Have You Heard Seungmin Covering Stitches By Shawn Mendes???

ex!seungmin who thinks about you when he receives his diploma during his graduation in law school because he couldn’t have done it without you, and it breaks his heart that while he’d reached his dreams, you couldn’t be there to see him make it.

he’d remember the countless sleepless nights you’d stayed up with him to review for his tests

or when you’d urge him to get some rest or eat his meals when he’d forget sometimes

you were there to help him realize he could do it, coming with him to apply for numerous universities

you were there from the beginning, so why couldn’t you be there to see him reach the end?

and it was a mutual decision—the breakup. but he finds that, as he reaps the rewards of his efforts, it doesn’t feel right that you aren’t in the crowd

that night, seungmin ponders over whether to call you or not

instead, he sends a few text messages

he doesn’t think he could talk to you without crying, doesn’t think he’s ready to hear your voice again

seungmin (9:57pm): i graduated today haha

seungmin (9:58pm): i just wanted to say thank you. i know that things are over between us, but it’s undeniable the influence you had on me while i was in law school. i don’t know if i’d be able to make it this far if you hadn’t believed in me the way you did. thank you. i can’t say it enough.

seungmin (10:01pm): there’s so much i want to tell you, but i guess i don’t really have the right to do that anymore. still, i hope you realize how much you’ve changed the way i looked at life (for the better, i can hear you complaining already)

seungmin (10:03pm): oh, and i found this letter i’d written back when i was still in my 1st year. it’s addressed to you, and i vividly remember telling myself to give it to you on the day i graduate. haha, somehow i’d thought we’d still be together when today would come. lmk if you still want it or if it’s too awkward then that’s okay too

seungmin (10:06pm): alright that’s it. sorry if these messages freaked you out a little. i’m not even sure this is still your number

seungmin (10:07pm): thanks again, (name). you are the one person who made me believe i could make it and i did :) thank you

⊹ ˙⋆ 𞥊 ִ rei/valrei— twenty two. she/her/hers.

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So Blue | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Who can you turn to in a dire situation if not your best friend? That's what Jisung thought when he texted you. Heart racing with fear that your best friend was hurt, you rush to his side. What you find however will change everything...

•Pairings: non idol Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, friends to lovers, strong language, mention of sexual enhancement drug, light anxiety, creampie, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, cum eating

an: photos of Han used in title graphic have been edited for entertainment purposes by me and are not real. no harm is intended in the edited pictures. also please do not take any enhancement meds without talking to a doctor for your own safety. i don't condone the behavior that's written.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

The house is quiet, way too quiet when you step inside. Knowing Chan, Changbin, and Jisung for years, you know it's never this quiet when they're around and it's unsettling... Shutting the door behind you and glancing around, you see nothing out of the ordinary. So far everything looks exactly the way you left it last night after the four of you hung out. Just as you're about to walk into the kitchen, you hear Jisung start calling your name from his bedroom. Your heart races with panic and you rush towards his room, dropping your bag on the floor along the way. All kinds of awful scenarios play in your mind and when you burst into his room you half expect to find him bloody or with a broken bone, not sitting on the edge of his bed in a white sleeveless shirt and black shorts, with his legs spread sporting a massive hard-on.

"Wait, why me?" you blurt out, when Jisung explains that he needs your help. Your cheeks heat up as you steal a quick glance at the unmistakable bulge in his shorts. There's a mix of embarrassment and unexpected arousal that floods through you, leaving you flustered.

You're shocked, jaw practically hitting the floor. Who knew he was so… big? After all these years of friendship, you never thought of him in any other way except as your weird and talented friend. But now, seeing him in this state… It's making you feel things you'd rather deny and your stomach is flipping like crazy. Every now and then you notice that his cock twitches underneath his shorts as if it's alive, pulsating and drawing your eyes down to it again despite how hard you try not to stare. Kind of hard when something that size is practically waving “Hello” at you.

"I- I can't tell the guys this. They'd clown me for life," Jisung stammers, fidgeting as he looks at you from across his messy room. Plastic water bottles scattered, tissues crumpled on the floor—yeah, it's pretty clear what he's been up to before you got here.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Han Jisung?" you retort, emphasizing his full name for dramatic effect.

"I don't know," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "It's been hours. I can't even leave my room. It hurts, y/n."

When he grabs at the stiffness beneath his cotton shorts and lets out a low groan, you stop breathing. Why does this have to turn me on? He's my best friend! You mentally scold yourself, tearing your gaze away. Shit, it's hot in here. Your body feels too hot all over. It's like standing too close to a blazing fire, the heat making you squirm uncomfortably.

"Ji... we need to get you to the hospital," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You've seen those commercials."

"Please, no! I can't let anyone see me. Did you forget, your bestie Annie, who also happens to be Chan's girl, works there. If she sees me, it's game over. She'll tell him." Jisung pleads, hands clasped together, desperation evident in his wide brown eyes. Those puppy dog eyes of his always get to you.

"Dude, what were you even thinking, taking Love?" you groan, plopping down on the cozy carpet with a heavy thud, completely confused by your friend's decision to take an enhancement pill.

You remember seeing those late-night infomercials a couple of years back, pushing that blue heart-shaped pill. They call it 'Love' because of the 'L0-V3' stamped on it. Basically it's like Viagra, but it's mixed with a very low dose of THC. They advertise that it does more than just keep things up. 'Guaranteed to give you the ultimate pleasure,' they say.

Jisung shrugs, watching you with a miserable expression. “I was curious if it would make masturbating feel different, better maybe? I mean it did the first 6 times. Wah! The orgasms were fucking mind blowing y/n.” He smiles and chuckles.

"Ji, oh my god! Ugh, have mercy on my ears bro." Both of you burst into laughter, but then you notice Ji wincing in pain. Your mood quickly shifts from playful to genuine concern.

"It hurts that much?" you ask, feeling awful that he's so uncomfortable.

He nods weakly, “It's not even just my dick but my balls feel so fuckin’ heavy. Like they're literally going to rip from my body.”

You cringe inwardly, fingers pressing into your ears as he launches into yet another one of his oversharing moments. His lack of filter has always been a trademark of his, but that's just Jisung being Jisung. After being friends since grade five, it's like he's incapable of holding back anything with you. You remember the day he lost his virginity, he texted you literally right after. His excitement was evident even through the phone. As a joke you got him a cake in the shape of the letter ‘V’. That was in highschool and his habit of sharing way too much is still going strong in your twenties. Only difference is this time his oversharing is doing things to you.

The dampness between your thighs, well, that's just gotta be a coincidence, right? I mean, it's not like the sight of your long time buddy sporting a hard-on is doing anything for you. It's more than likely just the frustration of being on a three-year dry spell. Yeah, that's gotta be it. It's definitely because you haven't been fucked in a long time and not Jisung himself. You give your head a shake, dropping your hands from your ears with a wry smirk.

"Ji, we've really gotta do something… before it gets worse. You don't want it to fall off." You tell him jokingly, trying to keep the mood light but you're feeling worried all over again.

"Yeah, yeah I know. You're right, but what are we supposed to do? I've tried everything, even beatin' it 11 times, and still no luck.” He says, sounding so casual about his masturbatory activities.

You let out an embarrassed groan and fall back dramatically onto the floor, while Jisung lets out a pitiful whine. You grab your phone and start searching for home remedies but after an hour of scrolling, you're still at square one. Not a single remedy seems feasible. Leeches? Nah, no way. As if either of you would go near those slimy things. And some tea from a self-proclaimed witch sounds sketchy as hell. Plus, she's halfway across the globe. It would take forever to get here, if it even would. Jisung hasn't had any luck either. Every twenty minutes You hear him curse under his breath and run his hands through his hair. You two are running out of options, and as time passes, you start to feel more and more useless.

"Y/n," Jisung whispers your name after another forty minutes of searching, his voice hesitant.

You look up at him, doe eyed and innocently chewing your lip. “Hm? What's up, Hannie? Did you find something?” With a strained grunt he nods in response looking at you intensely.

“Fuck, shit.” He mutters under his breath, almost like he's talking to himself. “My dick... It won't go down without…”

“Ji what is it? You're freaking me out. Without what?” You scramble up onto your knees and crawl over to the bed, inching closer to him, eyes full of concern.

Jisung looks like he's in absolute agony watching you crawl over to him. His emotions are all over the place, you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him when you reach the bed. His eyes are like flames, burning far too hot when he looks at you. You can see the struggle written all over his face like he's fighting with himself.

“Y/n, you're making it harder,” Jisung breathes out, his voice husky and balling his hands into fists as he tries to keep his composure.

You sit beside him scrunching up your face and like the good friend that you are, you place a comforting hand on his knee. Jisung's breath catches in his throat and a flush creeps up his neck when you touch him making him suddenly feel lightheaded.

"What do you mean 'making it harder'? I'm here trying to help you, remember?” You say, your voice soft and tinged with hurt. The pain in your voice and eyes catches him off guard. He's stammering, suddenly aware of how his words might've come out wrong.

He didn't mean for it to sound bad. You're the last person he'd ever want to hurt. But today, everything you do just seems to set him off. He's been trying so damn hard to push his feelings aside. But it's like having you in his room, despite you being here a million times before, it's messing with his head. He can't think straight. You've always been stunning to him, and yeah, maybe he's entertained some inappropriate thoughts about you in the past, but that was only once. Maybe it's the pill messing with his head but you’re making it impossible for him to focus on anything but you.

“N- no I mean, I’m grateful you're here, really love. You're the only one who can help me. I just mean… you're making it harder. Ya know?” He stammers, licking his lips nervously. He nods down once looking down at his lap before back at you and bites his lip feeling embarrassed. Your eyes flick down to his shorts and go wide when you understand.

"What? How?!" You glance down at your outfit. His black hoodie with the paint splatters that you borrowed a few days ago, paired with simple black leggings. Nothing revealing, yet you're somehow making his cock even harder than it already was.

"You're over there moaning and then you start crawling towards me on all fours. I mean, come on, how could anyone not get turned on by that? Shit!" He chuckles nervously, feeling his heart racing. He hides his face in his hands, laughing, and murmurs something when you giggle.

"You're such a perv, Ji." You tease, still chuckling as you playfully pry his hands away from his face. "Now try that again. I'm not fluent in mumbles, sorry.”

“I said… I just read that it won't go down without intercourse. Bro, I don't exactly have a girlfriend. I'm so fucked.” He sighs, sounding completely defeated.

Your smile falters when you see just how miserable he looks. It's been a while since he was last in a relationship, that was true. Probably a little longer than you, about four years now. His last one ended when she demanded he choose between you and her. She couldn't stand the fact that you would spend the night in the spare bedroom where Jisung, Chan, and Changbin recorded their music, dreaming of making it big someday. Jisung ended things with her on the spot; he wouldn't be with someone who couldn't accept his friends. Apparently she had issues with Minho too, which was probably what really did it for him. But somehow, you can't shake off the feeling that their breakup was somehow your fault, that his single status is on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry Hannie. We'll um, we can figure something out.” You reassure him, innocently rubbing his knee.

Without thinking much, your fingers gently glide over his skin comfortingly, feeling the tenseness in his muscles. He's so stressed. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. You don't know what to do right now other than offer him comfort. There are no answers or solutions that you can think of to give him. All you can do is show him that you're in it together as always. You start rambling on about how you two are both probably freaking out for no reason and that everything will be fine soon. But as your fingers continue to move in innocent slow circles, Jisung starts shifting. It goes unnoticeable by you so you keep talking. It's all nonsense really, delving into something completely random and off topic in an attempt to distract him from the issue at hand, only Jisung isn't processing a single word you've said. He's far too focused on your hand.

The moment your hand landed on his knee he prayed you wouldn't move it, he prayed you would. He tried so hard to focus on anything other than the heat and softness of your hand on his bare skin. It's too much though and his mind starts to quickly wander. He freezes and tries to focus on your voice but it's impossible. Jisung can't stop the thoughts that his mind creates or the images that begin to come into focus. He's imagining your hand sliding up his thigh until it's slipping under his shorts. He can almost feel it happening, his sudden daydream becoming so vivid. In his mind's eye he can see you take him into your hands, feel you stroking him until he's a mess and spilling all over your fingers. He's fighting his demons and you're oblivious to it all. You just continue to talk all while the sensation of your hand is driving him up the wall. He can feel the sudden familiar tightening in his balls and he panics. He can't get control of his body, not with the drug still in his system.

His hand quickly comes down covering yours, stopping the gentle caress to his knee. His intense brown eyes look darker when they stare into yours. His lips slightly part and his breath starts coming out in uneven quiet bursts. The warmth of his hand seems to grow hotter, becoming slightly sweaty against yours and your heart starts pounding in your chest. You feel the subtle shift in his body beneath your touch and his legs tense up as he lets out a soft, involuntary grunt. Jisung's gaze burns into yours with an undeniable intensity that makes air feel thick and your cunt slick.

Is he about to?

You glance down at his shorts and his cock pulsates underneath. You stop breathing when realization hits you. He’s going to cum, right here, right now, all while holding your hand and looking at you. He's leaking so much precum it's noticeable even in the black fabric. A wicked scene flashes through your mind, of you sinking to your knees to taste him, taking his fully clothed cock into your mouth.

"Ah, shit! Mm!" Jisung's moans slip out and his breathing escalates as he starts to tremble all over. "Y/n," he pants out. Your name rolling off his tongue, making your whole body flush as his orgasm quickly builds, like you're the cause of it. "I... oh, shit. I'm... sorry, fuck. I can't... Help it. I'm cumming. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!”

His grip on your hand tightens and he takes a deep breath before letting out a long low moan. You're left speechless, eyes fixed on Jisung's face as he cums in his pants. His hips move instinctively upwards, as if he's fucking some unseen entity and you can't help but find it incredibly hot. It's possibly the sexiest thing you've ever witnessed and now you're more turned on than you were to before.

His orgasm hits him hard, and you can feel his muscles tighten when he lets go. Warmth spreads through your body and it's impossible not to miss the way his release seeps through his dark shorts. The fabric quickly becomes wetter as his seed flows out in thick, white strings. His cock, still concealed and hard beneath the dampness, slows its wild twitching and stills.

“God, I'm sorry y/n. I don't know what came over me. Your hand... It felt incredible and it just happened. It was like the pill ramped up the feeling.” He apologizes, letting go of your hand. His heavy breathing slows and cheeks flush with a mixture of arousal and shame.

“It's ok Ji, I understand. You don't have to apologize. I wasn't thinking. I'll uh, get you a change of shorts.” You start to get up and head towards his dresser but he catches your wrist. He looks up at you with those brown sugar boba eyes of his making you shift.

“Tell me what you're thinking, y/n. Please? I'm going crazy thinking I'm weirding you out. Be honest with me please, lovely. Please?” He pleads with you.

You sigh and sit back down beside him and almost moan when the seam of your leggings rub against you. Seeing Jisung cum right in front of you, has your body feeling ultra sensitive. You're so on edge as if you've taken an enhancement pill yourself.

"I'm not weirded out, trust me," You confess, your voice low and filled with something more that you try to hide from him and yourself.

"Then how do you feel? You've gone quiet on me." Jisung probes, daring you to reveal your feelings.

“I feel fine Ji.” You say and look at his closet door. It's wide open and his clothes are all over the place inside like a tornado went through it.

“Bullshit y/n. I can tell when you're lying. You never look at me when you lie.”

Sighing you look him in the eyes and your mouth suddenly goes dry. He's not going to let this go until you fess up to him. He'll drill you with questions until you crack and that will probably make things more awkward than it already is. You don't really have a choice but to be transparent with him like you normally are.

“I'm,” You start, only for your words to trail off into a mumble.

“What was it you said earlier y/n? I'm not fluent in mumble?" He smirks, feeling so damn proud of himself and you roll your eyes.

“Ugh, fine. Fine, okay. I'm… horny. There, satisfied?” You admit red in the face. You look away fiddling with the sleeve of Jisung's hoodie.

"What else?" His voice, steady and resolute.

Your head spins back to him, caught off guard. "What else?" you echo loudly in shock. "Isn't all that enough?" He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he knows something you don't.

"Nah, not when I can feel you holding back," Jisung teases, leaning closer. "We're always so open with each other, but right now, there's something you're not saying."

“I…” You let out a defeated and frustrated sigh. “You turned me on.” You whisper. “The sight of you cumming. The look on your face, that fucking moan, Jisung. The way your cock bobbed from inside your shorts when you… damn it. It fucking made me wet. I've been wet since I walked in here!” You're practically yelling now, breathing heavily after releasing all your pent up feelings and he just smiles and chuckles.

“That wasn't so hard was it?

“Yes,” You say with a huff. “Yes, that actually was pretty damn hard.” You go to cover your face but he stops you.

“Don't be embarrassed, sweetie. I think that's a normal reaction. Sorta like watching porn.” He replies, chuckling.

“I suppose… but it doesn't really help your situation though.” You say feeling mortified.

The room goes quiet for a minute, the pair of you at a loss for words until Jisung breaks the silence.

“Maybe it can?”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow in his direction. His cheeks flush and he raises his hands in a surrender gesture, palms facing outward, “Hear me out. It doesn't have to be weird. We'd just be helping each other out. You wouldn't be horny anymore and I wouldn't be hard and in pain. You're my only hope.”

“Are you suggesting that you and I… fuck?” You ask gesturing between you both. He groans in half pain, half pleasure at your words and your face heats again matching the blush on his cheeks.

“Please? Please let me fuck you y/n. Shit I know we're friends, it won't mean anything. You'd be literally saving my life. It's torture being like this. Every twitch, every movement I make… it fucking hurts like hell.” He begs, sounding desperate.

Jisung's question hangs in the air and you find yourself unable to respond. Silence ticks on for only a few seconds but to Jisung it feels like an hour. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration and huffs.

"Fine, then," he grumbles, breaking the silence again. "Can you at least help me get into your car so we can go to the hospital then?" His voice is rough, but there's an underlying vulnerability to it.

Still you stay quiet, his pleas echoing loudly in your mind. He's begging for your help and you can't speak. You're torn between wanting to be there for him and the fear of the aftermath. It's never a good idea to sleep with a friend. God, how many times have there been movies portraying that, only for it to go wrong? Too many, that's the answer. You're already feeling things that you wish you weren't. This could ruin your friendship with Jisung. This isn't just a peck on the lips. You'll be far closer and far more intimate than you two have ever been. So your hesitation is valid but Jisung is losing his mind and panicking more than you are right now.

