Satoru.

Terrified, you hug your shoulders. Head turned the other way, trying to hide from the sharp daggers in his gaze.

You only manage a nod, and the sick sound from seconds ago echoes through the hallway once again.

“You—”, Naoya grits his teeth, trying to draw near you but the whitehaired man before him won’t budge. “How long have you been plotting this for, huh?”

Irritated at Gojo’s technique that leaves him unable to come any closer and wipe that mighty grin off his face, Naoya takes his frustration out on the wall by punching a hole right through it. “You fucking as—”

“Naoya”, your father’s voice approaching from behind him interrupts the commotion. “Go cool your head off”

“Tch...”, it’s not that he feels like complying, no. His arrogant self would never bow down to anyone, not even his own father, the clan head.

But walking away right now gave him a chance to pass by you — and he’d gladly take it, as there was something he wanted to confirm.

“Did you let him touch you, little lamb? Answer me — did you?”, he stops right behind you and whispers from over your shoulder.

You wince, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. Noticing that Satoru’s hand is moving slightly up and getting ready to possibly attack your brother, you gesture at him to stop. Mouthing a silent it’s fine.

“Don't but in in husband-wife matters, our sex life is off-limits for you, brother”, you mutter over your shoulder.

“Pfft”, his eyes squint knowingly at you. “Good — I don’t smell foreign residuals on you. Good, little lamb. Good.”

“So, you two, huh?”, Naobito, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the tatami room, takes a sip of his sake and wipes the droplets drizzling from the corners of his mouth.

It was barely noon, yet your father, as per usual, had already started his drinking for the day, most likely during the early hours of the morning at that.

You hum, but the man beside you, your husband, had something more to say.

“What can I do, old man — your daughter’s a beauty, I had to go and take her. Pardon my rudeness, I forgot to ask for your approval first” — to which you basically facepalm yourself.

“If you had done that first, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, you arrogant brat”, Naobito drags out, the alcohol must be getting to him. “But the damage is done already, what can I say”, he adds through a hiccup.

“—or do, against me — Right, old man?”, Satoru shoots a proud grin, then on a more serious tone, he continues — “She’s mine now. And I don’t quite fancy it when people pry on what belongs to me. So, I ask of you to act accordingly from now on, or there will be consequences”

“You ask? Yet this sounds more like a threat to me”

“It could be, depends on you”

Silence.

The air in the room is intense and heavy after these exchanges. There’s a calm smile on both of your father’s and husband’s faces, yet the glare in their eyes is as cold as absolute zero.

“With that being said, glad we’re on the same page and thank you for the half-assed belated blessing~ I will take care of her from now on, don’t you worry”, your husband nonchalantly breaks the silence, then looks at you with a quick shake of his head towards the door. Meaning, our job here is done. Let’s go.

“You might go, I wish to speak to my daughter, alone”

Satoru glances at you, looking for consent in your eyes. You nod affirmatively, “Wait for me in the car”

Before walking out, Satoru gives one last warning. “Old man, if you try anything funny, I’ll make this place one with the ground beneath you”

“Make this place one with the ground?”, Naobito laughs uproariously. “You’ve gotten under his skin. Good.”

He gulps down another cup before proceeding, “He’s always got a soft spot for you. I’ve seen his eyes wander in search of you during clans’ gatherings, but this — this is beyond my expectations even”, he wheezes. “Good job. You’re finally doing something right and being useful to the clan”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my own sake”, you grit your teeth.

“I don’t care for your purpose so long we sow the benefits of what you reap, just like I don’t care how you do it so long you take him down — poison him or slit his throat in his sleep, I couldn’t care less. Just make sure he’s dead by the end of it — it’s the only way to get that lousy freedom you’ve been babbling about all these years”

The terms were clear from the beginning, yet your stomach fills to the brim with guilt, threatening to spill out from your mouth the more your father speaks of it.

And he continues, “If you give him a child too in the meantime — even better. That way the Zenins can take over the Gojo Clan”, a greedy curve on his mouth wet with sake. “But in all honesty, what surprises me the most is you, actually — you’re more of a Zenin now than ever”, an unhinged laughter cracks his lips.

Your father’s words stab through your heart like a sharp knife. Snapping a few necks for the greater good for yourself, your freedom, shouldn’t be a problem after all you’ve been through.

But then, why does it feel like he is right? You are more of a Zenin now than ever. Why does it feel like the more you try to run away from the Zenins, the more you become one?

And why does your heart ache so much for the man you are to kill soon?

#ઈઉ — ai writes #series: entangled #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #[ ♡ ] — satoru

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craftyhal · 18 days ago

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When you have one wip idea that spawns several spin off ideas

#ash shepard wips #writblr #writeblr #the cursed duty series

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months ago

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Needy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: LONG AGO, @yxtkiwiyxt tagged me in a post about Pedro in a black tee and jeans that reminded her of her hubby. Then this happened. I hope you can forgive the wait.

Summary: Pregnancy comes with horniness.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnancy and hormones, touch-starved, hot sweaty javi, so many pet names in spanish, praise kink, pregnancy sex, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, couch sex, slow and intense riding, piv sex, pussy eating, face-sitting, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms, squirting, handjob, pillow talk

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62563027

Needy

A few months ago, a friend from work had asked you how far along you were in your pregnancy over lunch and snickered knowingly when you said that your second trimester would be ending around now. She had leaned close and whispered in a voice only meant for you that she’d not been able to keep her hands off her husband when she’d entered her third trimester.

You had scoffed with heated cheeks, embarrassed by talking about your sex life with a coworker, and had not been sure what to say to such a statement. However, at 29 weeks pregnant where only sweatpants and dresses feel comfortable, you find yourself grateful that someone took the opportunity to warn you. Why? Because it’s like an itch that you cannot scratch.

You want Javier Peña all the goddamn time, not caring whether you will be the cause of rug burn to his poor manhood. You are a caged animal, stalking around restlessly in your enclosure because the confinement makes you stressed out and horny. There’s no time for decorum, no time to keep it together because it’s so torturous to have hormones raging through you that you have two options: Either you get down and dirty, getting fucked by him, or have a hissy fit that results in sobbing after flinging yourself onto the bed (a thing that often results in Javier doing his duty and pulling up the skirt of your dress with polite surrender).

Thankfully, not all days are that bad. Some days, the prickle of your skin and the ache between your thighs are nothing more than a dull sensation in the very back of your mind, a simmer that has a manageable warmth. It means you can take on the day without being on the verge of tears, suffering greatly if you aren’t touched.

Today, however, is not such a day.

Javier has been out of the house since sunrise, having kissed you goodbye in the morning in a way that has left you wanting more. His reason for leaving you to yourself all day hasn’t been unreasonable, spending his time as an unpaid ranch hand at his father’s farm.

Meanwhile, you have been listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, waiting like a damsel in distress for him to come home and save you from the curse your body has you under. You have tried everything to satisfy the devil in you and you’ve gone as far as to keep your phone locked up in your bedroom so you wouldn’t text him to come back early. After all, Chucho has had a rough time during spring, and this summer has called for an extra field hand, a thing he cannot afford to pay for in his retirement. The way Javier is committed to his family is actually one of the things you love most about him, and also why you had convinced yourself that it was fine to have a day to yourself this morning. However, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, it becomes more evident that Javier can never leave this long again.

