Mouse Trap [Oneshots] Blood Oath-2

The scent of grilled miso and eggs draws you from the warmth of your futon. Bare feet kiss the cool wood floor as you step into the hallway, rubbing the remnants of restless dreams from your eyes. You hadn’t really slept—just closed your eyes and let the night wrap around you like a second skin.

Your cheeks burn at the memory of it.

In the kitchen, Ren stands at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still damp—maybe from a quick shower or just the steam curling from the pan. He doesn’t turn when he speaks.

Ren

“Up already, princess? It’s the weekend, you could’ve slept more.”

His voice is light—too light. Like he's trying to cook the tension away with sizzling eggs.

You don’t reply. You just move closer, silently, until your arms wrap around his waist from behind and your cheek rests softly against his back.

Ren freezes.

It’s always like this. You, reaching for warmth. Him, tense—like he’s afraid he might shatter if you hold him too tightly.

You never know if he wants you to stop. Or if he’s just terrified because he doesn’t.

Ren

“Go sit down. It’s almost ready.” *nudges you gently with elbow*

Y/N

"Fine..."

Reluctantly, you let go, fingertips grazing the hem of his shirt. You settle at the small dining table, yawning, arms wrapped around yourself.

Ren places a steaming bowl in front of you, then takes the seat across, stretching slightly before relaxing into his usual confident slouch.

Ren

“Any plans for today?”

He asks, tone smooth, but his eyes are far too alert—tracking every flick of your lashes, every shift in your posture.

You shake your head and poke at the tamagoyaki. The rice is warm, comforting. Your appetite is not.

Y/N

“Do you have to go today…?”

The words leave you before you realize you’ve said them aloud.

His movement stills.

It’s so brief—barely there—but you see it. The flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The hesitation. The war he fights every time he looks at you.

Then he offers a smaller smile.

Ren

“Well… if it’s not urgent,” *he says with a lazy shrug,* “I guess I can stay with you.”

Your heart trips a bit.

Y/N

"Don't joke..."

Ren

"Oh, I'm definitely not."

He leans forward, resting his chin on one hand, eyes gleaming with something playful.

Ren

“So, what does my princess want to do today?”

You look at him—and really see him. The curve of his mouth. The man who kissed you like a man starved, and the same one who used to braid your hair when you cried.

Your lips part.

Y/N

"......"

You say nothing.

Later, the curtains are half-drawn. Afternoon sunlight filters in through them in fractured stripes, painting golden prison bars across the floor.

Ren stands by the open balcony door, shirtless, cigarette balanced between his fingers. Smoke coils around him in lazy spirals. He could still feel his manhood twitching even after p0unding into your tight cat restlessly.

Behind him, you're curled under rumpled sheets, your body still warm from tangled limbs and breathless gasps. The silence feels heavier now, like even the dust is holding its breath.

Ren

"I'm such a monster.."

He mutters, voice low. He flicks ash into the breeze like he’s trying to rid himself of it.

And yet, he hadn’t stopped.

Not last night. Not this morning.

Not you.

He was the one meant to protect you.

But, Now...?