“What the fuck y/n? Are you really ignoring me right now? Look, I'm sorry I asked. Just forget it and hel-”

"Promise me," You cut him off, "Promise me that we'll pretend like it never happened."

"Absolutely, yes. I promise!" he agrees eagerly, his face lighting up as he reaches for the drawer in his bedside dresser.

Curious, you watch as he rummages through the drawer's content. "What are you up to now?" you ask, sounding amused despite the fact that the little voice in your head is screaming at you.

"Looking for a condom," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looks over at you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Dude, even if you find one, it's probably expired or dried up. When was the last time you got some ass?"

"Oh yeah right, good point—wait! It hasn't been that long!" He whines.

Laughing, you playfully cover your mouth. "Uh huh, sure. Besides, you gave your last one to Chan a while ago, remember?"

“Shit, you're right. Now what?” He pouts looking disappointed.

“Just raw I guess. Don't really have a choice. We both know we're clean and I'm on the pill.” You shrug nonchalantly like the idea is whatever to you but your heart is beating a thousand beats per second and you're internally freaking out.

Jisung swallows hard, looking nervous in your direction. “You uh, you sure?”

“Yeah let's just do it before Bin and Chan get back. Shit would be really awkward if they caught us.” Your voice betrays your false confidence, shaking as nerves wrack your body.

“Yeah, good point” He replies with a nod, suddenly looking serious.

This is serious to him. This isn't exactly how he envisioned his weekend starting. Jisung's heart pounds hard, his palms sweating as he stares at you. Amidst the anxiety he's feeling about this, he's oddly happy. He feels lucky knowing you’re here willing to cross boundaries for him. Not everyone would do something like this for a friend, but you're different. You always have his back no matter what crazy mess Jisung finds himself in.

Despite the fucked-upness of it all, Jisung can't deny the excited flutter in his stomach. The thought of having sex with a friend is enough to give anyone major anxiety but he's surprised how well you both are dealing with it. Still, fear sits at the back of his mind. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins your friendship? This is a big deal. He's seen it play out in movies and dramas all the time and not once had it turned out well. He doesn't have a lot of options though. You're quite literally his only hope like he told you.

Jisung gets up carefully, giving you full access to his bed and watches you as you strip down to nothing. Embarrassment fills you as his mouth hangs open, in complete fascination and awe. He thinks you're unstoppable, the way you're confidently undressing like that. He doesn't know you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. His eyes find your breast and he mentally marvels over how hard your nipples are. He suddenly wants nothing more than to slip the peaks into his mouth and bite down on them until they're red and you're squirming under him. Your cunt calls to him like a siren, just as pretty and just as wet. His fingers itch to trace the contours of your body, to feel your skin beneath his touch. Every inch of you seems to call out to him.

Jisung shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he glances towards the door. "Um, so about the lights... Do you have a preference?”

"You decide, Ji.” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, leaning back into his sheets on your forearms.

With a nod, he walks over to the door and locks it before reaching to switch off the light, enveloping the room in darkness. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. The sun had long since disappeared, hours slipping away unnoticed in trying to find a way to help your friend. A second later, the white walls covered in music memorabilia and anime posters, glow crimson from the light of the LED Akatsuki cloud lamp you gifted him for Christmas.

“There we go.” He says lightly, his voice barely audible over the sound of your heart.

Jisung's trying his best to put you at ease, and you're grateful for it, even if it's not working. You're lying there, heart pounding like a drum, with the soft red glow of his bedroom casting shadows all around. Your breath hitches, nerves tingling as you steal a glance at him by the bedside. Your fingers toy with the sheets' edge and butterflies dance wildly in your stomach. This is risky, but you're only doing it to help him out, right? Nothing more. Yet, there's something brewing beneath the surface, something you're both feeling but haven't quite put into words or even thoughts. Not right now at least.

Jisung casually strips off his tank and tosses it onto his computer chair, standing over you. Even though you've seen him shirtless a million times, it feels different this time. Probably because the setting is more intimate. You can't help but admire the way his muscles are defined, how they seem to mold perfectly to his body. Every contour, every line, down to his slender waist, captivates you. Then, as he lowers his shorts, you find yourself holding your breath, unable to look away. He's got to be a good seven inches you think. Slightly curving upwards, angry and red with the veins ridiculously prominent. You don't even stop yourself from fantasizing about how he'd feel on your tongue. The temptation to reach out and touch him is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, afraid of what it might mean.

“Do you think you can take all of me y/n?” He asks curiously and you look up at him.

His features soften in the dim light. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the confident guy you're used to seeing. It tugs at your heart, stirring up a mix of emotions you can't quite begin to untangle.

His question, It's not a cocky one. In fact he sounds a little bit self conscious, worried even. Like he's afraid of hurting you or causing you discomfort. As much as you try to not think of him as your best friend right now as a means of psyching yourself out, you can't. He's your sweet Hannie, he's the talented genius J.One, a rap name he created when he was 16. He's your Sungie, who sat with you when you were the new kid in middle school. He needs you… needs your help. What kind of friend would turn away from a friend in need?

"I can handle it, don't worry about me, Ji. Let's just get you back to normal, okay?" You reach out your hand towards him with a subtle tremble exposing your nervousness.

"Yeah, okay, lovely. Just... let me know if you want to stop, okay? Promise?” Jisung exhales, his breath jittery with nerves waiting for your response.

“I promise. Now just relax and fuck me.” You whisper.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

He moves closer to you, placing his hand in yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you. The worries and hesitations you had vanish, replaced by a strong need to take care of this for him, to ease his pain. You feel the heat emanating from his body as he positions himself between your legs, gazing down at you with wide eyes.

He chews on his bottom lip and wraps his hand around the base of his cock with a hiss. He's still sensitive from the pain and his recent orgasm but he lines himself up with the entrance to your core, noticing how your arousal glistens in the red lights.

“Do you normally get this wet y/n?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious tilting his head to one side.

You hide your face with your hands, inhaling deeply. It's like you're a virgin all over again and this is your first time. You're nervous out of your mind and he's asking you a question like that. He's just curious, sure, but... he's Jisung... Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you slowly lower your hands. His eyes meet yours, and you can see everything you're feeling reflected in them.

You swallow hard, “Honestly, no. I've never been this wet, Jisung. Not even for myself.” You tell him, keeping eye contact so he knows you aren't lying.

“Fuck, that's hot.” He whispers. His cock twitches and rubs along your folds. “Ah, shit.” He winces and moans at the contact, feeling his cock stiffen even more beyond his belief.

Your body jerks at the unexpected touch, causing you to inhale sharply. His fingers lightly graze the curve of your waist, as if he's afraid you might vanish at any moment. His eyes, intense and penetrating, hold yours captive and heat pools low in your belly. Jisung's touch sends a shiver all over your body when his fingertips slowly begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Suddenly it's hard to deny just how bad you want him.

“Han Jisung if you don't stop stalling and just fuck me, I'm getting dressed and calling Chan.” Your breath comes out in short, shallow gasps. That brush against you was too much and not enough. You want him. God, you want him so bad it's almost painful.

“Okay, okay sorry. I'm just nervous. Fuck, I feel like a virgin all over again.” He says voicing your earlier thoughts out loud, making you both laugh loudly.

It feels almost normal. Like you're not about to let sleep with your long time friend. Like he's just above you now because you were wrestling for the remote. But after the laughter subsides, Jisung gathers up his courage and pushes the tip of his cock inside you without any restrictions. You're so wet that he slides right in. You both let out a moan, the sound echoing off the walls of his room, enveloping you in an intimate bubble. In the dim light, the boundary between friendship and something more blurs, and you find yourself swept away by the growing need. Jisung can feel his heart beating harder in his chest as he loses himself to the sweet feeling of you around the tip of him. A growing need intensifies within him with every passing second. He's got just the head in and he wants to slam into and cum right now.

"More. Keep going," you whisper, your voice quiet and dripping with lust. He bites down hard and complies slightly hesitating. Slowly he pushes further inside of you.

Your fingers tremble as they brush against his arms as he steadily inch by inch presses forward getting deeper, drawing moans out of you that could be heard from Pluto. It takes all of Jisung's focus to slide his entire length into you. He didn't want to cum just from sticking the tip in. But with each thrust into your eager pussy, brings him closer to bursting inside you.

"Fuck.” He breathes out as he fully sinks into you, his hand laying over your stomach gently. With a soft sigh, he leans in, resting his other hand beside your head. You feel incredible and he's reminded of the only moment he fantasized about you. A distant memory flooding back, something he tried to push away ages ago.

You tagged along with him, Chan, and Binnie for a vacation to the beach one scorching summer. He couldn't help but notice the way you looked in that red bikini with the guitar pick pattern. The way it barely covered your tits and ass. The sight made him feel insane. He was thinking things about you that he hadn't ever before. He used the fact that he couldn't swim just to sit in the sand, secretly enjoying the sight of you splashing around in the water. Every splash, every droplet clinging to your skin, it was like a fantasy playing out before his eyes. He imagined plowing into you from behind in the shower, your breast pressed against the shower tiles as you took all of him. Every detail was vivid and intense in his mind. That night, while you peacefully slept beside him in the hotel room you shared, he couldn't shake the images from his mind. Unable to sleep due to the ache in his cock, he pumped himself into his fist while thoughts of you consumed his mind. Guilt filled him but he pushed it aside, chalking it up to normal hormonal desires. It had been years since he even had those thoughts, until now.

Now he's buried deep inside you, all because of a dumb decision to try those enhancement pills. All because he wanted a mind-blowing, toe curling, orgasm. But deep down, he's kinda grateful for messing up. With you beneath him, he can fuck you instead of his hand. It's been too long since he's fucked anyone. He wants to savor this moment, take his time feeling your walls flutter around him since this won't happen again. As the urge to cum fades, he eases out of you, leaving just the head of his cock inside and begins moving again, slowly, teasingly, watching your reaction with his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he rocks in and out, feeling your tightness gripping him in a way he's never experienced before. It’s better than anything he's felt with his exes. He's in awe of how amazing you make him feel. With a forceful thrust, he drives himself deeper into you, pausing when you cry out in pleasure.

"Damn it, y/n, you feel amazing. Fuck, so good.” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Can I... Can I go faster? Please, tell me I can fuck you faster, baby. Let me make you feel even better." He begs, grunting softly and shifting his hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, forcing a needy whimper from you.

You bite your lip, a rush of pleasure flooding your body as you nod in response, too overwhelmed to speak. Your breath hitches, coming in rapid gasps, and your legs tremble around him.

“Thank you, fuck.” He withdraws with a sharp pull, then eases back in hard, making you cry out. “Stop me if I'm too rough, baby. You gotta tell me sweetie. Can you do that?”

You nod, but that's not quite what he wants. Jisung wants to hear you, no, needs to hear you. His hand moves, brushing against your skin until he finds your nipple, teasingly taking it between his fingers. Your breath catches as he pinches it gently and rolls it slowly between his thumb and index finger. He feels your body react, your walls tightening around him when you whimper softly.

"Oh!" You gasp, unable to control that blissful feeling of pleasure that runs through you. He does it again, a little harder this time. The corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky grin when you arch your back.

“Yes Ji! Fuck, I'll tell you.” Your eyes close and you grip the blankets on the bed in tight hands.

“Thank you y/n. God you're the fucking, mm! You're the best. Knew only you could help me. I knew you'd take care of me.” Jisung whispers, gripping the sheets by your head tight, his fingers curling around the fabric and sliding himself back into you. The bed creaks beneath you, echoing his movements as he fucks you harder. “Knew you'd make me feel good,” He murmurs, his voice thick with sex. "Tell me, y/n, does that feel good? Does my y/n feel good because of me? Tell me baby.”

Does he always talk like this with everyone he's been with before? You wonder and you realize he's way more experienced than you imagined. The thought makes you jealous but the feeling doesn't last. Each push of his cock inside of you pushes that green eyed demon out of your mind.

His voice, smooth like honey, drips with sweetness, coating you with each word he utters. The way he speaks to you only makes you wetter and you're craving him more. He's not holding back anymore, lost in the moment where all that matters is pleasure. Yours, his… you both need more. He's not waiting for a response; he knows you're speechless, your words stuck in your throat, your silence speaking volumes. With one hand supporting himself, he cups your breast, teasing and massaging the flesh, making you squirm under him before taking your nipple into his mouth. A low, guttural moan escapes him, reverberating through you body. You moan passionately, feeling the heat of his tongue against your skin. When he gently bites the hard peaks of your nipple your body arches into him and your left hand cradles his head.

Jisung inhales deeply, and your scent envelops him, drawing him in with its intoxicating allure. "Damn, you smell so good," Jisung murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips and his heart literally skips a beat in his chest.

He swore nothing would change, but his heart rebels against that weak promise. Every day, he'll crave you more. Every glance, every touch will only intensify the want for you. The need to have you will only grow stronger. Your hands are all over him now, leaving invisible imprints that seem to penetrate straight to his heart. He finds himself addicted to your nails grazing his skin, the way your fingers weave through his hair, pulling him in closer to you with each tug.

Feeling his body pressing against yours, every movement sends waves of pleasure through you. Your hips respond to him, moving in sync and the sensation of his cock against your sweet spot makes you gasp softly. With each grind, the warmth grows blazing inside you. Jisung pauses, his lips leaving your nipple, and gazes down at you, his tousled hair framing his face in a way that makes him look irresistible in this moment. There's a silent shift between you that makes it harder to breathe.

"Close, aren't you, y/n?" he pants, a teasing grin playing on his lips. Something inside you explodes and a surge of electricity courses through you. It's not just the impending climax that has your insides uncoiling; but from that look he gives you. It's overwhelming in the best way possible. You feel like you're free falling through the clouds.

"Almost, Ji. So close," You breathe out softly.

"Yeah, baby, me too," He murmurs, his words laced with urgency. “I need you to come first. I'm gonna pull out." You shake your head and cling to him tighter, not wanting him to stop.

"Cum inside me, Sungie. Just keep going. Harder, Ji. Right there. Fuck!" Your voice grows louder with each word.

"Are you sure, y/n?" he asks, and when you nod, he grins at you. "Gonna give you all of me, baby. Fill you up real good. Gonna make a mess." He trails off with a soft curse. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he adds, his voice becoming more raw, his desire evident in every breath. "You feel so good, y/n. So fucking good."

Jisung's hips buck wildly, thrusting faster and you scream his name, pleading with him to not stop, to not hold back, to fill you up. He's trembling, his breath coming out in ragged grunts as he pounds his cock into you, driving deeper with every thrust. Your body tenses up, and you manage to gasp out that you're about to cum just before it hits you like a tidal wave. And when it hits, fuck, it's like fireworks go off behind your eyelids. The most explosive sensation you've ever experienced.

“Gah, y/n! keep cumming, just like that. Y/n, you're gonna make me cum. So tight. Yeah, keep squeezing me with your pussy. I'm gonna cum. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming baby." He moans, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel it deep when Jisung cums. It jets out in spurts forcefully, filling you and the sensation rips another unexpected orgasm from you. His thrusts slows to a gentle pace, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until your muscles relax around him. With a shudder, he finally stills, collapsing onto you panting, his weight supported by his forearms. Cupping your face in his hand, he looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and longing in his eyes that makes you feel indescribable.

Your soft moans and the way you're clinging on to him, gives him a different sort of pleasure. Just knowing he's the one making you feel good, is a heady feeling, one that makes him want to hold onto this moment longer. But it's done and over now and he feels disappointed that such an amazing feeling, like being nestled inside of you, won't happen again.

Jisung's heart is pounding in his chest as he moves his face closer to you. His impulses taking over, "Can I kiss you?" he breathes out, voice shaky looking down at you.

You give a hesitant nod, feeling suddenly shy despite what just happened between you two, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. It's gentle, soft, sweeter than you expected. He doesn't use his tongue, unsure if you'd even want him to but he couldn't resist the urge to kiss you. The way you looked up at him, so pretty with those heavy lids and his cum dripping out of you… he just had to taste your lips, just once.

When he goes to pull away, you grab onto him, pulling him back and deepening the kiss. Your lips part, inviting him to explore you with his tongue, which he eagerly does. Your muscles tighten, and you realize his cock, which had been softening earlier, is now growing harder inside you. You gasp, intending to let him know it worked but before you can, he starts moving again and your gasp turns into moaning. There's no need for you two to keep having sex now that his erection can go away but you don't stop him. This time it's not just about relieving his pain or a means to an end, it's about something more. You both feel it, the change that he promised wouldn't happen, only you don't seem to care. No, you encourage Jisung to keep moving, to go deeper. You part your legs for him even more, letting him have all of you and surrender to the feelings pulsing through your body. It's all so new, these intense emotions you've developed for him.

Jisung's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust unhurried. His cock slips out leisurely only to ease back in, a rhythm that makes you ache for more. More speed, more friction, more everything. You want to beg him to move faster, but the intensity of his stare leaves you feeling tongue-tied. In this moment, you're the epitome of beauty to him. Your unfocused gaze, your neediness, it's all so intoxicating, urging Jisung to continue his languid movements. He watches as your eyes struggle to focus, blinking several times before locking onto him once more and he loves it. It's as if each blink only deepens the desire he has for you.

He’s amazed that you're letting him continue to fuck you, even though there's no real reason to keep going. But damn, your body has him hooked already. You're spoiling him for any other girl he might end up with, unless... No, he won't let himself go there. He can't think of you as his, not after the promise he made. Still, he craves more of you in every possible way. Jisung's body trembles as he enters you, feeling your muscles tighten around him, and it brings a grin to his face knowing he can coax another orgasm out of you. He wonders how many can say they were able to make you cum multiple times. Did they take care of you like him? He thinks cockily. With a grunt that mingles with your soft moans, he thrusts harder, pushing deeper into you, feeling the tightness around his cock. It's a rhythm of in and out, urging his cock deeper, with nowhere to go.

Did any of your past hookups take their time like this? Fucking you nice and slow, or were they all just in it for a quick nut? Not Jisung, though. He could never, would never just fuck you for his own satisfaction. Your pleasure matters to him. It's what does it for him. He gets off on seeing you lose control because of him, on making you feel good. He doesn't even need to be buried deep inside your cunt to cum. He'd cum in his pants again fingering you or while you rode his face. Just the thought of you cumming on his face is enough to make him explode right now. The sounds you make, your touch, they're his undoing. That's why he came so hard earlier when all you did was caress his knee. He knows that now.