Finally, as the evening drags on slowly and the sun starts painting the living room in yellows and oranges, you hear the sound of your husband’s truck pulling into the driveway. Your body responds immediately, your pulse spiking in the anticipation of the moment he walks in the door but there’s impatience in you unlike anything you have experienced before.

You rush to the window to peer out at him and spot him just in time to see him stepping out onto the stone driveway and slamming the old door shut behind him. A thrill goes through you, a longing to be in his arms immediately and it is so profound that you feel your throat tightening with relieved tears at having him here.

You cannot wait the minute it takes for him to walk inside, you decide, and so you rush to the front door and pull it open. You rush outside to greet him, your dress swooshing along your knees as you take quick steps.

The second he sees you, you can feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle. He looks dusty and tired yet still smiles softly as his eyes meet yours. He is just about to greet you when you give him no chance to speak, wrapping your arms around his neck and catching his mouth in a deep, fervent kiss. He rests his hands on your hips and you think you might die if he doesn’t have you right here.

“I missed you so bad,” you confess in a whine and find yourself unable to stop kissing him. You obscenely nip at his bottom lip, brush your tongue against the seam of his mouth, all the while murmuring in a desperate plea, “Don’t you ever leave your horny wife that long again.”

When in need of catching your breath, you make the mistake of burying your face in the crook of his neck. You pant already from how worked up you are, your mouth feeling sensitive and swollen already from your make-out session. His scent is of the outdoors mixed with the sweat from hard labor, and as you pull back slightly to gaze upon your man, you see the damp patch on his black t-shirt around his neck, a testament to how gorgeous he has looked as he worked under the sun all day.

Finally, as he is allowed to take a breath, a low chuckle falls from his mouth. There’s a tinge of desire in his voice as he speaks, “Let’s get you back inside the house, mi amor (my love). I fear what you might do out here.”

“Promise me you’ll fuck me,” you groan against his shoulder, at the mercy of your body and therefore not strong enough to play coy, to tease and make him chase you. You’re all his because his touch is the only remedy for your relentless yearning.

“Te prometo, mamacita (I promise, mamacita),” he promises. He locks up the car, smiling to himself as he sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. When he has pulled the handle a few times to make sure the truck is locked, he urges you to go back into the house.

When you start walking, you feel his broad hand rest on the small of your back and the car keys jingling from his thumb. You have to catch a feeble noise in your throat, your palms laying on your swollen belly to keep them busy.

Once inside, Javier throws the car keys into a bowl on the side table next to the door. He marches across the room, boots heavy on the floorboards, and then lets himself fall down into the couch with an exhausted grunt. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing deeply from the satisfaction.

You follow him around like a puppy would follow its owner, and when he doesn’t make any moves to fulfill your every desire this instant, you take matters into your own hands and show him that you are not playing around when you display your desperation.

You waste no time straddling him, hiking up your dress enough for the only fabric between him and your core to be the cotton of your panties. It’s visible, the way his mouth goes dry, the way your beautiful pregnant body turns him on in a ridiculously short time. When his left hand touches your hip again and his right rests on your belly, rubbing soothingly, he silences every voice in your head.

“Mi niña (my girl),” he coos when he has regained his composure and your whole body buzzes. He has a coy smile on his face, “You’re so beautiful up there.”

“How beautiful?” You ask, reaching between your bodies to undo the zipper on his usual jeans to get his cock out. He doesn’t protest, simply lets you take what you need from him until the edge has been taken off. He knows better than to dismiss your urgency when you have been deprived of his dick for an inhumanely long time. Instead, he reaches to slip a finger into the front of your panties and moves them to the side.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in all my years on this Earth.” he charms with immediate success because you drag his jeans and underwear down just enough to be able to sink down on his bare cock and with no concern for his gnawing zipper.

He groans while you gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes blinking closed at the immediate relief of being stretched out by his generous size. He fits inside of you, large and pulsing against your fluttering walls and you find yourself already moving on top of him.

“Fuck, you’re drenching me,” he murmurs gruffly beneath you, and yes, you are. Your pussy is soaked for him, squelching obscenely each time it takes him to the brim, “Is this all because of how I left you alone all day? How cruel of me. I made this pussy all wet.”

Usually, you would reply with something but you have been so desperate during the last few hours that you find yourself completely fucked out already. You move faster, greedy for release, and Javier says your name to no avail.

Suddenly, his hand slides up your forearm and over your shoulder. It settles right at the base of your skull and it holds onto you firmly until you come back to him. He tilts your head so he can lock eyes with you.

You whimper when his other hand stops your movements on his cock altogether, and it borders on embarrassing when your desperation causes you to tear up, “Please, Javi.”

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy today, mi amor (my love),” he tuts disapprovingly and holds you still. He seems almost like he would be content with just having your warm heat wrapped around him, squeezing him occasionally when you think about what he could be doing.

“I just want you so much, papí,” you moan pathetically and wiggle slightly in his lap. He nods while dragging his nails down your spine, testing you to see if you will behave in the seconds it takes to place his palms on your sides.

“I know,” he says gently while cupping your waist, “Listen to me.”

You are wide-eyed and at your wit’s end. You’ll do anything to have him make you come.

“I’m going to make you come on it,” he says and fucks up into you once, nearly making you fall off his lap from the surprise. He steadies you with his hands sliding across your skin to firmly hold onto your lower back, urging you to start rolling your hips back and forth instead of up and down, “And then I am going to make you sit on my face until you come on that too.”

You swallow thickly, tiny mewls and moans escaping your mouth as you ride him slowly. You thoroughly love it when he directs you, takes care of you, and since getting pregnant, he knows how much you need him to make decisions before you throw a tantrum in your horniness.

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts without any meanness behind his words, clutching your body in his grip to keep you from falling into another vigorous pace, “To make your pussy feel good, hm? She happy now?”

“Mhm… Very happy,” you nod with a tiny smile, moving slowly in his lap because he isn’t allowing you anything more. He fills you repeatedly with each movement of your hips over his, the head of his cock threatening each time to slip out of you before he guides you to take him all the way again. It feels like heaven, your orgasm building slowly but steadily instead of rapidly. He knows you so well, knows how disappointing it would have been if it was over too soon.

“You’re all I thought about today too,” he murmurs against your mouth when you dip down to kiss him, cupping his face and letting your thumbs caress his cheeks before you go further up to tug at his hair. Your hands are made to slide between the soft tufts, just like your body is made to melt into his arms.

“Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero (I love you, I love you, I love you),” you repeat breathlessly, a little firmer in your pace. His cockhead catches at something just right inside of you and it makes you nearly double over into him.

“Don’t rush it, mamí,” he tells you gently and maneuvers you to tilt your hips ever so slightly, “It’ll come. You’re so close. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You come so intensely from that slight change of angle that your vision blurs. It is deep and overwhelming, everything below your navel pulling at you before going off into squeezes of pure, indescribable ecstasy. Your voice cracks, your moans pitch, and you can hear Javier’s name tumble from your lips while you repeat just how much you’re there.

“I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming,” you groan with furrowed brows, pulling his face into your chest and feeling him kiss on top of the fabric of your dress.

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans while you ride it out, “Fuck, I know you are. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

It takes a few long seconds for your climax to start fading. You rock in his lap until you cannot do it anymore, and then you come to a halt with him still settled deep inside you. He rubs your thighs to soothe and draws back a little to look at you while you pant from exertion.

“Eres perfecta (You’re perfect),” he mumbles with awe, “Did that help, huh?”

You nod with a blissed-out expression, suddenly very aware of how much you were actually in distress because there’s a lightness to your very core. Your cheeks are warm, your heartbeat slowing after having pounded in your chest.

“Let’s take this off,” he coos, helping you out of your dress completely. You haven’t worn a bra today since your breasts are sore and firm with milk, and so he has you in nearly all your glory while you are warming the length of his still-hard dick too.

“That better?” He asks again, kissing the bare skin of your upper chest where you feel like you are burning up from not having undressed earlier. Eagerness comes with a price.

“Sí (Yes),” you mumble and inhale his scent while resting your cheek on top of his head. You swirl your hips to make him growl beneath you, “Your turn.”

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice is smug as he stills you on top of him again before his hand rubs along the curve of your pregnant belly, “You think I’d break my promise and let this pussy be all touch-starved? She needs more.”

“But Javi,” you say with your brain still fuzzy, mind a jungle from how well he touches you.

“Shut your brain down and take off your panties. I want to take care of my pregnant wife,” he orders with a peck to your slightly parted lips. He groans when you drag yourself off his cock, leaving a wet shine on the smooth skin. It slaps against his belly and forms a dark stain on his black t-shirt.

You stand, albeit a little wobbly, in front of the couch and shimmy out of your underwear in the most elegant way possible with a pregnant belly. Then you watch him tug his jeans down his thighs and kick them off. He follows it up by ridding himself of his t-shirt too before rearranging himself on the sofa to make it easy for you both. He chooses to lie flat on his back, stretching his body, overworked from today’s farmwork, with a satisfied grunt while he waits for you to climb onto him.

“Come here, mamacita,” he says when you straddle him carefully. He coaxes you to crawl forward by pushing gently on the back of your thighs. You always worry about smothering him like this, especially when pregnant, but he doesn’t ever complain, actually gets more enthusiastic about it than you.

“¿Así? (Like this?)” You ask shakily when you hover just above his ravenous mouth. His breath ghosts over your cunt, cooling the slick slightly and driving you crazy.

“Así, yes, just like that,” he replies. He reaches up and runs his index finger across your clit before spreading you open for his tongue, your body responding with a sharp intake of air, “You want me to touch you here, baby?”

“Yeah, so badly,” you swallow around nothing and close your eyes, waiting patiently for him to stop his teasing. He is so good at this that the wait is awful.

“Yeah,” he repeats without mocking you, “My gorgeous wife is insatiable.”

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting. His nose nudges you first then his mouth. He kisses your sensitive clit a few times before tensing up his tongue, it feeling silky smooth where you need it the most.

One of his strong hands rests on your swollen belly while the other scratches along the length of your thigh, creating nail marks that he soothes with his rough palm afterward. Simultaneously, his touch makes you relax further and settle more onto his face.

“Use me, honey. I deserve to be used for how cruel I have been,” he hums below you before he stretches his neck and dives in to practically devour your cunt, You rock yourself back and forth with tiny gasps at the heat already tightening in your belly, his nose catching on your clit with every other grind of your hips to build another orgasm steadily.

But despite how much he’d claim that he’s not aching to come, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. With a stretched-out arm behind you and your palm on his thigh to steady you, you lean back slightly so your other hand can reach for his still hard and ready cock. You wrap your fingers around him to earn a gasp against your core, the work of his tongue faltering for just a second.

You stroke him with the same hunger that he is showing you, working him to the edge while both of your moans bounce off the walls even if he is muffled by how enthusiastically he eats your pussy at the same time.

He comes with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his body tensing up for a second until it releases with a groan. The sound is so hot that you grind a little harder on his skilled tongue, feeling how he pulses in your hand and coats it in thick stripes of his seed.

He responds almost gratefully. Both hands settle on the small of your back to pull you forward onto your hands and knees. You try not to get come onto the couch, giggling in surprise through a moan of his name. But the laughter dies in your throat when he holds you firmly in place and slips one hand between your thighs again.

He pushes two fingers into you while suckling expertly on your clit. You see stars begin to form on your eyelids, almost wail when he makes a come-hither motion towards your belly.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“I think… Javi, I’m gonna— Stop, I’ll—“ you cry when your thighs start to shake. He doesn’t relent, apparently knows exactly what he wants and he isn’t shy about it like you are. His fingers work fast, enough for your cunt to drool into his palm.

And with that, you come one more time and the pressure it releases inside of you is so good that it makes you gush all over his chin. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched cry and he holds his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you, keeps them there while your orgasm peaks and you can’t help but apologize for how much you’re wetting his face.

When you think it is over, he drags the digits out slowly and shoves them back in. The pads of his fingers have you hunching over and gasping his name, another gush forcing its way past his fingers. He drinks your come as if he were a man in the desert, desperate and starved.

You take it like a champ, trying not to squash him with how your thighs tighten around his head during the last few shocks of pleasure that he brings out of you, and eventually, you sag enough for him to help you back down into his lap.

You are horrified by the sight of him at first, red-faced and bathed in your slick and come. However then you see the glint in his eyes, the lopsided grin that he gives you as he props himself up on an elbow. He is pussydrunk out of his mind.

“How are you feeling now, mi vida (my life)?” He asks while reaching for his t-shirt with his free hand. He wipes his face with it, his eyes still glazed over with bliss and pride; the combination that only exists in a man who has just made his wife orgasm let alone gush all over him.

“Forget about me,” you laugh breathlessly and use the t-shirt for your messy hand too, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good,” he sits up to face you and lets you take the t-shirt out of his hands. He looks completely at your mercy, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I bet,” you find a clean side of the garment to wipe at a spot he has missed then playfully swipe at his nose, “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor (my love),” he whispers as he comes closer. He takes your wrist in his hand until you drop the t-shirt and then leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss that has your whole body weak. He guides your hand to his face and mirrors it with his own on your cheek. The look he gives you causes you to chew on your bottom lip, “Lo siento por hoy (I’m sorry about today).”

“You don’t have to apologize for your wife being a little crazy because of hormones,” you brush it off - after all, the aftermath always makes you look back on it and feel silly - but he just rests his forehead against yours and nods.

“I know but I should have cleared it with you and with the baby, or at least have taken you with me,” he kisses your forehead and you feel how tired you are now, the sweet gesture grounding you even more than sex ever could.

“As if we could have done anything about my little problem at your dad’s,” you try once again to let it slide. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, content with your naked vulnerability in his presence.

“I would’ve found a way,” he jokes and earns a slap to his chest but then his tone grows serious. He buries his nose in your hair, “Eres todo para mi. Eres mi vida, mi esposa hermosa, la madre de mi hijo (You’re everything to me. You’re my life, my beautiful wife, the mother of my child).”

“Javi,” you look up at him shyly from where your head rests. He smiles down at you but mirrors your tone to tease and says your name.

“Hablo en serio (I’m serious). I would do anything for you, mamá,” he adds, “And for our bebé.”

“Even fetch me - I mean us - a snack?” You grin, glowing with fondness for him but feeling nearly overwhelmed by his words in your state of bliss. He knows how much you love him though, knows it especially by how you look at him right now.

“Especially fetch you a snack,” he wraps his arms around you to hug you tightly, your belly bumping against his, “What does the queen of this household want?”