He's finding it impossible to hold back anymore, despite wanting you to cum first. He can't though, not when you gently place your hand on his cheek. That simple touch pushes him over the edge, and he pours himself into you with a raw moan, unable to control himself any longer. His legs shake, his toes curl, and he experiences an intense orgasm, far beyond what he had hoped the pill would give him. But it's not the pill—it's you. He knows it's you.

Watching Jisung cum inside you for the second time, you feel yourself reaching your own orgasm. With soft gasps, your cunt shudders around him. The look on Jisung's face when he cums is easily becoming addicting to you now. You could probably cum just by that look alone. It's like he's lost in the moment, completely taken over by pleasure. His face scrunches up, brows knitting together, round cheeks puffing out with each deep exhale.

You both lie there catching your breaths, quiet and completely still. His cock's still buried inside you, keeping you close. Your eyes lock, taking in every little detail of each other's faces while you both catch your breath. He could stay like this forever, your pussy snug around his cock, and he would've. Only if the sudden sound of the front door swinging open and Changbin shouting about pizza didn't burst that private bubble. It startles you both. So much so that Jisung jerks out of you with a loud pop and scrambling to his feet, making you squeal in surprise.

"Shit, do you think they heard that, Ji?" you whisper hastily pulling his sheets over your body. He shoots you a glance from across the room, a grin spreading across his face. He loves that post sex afterglow radiating from you. You've never looked hotter than you do right now, all sprawled out and naked in his bed.

“Nah, I think we're okay for now. They might just think we're taking a nap like we usually do after binge watching something.” He tells you. “We should probably get dressed in case though.” You nod and when you go to get out of the bed, he stops you. “Wait, lay back. It's my mess, let me clean it up. It's the least I can do for you.”

"Alright..." you murmur, settling back onto the bed with the blanket draped over your chest, your legs parting invitingly for Jisung. Your eyes drift to the ceiling, as you await his touch, but he hesitates. "Ji, what's—"

Your words catch in your throat as you feel the brush of his hair against your thighs and his mouth on you. "Oh, God, Ji. Fuck, that's not what I had in mind," You gasp out just as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He glances up at you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, his lips glistening with a mixture of your shared juices. "Do you want me to stop, baby? I've got the towel right here," he offers, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, pleasure pooling low in your belly. "No, don't stop," you urge softly, your voice laced with need. "Keep going. Please.”

You collapse onto the bed, feeling his head sink between your thighs. His lips and teeth graze your inner thigh, and you bite the sheets that are tightly balled up in your hands, trying to stifle any noises that might alert Chan and Changbin. When Jisung plunges his hot tongue inside of you, eating his cum and yours from your cunt like it's a five star gourmet meal, you almost let out the most pornographic sounding moan from the twirling motion of his tongue. You grab a pillow with quick hands covering your mouth so that it muffles your moans and cries.

He makes quick work in giving you another orgasm with that wicked tongue of his. You would've gladly returned the favor too if he didn't already cum in the towel that was supposed to be used for you. His mouth stayed locked on your clit while he moaned and pumped his cock into the towel. The vibration of his lips making you forget all about that thing you keep stashed in your bedside drawer at home. Yeah, Jisung eating your pussy like he was starving definitely didn't need to happen either but you're not complaining.

After getting dressed and making sure Chan and Changbin wouldn't notice anything odd, you and Jisung joined the duo and settled in for pizza, beer, and a movie. The TV casts a soft glow as some suspenseful action movie plays, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a different kind of fantasy world. It's like your minds are synced, both drifting away from the movie. You and Jisung steal glances at each other in the dark living room, only to quickly look away.

Countless times he's caught you looking back in the direction of his room with a blush on your cheeks. He's hard just knowing that you're thinking about what happened and he wonders if you can still feel him like he can feel you. He just wants to say fuck the movie, to grab you by your wrist and drag you back to his room and fuck you again. He was actually worried that you would go through with the promise of pretending like sleeping together didn't happen but sometimes, in this case anyway, promises can be broken.

♡torturé pour l'éternité - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: author! Jisung x fem! reader

summary: you've been hired to clean for a tortured writer who never leaves his office. Angry and antisocial, can you find a way to soften his hardened heart?

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional

a/n: I decided to go a different way with the arranged marriage trope and I hope you guys like it!

Somewhere deep in the French countryside lived a man. A mysterious, troubled and misunderstood man. He often felt overwhelmed by even the most basic human interaction. So overwhelmed in fact that he isolated himself away from the world. The world that never seemed to want him.

Through his pain, he wrote. He built worlds with just the flick of his pen. Han Jisung.

You were hired just a week ago by Jisung's publisher to clean his home so he could “focus solely on his next novel” as she do elegantly put it. When you first started cleaning, you noticed that the house was a mess, not just your typical bachelor pad mess, but a mess of someone who had given up on life. Dishes piled up in the sink, clothes were thrown all over the floor, and ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts. You would clean for a few hours and leave. Once a day, every day. But you had still never seen him, the illusive author.

One day after a few hours of cleaning, you finally finish and decide to take a break, sitting down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. That's when you hear the creaking of the stairs as Jisung descends, his footsteps slow and heavy. He appears in the doorway, looking tired and worn out. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you. "You're still here," Jisung mutters, his voice dripping with displeasure as he looks at you sitting at the kitchen table. He enters the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a palpable tension. "I thought maids were supposed to be invisible.”

Your eyes take in the sight of a someone that was more ghost than man now. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand as his eyes scanned you up and down. “I'm sorry Mr. Jisung,” you started, “I'm almost done here. Would you want me to make you something to eat?”

Jisung scoffs at your suggestion, his eyes narrowing. "You think I need you to take care of me?" He pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been taking care of myself just fine without you." He pauses, his jaw clenched.

You stir at his sharp words but swallow hard as you stand and make your way to the sink to continue washing the dishes.

Jisung watches you with hooded eyes, studying your movements in the kitchen. Despite his initial hostility, he seems unable to completely ignore you. After a moment of internal struggle, he speaks, his voice slightly slurred, “who hired you anyway?”

“Your publisher. She wants you to focus on your writing. How is the novel coming?”

Jisung's expression darkens at your question, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table. "It's fine," he bites out, clearly annoyed at the intrusion into his writing routine. He glances at you disdainfully, his eyes lingering on your appearance before looking away. You continue to scrub away at plates and cups. You have a kettle on the stove for tea and you had opened the window to let some fresh air inside. His curiosity piques as he observes you diligently washing the dishes, ignoring his rude behavior. He finds himself wondering why you're so insistent on taking care of things that aren't your responsibility. He swigs his glass of whiskey, his mind racing with unanswered questions. As you finish up the last plate, you wipe your hands clean and turn back towards Jisung still seated at the table. “I'm finished for the day, sir.”

He looks up at you, his eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but there's a hint of something else there - confusion, perhaps even a flicker of interest. "You're... finished," he repeats, as if testing the words. He hesitates, the whiskey making him second-guess his usual cold demeanor. He opens his mouth to dismiss you, but instead finds himself asking, "Have you eaten?” You smile softly at Jisung's hint of kindness and turn towards the fridge. “I haven't eaten yet, but I made this turkey sandwich for you. We could split it?” You set the plated sandwich down on the table. Jisung's eyes widen slightly in surprise as you place the sandwich in front of him. No one has shown him this kind of consideration in a long time. He stares at the sandwich, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “Why... would you do that?”

“Because, everyone deserves kindness.” You answer gently. His eyes betray a brief flash of something raw and vulnerable - something that quickly turns into irritation as he covers it up. "Don't act like you actually care about me. You're just here to clean my house," he snaps, though there's less bite to his words than before. “Yes, sir.” You giggle softly to yourself as you grab one half of the sandwich and sit down at the table with him.

He finds himself sitting across from you, sharing a sandwich like it's the most normal thing in the world. He can't remember the last time he shared a meal with someone, let alone sit in silence without feeling uncomfortable. He steals glances at you as you eat, his mind racing.

The next day when you return, you start your cleaning routine in the living room first. A location that has not seen light or laughter in quite a few years. You work on during first, clearing cobwebs in every corner you can reach. The sound of cleaning downstairs disrupts Jisung's writing once again. He grits his teeth, annoyed at the interruption. A part of him wants to yell at you to be quiet, but another part is almost curious. He stands abruptly, stalking to the balcony overlooking the living room. You pause your cleaning for a moment as if sensible Jisung's presence in the room. You turn and look up at his slender frame pressed leisurely against the balcony railing. His eyes narrow as they meet yours, trying to maintain his usual cold demeanor despite the warm flicker in his chest at the sight of you. "Keep it down, will you?" he shoots back, but his voice lacks its usual venom. "When will you learn to be quieter?” You hold back another giggle as you too try to keep your composure. “Yes, sir. I'll be quieter.”

Jisung watches you clean and move around his house. A warmth to you that he's never experienced before. As days turned into weeks, he found himself sitting in the living room while you cleaned. He would read a book out loud to you while you wiped windowpanes and dusted the fireplace mantle. You would ask him about himself, where he grew up and what his favorite season was. It was all so simple. The two of you together was like love but Jisung knew that “I love you” could not properly portray what you had done for him. He would spend years writing the exact words to express to you what love truly was to him now. You had found him and save him. And he could never thank you enough for that. But he would spend each day telling you that you were, without question, his long awaited love.