“A strawberry milkshake?” You suggest hesitantly as if to make the request optional, “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“A strawberry milkshake!” He repeats enthusiastically and makes you laugh, making the way he detangles himself from you easier even if you want him to never leave your side again.

“Who knew that growing a baby came with having a househusband,” you say while he gets up from the couch and helps you to lie down comfortably. He puts a pillow under your knees and one behind your back. The couch’s mess will have to wait.

“It’s the full Javier Peña experience,” he leans down over you for one last kiss before he pushes himself to stand up straight once more. He doesn’t look at you as he continues, has already turned his back. You watch the way his muscles flex as he heads for the kitchen, shirtless and only in his boxers, “And I plan on doing it forever, mi reina (my queen).”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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kisses4themissus · 2 months ago

Text

Private Eye || Hwang In-Ho x Reader

wc : 2.6k a/n : and the crowd is...not surprised that Its gonna be a series.. !! warning; not proof-read so possible misspelling ahead !!

masterlist

Beep Beep Beep.

You groaned as your alarm went off, without looking you had stopped the annoying alarm; Your boyfriend also stirring at the sound. “You have to leave already?” He sighed turning to lay on his back, wiping sleep from his eyes. You smiled at him and sleepily nodded. “Duty calls..” You sighed, swing your legs that touched the cold floor.

As you went to stand a warm embrace wrapped around you.

“Jun-ho, i need to get up!” You chuckled, rubbing his hands that rested on your waist. “Meet me for lunch?” He asked, smiling up at you.

A moment passed, “Ok, but just this time!” You teasingly pointed your finger at him. Jun-ho nodded and released you from his grasp.

Once freed you had ran to the connected bathroom to get ready for the day. It had been a few months since you’d been anonymously hired to watch, seong gi-hun a fifty one year old man; he had gone from being severely in debt to having billions of dollars in his account. You had grown tired of the case, he had rarely left a motel he had bought out.

You groaned internally, it’d be another day of sitting in an alleyway that had a good view of the motel. Occasionally getting to an abandoned building, watching as he’d park on the roof and sit their for the day; at first you thought he was contemplating killing himself but after a few visits you grew used to his routine.

As you passed through the kitchen to grab your coffee, jun-ho handed you a small paper bag, he handed it over with a small smile. “Breakfast for you!”

You leaned closer and kissed his cheeks before kissing his lips. “Thank you, honey!” You both smiled into your kiss, not wanting to leave you parted away first, chuckling as he leaned forward as you parted. “I’ll see you for lunch.” You said, holding two fingers to his lips before grabbing you coffee and breakfast and ran to your car.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It had been months of the same routine, you had watched as gi-hun looked over his several tablets and phones he had in his car.

You quickly grabbed your camera as he answered a phone call, his eyes widened at whatever the other person had said, he quickly started up his car and backed out of the roof and began to drive off.

You raised your eyebrows at his action, you quickly placed your camera down and began to follow behind him

You had kept yourself from pushing the gas, slowing down as he got pulled over. You cursed as you recognized one of the traffic cops; You had been told to keep quiet about the case, you had been lucky enough for jun-ho to understand since he was a detective and tried his best to keep you away from his own work back then.

Once back on the road, you followed behind as he parked his car in front of a shady alleyway. You groaned as you parked further away and got out, camera in hand. Before walking to the alley, you pulled out a tracker from your jacket and stuck it on gi-hun’s car.

You watched from the shadows as gi-hun looked frantically around the alleyway, you pulled out your camera and began snapping photos, you had froze as you noticed a man on top of a building, staring down at gi-hun with a smirk, had there been another P.I working on gi-hun’s case?

You quickly snapped a photo of him before hiding away further as gi-hun ran back to his car.

The other man walked away, back into the building, once you knew it was clear you walked further and began to take photos, there had been blood splatter all over. As you went to leave, you stumbled.

You looked down at your foot and tiled your head at the small brown card, it had three different shapes on the front. You turned it over to see a number, with a confused mindset you tucked it away into your pocket and walked to your car to follow gi-hun again, what was he really involved with…

You had gotten back to the motel before gi-hun. You watched and took photos as the man from before walked into the motel and turned on the sign’s light. You slouched into your seat, waiting for the next movement.

As you waited, the rain fell on top of the car, it had soothed you, unlike the events you had encountered earlier. As you sat in your car you quickly pulled out the brown card from earlier and picked up your phone to call it, you quickly began recording the call.

As you dialed the number, it clicked, someone had picked up. “Hello, who’s calling?” A stern voice answered. “I was given this card earlier today.” You lied, the other person shifted. “Do you wish to participate in the games?” They asked, you furrowed your brows. “Yes.” You shifted in your seat.

“Name and birthday.” They requested.

You gave them your information and waited. He gave you a location to be picked up, it’d be on halloween night, you nodded to yourself, now trying to find an excuse to tell jun-ho. “Thank you.” You hung up and sighed shakily. You perked up as gi-hun walked back into the motel.

An hour had gone by, you had left, there had been no activity.

Once you had gotten home, you paced around your living room; trying to think of things to tell jun-ho. It had been a surprise once you walked through the doors to see he hadn’t gotten home yet. Luckily it was the weekend tomorrow, the employer had given you the weekends off from gi-hun’s case, which you were lucky to have.

You had gotten ready for bed, the cool covers over your body. You had managed to dose off but was woken up when jun-ho had gotten into the bed. You turned over and stared at your boyfriend. “Busy day?” You questioned, making jun-ho tiredly laugh and nodded. “Me too.” You smiled and snuggled into his arms.

As he began to rub your arm in comfort he sighed, looking at the ceiling of the room. “Tomorrow we’re going to the memorial site then my mom asked if we could go over for dinner..” He hesitated, you knew his half brother’s family and himself in general was a harsh subject.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” You reassured, smiling tiredly at him.

The next day you both had strolled through the memorial site, other families bringing gifts, you held a small bouquet of flowers for jun-ho’s sister in law’s grave. You tuned out what his mom had been saying as you walked to the wall.

You sighed as jun-ho walked ahead and hung up with his mother, he grabbed a photo and painfully sighed. You carefully approached, noticing the very wilted flowers, you quickly switched it out for the new ones you both a had bought. You both stayed silent, stopping to give your respects to her.

You looked to the side and smiled sadly at all the graves without flowers, jun-ho bit his lip as he placed the photo of in-ho and his ex-wife back on the wall.

Jun-ho cleared his throat and turned to you, reaching out his hand. You gave him a soft smile and took it as you both walked back to the car.

“She’s very pretty!” You exclaimed as you both got in. “She’s was very kindhearted too.” Jun-ho smiled, thinking about his sister-in-law. As you both got in the car and began to drive to the store, your happy mood was brought down as your phone buzzed. You pulled it out from your bag, your smile had dropped as you read the text.

“I need the update on seong gi-hun by tonight.”

You scoffed, jun-ho turned to you concerned, holding two fruit trays in his hands. “No to the pears?” He questioned, chuckling softly. You sighed and shook your head. “I have to skip out on dinner with your mother, the new employer wants an update tonight.” You explained.

“It’s alright, my mom will understand, you work very hard!” He reassured, placing one of the fruit into the small basket. “Thank you.” You smiled at him before leading him down the snack aisle.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You groaned as you send another file to a strange unknown email. It had been all the updates from the past month. Tired you walked to your closet to change into your pajamas.

As you moved through your closet you accidentally knocked down a box of things jun-ho kept on his side. You groaned and knelt down to pick up the small knick knacks and stray photos. You stopped at one, it had been jun-ho when he was younger with a bit older guy, you turned the photo around, looking for a date.

Jun-ho’s highschool graduation, you stopped as you furrowed your brows at the photo, who was the other man then? His half brother? You and jun-ho had begun dating after your college program had ended, you had never met his brother but alway heard of his mother’s guilt. As you stared at the picture, the sound of the door opening made you jump, quickly swiping everything into the box and back on the top shelf of the closet.

“How was dinner?” You questioned, walking out of the closet to see jun-ho taking off his jacket. “It was alright, she sent leftovers for you…” He said, distracted. You sighed walking over to him. “The anniversary gotten to her?” You questioned, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Jun-ho nodded sadly, tossing his jacket on the bed.

“She feels guilty for no reason, he choose to leave..” Jun-ho ranted, you nodded at his words, letting him get it out.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In-ho sighed as he took off his mask, it had been rough preparing for the upcoming games, it didn’t help gi-hun was trying to worm back, his own brother was now attempting to find the island.

He sighed, pouring himself whiskey before opening a burner email he had created for the private investigator he had hired to keep watch on gi-hun. He drank as he went through photo after photo, it had been the same routine, til he saw a photo of the recruiter, in-ho stopped and looked once more at the photos.

Gi-hun was getting too close for comfort again.

You sighed as you watched jun-ho collect his things, he said he had begin to investigate the islands where he has washed up on once again and had now even more info thanks to someone else.

You chuckled as he sighed to himself before walking over to you. “How long will you be gone?” He questioned, sitting down beside you on the bed, “Don’t know…” You shrugged sadly; you had come up with the excuse you had been requested to go to another country to investigate someone badly.

“I’ll miss you!” Jun-ho leaned in and kissed you tenderly on your lips, you smiled into the kiss. “I’ll miss you too..” You both pulled away, looking into each others eyes lovingly. “I actually got you a gift!” Jun-ho smiled and popped up and walked to the dresser and pulled out a small velvet box.

“For me?” You questioned, smiling as he placed it in your palm. “For you to have a piece of me with you.” he explained, you smiled at his words and opened to see a heart shaped necklace. With a gasp you jumped up and hugged your boyfriend, smothering him with kisses. “Thank you, this is so beautiful!” You squealed, taking it out of the box.

“I’ll put it on you..” Jun-ho took the necklace and moved your hair to the side as he clasped the necklace. You smiled as the heart sat perfectly. “You’re the perfect boyfriend!” You smiled and brought him into another kiss, you both pulled away after you had begun to loose oxygen.

“Alright now go see your evidence!” You smiled as jun-ho nodded and kissed you bye once more before leaving the apartment.

You sighed and stood up from the bed, you looked around, you had cleaned everything up. You were ready to see what gi-hun had gotten himself into with that man.

You nervously looked at your phone again, you’re pick up was at twelve, it quickly approached hte time and you hadn’t seen any sign of a car.

As you went to walk back to your complex, the sound of brakes came from behind you, slowly turning you saw a van, the window rolled down to see someone in a pink suit with a circle on their mask; you brushed it off and assumed it was a costume.

“Ms y/l/n?” You nodded, the back door opened itself. You quickly got in and looked around to see other people fast asleep in their chairs.

As the car began to move you heard a soft hiss and gaz filled the car, it had smelt of lavender; you moved your head back as you got lulled to a soft deep sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Classical music filled your ears as you woke up to see bunks all around you.

With wide eyes you got up and looked around, your clothes had been changed too; you wore a green tracksuit with a numbers over the right side and the shirt; player 455.

You stopped looking around as you spotted gi-hun getting up from his own bunk. A loud buzz came from the center of the room. You looked over and saw more pink suited people walk out. You quickly follow gi-hun and listened as the pink suits explained everything and answer some questions from people.

As you all lined up to sign the contact you stopped, the strange man, the money gi-hun randomly earned. You quickly searched for him in the crowd and walked over to the line he stood in. You watched as he signed his name. Once you walked up, you quickly filled out the form before running to where gi-hun began walking through all the confusing stairs.

You kept your eye on his as you all passed through the photos and were led to an open field, a weird animatronic doll sat on the other end of the field. The first game was announced to be red light, green light.

You watched gi-hun with furrowed brows as he told you all explained what to do. Most had brushed it off as him being paranoid or high off drugs. You could see the fear in his eyes as he spotted the animatronic. You listened to his instructions. You closed your eyes as gunshots rang out around you.

Once you opened your eyes, you quickly moved behind player 230. Your eyes widened as the doll turned once more and he pushed the players in front of him. Once clear you stood up and followed him.

“Who’s shuffling behind me like a rat?” He grumbled out, you quickly grabbed the back of his jacket collar with a tight grasp. “A rat.” You smiled; once in the clear you used your strength and threw him to th ground and ran ahead.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In-ho quietly sipped on his whiskey as he watched players drop dead. He sighed, growing bored of the same reaction, he stopped sipping as a familiar looking player held thanos by his collar.

He quickly, leaned over to his side table and went through the player files. He stopped as he found player 455; Y/n Y/l/n. The name had looked familiar. He walked over to the latest photos he had gotten of his family, he shuffled through them and finally stopped at one, jun-ho and his girlfriend at a friend’s party, both hangoff each other smiling.

Jun-ho’s girlfriend.

hwang in-ho taglist: @snowtargaryen @menabuser16 @azusdump @jspidey5 @annasnape7 @macnbriee @ookybatt @sasha-swftie @moonxnite

#frontman x reader #hwang inho x reader #squid game x reader #player 001 x reader #frontman x you #young il x reader #in ho x reader #squid game x you #hwang inho #jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x reader #jun-ho hwang x reader

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m-ilkiee · 9 months ago

Text

STUPID L♡VE - Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [warning]: dark content, no curse au, aged up Megumi (both are in their midtwenties) fem!bodied reader, heavy angst, toxic and abusive relationship, love drunk reader, jealous megumi, abandoment issues, exes to "lovers", mentions of alcohol and drug use, smut, mean dom! Megumi, sub!reader, coercion, noncon to dubcon, manhandling, choking cunnilingus, mentions of blowjobs and face fucking, squirting, use of restraint, slut-shaming, mutual pining, manipulation, implied baby trapping, gaslighting

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [wc]: 5.01k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [r-18+] not suitable for people aged 17 and under

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [masterlist] [taglist] [main page]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [authors note]: if you liked this, consider reblogging and commenting your thoughts, I'd love to hear them♡ this is a prelude to my megumi series "E-boys Ruined my life" so if you're interested in this, consider sticking around for a full series.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

IT was inevitable that you and Megumi were going to eventually break up.

Everyone else could see the signs as clear as the day that you two wouldn't last, that you two shouldn't have lasted, and yet this cat and mouse game you called a relationship spanned for four whole months, longer than anything he ever had before you and honestly he was shocked because it wasn't meant to last that long.

After all, he hated how clingy you were every time the two of you were together, holding onto him as if he was your lifeline, your sweet words of affirmation purring into his ears every time you settled yourself beside him. He hated that genuine smile you always had on your lips anytime you saw him, a scowl marring his pretty features whenever you entered the room, wrapping your arms around his lanky frame, your soft lips pressed on his cheek affectionately. He hated how you would stare at him with your emotions bare for him to see, especially during sex, always whimpering out praises to him, his name falling out your mouth, no matter how fast he was going just to shut you up because he knew that you couldn't keep up when he thrust at such an insane pace, no matter what pain he inflicted in you, forcing his cock down your throat just to see you suffer taking all of him with tears running down your cheeks. You never showed animosity to him, not even when you knew that when he's done using your body, he'd just put on his clothes and leave you there, aching, bruised, and too exhausted.