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Bound by Duty (Bang Chan)

~~~ I have fought battles, braved storms, and faced the darkest nights, but nothing has ever made my heart race like the way you look at me. You are my greatest victory, my sweetest surrender, and the only home I will ever need. ~~~

Synopsis: You are caught between your duty to the kingdom and your forbidden love for the king’s highest knight, Sir Bang Chan. As tensions between rival realms rise and the threat of war looms ever closer, your dangerous romance ignites like wildfire, risking everything you hold dear.

Word Count: 23k

Tw/Cw: MINORS DNI. NSFW, cursing, unprotected sex (no glove, no love), bang chan is a simp, one bed trope (sorry, not sorry), fingering, slight dom!chan, virgin!reader, slight violence, death threats, kidnapping, kinda slow burn??? (like they love each other, but duty comes first kinda thing.

Note: I literally poured my heart and soul into this, so enjoy!

Requests Masterlist

You stood at the highest balcony of the castle, the cool evening breeze whispering through your silk gown. Below, the kingdom stretched for miles, the golden fields of wheat swaying under the dying light of the sun. From this height, the world looked peaceful.

But you knew better.

The halls of the castle echoed with tension. War loomed on the horizon like a shadow creeping ever closer, dark and inevitable. Scouts returned with reports of enemy forces gathering at the borders, their numbers growing by the day. Whispers of betrayal lingered in the corridors, and even the bravest of knights no longer spoke of victory—only survival.

And yet, amidst it all, the king still found time to plan your future.

Your betrothal had been finalized weeks ago, a political move disguised as duty. Prince Taeyong of the Northern Territories was to be your husband, a man you had never met but whose name was carved into the fate of the kingdom. Your marriage would solidify an alliance, combining armies, fortifying borders. A necessity, your father had said. A blessing, your maid had reassured.

A prison, you thought.

You gripped the railing, your knuckles turning white. You had never known love—true love—but you knew enough to recognize what this was not. The weight of expectation crushed you, the knowledge that your life was not your own. You were a pawn in a game you had never asked to play, your heart a sacrifice in the name of power.

Your mother had warned you years ago, when you were just a child clinging to the idea of fairytales and freedom. A princess does not choose whom she loves. She chooses what is best for the kingdom.

But what if what was best for the kingdom was not best for you?

The sound of armored footsteps in the courtyard below drew you from your thoughts. Your tilted your head, watching as the knights gathered for their evening drills, their swords gleaming under the torchlight. They moved with precision, bodies honed for war, minds sharpened for battle. They would be the first to ride out when war finally arrived. The first to die.

Your stomach twisted.

You turned away from the sight, stepping back into the dim glow of your chambers. The room was grand, adorned with silken drapes and gold-threaded tapestries, but it felt suffocating. Every inch of it a reminder of the life you could not escape.

A life where your heart did not belong to you.

A life where you could not love who you truly loved.

And soon, a life where war would decide everything.

That night, you lay awake in your chambers, staring at the ceiling as the candlelight flickered against the stone walls. Sleep refuses to come. It never does, not when your mind is a battlefield of thoughts you cannot silence.

Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed.

The thought makes your chest tighten.

Taeyong of the North. A name you’ve only heard in whispers, spoken with either fear or grudging respect. A man known more for his conquests than his kindness. His kingdom is built on war, his soldiers bred for battle. He is the kind of ruler your father admires—ruthless, cunning, a man who does not flinch at the thought of bloodshed.

Will he see you as anything more than a transaction? A pawn in this grand game of power?

You turn onto your side, fingers curling into the silk sheets. Somewhere beyond the castle walls, the world carries on. In the villages, merchants barter, children play in the streets, lovers hold hands beneath the moonlight. A life you will never know.

A soft knock at your door makes you sit up. It’s late—too late for a servant.

“Come in,” you call, smoothing out the wrinkles in your nightgown.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside.

Sir Bang Chan.

He enters without hesitation, though he removes his helmet as a sign of respect. His dark hair is damp with sweat from the evening drills, his tunic slightly loose at the collar. He is a knight—one of the finest in your father’s service. A warrior who belongs on the battlefield, not in the chambers of a princess.

And yet, here he stands.

“Your Highness,” he greets, his voice steady. But there is something in his eyes—something he masks well but can never quite hide. A storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you reply, keeping your voice composed. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he admits. He hesitates for a moment before stepping further inside, closing the door behind him. “I needed to see you.”

Your heart stutters.

He shouldn’t be here. You both know it. But the truth is, you want him here. More than you can ever admit.

“What is it?” you ask, though you already know.

His jaw clenches. “The war is moving faster than we anticipated. Scouts reported enemy forces less than two days from the border.”

The war. The ever-looming war.

“And my betrothal?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply. “It will happen. The king insists it must, to secure the alliance.”

A silence stretches between you.

You look at him then, truly look at him. The way his hands curl into fists at his sides. The way his shoulders tense as if he’s holding back words he can never say.

The way his eyes—so dark, so full of unspoken things—linger on your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

Something inside you cracks.

“What if I don’t want this?” you whisper.

Chan lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think I don’t know that?” He steps closer, just a fraction, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Do you think I want to watch you be given away like a prize to a man who doesn’t deserve you?”

Your breath hitches. “Then stop it.”

His eyes darken. “You know I can’t.”

Because duty binds you both. Because love—true love—is a privilege neither of you can afford.

But in that moment, with war on the horizon and your fate slipping through your fingers, you wonder.

Will you let the world decide for you?

Or will you dare to defy it?

The silence between you is thick, suffocating. The weight of everything—war, duty, desire—hangs in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Chan stands close, too close. The dim candlelight casts shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. He has always been composed, disciplined. But right now, you see the cracks beneath the surface.

He is unraveling.

And so are you.

“Tell me to walk away,” he says, his voice low, rough with something dangerous.

You swallow hard. “You know I can’t.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something raw. His hands clench at his sides like he’s holding himself back from doing something reckless, something irreversible.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asks, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Watch you marry him? Stand by as he takes you away, knowing you’ll never be happy? Knowing you—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.

You don’t dare breathe.

“Say it,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N.”

But it’s already too late.

Because you’ve seen it—the way he looks at you, the way his walls crack when he is near you. You’ve felt it in every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every moment where the world fades and it’s just you and him.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters, turning away, running a hand through his dark hair.

And just like that, the moment shatters.

The reality of your situation crashes down on you like a tidal wave. Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed. Tomorrow, you will be bound to a man you do not love. Tomorrow, this—you and him—will no longer exist.

Unless…

Your breath comes faster as a reckless thought takes hold.

“Come with me.”

Chan freezes.

Slowly, he turns, his eyes searching yours, as if he isn’t sure he heard you right. “What?”

“Come with me,” you repeat, your heart pounding. “Let’s leave. Tonight.”

His expression darkens, a mixture of shock, anger, and something dangerously close to hope. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t.”

“I do.” You step forward, reaching for his hand before you can second-guess yourself. The contact sends a jolt up your spine, his warmth grounding you, anchoring you. “If I stay, I will be nothing more than a prisoner in a golden cage. I will marry a man I don’t love. I will be sent away to a foreign land where I will never see you again.” Your grip tightens. “And you will go to war. You will fight for a kingdom that does not care about you, a king who sees you as nothing more than a weapon.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’ll die for them,” you whisper. “And I will live a life I never wanted.”

Chan’s breathing is uneven now, his fingers twitching against yours. He is breaking, you can see it.

And you want him to.

Because you need him to.

“Please,” you murmur.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The weight of the world sits between you, the consequences of this decision pressing down like a blade against your throats.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door.

You both jolt apart.

“Your Highness,” comes the voice of a guard. “Your father requests your presence immediately.”

Your stomach drops.

Chan steps back, his expression shifting instantly—cold, unreadable, the perfect soldier once again.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says quietly. But there’s something different in his voice now, something uncertain.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if later will ever come.

Because as you leave your chambers, you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change.

Something big.

And it might already be too late to stop it.

You walk down the hall in silence, the weight of the guard's footsteps echoing in the stone corridor, a cold reminder of the world outside these walls. Your pulse still races, each beat a reminder of the words you almost spoke, the decisions you almost made.

You reach the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The doors swing open with a heavy groan, and the chill of the grand chamber greets you. Your father, the king, sits at his throne, his sharp eyes trained on you as you approach. He is always so composed, a king who never shows his hand. But tonight, the tension is palpable. The air is thick with something that doesn’t feel like the usual state affairs.

"You’ve kept me waiting, Y/N," your father’s voice booms. The power in it is unmistakable, a force that has shaped your entire life.

“I apologize, Father,” you reply, lowering your head in respect, though every fiber of your being wants to rebel, to scream that you’re not ready for what’s coming.

The king’s gaze softens for a fleeting second, before he speaks again, his tone darker now. “Taeyong arrives tomorrow. He is the key to securing our kingdom’s future. The alliance will strengthen us against the northern tribes. Do you understand?”

You nod, trying to keep your emotions in check, though inside, you feel as if your world is unraveling.

“I understand, Father.”

But you don’t. How could you? How could anyone expect you to understand a future where your heart is chained to a man you do not love?

Your father leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “This is your duty. Our kingdom’s fate rests on this union. And I will not have you defy me, do you hear me?”

You swallow, trying to suppress the trembling in your hands. “Yes, Father.”

The king stands, his movement commanding the room. “Good. Tomorrow will be the beginning of your new life, Y/N. And you will be ready.”

He steps toward you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of his expectations crushes you. You want to tell him how you feel, how the weight of this impending marriage feels like a death sentence, but you don’t.

Because in this moment, you realize something that terrifies you: You don’t have a choice.

The doors swing open again, and a guard enters with urgent news. Your father’s face darkens as the man speaks, his words clipped and quick.

“Your Highness, scouts have reported an enemy force approaching from the south. It’s only a matter of days before they arrive at the border.”

The blood drains from your face.

War is closer than ever. The looming dread that’s been following you for weeks now feels more real, more immediate.

Your father looks at you for a long moment, his expression hard. “This alliance with Taeyong must succeed. It’s the only way to secure the kingdom’s future. If we cannot unite, we risk everything.”

The weight of his words hits you with an almost physical force. But as you look at him—your king, your father—you can’t help but feel trapped. The walls are closing in on you. Tomorrow, your life will change, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The decision you made earlier, in the quiet of your chambers, resurfaces.

Come with me, Chan.

The thought pulses in your mind, frantic and urgent, like a lifeline thrown in the middle of a storm.

But now, as you stand in your father’s throne room, that same thought is drowned out by the roar of impending war. The weight of your duty presses down on you again. The reality of what it means to be a princess—the weight of a crown you never asked for, the price of your freedom—has never been clearer.

You want to run. You want to flee from this life, from this kingdom, from everything that has been forced upon you.

But as the door closes behind you, you realize that escape is a dream you cannot afford.

The next morning, as you prepare for the meeting with Taeyong, you can’t shake the image of Chan’s eyes—the way they softened when he stood in front of you last night, the way he hesitated when you asked him to run. He’s a warrior, yes, but there’s a softness in him, something that makes you wonder if he, too, feels the pull of something more than duty.

But your duty to your people will always come first.

Or will it?

The next morning, the castle is alive with preparations for the arrival of Taeyong. Servants rush through the hallways, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat filling the air as you walk through the corridors, your mind a storm of conflicting thoughts.

You’re in your chambers, standing before a mirror, watching as your maid adjusts the lace at your collar. The weight of the dress feels heavier today, like the fabric is pulling you further into a life you never chose.

“Your Highness,” the maid says softly, her voice hesitant, “may I ask… Are you feeling well today? You seem… troubled.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Bom. Just a little tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press further. As she finishes your attire, the door opens without a knock, and in steps your father’s trusted advisor, Lord Hwang. He’s a tall man with sharp features, always impeccably dressed, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Princess Y/N,” he greets, bowing slightly. “It’s almost time for you to meet the Prince. Your father is expecting you at the gates.”

You nod stiffly, your stomach tightening. “Thank you, Lord Hwang. I’ll be there shortly.”

As he leaves, you can’t help but glance out the window, your thoughts drifting back to the night before. Bang Chan’s words echo in your mind, the conflict in his voice when you asked him to leave with you. You hadn’t even told him you were serious—he didn’t have the luxury of hope in this world, not like you did.

“Come with me,” you whisper to yourself, as though saying the words aloud might make them real. But you know it’s a fantasy, an impossible dream. There’s no escaping this.

You step into the hallway, where a line of soldiers stand at attention, their eyes straight ahead. None of them make eye contact with you, but you can feel their gazes—cold, unfeeling, like you’re nothing more than a princess they serve, not a woman with her own desires.

As you walk towards the gates, the familiar path feels different. The walls seem taller, the ground harder beneath your feet. When you reach the courtyard, the sight of Taeyong’s approaching party sends a shiver down your spine.

He is tall, his figure imposing. His black armor glints in the morning sun as he dismounts from his horse. His eyes, cold as steel, lock onto yours as you approach.

“Princess Y/N,” he says, his voice low and commanding, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

You force yourself to smile, nodding. “The honor is mine, Prince Taeyong.”

His smile widens as he steps forward, towering over you. “Please, call me Taeyong. The title of prince is far too formal for what’s about to come.”

Your stomach turns at his words, but you don’t let it show. You extend your hand for him to kiss, a gesture of formality you’ve done a thousand times, though this time, it feels like a betrayal. His lips brush your knuckles, and the sensation sends a cold chill through you.

Behind you, your father steps forward, clapping Taeyong on the back. “Welcome, my friend,” King Taemin says. “We are grateful for your presence. Let’s discuss the future over breakfast.”

As the two men walk side by side, speaking in low voices about alliances and kingdoms, you find yourself lingering behind, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You can feel eyes on you. Cold, judgmental eyes.

And then, a voice.

“Princess.”

You turn quickly, and your heart leaps in your chest.

Bang Chan.

He’s standing near the stables, his armor gleaming under the sun, his stance rigid as always. But his eyes are locked on yours, filled with something unreadable. You quickly look away, not wanting to be seen staring.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “What are you doing here?”

He steps forward, his eyes scanning the courtyard before meeting yours again. “I was sent to keep watch. The enemy could strike at any moment, and I need to be prepared.”

You nod, but there’s a coldness between you now, a distance you both refuse to cross. You can see it in his eyes—the same conflict you feel. Duty. Honor. And the secret longing neither of you can admit.

“You should return to your post,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “I’m sure my father will want you by his side.”

Chan doesn’t move, his gaze never leaving yours. “Princess, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t keep pretending that this is all just about duty. I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You want to say something, anything, but the fear of what might happen next silences you.

“You think I don’t know?” you whisper, taking a step closer. “You think I haven’t thought about it every day? The way I feel about you…”

You pause, your heart racing. “But we can’t. We can’t be together. The world won’t allow it. We have our places, our roles. You’re a knight. I’m a princess. And I’m about to marry a man I don’t love.”

Chan’s eyes darken, but his expression is pained. “Then why are we standing here?”

You swallow hard, your voice shaking. “Because there’s nothing we can do. The war is coming, and everything will change whether we’re ready or not.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Then let it change. Let it.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “It’s too late. The kingdom needs me. My father needs me. And Taeyong—he’s part of the plan.”

Chan looks at you for a long moment, his face torn with emotion. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd of soldiers preparing for the worst.

You stand there for a long time, the words left unsaid hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating. The reality of the choices before you presses down on your chest, and for the first time, you wonder if this will be the last time you ever see him.

As the day stretches on, your heart feels like it's being pulled in two different directions. The castle is brimming with activity, preparations for the arrival of Taeyong only adding to the mounting pressure. You can’t escape the constant hum of voices and the shuffle of soldiers, and every glance from those around you feels like a reminder of what’s to come.

You stand near the grand hall, watching as the last of the decorations are placed, the scent of roses filling the air. Your father is already in the hall, speaking with Taeyong and his advisors. The thought of the union—the betrothal you never asked for, the life you never wanted—threatens to drown you.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Chan. The words he spoke to you earlier repeat in your mind like a broken record.

I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.

His confession lingers in the air between you even now, like an unspoken promise. You’ve never felt this torn, and the reality of it sinks in deeper with every passing minute.

“Princess?”

You turn, startled, to find Lord Hwang standing behind you, his eyes sharp as ever. “The king requests your presence.”

You nod, though your stomach churns. The weight of your decision sits heavily on your chest, and yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s already too late to turn back.

The hall is grand, as always, but today, the walls seem to close in on you. Your father, King Taemin, stands at the center, his back straight and imposing as he speaks with Taeyong. The two men are deep in conversation, and your father’s laugh rings out—a sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Princess Y/N,” Taeyong says, turning as you approach. His voice is smooth, almost rehearsed. But there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist. “I trust you’re feeling well this morning?”

What a fucking prick. You force yourself to smile, though it feels like a mask. “Yes, thank you, Prince Taeyong.”

“You’ve been quiet today,” he notes, his voice laced with something dangerous. “I understand. A woman of your beauty and status must feel the pressure of the eyes upon her.”

You swallow, the words coming out in a strained breath. “I suppose I’ve always been under pressure.”

Taeyong steps closer, just a little too close. The scent of his cologne fills your senses, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you. He’s always been polite, but today, there’s something more. His gaze lingers a moment too long, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

Before you can say anything else, there’s a sudden commotion by the entrance.

You turn sharply to see Chan standing at the doorway, his figure cutting through the crowd like a blade. He’s dressed in full armor, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. His eyes, dark and conflicted, lock onto yours, and for a split second, the noise of the room fades.

Your heart lurches in your chest, but you quickly look away, afraid of what might happen if you don’t.

Chan strides forward, his expression unreadable, until he stands at your side, his presence a stark contrast to the cold politeness of Taeyong.

“My lady,” Chan says, bowing slightly. His voice is steady, but the tension in his tone is unmistakable.

You feel the air thicken. Taeyong looks between you and Chan, his smile faltering for just a second, and then returning with more force.

“Ah, Sir Bang Chan,” Taeyong greets him with a forced politeness, his tone barely veiling the subtle challenge. “A knight in shining armor. Always a pleasure.”

Chan doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just stands there, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a quiet storm brewing between you both—silent, but intense.

Your heart beats faster, and a knot forms in your throat. You want to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words are stuck.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Sir Bang Chan?” Taeyong asks, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation.

You see it then—the way Chan’s jaw tightens, the barely restrained anger behind his eyes. But when he speaks, his tone is calm, almost too calm. “I’m here to ensure that the castle is properly secured. My duty is to protect, not to engage in politics.”

You almost breathe a sigh of relief at his restraint, but then the tension shifts. It’s in the way his eyes flicker to you, the way he holds himself back, knowing that the moment he says too much, everything will change.

"Of course," Taeyong says, his voice laced with mock sweetness. "Duty first, always."

You can feel the undercurrent of hostility between them, a quiet but potent rivalry. It’s not just political; there’s something personal about it. And you’re caught in the middle, trapped in a game you never wanted to play.

Taeyong looks at you again, his gaze lingering with an unsettling intensity. "I trust we'll have a proper discussion later, Princess. After all, we have much to talk about, don't we?"

You try to keep your face neutral, but his words feel like a weight pressing down on your chest. This isn’t just about duty anymore—it’s about control. His control over you, over your future, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Chan takes a step closer to you, his arm brushing against yours in a brief but undeniable touch. The contact sends a shock through your body, and for a moment, you almost forget about the others in the room. You look at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some glimmer of hope.

But instead, you see the pain in his expression, the resignation that mirrors your own.

“We’ll talk later, Princess,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. And then he turns, his footsteps heavy as he walks away, back into the throng of soldiers and advisors.

You watch him go, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and longing.

And then Taeyong steps forward again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You look troubled, Princess. Is there something I can do to ease your mind?”

You meet his gaze, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. “I don’t believe so, Prince Taeyong.”

But even as you say the words, you know that the storm is far from over. And soon, it will break.

Bang Chan's POV

Chan strides through the grand hall, his armor clinking with every step, though the sound does little to mask the heavy weight pressing down on his chest. His heart is pounding—raging—and it's all he can do to keep from snapping. He knows he shouldn’t have stayed. He knows it was damn stupid to let his feelings spill out in front of her, to risk everything for a moment of honesty.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

He had seen the way she looked at him. The way her eyes flickered when their gazes met. For just a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Like everything that chained them down—war, duty, her betrothal—had all faded away. And it was just them, caught in that fleeting second of truth.

But now? Now, reality’s crashing back down, hard.

He exhales a frustrated breath, fingers running through his curly brown hair. His boots echo on the stone floor like the ticking of a clock—each step taking him farther away from her, farther away from the choice he should’ve made.

He should’ve walked away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Chan,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

His thoughts spin in endless circles, each one getting more tangled, more painful. He knows what he has to do. The kingdom needs him. His oath to the king is clear. He has no right to her. She’s a princess, and he’s just some damn knight.

But goddamn it, it doesn’t feel that way. Not when he looks at her.

He reaches the stables and stops in front of his horse, the stable hand standing by nervously. Chan nods at him but doesn’t stop to say anything. Instead, he mounts his horse in silence, his muscles tense, his mind still stuck on her.

Y/N.

His hand grips the reins too tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. He tries to shake off the anger, the pain, but it’s all still there, gnawing at him.

He should’ve never spoken those words to her. He should’ve never told her he cared. She doesn’t need that weight. She’s already trapped by the chains of her life—betrothed to Taeyong, the looming war, the expectations of a kingdom that only sees her as a bargaining chip. She doesn’t need some knight—some fool like him—complicating everything.

But the truth is, he can’t stop. He never could. Every time he’s near her, he feels it—like some electric current, something raw and untamed, pulling him toward her. The way she looks at him, the way her eyes hold this fire that matches his own. He can’t turn it off. He can’t shut it out.

“Damn it,” he hisses under his breath, urging his horse into motion. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the cobblestone is the only noise in the otherwise empty courtyard.

His mind wanders back to the scene in the hall, the way Taeyong had looked at him. The way the prince was just a little too smug, like he owned her. And the way Y/N had stood there, quiet, her eyes full of things she couldn’t say—things Chan couldn’t hear, but could feel deep down. It tore at him.

The damn prince wasn’t good for her. But he wasn’t the one who would get to choose.

“Focus,” Chan mutters to himself as he rides toward the outer gates. “Don’t be an idiot.”

But the more he tries to focus on the mission ahead—the war, the kingdom, his duty—the more his thoughts keep circling back to her.

Y/N.

He hates it.

And he knows it’s only going to get worse. The knot in his chest tightens, and it feels like everything’s breaking down.

As Chan rides out of the castle grounds and into the open fields, he finally slows his horse. The wind against his face does little to ease the storm inside him.

Why the hell does it have to be like this?

Why the hell can’t he just be the man she needs?

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut and kept being the knight he’s supposed to be. But no—he had to let it all out.

“Fuck,” he growls, kicking his horse into a faster gallop.

The motion isn’t enough to outrun the thoughts, though. He’s still thinking about her—the way she looked at him, the pain in her eyes. She wants something more than what she’s being given. And maybe—just maybe—she wants him, too.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to marry Taeyong, and that’s the end of it. She’ll never choose him. He’s just a soldier, and she’s a princess.

A knight like him doesn’t get to have the girl.

But goddamn, does it hurt.

Hours later, after the war council has ended, the tension in the castle is palpable. The air is thick with anticipation—war on the horizon, the betrothal looming—and Chan finds himself standing alone in the training yard, his sword drawn.

The practice dummies stand in front of him, but it’s like he’s seeing them through a fog. He slashes the sword through the air, his strikes sharp and controlled, but the anger doesn’t leave. It’s there, coiled tight in his chest, and no matter how many times he swings, it only tightens.

“Damn it!” he yells as he drives the sword into the wooden target, the sound of it echoing through the empty yard.

He stands there for a long moment, panting. The adrenaline is wearing off, but the pain is still there. His breath is uneven, his heart hammering in his chest.

“You’re not going to fix anything by swinging a sword,” he mutters to himself.

But it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from breaking down right here.

He stares at the practice dummy, his grip tight on the hilt of the sword. His thoughts are a mess—thoughts of her, of the war, of the kingdom that has him shackled. All of it.

He wants to scream. He wants to break something.

“Damn it,” he mutters again, his voice cracking as he lowers the sword.

Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s all slipping through his fingers, like sand.

And he can’t do a thing to stop it.

Your POV

The days stretch out before you like an endless expanse, each one heavier than the last. The castle feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation—of the war that looms closer with each passing day, of your betrothal that you cannot escape. The weight of it all presses down on you, until you can barely breathe.

You were born into this life, one of duty, of responsibility, of alliances forged before you had even learned how to speak. Your marriage to Taeyong has been set for years, a union that will strengthen kingdoms and ensure peace. The thought of it stirs nothing but a deep ache in your chest. You’ve seen the way the people around you talk about him, how they admire his strength, his power. But none of them see what you see. They don’t know what it’s like to be trapped by your bloodline, to be expected to put your heart aside for the sake of an entire kingdom.

You can already hear the laughter from the hall below, the celebration in full swing. Everyone is preparing for the union. The prince, the one who will be your future husband, has already arrived. His presence is undeniable, his name on everyone’s lips. He is the kind of ruler everyone expects you to want. But you don’t. You never have.

You pull your gaze from the window, the distant stars barely visible behind the thick, swirling clouds. You know what’s coming—your betrothal, the prince’s arrival at the ceremony. But none of that changes the fact that your heart keeps drifting back to the one man you cannot have.

Chan.

Your feet carry you silently down the hallways, your mind racing. You can hear your own heart pounding, each step feeling heavier than the last. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know he’s not supposed to be in your life the way he is. He’s a knight, a warrior—his duty is to your father, to the kingdom. But that doesn’t change the truth.

He’s been your constant, a reminder of everything you could have had if the world had been different.

When you see him standing there, his figure cutting through the shadows of the corridor, you can feel your breath hitch. You want to run to him, to close the distance between you, but you stop yourself. You know the consequences.

“Chan,” you whisper, your voice trembling more than you want it to.

He turns slowly, his eyes catching yours. There’s something in them—something broken, something raw. The air between you thickens with every passing second.

“What is it, Your Highness?” His voice comes out rough, as though he’s holding back words that could shatter everything.

You step closer, the world shrinking with each movement you make toward him. “You’re leaving soon,” you say, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you go.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at you, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for who you truly are. Not the princess, not the daughter of the king, but the woman who is desperate to be free.

“You should,” he says quietly, his voice tight. “You’ve got a future waiting for you. A future with him. With Taeyong. You have a kingdom to save.”

His words stab deep, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away. “And what if that future isn’t what I want? What if I want something else?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of every emotion you’ve tried to bury for so long.

Chan’s gaze softens, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting with himself. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m not the one you should want. You have everything you need already. You’re bound to him. You’re—”

You don’t let him finish. “No. I’m bound to nothing but the duty they’ve placed on me. I’m not his, and I never will be.”

There’s a moment of silence, a stillness that feels unbearable. You step even closer, your hands reaching for him before you can think better of it. His hand trembles slightly as it brushes against yours, and for a moment, you both just stand there, caught in that unspoken understanding.

“Please,” you murmur, your voice breaking.

He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. He takes a slow step back, his hand slipping from yours, and the distance between you both feels like a chasm. “You can’t ask me to stay,” he says, the words heavy with finality. “You have a life, a future, a kingdom that needs you. I can’t be the one who drags you away from all of that.”

“But what if I don’t care about any of that?” The question hangs between you, thick with the truth neither of you can deny.

He shakes his head, his eyes filled with frustration and something deeper, something more painful. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

And in that moment, as you stand there, you know he’s right. He’s right, and it breaks you.