It was baffling how despite everything you stayed by his side, your love never wavering when it was his goal to destroy that happiness you had so that you could be like him; miserable and very self-aware of how the world was cruel to naive clowns like you.

You called it devotion, he called it stupidity and never hesistated to remind you how much of a stupid girl you were.

And finally, after four months of trying to break your resolve, he got tired of trying and told you it was over. "You make me sick," he had spat out in a cold tone, watching your face morph into one of pure shock while you just helplessly stood in front of his penthouse. "I'm done with you! Just get lost and pretend you don't know me." He concluded, trying to even out his heavy breathing.

Megumi didn't understand why his heart dropped to his stomach the moment you let out a loud, heart-wrenching wail the moment he slammed the door in your face, but he pushed it aside, disgusted he'd even think of caring about you in the first place, drowning your pleas and unsolicited apologies by increasing the sound of the call of duty he was playing before your visit.

The breakup wasn't so bad on him at first. He went back to his old life like getting high with his friends when he was free and attending parties only because there was some needy chick ready to help him get his dick wet somehow. He could feel a bit of your absence, you were always the one taking him home and putting him to bed whenever he was intoxicated, and in his moments of weakness, he'd ask you to lie beside him, resting your head on his chest and warming him up.

The bed is awfully cold without you lulling him to sleep, and now he'd spend his drunken nights forcing himself to remember why he hates you and why he doesn't need you until he falls back to a troubled sleep.

Women became a blur to him very soon, non-memorable compared to you. You were always willing for him to break you, your lips making such pretty sounds whenever he touched you, kissed you, or had sex with you. Your body was his, free for just him; you became his fantasy, his daydream whenever he was alone in his bedroom.

You always cradled him whenever he had nightmares of his childhood, despite all the caustic words he threw at you about leaving him all alone like his father did, calling you a slut, a whore in moments of jealousy before ripping your pants off or forcing you on your knees to remind you who you belonged to, because he never fully trusted you when he'd see you hanging around guys. They could have taken you at any point in time, they were far nicer and sweeter to you than he ever was.

The memories of you eat him alive slowly until he can't take it anymore. He accepts that as twisted as it sounds, he is actually in love with you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"You make me sick."

You sit at the window of the cafe, staring into space as you ruminate on Megumi's words yet again, a look of longing plastered across your face. It seemed that everyone you ever loved always, always felt disgusted by you no matter what you do.

You can remember the last time you met Megumi, back in high school. He was the school's sweetheart, everyone loved him and naturally gravitated towards the relatively cool and calm boy back then. His looks were also a booster to his already popular relationship; he was beautiful, the embodiment of perfection, with an arrogant grace to his walking step. He was on his way to class when he noticed that you were crouched over in a corner, tears glistening in your eyes, sobs escaping your lips as your period cramps wreaked havoc on you. You expected him to just ignore your presence like everyone else who saw you on their way to class did and you waited for him to just walk off, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

So when he stopped right in front of you, drawing the uniform of his school trousers up a bit to let him squat to your level, you could barely hide your shock, before it was replaced with pain again. Wordlessly, you let him pick you up from the floor, into his arms in a bridal fashion and walked you to the nurse's office, never leaving your side even after you slept off.

By the time you woke up, he was staring at your face like you were sleeping beauty, his green eyes glimmering in the setting sun, legs crossed over each other and his lips pressed in a line. He reached over and gently touched your cheek before telling you to go to the nurse's office the next time you felt like you were having cramps. You remembered the embarrassment you felt before it melted away into the warmth of affection and gratitude for his help. He walked you home that day, even giving up his sweater for you because you had bled out and stained your skirt, telling you not to worry about it and to return it tomorrow, only for you to search for him the next day to discover he had moved away to another school.

Ten years into the future and you bumped into him in your neighborhood. Apparently, he was your neighbor's best friend, Yuuji Itadori and he came for a visit. Despite him growing much taller, his chest and shoulders broader, his green eyes cold and devoid of any form of life, and his face matured, he was still the same boy -now a man- you fell in love with. Then, you should have known he wasn't interested in you when he pretended he didn't know or remember who you were when his eyes betrayed him.

You should have seen the signs when he finally acknowledged that he did know you, just that he didn't want to talk with anyone from his past; You included.

Or even if you were blind, Yuuji had tried to warn you that his friend was not the same as he was in the past, that he had underlying issues he's yet to resolve, "Megumi has grown cold over the years." Yuuji warned you as soon as he saw you were teetering on the ledge of 'I can fix him' like the other women Megumi has had in his life. He didn't want you to end up in a situation where you were devastated; you were a good person who deserved better.

But even with that information, you told him that you'd warm up Megumi's heart again; he'd be happy if he had someone to share his burdens with. Yuuji even brought Nobara, another friend who knew Megumi to try and talk to you. "Look for someone else." She warned, trying to change your mind. "I've seen how other women suffer for loving him. Do you think you can handle him when he is in one of his moods?" she asked, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you hard so that your senses would come back.

They stopped trying to help you as soon as Megumi announced that you two were a thing.

Looking back, you realize that you were a lost cause to them, and to be honest, your fate hasn't changed because you still cry for him just like you did all those years, holding onto his sweater as your lifeline when you cried every night, your heart aching in your chest with longing.

Not anymore though.

The sweater sits beside you, neatly folded in a ziplock bag, the only thing keeping you from getting closure from your failed relationship with the man you thought would love you back after all these years. Do you really think you were in a romance novel? Real-life didn't work that way and it was painful you had to realize the hard way. Sighing, you picked up your phone and searched for his number to text him:

You: I’m returning your sweater.

My love 💞: I don't remember giving you a sweater. Must have been one of the guys you were flirting with when we were in a relationship

You: it’s been in my drawer for about ten years. I think it’s time to let it go.

My love 💞: oh

My love 💞: You kept that thing. Always so sentimental.

My love 💞: Just donate it or better still, set it on fire.

You: I’m not burning it and I’m not donating it, Fushiguro. I’m giving it back to you to let go of whatever ties I have with you.

My love 💞: fine. Whatever rocks your boat, I’ll just burn it myself.

Frustration threatens to set in, but you remind yourself that it wasn't worth it anymore. At this point, you already expect this response from him and if this wasn't enough sign that you should break free from whatever feelings you have for him, then you don't know what is.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

TWO big dogs running from the open door to greet you in the hallway was a refreshing start. You smile as they settle on your foot before kneeling and hugging them tightly.

Honestly, you feel they are the only good traits Megumi has. He takes good care of these dogs, pets and pampers them more than he’s ever treated you.

Sometimes you hate him for it. Maybe if you were a damn dog he'd like you more.

"I've got to go guys," You whisper as they nuzzle your chest and neck affectionately. "Megumi doesn't want me here so this might be the last time you'd see me." You frown as soon as you hear them whimper as if asking you to stay longer. Maybe if it was a different circumstance, you would have.

If you stay any longer, you wouldn't move on.

Anxiously, you pull away from the dogs and stand upright, before making your way to his front door, your legs trembling from the tension you feel from within your mind. You know you aren't ready to face Megumi, not after the humiliating breakup that occurred right at his front door you were about to go back to again. Maybe giving him back this sweater was a mistake, you should have just burnt it like he suggested or given it to charity, anything to avoid confronting Megumi at this point.

You hesitantly knock on his open door gently, hoping that he wouldn't come out and you would just drop it on the doorstep and run away.

The door swung open and you gulped visibly as soon as his intimidating figure hovers above you, dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, hair disheveled and green eyes piercing through your soul and making you lose all feelings in your legs. Your voice got caught in your throat as he stares down at you, his pretty lips morphing into a smirk as soon as he sees you shuddering under his gaze.

"I haven't got all day, I just came from work and I'm tired," His tone is dry, seemingly amused at your lack of courage now that you are face to face. "Hurry up and give it to me," he demands lowly, leaning back on the lenticel.

You feel your hands shake violently as you slowly raise the package to his face. Your eyes stay glued to the ground, not wanting to meet his frightening gaze in fear of breaking down if you look him in the eye. Megumi's lips stretch into a bigger smirk as he watches you tremble before him, holding out the sweater as a protective shield, as if it can protect you from his eyes that linger on your curves, drinking in every dip and bulge while you stand motionless.

Deciding to play with your mind for a bit, he grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eye. "You seemed so brave in the text messages," he scoffs at you disapprovingly. "I could swear you were going to break down my door if I didn't take the sweater from you."

Finally finding your voice, you force out a quiet "let me go" enough to reach his ears. This was what you were avoiding, for him to corner you like this to the point you would give in to his whims, just like when you were together. But you aren't, and he has no right to touch you like this anymore, so you bring your free hand up to him and push his chest as hard as you can.

"It almost seems like the sweater was an excuse for you to come and see me huh?" He teases, eyeing your body up and down as you attempt to push him away, internally laughing at your effort. "That's why you're so inappropriately dressed, isn't it?" he spits in his usual caustic tone as he refers to the dress you wore that clung to your body like a second skin, his member twitching at the sight of your beautiful body -your delicious curves, your terrified face, your thighs, everything. He remembers how willing you were for him to mark you, to put his fingerprints on your thighs, that may be why you were exposing them right now, right? And your chest, you would always throw your head back when he groped you through your top while fingering you, your neck exposed for him to litter marks all over them.

You belong to him, he can see that now.

"Megumi stop!" You hiss, finally showing how upset you were with him, snapping him out of his dirty thoughts. Scoffing, he slowly let go of you, taking a step back before opening the door wider for you. "You should come inside, I'm not sure the neighbors would appreciate you disturbing their peaceful Monday evening." He advises in an even and sharp tone. You suddenly feel small under his predatory gaze and your instincts tell you to reject his offer.

If you step inside that house, you would end up doing things that you weren't meant to do with him.

"That's not necessary-" you begin, now attempting to move back, pushing his sweater towards his line of sight. "Just take it and let me go."

"You know damn well I was never interested in that stupid sweater in the first place," he states, eyes not leaving your cleavage. His heart pounds in his chest as his erection straining against his pants. "Besides, I want to talk, so let's go inside." he insists impatiently, his eyes glued onto you.

"I'm not going in there with you."

"It wasn't a suggestion," his dark voice catches you off guard, his larger hand capturing your wrist in a bruising grip, causing you to gasp as he yanks you closer to his body, his hot breath fanning your face and neck, sending shivers down your spine. "unless you want me to fuck you in front of my neighbors, get inside, now."

You didn’t have to be told twice.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

YOU stifle a cry of pain as soon as he manhandles you into his living room, pushing you onto the love seat roughly, eliciting a pained gasp from your pretty lips -music to his ears and his hard-on as he hovers above you, dangerous green eyes undressing every inch of you, wondering where he should start devouring you from. His eyes settle on your thighs and he wonders to himself if he ever took his time to taste you the last time he bedded you. He keeps on moving towards the chair until he stands right in front of you, not breaking eye contact as he wedges a knee in between your closed legs, forcing them open without a word as he climbs onto your frightened figure, face hovering above yours while his broad arms cages you in.

"You know, I missed you," He confesses as his mint breath fanned your lips, not breaking eye contact with you. "I missed this," he leans closer before pressing his lips against your neck briefly, making you shudder at how cold his soft lips felt on your neck. He raises his head from your neck to look at your face again, pressing his forehead against yours and forcing you to inhale his expensive perfume, the scent intoxicating and overwhelming you, as typical of Megumi.

"We're not together anymore. I need to go-" You weakly protest, only for him to silence you with kisses, each harsher than the last until you give up and just kiss him back, letting him invade and conquer your mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch until you are both breathless and pulls away from you, foreheads still connected as he steadies his breathing.

"You want to leave me, huh?" He snarls, eyes, knee pressing harder on your throbbing clit, earning a choked moan from you. "Already found someone else? or you're fucking my friends behind my back?"

He doesn't even let you answer as he climbs off you and yanks your body to a face-down position, tying your hands behind your back in a secure knot with his tie, before yanking you back to your position. "You didn't even beg me, you didn't fall on your knees to pray that I return to you." he scoffs as he looks at his masterpiece; you tied up on his chair, legs sprawled out for him to see your clothed crotch, exposed for him to see, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Or maybe you want me to beg you? For me to apologize and get on my knees," He begins, his knees hitting the plush rug, hot heavy breaths fanning your thighs as his large hands hold them apart. "You want me to eat you out as punishment, huh?"

"Megumi, no, I didn't say-"

You go silent as soon as his head dove into your thighs and took a long sniff of your panties, wet with arousal, proof of your body betraying your mind. Your breathing becomes uneven as soon as you felt his hands move from your thighs to the panties, ripping them apart with a firm pull. Your worried eyes catch him staring at your wet core like a snack, licking his lips hungrily before darting his pink tongue against your clit experimentally. You shut your eyes in embarrassment when you let out a loud moan, jerking your legs at the pleasurable sensation, only getting louder as he aggressively dives his tongue inside you, his straight nose bumping onto your sensitive bud as he eats you out.

Your eyes roll back as soon as he threw your legs over his shoulders, grabbing your pillowy hips and rocking them into your face, thrusting his tongue faster while staring into your eyes with his predator glare, getting you weaker in the knees as he moves at an inhuman pace while he tongue fucks you.

The wet sounds of his tongue gliding into your core, while you moan his name like a mantra -as if that would ever make him go easier on you- only seem to spur him on, eager to taste your cum on his tongue before he properly fucks you to submission.

He is depraved and he knows it, but he doesn't care as long as he has your love and your body all to himself irrespective of how he treated you.

"Megumi-" you cry out, wanting to push his head off your core when you felt a strange coil in your stomach, much different than your usual orgasm -stronger perhaps- building up in your stomach. "Megumi stop, I feel strange," you cry out to him, only for him to send a glare at your direction, moving his head faster while he rocks your hips at a maddening pace despite your protests until he feels you violently shudder, a huge spurt of your cum decorating his tongue and parts of his face much to your horror.

"Shit," He rasps hungrily, lapping and sucking at every drop until he was satisfied, falling back onto the balls of his feet weakly, lips still glistening with your release and his spit, catching his breath for a bit before his pleasure-filled eyes flicker up to your shame-filled face again. "That felt great huh?" he asks quietly, moving up to his feet to stand, hands shakingly unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal his beautiful lean torso.