The sounds of the castle fade into the background as you make your way back to your chambers, the weight of the decision already beginning to settle on your shoulders. You try to ignore the questions swirling in your mind, the urge to run, to leave it all behind. But it isn’t that simple. It never was.

You glance one last time at the window, the stars now completely hidden behind the storm clouds that have gathered. The war is still out there, and your betrothal is still waiting to happen. Your future is set in stone, whether you like it or not.

But what if there’s another way? What if you and Chan—what if you could leave it all behind?

The thought lingers in your mind, but even as you entertain the possibility, you know how dangerous it is. The consequences of disobedience are dire. The kingdom, your father, the prince—they’ll never let you go.

But your heart doesn’t care.

Your heart is already somewhere far away, with a man who could never truly be yours.

The night stretches on, and you can't seem to escape the thoughts that have taken root in your mind. As you sit alone in your chamber, the silence feels suffocating, broken only by the soft flicker of the candlelight. The castle, with its stone walls and corridors filled with echoes of voices long gone, feels like a prison. The weight of your duty, your future, hangs over you like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath, but your thoughts keep racing back to him—Chan. The way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the unspoken words that lingered between you like an invisible thread, binding you together even as he stepped away. You can still feel the heat of his touch, the way his hand trembled when it brushed against yours. It was a reminder that, despite the distance, despite the kingdom that demanded everything of you, something else was possible. Something forbidden.

But is it worth the risk?

The war is coming, and every day that passes brings you closer to the decision you don’t want to make. The decision to marry a man you don’t love, to give yourself away for the good of your kingdom. Taeyong, the prince. His face is still so fresh in your mind—his confident smile, his regal posture—but all you feel when you think of him is cold indifference. He’s everything your father wants. Everything the kingdom wants. But he’s not the man you need. He doesn’t see you. Not truly. Not like Chan does.

You pull yourself from your thoughts, standing and pacing the room restlessly. You can't stay here. Not tonight. Not when everything feels like it’s unraveling, not when your heart is torn between two impossible choices.

As you make your way toward the door, your mind races with a single thought.

You need to see him again. You need to hear his voice, to feel his presence beside you, just one last time before everything changes.

You move quickly through the halls, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that dance along the stone walls. You don’t stop to think. You don’t give yourself the chance to hesitate.

You reach the training building, the familiar scent of leather and iron filling your senses. The sounds of the castle are distant here, the quiet broken only by the occasional whisper of wind against the stone. You spot him almost immediately—his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light as he practices with his sword, his movements fluid and precise, the anger in each strike as sharp as the blade in his hand.

You should turn back. You should leave him to his duty. But you can't.

You can’t leave him.

“Chan,” you say, your voice louder this time, as you step into his line of sight.

He pauses, his sword held still in midair. For a moment, you think he might turn away. But instead, his gaze shifts to you, and in that one glance, you feel everything—the tension, the unspoken desire, the guilt—come crashing down on both of you. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but you can see the conflict in them. The struggle he’s been carrying. The same one you’ve been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, guarded.

You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” You pause, searching his eyes for something, anything. “I need to know if you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowers his sword, stepping toward you. The space between you narrows, but his expression remains unreadable. “You know I do,” he finally says, his voice soft but steady. “But it’s not that simple, Y/N. You’re the princess. You’re betrothed to Taeyong. Your duty isn’t just to yourself.”

“I don’t care about my duty,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Not when it means giving up everything I want.”

Chan’s gaze softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours but pausing just before contact, as if unsure whether to continue or pull away. “You’re asking me to make a choice I can’t. We both know that.”

Your chest tightens, the pain of the truth settling in like a heavy weight. “Then what do we do? I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, Chan. I can’t do this alone.”

“Then come with me,” he says suddenly, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. His voice is raw, desperate, as if he’s finally giving in to the one thing he’s held back for so long. “Leave with me. We can disappear. We can be free of all of this.”

You stare at him, your heart racing. The idea, the possibility, is almost too much to bear. To leave everything behind. The war. The kingdom. Your family. The responsibility that’s been drummed into you since birth.

“I can’t,” you whisper. “I have too much to lose.”

His face falls, the lines of frustration deepening around his eyes. “And what about me? What do I lose if you go? What do I lose if I stay and watch you marry him?” His voice cracks, and you can hear the pain in it. “I’ve already lost you before we even had a chance.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The storm inside you swells, and you can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you feel is him—the rawness of his words, the intensity of the emotions flooding through you. He’s right. You’ve already lost him, haven’t you? You’ve already let fate steal away what could have been.

But is it too late to fight for it? Too late to change the course of your future?

You look at Chan, the man who has seen you for who you truly are, and for the first time in days, you make a decision.

“Let’s run,” you say, your voice trembling but certain. “Let’s leave now. Before it’s too late.”

For a second, there’s nothing but silence. Then, he steps closer, his hand finding yours at last. The warmth of his touch is the only thing that matters now, the only thing that feels real.

But as you stand there, the weight of the world still presses down on you. The war is still coming. The kingdom still demands its price.

You stand in front of Chan, the space between you filled with so much unsaid tension it feels like the air itself is charged. His eyes search yours, but there’s something deeper there, something raw, something that neither of you can escape anymore. You’ve been dancing around it for so long, trying to deny it, trying to bury it beneath duty and expectation, but in this moment, all of it fades into nothingness.

The weight of your responsibility, of the future that awaits you, is still there, but it feels distant now. The world feels distant. All that matters is the man standing in front of you.

“What are you going to do?” His voice is low, tight, as though he’s trying to keep himself in control, but you see through it. You see the struggle, the pain, the desire.

“I don't know,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”

For a moment, his gaze hardens, as if he’s trying to push back the urge to pull you close. He clenches his jaw, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. But even that feels like a battle he’s losing. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N,” he says, his words heavy with something he can’t name.

“I don’t care,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

The silence between you both stretches out, and you can see the internal war raging in him. He looks at you like he’s trying to make a decision he knows he can’t. His eyes flicker between yours, his lips pressed into a thin line.

But then, all at once, the walls he’s built between you both crumble.

He takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for your face with a gentleness that makes your heart race. You don’t step back. Instead, you lean into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely a whisper, his breath hot against your lips. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You can’t answer. You don’t need to. Because in that moment, you both understand.

Without another word, he closes the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s fierce, desperate, and full of longing. All the frustration, the pain, the want you’ve both been holding back is unleashed in that single moment. His mouth moves against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away, his lips firm yet tender, as if he’s trying to pour all of his feelings into you in that one kiss.

Your hands move instinctively, reaching for his chest, your fingers trembling as you feel the heat of his body under the fabric of his tunic. He responds with equal urgency, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic beneath your fingertips, mirroring your own.

The kiss deepens, and everything around you fades away. There’s no kingdom, no war, no betrothal. There’s just him. Just you. The taste of him, the feel of him, the way his body presses against yours, is all that matters.

His hands move to your back, drawing you in even closer, as if he can’t get enough of you. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath coming fast against your skin, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of him—of the way he feels so right, so necessary, even in this chaos.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you gasping for breath, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the kiss. You can’t look away from him. His eyes are dark, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else there too—something dangerous, something reckless.

He speaks your name, his voice hoarse, and you feel it like a plea, a whisper that cuts straight through you.

But it’s too late for words now.

Because this—this kiss—is everything you’ve both been holding back. And you know, deep down, that it’s only the beginning of something neither of you can control.

The room is thick with the heat of your shared breath, the air heavy with desire. You can feel it in the way Chan’s hands tremble as they rest on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if he’s trying to anchor himself. Your heart beats faster, the moment suspended in time, neither of you knowing what to do next, or how far you can go before everything unravels.

You both stand there, breathless, bodies so close you can feel the heat radiating off each other. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, as if trying to push back against the overwhelming pull between you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, the tension between you thick and palpable.

He pulls back just slightly, enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion. “I want you,” he whispers, his voice strained, rough with need. “But this... we can’t do this. Not now. Not like this.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, crashing over the heat of the moment. You nod, even though every part of you wants to scream, wants to tell him that you don’t care about anything else right now. You only care about him, about this connection, this undeniable chemistry that pulls you closer with every passing second.

But you also know he’s right.

You can’t rush this. You can’t let your emotions drive you into something that will change everything. The kingdom, your duties, the war that’s coming—it’s all too much. You’re standing on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move could send you both tumbling into a world neither of you can control.

“I know,” you breathe, your voice soft but firm. You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb brushing over the line of his jaw. “I don’t want to lose myself in this moment. I want you, Chan. But... not like this.”

He exhales slowly, as if the weight of those words brings him some sort of relief. His hand moves to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you—no titles, no responsibilities, just two people who have shared something they can’t take back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words sounding like an apology but also like a promise. “I can’t... I can’t let this be something we regret. Not now.”

The honesty in his voice makes something inside you ache, a longing that feels both impossible and necessary. You want to press forward, to let your instincts take control, to let the walls you’ve built come crashing down. But deep down, you know he’s right. This isn’t the right time, and neither of you is in a place to surrender completely.

You nod again, your fingers tightening around his. “I know,” you repeat, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you feels heavy, but it’s also peaceful in a way—like a quiet understanding has settled between you. You’re not ready for this step, not with everything hanging over you. And yet, there’s a sense of something deeper, something that tells you this is just the beginning.

Chan’s gaze softens as he looks at you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. His lips linger there, warm and tender, like a promise of things yet to come.

“We’ll have our time,” he murmurs, his breath against your skin making your heart skip. “But not now. Not when the world’s about to fall apart.”

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch ground you, as the reality of everything sinks in again—the war, your betrothal, the kingdom. But there’s something else there too. A spark. A connection that you can’t ignore, no matter how much the world tries to pull you apart.

Chan pulls back slightly, his hands still on your waist, but there’s a gentle, almost comforting distance between you now. The tension, while still present, feels more manageable—more like something you can handle together, without giving in to the heat of the moment.

You stand there, wrapped in the quiet of the room, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. Chan’s touch lingers on your waist, warm and grounding, but the space between you has shifted. There’s a subtle tension now, the kind that isn’t immediately uncomfortable, but you both know it’s there—waiting, simmering beneath the surface.

His fingers gently trace along your arm, and you shiver at the contact, the sensation sparking a desire you can’t ignore. But you don’t move away. You don’t want to. The simple act of being close to him, without the urgency of the moment, feels like a small victory.

"I’m sorry," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to... push things. But I don’t want to hurt you."

You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes. There’s a depth in them, something vulnerable, and you can see how much he’s holding back, the same way you are. You reach up, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek, soothing the tension you feel radiating off him.

“You haven’t,” you reply softly. “I don’t regret it. I just... I don’t want this to be a mistake. I don’t want either of us to do something we’ll regret.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and he leans in, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I don’t want to regret it either,” he admits, the words laced with sincerity. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. This isn’t just about us. It’s about everything.”

You know exactly what he means—the kingdom, the future that’s already written for you, the war brewing in the distance. The stakes are high, and neither of you can afford to make a decision based on something so fleeting, something so dangerous.

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his words settle deep in your chest. You lean into his touch again, just for a moment, the connection between you undeniable, despite the distance you’ve created between your bodies. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have something real. Something that’s just ours.”

For a second, Chan hesitates, as if considering your words, weighing them against the gravity of everything. He’s not a man who takes risks lightly—especially not with his duty, his honor, and certainly not with you.

But then, slowly, he nods. “Something real,” he echoes, as if testing the idea. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

The promise in his words stirs something inside you, a flicker of hope you can’t quite snuff out. Even in the chaos that awaits, even with all the obstacles that stand in your way, there’s something beautiful about the thought of finding something real with him—something that isn’t dictated by kingdoms or political alliances. Something that’s yours alone.

His hand slides down to yours, intertwining your fingers. The simple act grounds you, reminds you that no matter what happens, you aren’t alone in this. You have him. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to keep you from drowning in the storm that’s approaching.

But then the door creaks open, and the world outside the room comes rushing back in. The sudden intrusion is like a cold bucket of water, dousing the warmth that had settled between you both.

A voice calls from the hallway, firm, urgent. “Your Highness, the king requests your presence.”

You exchange a glance with Chan, and for a brief moment, neither of you speaks. You both know that the real world—the one that demands sacrifices and decisions you’re not ready to make—has come knocking again.

Chan releases your hand gently, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “We’ll talk again, Y/N,” he says, his voice steady, though you can hear the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

You nod, unable to find the right words. The knot in your chest tightens as you turn toward the door, the weight of your future pressing down on you with every step. But as you reach for the door, you pause, glancing back at him.

For a brief moment, the world seems to disappear. The war, the betrothal, the responsibilities—it all fades into the background. There’s only you and Chan, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if maybe there’s a chance. A chance to change everything.

“I’ll be back,” you whisper.

Chan’s eyes soften, and he nods, though the uncertainty remains in his gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, you step out of the room, back into the world that is pulling you away from everything you’ve ever wanted. But as the door closes behind you, you can still feel the warmth of his touch, the weight of his words, lingering in the air.

The night was unusually quiet, a stillness that hung heavy in the air, as though the castle itself was holding its breath. You had just finished your meeting with the king regarding the wedding that was taking tomorrow and had retired to your chambers. It felt as of the weight of the world pressing down on you with every step. The walls felt closer tonight, suffocating in their coldness, and the thought of tomorrow—of your arrangement with Prince Taeyong—gnawed at your insides.

But you had little time to think on it. The gentle knock at your door broke the silence, and you glanced up, a frown forming as you reached for the door.

"Who is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness that had settled in your mind.

"It’s just me, Your Highness," came a soft, familiar voice. One of the guards, surely. "We’ve been instructed to make sure you’re safe tonight, due to reports of enemy activity near the borders."

You hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. "Very well," you murmured, stepping aside to let the guard in. The man was tall, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. Two other guards stood behind him, equally cloaked in shadow.

Something about the scene felt off, but the exhaustion in your bones made you dismiss the unease. You were about to turn back to your room when the guard at the door stepped inside, closing it behind him with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion.

The moment the door clicked shut, a wave of panic surged through you. You didn’t have time to react before the guard at the door lunged toward you. His hands were quick, too quick, and before you could make a sound, he clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling any cry for help.

Your heart raced as the two other guards advanced, their hands grabbing you with ruthless efficiency. One of them yanked your arms behind your back, and you struggled, but their grip was too strong. The familiar scent of the castle’s stone walls and polished wood began to fade as you were dragged toward the hallway. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the situation.

Why were they here? What were they after?

Your breath quickened, panic rising in your chest, and just as you opened your mouth to scream, the guard’s hand tightened around your throat, cutting off the sound before it could escape.

"Quiet," he hissed in your ear. His voice was cold, foreign—unfamiliar. "We don’t want to hurt you, Princess. But we will if we have to."

The world blurred around you as they moved swiftly through the castle, past hallways and stairwells you knew too well, but they weren’t taking you in the direction of the exit. They weren’t leading you anywhere familiar. The unfamiliar chill of dread crept through your veins as you realized this was no routine guard shift. Something far more sinister was happening.

Minutes later, you were thrown into a dark, cold room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening clang. You stumbled back to your feet, your mind racing. What was happening? Why you? Why now?

Your eyes darted around the darkened space. The only light came from a flickering torch mounted on the wall. You couldn’t see much, but you could hear the echo of footsteps approaching.

"Who are you?" you demanded, your voice shaking with the adrenaline that coursed through you. "Why are you doing this?"

The man who stepped into the light was no stranger. The figure was tall, with dark, sharp features that sent a chill down your spine. His eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. Surprisingly, he was dressed in the colors of your ally—the banner of the Northern Kingdom—a kingdom that had been a sworn friend of your father's for years.

But it wasn’t the man’s face that sent the real terror surging through you. It was the realization that the man before you was not just any soldier, not just another commander.

It was Lord Hwang.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for clarity. "No... it can’t be... you?"

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, so you recognize me." His voice was smooth, laced with a bitterness that sent a shiver down your spine. "I must admit, I was hoping you wouldn't."

You took a step back, your eyes wide with disbelief. "What is this? Why—why are you doing this? You’re one of my father’s allies. You’re supposed to be—"

"An ally?" Hwang interrupted, his voice hard, mocking. "Your father and I have been playing this game for years, Princess. You think I’m just another soldier, just another face in his ranks? No." He chuckled, the sound dark and chilling. "I’ve been playing my own game all along."

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words hit you like a cold wave.

"But you... you’ve been helping us," you whispered, your voice shaking. "You’ve been on our side."

"On your side?" he scoffed. "You’ve always been a pawn in this game, Y/N. A princess. A bargaining chip. And I’ve been here, waiting for the right moment to take what’s mine." He stepped closer, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth, but there was something colder in his eyes now—something far darker. "Your father never knew. But I’ve had my sights set on this kingdom for a long time."

A sickening realization washed over you, and the room spun as you tried to process the words. "You... you’ve been behind the attacks? The sabotage? The uprisings?"

Hwang’s smile widened. "You’re smarter than you look, Princess. Yes, it’s all been me. The raids on the border. The attacks. I’ve been carefully orchestrating everything. All to bring your kingdom to its knees."

Your chest tightened, a sick knot forming in your stomach. "But... why? Why do this? Why to me?"

He leaned in closer, his face now inches from yours, his cold breath ghosting against your skin. "Because, Y/N," he whispered, his voice turning from mocking to something darker, "I want everything. And I will have it all—your kingdom, your throne... and you."

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as his words washed over you. Betrayal. The taste of it was bitter on your tongue. You had trusted him. Believed him. And now, he stood before you, revealing the truth.

"You’ll regret this," you spat, summoning every ounce of defiance you had left, even as fear crept in around the edges. "This isn’t over."

Hwang’s eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, Princess, the only thing that’s over is your kingdom’s future. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay quiet. Because what’s coming next... is far worse than you can imagine."

With those words, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you alone in the darkness, your mind racing, your thoughts spinning as the reality of the betrayal settled over you.

Lord Hwang wasn’t just a traitor.

He was the one who would destroy everything you had ever known.

The sound of the heavy door slamming shut echoed through the room, leaving you in a suffocating silence. Your mind raced, struggling to process everything Hwang had just revealed. You felt the weight of his betrayal like a crushing weight on your chest.

He was behind it all. Every attack, every raid, every plot against your kingdom... it was him.

The reality of the situation sank in, suffocating you. You had trusted him, believed him to be an ally, a friend, and now... now he had used you, manipulated you, and betrayed everything you held dear. The anger boiled within you, mixing with the fear and confusion that still clouded your thoughts.

You tried to steady your breathing, fighting back the wave of panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were. You couldn’t let him know how much this hurt. Not yet. Not when you still had a chance to fight back.

But the more you thought about it, the more helpless you felt. You were locked in this cold, unfamiliar room, a prisoner in your own kingdom, and Lord Hwang had orchestrated it all. Your mind raced, trying to think of any possible way out of this, any way to warn your father, your people.

No, I can’t let him win.

With determination burning in your veins, you pushed aside the fear that threatened to overwhelm you. You scanned the room, looking for anything—anything that might help you escape, any sign of weakness in the carefully laid plans of your captors. But there was nothing. The stone walls were unyielding, and the heavy door was locked tight. You were trapped, and the cold realization of that truth made your heart sink.

A faint noise from outside the room made you freeze. Footsteps. Someone was coming. Your heart began to race again, the adrenaline coursing through you as you tried to prepare yourself for whatever was next. Were they coming to interrogate you? To silence you?

The door creaked open slowly, and a figure stepped into the dimly lit room. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, you thought it might be Hwang again, or perhaps one of his men, here to finish what he had started.

But then you saw the figure more clearly, and your stomach churned.

It was Taeyong—the very man you had been betrothed to.

But he wasn’t here to comfort you or offer assurances. His eyes were cold, distant, and when he spoke, it was with the same chilling tone you had heard from your enemies.

"Y/N," Taeyong’s voice was low, almost amused, as he stepped closer to where you were seated. "I see you’ve finally figured it out."

You stood up from where you had been sitting, your pulse quickening. “You... you knew about this? You knew what Lord Hwang was planning?”

A wicked smile curled on Taeyong's lips. "Of course, I knew. I’ve been a part of it all along. I had to make sure the marriage between our kingdoms went smoothly, after all."

Your eyes widened in shock. “You—you're working with him? You betrayed me too?”

The man's laugh was cold, cruel, as if your shock amused him. "I didn’t betray you, princess. I did what was necessary. This war, our alliance, it’s all a game. You’re just a piece I needed to move into place. Nothing more."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "I was never anything to you, was I?" you whispered, the bitterness rising in your throat.

"Exactly," he said flatly. "You’re nothing but a tool. A way to unite our forces. Your kingdom was never important to me. Just the power it could bring."

Fury bubbled inside you, but you held it back, the realization sinking in even deeper. "So, everything... everything was a lie?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger.

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Don’t be naïve, Y/N. The sooner you accept the reality, the better."

You stood straighter, refusing to let him see how much his betrayal affected you. "You think I’ll just sit here and accept this? That I’ll just let you destroy everything I’ve ever known?"

"Try and stop it," Taeyong said with a smirk, turning to leave. "It’s already too late."

With that, he disappeared through the door, leaving you standing there alone again. Your heart felt as though it had been ripped from your chest. Both Hwang and Taeyong —the two men who had been so close to your father, so trusted—had betrayed you.

But you weren’t going to let this be the end. You would find a way to stop them. You would find a way to escape this.

For now, though, the cold stone walls of your prison mocked you, and you were left with only one thing: determination.

You would fight.

The door slammed shut behind Taeyong, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room once more. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, crashing together in a haze of anger, disbelief, and a growing sense of urgency. You could barely process the depth of the betrayal, but the fire in your chest refused to be extinguished.

I will not be their pawn.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms as the weight of the situation settled in. You knew you couldn’t stay here—physically trapped, yes, but also mentally chained by the lies and manipulations. The more you thought about it, the more everything clicked into place. The subtle manipulation by Lord Hwang, the way Taeyong seemed too eager to go along with the marriage. It had all been a set-up, and you had been a fool to trust either of them.

But no longer. You would find a way to turn this around. You had to.

The first step was getting out of this room.

You quickly scanned your surroundings once more, looking for any weaknesses, any way to escape. There was a small, barred window, too high to reach unless you could climb. The stone walls were unyielding, and the door was locked tight, but you had something they didn’t know about—you had your wits.

You moved to the far corner of the room, crouching down and running your fingers along the stone floor, searching for anything useful. After what felt like an eternity, you found it—a thin crack in the corner near the baseboard. It wasn’t much, but it could be just enough. You pressed your fingers into it, carefully prying at the stone until you heard a faint, satisfying click. The stone moved slightly, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Your heart raced as you knelt down and peered inside. There, buried beneath the dust and grime, was a small but sharp piece of metal—likely left there by someone who had been locked away before you. You grabbed it quickly, testing its weight in your hand. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

With a sharp breath, you stood up and pressed the metal against the lock on the door, feeling the small edges scrape against the mechanism. It wasn’t easy work, but you were determined. You knew that every second counted. You had no idea when they would return, and when they did, you couldn’t be here, couldn’t let them catch you off guard again.

Minutes passed like hours, the sound of your breath the only noise filling the otherwise silent room. The metal bit into the lock, and with a sudden, sharp click, the door opened just enough for you to slip through.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit, and the shadows seemed to mock your every step. You hesitated, listening for any signs of movement. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, but it gave you a brief moment of hope. You could still make it out of the castle. You could still escape.

As you crept down the narrow passageway, your mind raced with the possibility of confronting your father—of finally telling him the truth. Or perhaps you could warn your people, rally them before Taeyong’s plan unfolded fully. But you had to get out first. You had to—

Stop.

A noise from further down the hallway froze you in your tracks. A group of soldiers, their armor clanking lightly, appeared at the far end of the corridor. You stepped back into the shadows, pressing yourself against the stone wall and holding your breath. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, and you cursed silently. It was too soon. They were already here.

You waited for them to pass, but just as you were about to move again, a voice cut through the silence.

"Looking for something?"

Your blood ran cold, and you froze. The voice—low, calm, but laced with something far darker—was unmistakable. You slowly turned, dread sinking in as you came face to face with Taeyong.

He stood at the other end of the hallway, his arms crossed, his eyes piercing through the shadows like a predator watching its prey. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach churn.

"You…" you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his presence was crushing. "You knew I would escape. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it?"

He smirked, a cruel, cold smile that sent a shiver through your spine. "I always knew you were clever, Princess. You’re not as naive as you look. But you’re still too late." He stepped forward, his boots echoing against the stone. "You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve stayed in your room, stayed where I put you."

Your pulse quickened. "You’ve been playing me from the start," you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger. "All of it—every attack, every betrayal—it was you. It was always you."

His eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel satisfaction. "You were never going to win this game, Y/N. Not with me in it. I’ve been pulling the strings the entire time. I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to accept it."

The finality of his words hit you like a slap to the face. This was it. He was the one who had orchestrated everything, and now he was standing before you, closing in with every word he spoke.

"You won’t get away with this," you said through gritted teeth, your body trembling with the need to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here helpless.

He chuckled, taking another step toward you. "Oh, but I already have. You’re already lost. This is just the beginning."

Before you could react, the sound of footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. A group of soldiers appeared, forming a barrier around you. They were quick, efficient, and had you surrounded within seconds. You were trapped once again.

Taeyong’s smirk widened as he stood just out of reach, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Get her back to her cell," he ordered the soldiers. "We’re not done yet."

Your chest tightened as the soldiers moved to grab you. You fought back, struggling against their grip, but it was futile. They overpowered you with ease, dragging you away from the one moment of freedom you had tasted.

Taeyong’s voice echoed in the distance as they pulled you back toward the dungeon. "You’re mine now, Princess. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it."

Your heart hammered in your chest as the soldiers dragged you through the cold, dimly lit hallways. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed in your ears, each step a reminder that you were no longer in control. Taeyong’s words, chilling and final, echoed in your mind.

You’re mine now, Princess.

A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed it down, clinging to the only thing that still gave you hope—your resolve. You would not let this be the end. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you had learned.

They shoved you into the dungeon, the cold air biting at your skin. The stone walls were rough and damp, the scent of mildew and old stone filling your nose. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the familiar, grim surroundings. The cell. The one place you had always feared, and now, here you were again—only this time, you knew you had to escape.