You find yourself ogling at him again and yet you don't stop this time; What was the point? You had given up long before he made you come into his house anyways and now that he has eaten you out, your core only aches for him to fill you up to the brim like he always did, to shape you according to his lengthy cock, your anger and hurt buried deep down by how sexy he looks devouring and overwhelming you.

"See?" he mocks as he loosens his belt, noticing the horny, needy look you had on your face at the sight of him lowering his trousers and boxers to set his lengthy dick free into his palm. "didn't I tell you that you would like it?" he asks menacingly, pumping his dick in his hand as he hovers above your body, waiting for your answer while he climbs on top of you, positioning his cock near your slit. He notices your eyes greedily looking at his member instead of his face and for some reason, it angers him. Hissing under his breath, he grabs your throat and presses his fingers at the sides for you to pay attention to him. "I was asking a question you whore," He states, trying to keep his temper in check while you gasp slightly at the restriction. "but it seems you only like my dick huh? that's all you want?" he sneers as he buries himself inside you. "After I made you cum, you still can't pay attention to me?"

"No, Megumi, it's not like that, wait-" you stutter out, your brain getting foggy as he sheaths himself inside you fully. "Wait, wait, it's too much, pull out, pull out"

"Shut up." He snarls, gripping your throat tighter and forcing you to be quiet.

You could only moan as he begins to pump himself inside of you in quick successions, occasionally pulling himself out and leaving you clenching on nothing, only for him to slam himself inside you and move faster with much vigor, swearing as he pistons himself inside your pussy, hitting every spot you swear he didn't know or care about before, bringing the both of you to the edge again. He mercilessly pounds inside you, his hand releasing your throat and grabbing your feet to press them hard onto your chest so that he goes deeper inside you, as opposed to him just pulling out and dumping his load on your belly when he wasn't with a condom.

As if he is trying to breed you with his children.

Your eyes widen in realization, but it was too late, lost in the sea of pleasure as your climaxes hit, his hot seed pouring deep inside you as you cream all over his orgasming cock, the action only spurring him to cum faster until he was spent, leaving his dick inside you long after it softens.

You both just stay in that same position for a while, his head pressed against your neck until he pulls away from you and leaves you there in an uncomfortable position. You shudder at the feeling of his hot semen trickle down your thighs, tears threatening to gather in your eyes at the realization of his intent before hiding them once you hear his quiet footsteps moving over to you again, bucket in hand and two rags - one in his other hand and one hanging on his neck as if he prepared all this for you.

It was shocking because he would have told you to get lost by now, bare assed underneath your dress, struggling not to let it drop on his floor lest you make him furious.

Kneeling in between your thighs, he soaks the rag and squeezes it hard before wiping off the excess cum and spit on them, his eyes never leaving his work before dumping it inside the water and taking the other one to dry you off. Satisfied, he gets up and reaches behind you before tugging off his silk tie with the flick of his wrist, setting you free from his makeshift bondage.

Free enough to slap him, but you know better than to wander into that dangerous territory.

"I'm tired," He mutters once he gets up. He isn't lying; the dark circles underneath his eyes and the sudden fatigue from the slump of his shoulders gave him away. Has he been sleeping well? "come on, let's go to bed."

You don't protest -you don't even have the chance- as he yanks you up from the chair and takes you in his arms, before making his way to the stairs until you both reach the hallways leading to his room, a place you've always been familiar with for a while. It felt nostalgic in a sick sense, him carrying you to the place of rest while you were aching, just like the first time the two of you met before he moved away.

Maybe Megumi was still that same boy you craved for all those years, kind and caring, willing to help you out. Or maybe he was always the man you devoted your heart to, depraved and cruel and you just didn't have enough time to find out who he truly was because he left. The rumors back in high school about him beating up bullies who pissed him off and then taking advantage of the kindness of the victims by getting whatever he wanted makes more sense now to you as you're seeing it first hand.

You should hate him, really, but he's laying you down on his bed like a gentleman and he's climbing beside you, throwing his hand over your torso and pulling you closer to him until your body presses against his.

How could you hate him when you can hear his heartbeat against his chest while you rest your head on it, yours following in sync as you close your eyes? He made love to you on his couch, ate you out, cleaned you up, and brought you here to rest with him and you thought of hating him? Maybe this was why you made him sick in the first place, your ingratitude! Didn't you see he has changed? Sure, his words were caustic, but that's just the way he talks, you should know by now.

"Megumi." You call out quietly, feeling his sharp jaw on your head. He hums in response, resting his palm flat agaist your thigh.

"I love you."

You expect him to scoff at you before telling you to pick your shoes and leave. You even expect a cold "I know" or "Whatever you say" to come out of his mouth before turning his body to the opposite side and leaving you alone.

Instead, you feel his lips inch closer to your ears before whispering a quiet, "I love you too" and then kissing the shell of your ear, while grinding his semi-hard cock against your ass subtly, light sighs escaping his lips as he felt his dick strain his pants again.

The feeling of his hard-on against your soft ass made you moan softly in response, before shuddering as his large hand pulled your clothes up and guided his cock to the opening of your already wet folds, ready to fill you up to the brim all over again just to show his love.

And he'll keep doing it again every chance he gets, every time he sees you until your stomach starts to swell with his child and you have no excuse not to beg for him to come back when he decides to break you again. The game his twisted mind made up is far over and not even these feelings he harbors for you deep down in his heart would stop him from further destroying you until you were just as miserable as he was and until he - and no one else but him, becomes your only source of joy.

"You love me right? Then you won't mind being my mommy, would you?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ layla 2024, do not repost, translate or plagarize my post on this platform or any other platform. before you follow, read my rules first.

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year ago

Text

Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not.

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly.

You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was.

He was the best part about Las Almas.

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A…

What else?

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost.

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list.

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing.

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all.

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he?

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!”

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was.

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease.

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.”

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?”

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s.

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look.

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!”

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?”

“Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.”

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~”

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

“There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand.

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it.

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail.

“She did get hit.”

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.”

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised.

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.”

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner.

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man.

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face.

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw.

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more.

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine.

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call.

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!”

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family.

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?”

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off.

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–”

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.” “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade. “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure. What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear. “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.” Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!” The lieutenant turned around. “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.”

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost?

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did.

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?”

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon.

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile.

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back.

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it.

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life.

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was.

How fucking wrong he was.

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’

Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him.

Johnny : ‘Also’

Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’

His thumb paused right above the send key.

Fuck.

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind.

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that?

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages.

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon.

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner.

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet.

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade.

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now.

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.”

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start.

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.

“I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer.

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted.

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below.

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth.

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck.

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap.

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.”

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?”

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.”

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!”

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first.

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade.

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.”

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.”

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same.

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too? Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”.

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

"What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other.

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one.

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he.

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more.

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely.

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly.

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was.

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes.

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely.

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her.

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to.

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed.

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him.

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard.

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more.

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands.

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer.

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?"

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?"

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?"

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?"

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost.

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them.

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own.

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would put on that mask again.

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek.

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted.

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD.

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder.

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside.

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot.

It's too hot.

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right?

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again.

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder.

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy.

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself,

"Fuckin’ hell…"

Jade didn't melt his cold heart.

She set it on fire.

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him.

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it.

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.

There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked.

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

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