The soldiers didn’t waste any time. They shoved you inside a small, isolated cell, locking the iron bars behind you with a harsh clink. The cold metal of the bars pressed against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let yourself lean against them, your breath shaky. You couldn’t afford to lose yourself here, not when you were so close to everything unraveling.

You straightened up quickly, your mind already working on your next move. Escape. You had to get out. No matter what it took.

A low voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Princess?” asked a voice from the shadows of the cell next to yours. You turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness until a familiar face emerged. The figure stepped closer to the bars, revealing the sharp, worried features of the man you loved.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him. “Chan…”

Your heart pounded as you stared at the beautiful man through the bars, the realization of everything that had just transpired still fresh and raw. His brown eyes met yours, filled with concern, but also a hint of something deeper, something unsaid between you.

"I couldn't let them take you," Chan whispered, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped closer to the bars separating you, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've seen it coming, should've protected you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on you. "He... he played me, Chan. He played us both." Your voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Chan's jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension between you was palpable, thick with unspoken words and the silent acknowledgment of everything you'd both lost. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed the bars in front of him, his grip tight, his body tense with frustration.

"I won’t let him win," he said, his voice low but firm.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer again, and your breath caught in your throat as his hand brushed the side of your face. His touch was gentle, but it sparked something inside of you—a feeling that had been buried under all the chaos. He was close enough now that you could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"I’ve been such an idiot," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his forehead resting against the bars. "I should’ve known. I should've been there for you."

Your heart ached, but the ache was mixed with something else—desire, longing. Without thinking, you reached through the bars, your fingers trembling slightly as you touched his hand.

"Chan..." you whispered, your voice faltering. "I need you."

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, and before either of you could speak again, his lips were on yours, soft and urgent. The kiss was a spark, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. His lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless, his hand sliding around to your neck, pulling you closer.

Your body responded instinctively, your hands reaching through the bars, grabbing onto the front of his tunic, desperate to feel him closer. The kiss deepened, and you felt every inch of tension in your body dissolve, replaced by a burning need.

His lips tasted of the bitterness of everything he’d been through, but there was also a sweetness there—something you couldn’t ignore, something you both had been holding back for far too long. The kiss was filled with a mixture of desperation, regret, and longing, as if the world outside the dungeon no longer existed, and all that mattered was the connection you shared.

Finally, you pulled back, your breath coming in ragged gasps, and looked into his eyes. For a brief moment, you forgot everything—the betrayal, the war, the impending danger. It was just the two of you in this moment, and nothing else seemed to matter.

"Chan..." You could barely form the words, your voice hoarse. "What do we do now?"

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to savor the feeling of you against him. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. "We fight, Y/N. We fight for this. We fight for each other."

The air in the dungeon was thick with the weight of your emotions, the kiss still lingering on your lips. It felt like a moment suspended in time, like something you both had been waiting for but never quite knew how to reach.

Chan’s hand lingered on your shoulder as he stepped back, his gaze intense but full of resolve. "We can’t stay here. Not like this." His voice was low, a barely controlled urgency in his words. He glanced around quickly, making sure no guards were in sight, before moving back to the bars. "I’ll get us out of here. I know a way."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, not only from the intensity of what had just passed between you but from the terrifying reality of what lay ahead. The escape. The unknown.

Chan moved swiftly, eyes scanning the dungeon once again before his gaze settled on the small window in the far corner of the cell. It was barely big enough to fit through, but it was a possible escape route—a plan he had thought of long before, and one that now seemed like their only chance. His hands moved deftly, inspecting the stone around the window. "We’ll need to act quickly," he murmured, almost to himself. "I can make it work. But you need to trust me."

"I do," you said, stepping closer to him. The words came easily, almost instinctively. The trust between you had grown in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances, in the fleeting touches. And now, in the desperation of your situation, it was stronger than ever. "Let’s go."

Chan’s expression softened as he turned back to you, the briefest flicker of warmth in his eyes before the soldier in him took over once more. "I’ll get the guards distracted. You stay low. When I say go, you make your move."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, moving like a whisper through the darkness. You were left standing alone in the small, cold cell, your pulse thundering in your ears. Your eyes darted around, every sound amplified in the silence.

The minutes felt like hours.

Finally, a loud clanging sound broke the quiet—a door opening. A guard’s voice rang out, shouting for the other soldiers to follow him. You could hear the scramble of boots on stone, and your heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Now.

You pushed yourself up against the cold bars of the cell, moving quickly but silently as Chan had instructed. The guards’ voices grew distant, and your breath caught in your throat as you slipped through the small gap where the bars had been loosened. You were free.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you followed Chan’s silent instructions as he led you through hidden passageways beneath the castle. Every step felt like a risk, every breath like a gamble, but you didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t. Not when there was a chance—however small—of escaping everything that had entangled you.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally emerged into the cool night air. The stars above were faint behind the clouds, the moon casting a soft, silvery glow over the landscape. Chan’s hand was firm in yours as he led you across the grounds, away from the looming castle walls and into the woods that bordered the kingdom.

"There’s a caretaker’s cabin up ahead," Chan said, his voice steady but quick, a sense of urgency in his words. "It’s hidden well. We’ll be safe there for a while."

You nodded, your mind spinning as you followed him through the darkened woods. The sounds of the forest filled the air—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of nocturnal creatures. It was peaceful here, so different from the chaos you’d just left behind.

After what seemed like hours, you finally reached a small, humble cabin nestled between the trees. It was quaint, with a thatched roof and wooden walls that looked weathered but sturdy. It felt like a world away from the palace—away from the plots and the battles that awaited you.

Chan opened the door slowly, his eyes scanning the inside before he ushered you in. The cabin was simple but warm, a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. A small bed sat against the wall, and a few basic chairs were scattered around the room. It was the kind of place where you could breathe, where you could rest, where you could pretend for a moment that nothing had changed.

Chan closed the door behind you, the weight of your escape finally starting to sink in. You were safe. For now.

You looked at him, your chest tight with a thousand emotions. "We did it," you whispered.

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he moved toward the fireplace, letting himself drown in his thoughts. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the strain of the day’s events weighing heavily on him. Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes soft but filled with something deeper.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice quiet, almost like a promise.

Your chest tightened as you stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. "And what now, Chan?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What happens next?"

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his lips curved into a slight smile, the first real smile you’d seen from him since everything started. "Now, we survive. We stay hidden. We plan our next move."

You nodded, but there was a weight in your heart. The war, the betrayals, everything was still out there. But in this moment, with him by your side, it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a long while.

For the first few hours at the cabin, you focused on survival—finding stored food, gathering firewood, and securing what little comfort you could. After a quick meal and a roaring fire, a new dilemma presented itself.

"Take the bed, Princess," Chan said, gesturing to the lone cot in the corner. "I don’t mind."

You glanced at him, weighing the offer before shaking your head. "It’s not that small. We can both fit."

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, relenting with a small nod. Turning away, he gave you privacy to change out of your gown and into an oversized tunic you had found. The moment your body hit the cot, exhaustion settled in, the aches of the day momentarily soothed by the minimal comfort it offered.

Chan, meanwhile, undid his boots and then his tunic. You looked up at the wrong—or perhaps right—moment, catching his gaze just as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Enjoying the view, Princess?"

Heat crept up your neck. You buried your face in the pillow, praying he wouldn’t see the flush on your cheeks. But of course, he did.

With a chuckle, he climbed onto the cot beside you. You shifted slightly, offering him what little extra space you could. With a tired sigh, he pulled the blanket over your shoulders, his warmth settling beside you.

You turned to face him just as he closed his eyes. "Thank you."

He cracked one eye open, brow furrowing. "For what?"

"For saving me."

A small smile tugged at his lips, dimples appearing. "Of course, m’lady."

Then, before you could think twice, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. You melted into him, fingers threading through his curls as the kiss deepened. The tension, the desperation of the past hours—gone, lost to this moment. For now, it was just the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, you shifted onto his lap. Chan’s grin widened as he steadied you, fingers pressing into your hips.

"Desperate, are we, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."

His hands tightened slightly around your waist as you settled your palms against his broad shoulders, your heart pounding in time with the flickering firelight.

He held your gaze for a lingering moment before crashing his lips onto yours, the sudden force making you gasp against his mouth. This time, there was no hesitation—just raw intensity. His hands roamed your waist, tracing firm, possessive lines down to your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself in the moment. You tangled your fingers in his curls, giving a gentle tug, and the deep, guttural groan he let out sent a shiver down your spine.

"Chan," you breathed between heated kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Chan..."

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Yes?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as warmth crept up your neck. You swallowed, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"I—I haven’t really... done this before."

His expression softened instantly, the fire in his eyes flickering with something deeper—understanding, patience. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "Then we'll go slow," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Only what you're comfortable with, Princess."

As the night stretched on, Chan remained true to his word, never pushing or pressuring you beyond what you were comfortable with. His touches stayed feather-light, his kisses never straying from your lips or jaw unless you guided him elsewhere, letting you set the pace.

Heat pooled low in your stomach as your hips began to rock against his, a slow, teasing rhythm that he matched effortlessly. You could feel him hardening beneath you, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your core through the thin fabric of his trousers. The low, needy groan that left his lips sent sparks of electricity arcing through your veins, igniting a fire deep within you.

"Princess," he whispered hotly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, sending delicious shivers down your spine. "You're making it quite difficult to behave myself."

Embarrassment flooded through you at his words, heat rising to your cheeks, but it was quickly chased away by a wave of red-hot desire. You rolled your hips again, reveling in the way his fingers tightened on your waist, digging into your soft flesh as if trying to ground himself in the moment.

"I don't want you to behave," you murmured, feeling bold and brazen under his heated gaze.

His eyes flashed at your words, darkening with a sudden intensity that sent a thrill through you. He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize your taste. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

But suddenly, even the thin fabric of your clothes felt too much, too heavy and confining against your oversensitive skin. You pulled away just long enough to yank the tunic over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought, leaving you completely bare before him.

His eyes darkened even further as they raked over your naked body, taking in every curve and plane with a hunger that bordered on reverence. He reached up, cupping your breast in his calloused palm, his thumb circling your nipple teasingly. You gasped at the touch, electricity arcing from your chest straight down to your core, hips bucking involuntarily as you arched into his hand, silently begging for more.

"Chan," you whimpered, frustration and need mixing together as his touch continued to tease, to dance along the edges of what you really wanted. "Please."

He chuckled against your skin, the sound low and rich and full of dark promise, sending shivers down your spine. "Please, what?" he murmured, lips brushing against your throat, breath hot against the damp skin there.

"Touch me," you demanded, grinding your hips harder against his erection, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. "I need—"

But before you could finish, his hands were already moving, one slipping between your bodies to stroke at your most sensitive spot. You cried out, hips bucking wildly as he circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, the calloused skin providing just the right amount of friction. His teeth grazed against your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you writhed against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you.

"Is this what you need, Princess?" he murmured, lips moving against your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the sting of his bites. "You need me to make you fall apart on my fingers?"

You could only nod frantically, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment. He kept stroking, adjusting his pace to match the desperate rock of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every brush of his thumb, every roll of his hips against yours.

And when his teeth sank into your neck, just hard enough to sting, just hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge, you shattered apart, crying out his name like a prayer as ecstasy crashed over you, wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure pulsing through your veins.

Afterwards, you collapsed against him, boneless and spent, your body trembling with aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed gentle kisses to your hair, your temple, anywhere he could reach.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice tremulous with want. "I need more. I want to feel you inside me – all of you."

His gaze darkened with desire, understanding your meaning instantly. With a soft groan, he shifted, removing his trousers so that there were no barriers between you. Your eyes roamed over his nude form, drinking in the planes and angles of his body, the mix of strength and vulnerability in his bare skin.

Gently, he eased you onto your back on the narrow cot, settling himself over you, his body a warm, welcome weight. His hardness brushed against your slick folds, and you shuddered at the contact, your hips rising to meet him instinctively. "Are you certain?" he rasped, even as his body shook with the effort of holding back.

In answer, you reached down between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, your intent clear. "Please, Chan. I need you. I'm ready."

With a shuddering breath, he began to press into you slowly, with exquisite care. You gasped at the initial stretch, your body adjusting to accommodate him, the unfamiliar sensation of being filled, completed. Inch by tantalizing inch, he sheathed himself within you, until at last, you were joined completely.

For a long moment, he held himself still, buried to the hilt inside you, allowing you time to adjust. He kissed you deeply, a tangle of tongues and teeth, before he began to move, setting a slow, rolling pace. Pleasure built between you with each glide, each rocking thrust, an inferno of sensation. Your legs wound around his hips, heels digging into his lower back, urging him impossibly deeper.

"Princess," he groaned against your lips, "you feel incredible. I've never...I can't..." He trailed off with a shudder, losing himself in the rising tide of passion, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the feel of you gripping him tightly, the perfect slide of your body against his.

You met his movements, angling your hips to take him even deeper, relishing in the incredible fullness, the sweet ache that bordered on pain, your body stretched to its limit. With each stroke, the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter, bringing you closer and closer to the brink. Your fingernails dug into his back, scoring his skin, urging him on, desperate for the crescendo you could feel building.

His thrusts grew faster, harder, the steady rhythm fracturing into desperate, pounding need. You moved with him, helpless cries spilling from your lips, lost to everything but the slide of his body in yours, the symphony of passion rising between you. At last, with a sharp cry, your climax overtook you, inner muscles clenching around him as ecstasy crashed through you, a tidal wave of sensation that left you breathless.

Feeling you shatter beneath him, your body gripping him like a vice, Chan followed you over the edge with a ragged groan, his hips slamming against yours erratically as he spilled himself deep inside you, filling you with his essence. For a long moment, you clung to each other, chests heaving, skin damp with sweat, as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded, leaving you both boneless and sated.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

"That was... incredible," you murmured, your voice still laced with breathlessness.

A slow smile spread across his lips, his dark eyes soft with both satisfaction and something deeper—something reverent. "You are incredible," he corrected, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You nestled closer, your fingers idly drawing lazy patterns over his skin. A deep sense of peace settled over you, a contentment that went beyond mere words. "Neither have I," you admitted, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "It's like we were made for each other."

His hold on you tightened slightly, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he never wanted to let go. "We were," he murmured with quiet certainty. "And I don’t ever intend on letting you go"

Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. "You don’t have to," you whispered, the words slipping out like a vow. "I'm yours, Chan. Forever."

A flicker of something intense passed over his features—relief, devotion, love. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. This one wasn’t hurried or desperate; it was a promise, a seal on the words you had spoken. A kiss filled with all the love, passion, and unspoken commitments that tethered you to him, now and always.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

The cabin was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest outside. You could still feel the night’s chill clinging to your bare skin as you woke, blinking a few times before you realized that Chan had gotten up.

He stood across the room, hands braced against the wooden table, his head bowed slightly as he took deep breaths. The tension in his shoulders had not eased, and you could see the war waging inside of him. He had fought for you, risked everything to bring you here, but neither of you knew what would come next.

“Chan,” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he let out a slow exhale before straightening. “I should go check the perimeter. Make sure we weren’t followed.”

“You think Taeyong will send someone after us this quickly?” The question tasted bitter on your tongue.

Chan’s jaw clenched. “If he realizes you’re missing, he won’t rest until you’re back in his grasp. He’s not the type to let go of something he thinks belongs to him.”

A shiver ran through you, though it wasn’t from the cold. “Then we don’t let him find me.”

Chan finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. “It won’t be that simple, Princess.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “Then tell me what we do,” you whispered. “Because I can’t—I can’t go back.”

His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, he was in front of you. His calloused fingers brushed your cheek, the touch grounding you in a way nothing else could. “I won’t let him take you,” he murmured, the promise thick in his voice. “Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched. “Then we fight.”

Chan let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “It’s not just a fight. It’s a war.”

You knew that. You had known that the moment you realized the man you had been promised to was the one behind your abduction. But the truth didn’t scare you as much as the thought of being trapped again. Of being used as a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“I’d rather die fighting than go back to him,” you said firmly.

Chan’s expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

His hand tightened against your cheek for a moment, his thumb grazing over your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled away. “Go back to sleep. I’ll return soon.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that sleep would not come easy now, but you knew it was useless. Chan was a soldier first, and right now, his instincts told him to protect. To scout the area. To make sure you were safe.

So you let him go.

You watched as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and slipped out into the night, his silhouette disappearing into the trees. Only then did you let yourself collapse onto the bed again.

As the fire crackled beside you, one thought remained at the forefront of your mind.

Taeyong would come for you.

And you had to be ready.

The hours passed slowly. Every creak of the wooden cabin, every gust of wind outside made your heart lurch in fear. Sleep was impossible. Instead, you lay curled beneath the blanket, staring at the flickering fire, waiting for Chan to return.

When the door finally creaked open, your breath caught. Your fingers gripped the edges of the blanket instinctively, but the tension eased the moment you saw Chan step inside. His hair was damp with sweat, his cloak dusted with dirt and leaves, but his sharp eyes met yours immediately, scanning you like he was making sure you were still safe.

“Nothing,” he muttered, closing the door behind him and bolting it shut. “No signs of anyone tracking us.”

Relief flooded you, but it was short-lived. “That won’t last,” you said quietly. “Taeyong—he’ll come eventually.”

Chan let out a slow breath and tugged off his cloak, tossing it onto the chair. “Yeah. I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders still tight with tension.

You sat up. “Then what do we do?”

Chan hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his expression unreadable. “First, you rest,” he said, his voice softer now, but firm. “You’re exhausted.”

You shook your head. “So are you.”

He exhaled sharply, then crouched down in front of you. His hands rested on the edge of the blanket, close but not quite touching. “Y/N.” His voice was quieter now, but there was something raw in it, something that made your chest tighten. “I need you to trust me.”

You searched his face, finding nothing but determination and something deeper—something unspoken. “I do.”

His lips parted slightly, as if the words had caught him off guard. His fingers twitched against the fabric, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The fire cast golden light over his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes.

Your heart pounded.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

Chan didn’t move away.

Instead, his hand turned, his fingers wrapping around yours. “I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, like a promise.

You swallowed. “And if they find us?”

His jaw clenched. “Then I’ll fight.”

His grip on your hand tightened, just for a moment, before he let go. “Get some sleep,” he said again, standing up. “I’ll stay up for a while, keep watch.”

You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion in your bones was undeniable. So instead, you nodded, reluctantly lying back down.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Chan sit on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. His presence was steady, grounding.

Soon you were fast asleep, letting the darkness of slumber wash over you.

The night passed in restless fragments. You drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by the echo of Taeyong’s voice in your memories, by the phantom sensation of cold metal shackles around your wrists. Each time you stirred, you felt Chan’s presence nearby—silent, unwavering. He never left the edge of the bed. Even when exhaustion surely clawed at him, he stayed.

By the time the first traces of dawn crept through the cabin’s small window, you turned onto your side, blinking up at him. He was still awake. His posture was tense, his gaze fixed on the dying embers in the fireplace.

"You didn’t sleep," you murmured.

Chan’s lips quirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Couldn’t."

You pushed yourself up slowly, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs. "You can’t protect me if you collapse from exhaustion."

His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand down his face. "I’ll rest when we’re safe."

"You always say that," you whispered. "But when will that be? When we’re halfway across the kingdom? When Taeyong’s forces are at the doorstep?" You exhaled, voice growing softer. "You’re not invincible, Chan."

His eyes flickered to yours, something dark and unreadable shifting behind them. "I can’t afford to be anything else right now."

The weight of his words settled between you. You understood—gods, you understood. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch him break himself for your sake.

You hesitated before reaching out, your fingers brushing against his. He stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

"Just for a little while," you murmured. "Close your eyes. Let yourself breathe."

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze searched yours, like he was trying to find something—assurance, maybe, or a reason to allow himself this small mercy.

Finally, with a slow, reluctant sigh, he gave in.

"Fine," he muttered, shifting back against the headboard. "But only for a little while."

A small smile ghosted your lips as you laid back down beside him. The space between you was small, but the warmth of his presence was enough. His breathing slowed, his shoulders gradually losing some of their tension.

The peace didn’t last long.

You didn’t know how much time had passed—an hour, maybe two—before a sound outside snapped you both back into reality. A rustling. Faint, but deliberate. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to the wind or the shifting trees.

Chan was already moving before you could react. His body tensed, hand reaching instinctively for the dagger strapped to his belt. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. Your heart pounded as you sat up, gripping the blanket like it could somehow ground you.

The rustling came again. Closer this time.

Chan’s eyes darted to the door, then to the small window above the fireplace. His movements were careful, controlled, but you could see it—the flicker of unease in his gaze.

Then, a voice. Low. Muted. Speaking in hushed tones.

Not alone.

Your stomach twisted. Had they found you already? Was it Taeyong’s men? You gripped the sleeve of your tunic with pure fear.

Chan shifted closer to the door, positioning himself between you and whatever was outside. He gripped the dagger tightly, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

Then—

A knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

Your breath hitched.

Chan didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then, a voice—gravelly, older, laced with something familiar.

"Open up."

Chan’s eyes narrowed. He hesitated only a second before unbolting the door and pulling it open just enough to see. You couldn’t see who was outside, but Chan’s body relaxed a fraction.

A gruff sigh. "Took you long enough," the voice muttered.

Then the door opened wider, and an older man stepped inside. His beard was streaked with gray, his clothes worn from travel. But his eyes—sharp, assessing—locked onto you immediately.

"So, this is the princess."

You stiffened. Chan stepped slightly in front of you again, his protective instinct flaring. "Not here," he muttered. "Talk inside."

The man gave a curt nod and shut the door behind him. The air in the room shifted, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Who is he?" you finally asked, voice quieter than you intended.

Chan glanced at you, then back at the man. "An old friend."

The man snorted. "That’s one way to put it." His gaze flicked back to you. "And I’m the one who’s gonna make sure you don’t end up back in that bastard prince’s hands."

Your breath caught.

Chan’s grip tightened on the dagger. "You said you had a way out."

The man’s expression darkened. "I do. But it won’t be easy. And if we don’t move fast, you’re as good as caught."

Chan’s posture remained rigid, his eyes locked onto the man with the same guarded intensity he always carried. You knew that look. It meant he was calculating, deciding if he could trust this so-called friend.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling.

"How do you know about Taeyong?" you asked, your voice firmer now, the fear buried beneath your growing anger.

The man turned his sharp gaze on you, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. "You think the world doesn’t know? Word spreads fast when a prince betrays his own kingdom. Taeyong’s been buying loyalty left and right, gathering allies in the shadows. The moment he took you, the balance shifted."

Your stomach twisted. You’d known Taeyong was dangerous, but hearing it spoken so plainly—hearing that his influence reached beyond the castle walls—made it feel even more real.

Chan’s grip tightened around the dagger. "How do we know you’re not one of them?"

The man sighed, rubbing his temples. "Because if I was, you’d be dead already, boy. And the princess would be back in chains." His eyes flicked to you again, softer this time. "I’m here because I owe someone a debt. Someone who would want her safe."

You frowned. "Who?"

The man hesitated for just a moment. Then he said a name you hadn’t expected.

"Your mother."

Your breath caught.

Your mother had died years ago—before Taeyong, before war had ever loomed on the horizon. She had been a queen of grace and wisdom, beloved by the people, and yet her death had always felt… off. A fever, they had said. A sudden illness.

But now, hearing this man speak of her as if she had planned for something beyond the grave—

Your heart pounded. "You knew her?"

The man nodded slowly. "Not well. But well enough to know she saw this coming. She told me if things ever turned, I’d have to make sure her daughter didn’t end up a pawn in someone else’s game."

Your hands clenched in your lap.

Your mother had known.

And she hadn’t told you.

Chan was watching you carefully, his gaze softening just a fraction. You weren’t sure if it was because he saw the turmoil brewing inside you or because he already knew this truth and had been waiting for you to find out.

You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus. There would be time for grief later. Right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

"What’s the plan?" Chan asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

The man straightened. "There’s a caravan leaving before sunrise. Merchants, mostly. They don’t ask questions, and they don’t check faces too closely. You slip in with them, make it across the river, and from there, we get you to the rebellion."

Chan tensed beside you. "The rebellion?"

The man smirked. "You think you’re the only ones who want Taeyong gone?"

Your breath came faster. There were people out there fighting against him. People who hadn’t been silenced.

Hope.

It was dangerous, but it was there.

Chan turned to you then, searching your face. "It’s your choice, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision settle on your shoulders. Running had never felt like enough, but fighting… fighting was something new.

And maybe it was time.

You met Chan’s eyes and nodded.

"We go."

The man—who still hadn’t given his name—nodded in approval, moving swiftly to the small wooden table near the hearth. He pulled out a rolled-up map from his satchel, flattening it against the surface. The firelight flickered over its surface, casting shadows across the jagged lines marking the kingdom’s borders.

Chan moved closer, standing protectively near you, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. His body was tense, ready for anything.

The man tapped a spot near the eastern river. "The caravan is camped here for the night. They’ll move before dawn. If we reach them in time, we can blend in before the morning checkpoint." His finger traced the route southward. "Once we cross into the borderlands, we break off. The rebellion has outposts in the foothills."

You studied the map, your stomach twisting with nerves. "How do we know they won’t recognize me?"

The man glanced at you, his eyes flicking briefly over your posture, then back to the map. "It’s not about recognition. It’s about being inconspicuous. We’ll keep to the shadows, move quickly, and avoid the main roads. You’ll have to be just another face in the crowd, no different from the many others that pass through the checkpoints."

You frowned, knowing how much effort it would take to mask everything that set you apart. Every detail of your life—every expectation and every burden—had been formed under the spotlight of the royal court. To pretend you were ordinary felt impossible, but survival demanded it.

Chan’s jaw clenched. "We won’t be able to just walk in and out without drawing attention."

The man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve seen the guards at the checkpoint. They’re not looking for anyone in particular. If we move quickly and stay to the back roads, we’ll get through undetected."

You swallowed, your mind racing through the possibilities. "How will we know where to go once we’re past the checkpoint?"

"We’ll stay close, and I’ll guide us from there. You don’t need to worry about the rest." His voice was firm, a reassurance that didn’t quite reach your chest. "Now, let’s prepare."

~~~TIME SKIP~~~

It took you three days to meet up with the rebellion.

The journey had been grueling. Each day felt like it bled into the next, the urgency pressing down on you with every step. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, and the silence of the wilderness was only broken by the constant rush of your footsteps and the occasional murmur of Chan and the man leading you.

By the time you reached the rebellion’s hideout, you were exhausted, physically and mentally. The exhaustion settled deep into your bones, but you couldn’t allow yourself to relax just yet. Not when the stakes were so high.

The hideout wasn’t much—just an old, decrepit farmhouse hidden deep in the forest. The rebellion's members were holed up here, their movements quiet and calculated. The moment you stepped into the small, dimly lit space, your eyes darted around, taking in the ragtag group of fighters. They looked wary, sizing you up, but there was something else there too. Recognition. The kind that came from desperation, from being on the edge of something bigger than themselves.

"You’re late," a voice cut through the silence.

A tall, lean man stepped forward from the shadows. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the hardened exterior.

"We had some... complications," Chan said, his voice tight but steady. "But we made it."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Complications? Such as?"

You tensed, but Chan gave you a brief, reassuring glance, his hand resting subtly on your lower back. He was trying to calm you, to keep you from reacting. The last thing you needed now was for the rebellion to question your loyalty or your intentions.

"We ran into some trouble along the way," Chan continued, his gaze unwavering. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

The man nodded slowly, as though weighing Chan’s words. "And the princess?" His eyes flickered to you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "I take it she's the reason for the delay."

You straightened, ready to speak, but Chan beat you to it, his tone laced with a warning. "She’s with me. And she’s no less determined than the rest of us."

The man eyed you again, lingering for just a moment longer before he nodded. "Fine. I’ll leave it to you to explain."

He motioned for you to follow him, and you did, Chan at your side as the others parted to let you through. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all watching, studying every move you made. And why wouldn’t they? You were no longer the princess. You were an outsider, just another face among them. But they didn’t know who you truly were, not really. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep up the pretense.

Inside a small, makeshift war room, the leader of the rebellion—whom you hadn’t yet met—stood over a table littered with maps. He didn’t look up as you entered, but the tension in the room grew, a thick silence hanging between you all.

"You made it," the leader said, his voice low and cold. "Now we plan."

Chan leaned in, listening intently as the leader began to outline the next steps, but you found your mind drifting, your thoughts tumbling over one another. You had been living a lie for so long now—pretending to be someone you weren’t, pretending you were just like them. But the rebellion was your only hope now. It was the only chance you had left to survive, and perhaps to find something more than just survival.

Your gaze flickered over to Chan, his face hardened with focus as he listened to the plans. His presence was a constant, a steadying force in the chaos that surrounded you. But even with him by your side, you couldn’t escape the weight of the situation, the constant worry gnawing at you.

"You’re not alone," Chan murmured quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. He hadn’t even turned to look at you, but his words wrapped around you like a protective shield.

You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I’d end up here."

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. "You’ll get through this. We all will. Together."

You wanted to believe him, to let the words settle in your chest and replace the fear, but it wasn’t that simple. The rebellion was still a risky gamble, and so many unknowns lay ahead. But for now, you had no choice but to place your trust in them—and in him.

The leader of the rebellion finally looked up, his gaze settling on you. "You’ve been trained in the ways of the court. You know how to play a part. But this is different. The rebellion needs more than just your skills. We need your full commitment. Your life, your safety—it’s not yours anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. You were here to fight, to take a stand, and there would be no turning back.

"Good," the leader said, his tone colder than before.

You glanced at Chan, catching the fleeting warmth in his eyes.

The days leading up to the attack on the castle felt like a blur, each one filled with training, planning, and a constant sense of anticipation. The rebellion had gathered their forces, and the tension in the air was palpable. You had taken your place among them, no longer a princess in a palace, but a fighter with everything on the line. But despite the intensity of it all, there was still a sense of unease gnawing at you—a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Chan had been by your side every step of the way, his presence a steadying force. There was no denying the bond that had grown between you both, the unspoken connection that had deepened over the past days. Yet, despite all the closeness, he had kept a certain distance, as if shielding you from the full weight of the battle that was about to unfold.

"Stay behind the lines," Chan had told you more than once, his voice softer than usual, the concern clear in his eyes. "It’s not safe for you out there."

You knew it was a command, not a suggestion, but part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. You had already proven yourself capable, already fought beside him, and yet, here you were, told to stay back.

"You can’t tell me to just stand by," you’d snapped once, your voice sharp. "This isn’t just your fight, Chan. I’m in this with you. No matter what."

He had said nothing in response, just a flicker of something in his gaze—something unreadable. He was trying to protect you, and for all his strength, his resolve, there was still that vulnerability when it came to you. It made your chest tighten, but you swallowed the feelings down. You couldn’t let them get in the way.

As the first light of dawn crept across the sky, the rebellion gathered in formation. The drums began to sound, signaling the start of the battle. You stood behind the lines, sword in hand, heart pounding as the anticipation grew.

"I’ll be back," Chan said to you, his eyes locked on yours for a beat longer than usual. There was a fleeting tenderness there, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Stay safe."

And then, with a final squeeze of your hand, he was gone, charging into the fray with the rest of the rebels. You watched as he disappeared into the chaos, your heart in your throat.

The battle was chaos from the start. The clash of steel, the shouts of men, the roar of battle cries—it was overwhelming. You remained behind the front lines, doing what you could to help where necessary, coordinating the defense, directing others, but every moment you spent away from the fight felt like an eternity.

Then, a shout broke through the noise. A loud, desperate cry that made your blood run cold.

"Chan!" you heard someone yell, the voice panicked.

Your heart skipped, and without thinking, you darted toward the front lines, your feet moving faster than you could process. You knew you shouldn’t be there. You knew it wasn’t safe. But you had to see for yourself.

As you emerged from behind the barricades, you saw him—Chan, bloodied and staggering, a sword wound across his side. His armor was dented, his face set in a grimace of pain, but he was still fighting, still pushing forward, swinging his sword with sheer determination.

You rushed toward him, but someone else got there first. The rebels around him were struggling to keep the enemy at bay, but it wasn’t enough. He was too far from the rest of the forces, and the enemies were closing in.

“Chan!” you shouted again, panic rising in your chest. You pushed your way through the chaos, your heart hammering as you neared him.

He saw you, his expression flickering with something between relief and frustration. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, strained, but there was a softness to it—a concern that made you want to scream.

“Chan, you’re hurt!” You reached him, gripping his arm to steady him, your eyes scanning the gash on his side. The blood was flowing too fast.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, but it was clear he wasn’t. “You need to go back—this is too dangerous for you.”

“Not without you.” You refused to leave his side, knowing time was running out.

His hand found yours, his grip weak but insistent. “I’m not going anywhere until we win this,” he said, though his words were laced with pain. The enemy wasn’t stopping.

The battle had shifted again. More reinforcements for the other side. But you couldn’t just leave him, not when he needed you.

“Chan, you’re bleeding—you're not fine!" You pulled him closer to you, desperation taking over. He winced, clearly in more pain than he let on. The sight of him like this twisted something in your chest, the vulnerability of the man who had always been your protector, now so exposed, so human.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, though his breath was becoming shallow. "We need to push them back, or we won’t make it."

Your heart was racing, but your mind was focused. "We need to get you out of here first."

A sharp cry came from another soldier, and the pressure of the situation heightened. With the enemy bearing down on them, it was clear you had no time to waste. You gritted your teeth and grabbed Chan’s arm, pulling him toward a small alcove that offered some cover.

"We’ll regroup," you said, though it was more of a prayer than a plan. You didn’t care about the battle right now—just getting him safe.

But before you could do anything more, an explosion rocked the area nearby. The ground trembled beneath your feet, and smoke filled the air. You instinctively pressed yourself against Chan, shielding him as best as you could.

The battle raged on, the sound of weapons clashing and soldiers shouting filling your ears. You had no idea what was happening around you, only that you had to keep moving.

But when you turned to look at Chan, you saw the strain in his eyes, the way his hand weakly held yours, and you knew. This battle wasn’t over, but for him, it was. He was slipping, and fast.

"Stay with me, Chan," you whispered, your voice breaking as you guided him further away from the front lines. "Please."

"I’m here," he whispered back, but it was faint, and you knew the fight in him was dimming. You couldn’t leave him. Not now.

The sound of the battle was fading, but it didn’t matter. You just had to get him to safety.

You refused to let go of Chan’s hand as you dragged him toward the safety of a nearby tent, your heart pounding with every ragged breath he took. His blood was warm against your skin, seeping from the wound in his side at an alarming rate. He was trying to keep himself upright, but you could feel his strength slipping.

“Just a little further,” you urged, voice tight with panic. You weren’t sure if you were saying it to reassure him or yourself.

Chan let out a low groan, his body sagging against yours. “You should’ve stayed back,” he murmured, his voice weaker than you’d ever heard it.

“And let you bleed out on the battlefield?” you snapped, adjusting your grip on his arm. “Not happening.”

Finally, you reached the tent. Two rebel soldiers rushed forward, their expressions morphing into shock when they saw Chan’s condition.

“Get a healer!” you barked at them. One of the soldiers ran off without hesitation, while the other helped you ease Chan down onto a pile of blankets.

Chan hissed as he landed on his back, his hand gripping yours weakly. His face was pale, his forehead slick with sweat, but his gaze remained locked on you. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You shook your head fiercely. “Don’t say that. I’m right where I need to be.”

The flap of the tent burst open, and the healer rushed in, dropping to Chan’s side with practiced efficiency. You scooted back to give them space, your hands shaking as you watched them work.

He was going to be okay. He had to be.

The healer pressed cloth to Chan’s wound, and he tensed, his jaw tightening in pain. His fingers curled into the blankets, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“You’re lucky the blade didn’t go deeper,” the healer muttered, pulling out supplies from their satchel. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need rest.”

Chan huffed out a tired breath. “No time for that,” he mumbled.

You clenched your fists. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve healed,” you told him firmly. “I don’t care how much you want to throw yourself back into battle.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but was too exhausted to do it. “Bossy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, despite the lump in your throat. “Someone has to be, since you clearly have no sense of self-preservation.”

The healer shot you both a look. “If you want him to survive, let me do my job.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, shifting back even further, though you refused to leave the tent.

Chan’s eyes flickered toward you as the medic worked, his gaze softening. “You really aren’t leaving, huh?”

You shook your head. “Not a chance.”

His fingers twitched slightly, and you reached out, lacing them with yours. His grip was weaker than before, but he still held on. Even now, in the middle of a war, with blood staining your hands and chaos raging outside, you knew one thing for certain—

“I love you.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them. You meant them with every fiber of your being.

Chan’s breath hitched. His hand squeezed yours as tightly as he could manage. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice raw, like he’d been holding it back for too long.

A tear finally escaped down your cheek, but you didn’t care. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m going to make sure you’re okay,” you promised.

Chan smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “With you here… I already am.”

The battlefield was chaos—clashing steel, dying screams, and the thick stench of blood in the air. But despite the wreckage of war, one undeniable truth cut through the carnage: the tide had turned in your favor.

The enemy forces, once ruthless under Lord Hwang's command, were breaking. You could see it in their frantic movements, the way they hesitated before striking. The moment the news spread—Lord Hwang was captured—their will to fight crumbled.

Your father, alongside Taeyong, had fallen in battle, cut down in the very war he had, without realizing it, waged against his own people.

The sight of his lifeless body on the bloodstained field had sent a shiver through you, not of grief, but of finality. His reign had ended not in grandeur, not in control, but in ruin. And now, as the last of his soldiers dropped their weapons, as Taeyong was killed and Hwang was captured, it was truly over.

A sharp cry of victory erupted from your troops. The war—the one that had stolen so much, that had nearly cost you everything—was won.

A strong, familiar hand grasped yours. You turned, breath catching in your throat as Chan stood beside you, blood seeping from a wound in his side, but alive. Alive and standing with you, despite the battle that had nearly torn him from you.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed, your fingers tightening around his.

His lips twitched, exhaustion weighing on his features. “It’ll take more than a battlefield to keep me from you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He had fought for you, bled for you, and yet he was still standing.

Your throat tightened, your heart aching with the weight of everything you had both endured. “I don’t want to lose you again, Chan.”

He exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against yours. “You won’t. I swear it.”

And then, despite the battlefield, despite the onlookers, despite the remnants of war still surrounding you—he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss of desperation, or relief. It was a promise.

A promise of forever.

One month had passed since the war ended.

The city, once darkened by the rule of your father, was beginning to heal. The streets bustled with life, no longer weighed down by fear. The people—your people—had chosen you as their queen, and with that came the responsibility of rebuilding everything your father had destroyed.

As you stood in the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with anticipation. The golden crown rested in the High Councilor’s hands, moments away from being placed upon your head.

You glanced to your side, where Chan stood, dressed in ceremonial attire. His wound had healed, though faint scars remained—a reminder of the battle that had nearly taken him from you. But more than that, it was a reminder of everything he had fought for. Everything you had fought for together.

When the crown was finally placed atop your head, the room erupted into cheers. You weren’t just the daughter of the fallen king. You weren’t just the girl who had once been trapped behind the palace walls.

You were the queen.

Chan’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours as he leaned down slightly, murmuring just for you, “So, how does it feel?”

You turned to him, a smile playing at your lips. “A little less terrifying with you beside me.”

His grip tightened. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The coronation bled into the wedding—two moments intertwined, symbolizing not just the end of an era, but the beginning of something greater.

As you stood before the people, vows exchanged beneath the flickering glow of the palace lanterns, you realized something—this wasn’t just about winning a war. This was about everything that came after. About building something new, something better.

As Chan kissed you before the crowd, sealing your marriage with the weight of love and devotion, you knew one thing for certain.

This was the beginning of forever.

Thank you, dearest readers, for enduring that grammatical mess I call a story. I might make a part 2, depending on how well this does. We'll see. Please like, comment and reblog, thanks :)

***My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission***

𐙚 : STRAYKIDS FINDING OUT YOU CAN'T CUM (text) ֶָ֢ !

request: heyy love your work can i req a bsf! skz text in which reader admits they can't cum and bsf!skz offers to help them out :D🫶

authors note. i hope you like it ❤️🫶🏾

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

©️LUVYENI

Inspired by 'relight me' so feel free to skip if it's too similar! request for a 9th member sitting down the guys/or just channie if you prefer, to ask for their support/help bc she feels herself slipping back into unhealthy habits/scared to eat/feeling so icky about it, angsty angsty but they're so proud she's asking for help

hihi~ similar request to 'relight me' but just channie and reader hehe . i liked the idea of this one too . you are loved, everyone x

what you're worth - (bang chan x 9th member!reader)

pairing: bang chan x 9th member!reader

summary: you decide to tell chan about what you've been going through. his reaction isn't what you expected...

genre: super soft, really angsty, idol!au, soft channie, mentions of ed, not being able to eat, drinking water in place of food, reader is brave for opening up, chaotic binnie, hannie, and minho, mentions of eating, drinking, lighthearted stabbing joke (no skz was harmed in the making of this fic)

a/n: this is pretty much 'relight me' in a different font . div by @strangergraphics

skz masterlist

"Minho, eat your food."

"I am."

"No, you're not. Stop stabbing Jisung with your chopsticks and eat quickly. We have a dance practice to get to."

Minho groans and slouches over the table, mimicking Changbin's voice in an extremely overexaggerated, high-pitched drawl. "We have a dance practice to get to."

"Shut up."

Jisung laughs as Changbin throws a tissue at Minho, who retaliates and lifts his water bottle, threatening. "Calm down, seriously..."

You're watching as the three of them bicker from the other side of the table, head leaning on your crossed arms. Normally, you'd be the first to initiate these sorts of petty, playful arguments, but you're weighed down by a heavy, drooping tiredness. And it's not letting you do anything.

At all.

"Aren't you gonna eat, Y/n?" Jisung asks, peering around Changbin (who is currently attempting to headlock Minho). "You haven't eaten at all today."

You sigh and sit up, downing the contents of your waterbottle. Ice fills your stomach, freezing its soft lining. You feel stiff.

"I'll eat later," you say. "Promise."

You cross your fingers under the table. Jisung shrugs and looks away, wolfing down the rest of his food. Minho and Changbin, seemingly blind to the interaction, eventually pipe down and do the same.

You sigh and watch as Minho shamelessly stuffs his face, and the sight makes you smile as Jisung and Changbin do the same. At least they're eating properly. But it quickly fades, and you snap out of your thoughts just as Changbin pokes your side.

"...Hey, Y/n. You're not listening."

"O-oh," you stutter. "Sorry."

"Why did you zone out? You always listen to me," he whines.

You always listen to me.

The phrase sparks a dangerous idea in your head. It's so immediately distracting that you stand up, scraping your chair across the floor. Minho and Jisung both look up in surprise at the sudden movement.

"Where are you going?" Minho asks curiously.

"I gotta go," you say, and promptly turn away to leave.

The three members stare after you in confusion.

.

You knock on the door to Chan's studio. The hallway leading to his door is dark, and you trail a hand along the wall as you wait for the call to come in.

There's shuffling, a thump, and then the padding of footsteps as Chan comes and then opens the door. His hair is wild, half of it skewed from his headphones. One of the muffs is placed over the back of his ear so he can hear without taking them off entirely.

"Hey," he greets, unruffled by his very-much-ruffled appearance.

"Hi," you say, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Chan pauses. "Everything okay?"

You pause for a split second, mind whirring. Why are you here, anyway?

"Um..." you begin feebly, trying to compose a singular thought.

There's a a few seconds of quiet between the both of you before Chan takes your hand gently. You exhale, knowing that he knows something's wrong.

Leading you inside the studio, he sits you down on the black couch behind his desk, taking off his headphones entirely. The cold water from earlier sloshes unpleasantly inside your stomach, doing nothing to quieten the hunger pangs gnawing at your insides. Like filling up a bathtub without the plug in, it can never truly be full.

And neither can you.

You watch as Chan begins to click on files at his desk, dragging and dropping and typing things quickly before he closes down the software entirely. You rise from your seat on the couch, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Chan-"

"Sit." He pushes you back down gently with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. You sigh and try and relax into the cushions, but it's like trying to untense limbs made of rock. You shift uncomfortably as Chan turns around.

He's so much taller right now as you're sitting down; the blue glare of his screen dims slightly as the computer goes to sleep, sending a warm halo of light over the fluffiness of his unbrushed curls.

You gulp as he sits down next to you, sliding down on the couch slightly as he tilts his head to look at the panelled ceiling. The lights up there are off; the only source of illumination comes from a small table lamp in the corner.

"Something's wrong, hmm."

He says it not like a question at all; rather than something he already knows, and he's waiting for you to confirm it.

So you do.

"Yeah." You can't stop fidgeting.

A gentle smile caresses his lips, his gaze still locked on the ceiling. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

You exhale, a low whoosh from your very core. You're in it now.

"I- I can't eat." Your voice sounds thin, dissipating as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Chan is still looking up, but he's silent for a moment. "When was the last time you ate a full meal?"

You can't answer.

He does look at you then; for the first time you see the true softness of his gaze, the way it seems to reach out and caress your jaw. Your cheeks warm from its steady intensity.

"Don't be ashamed, Y/n," is all he says.

You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you will them away. You don't want to cry in front of him.

"But I am," you say, almost inaudibly. "There's- there's something wrong with me, Chan, and I can't-"

"Hey, hey," He sits up and cups your face, heat flooding into your skin. His palms are warm and dry, slightly rough, but you relish the touch anyway. "There's nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing at all. Sometimes we just forget how much we're worth, and our habits follow."

You sniff. "I don't have a worth."

"Yes, you do." He scoots closer on the couch, folding you into his arms. "You always have had a worth, and you'll continue to have it. Sometimes you just forget it. And that's completely okay..."

You lean into his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. "Chan..."

He continues. "See it like this," he reaches across, letting go of you slightly, and pulls the table lamp closer to him. "Tell me what you see."

You sniff again, feeling a little stupid. "A lamp."

Chan nods. "What's inside the lamp?"

"A light bulb."

He hums and reaches across to the powerpoint, trailing his fingers down the wire til they meet the plug. He rips it out of the socket, the light flickering and dying. The room dims, so much so that you can only just see the outline of Chan's hands around the cord. "Now what do you see?"

You look at him, confused through your misery. "It's still a lamp."

"And what's inside it?"

"A- a light bulb?"

Chan nods simply and sets the lamp down on the floor in front of you, still holding the cord in one hand. "No matter how we change the lamp, no matter what shape, size, colour, or texture it is, the light bulb inside remains the same.

"Even if we damage it, or forget to take care of it," he turns to you then. "I've had this lamp for three years, and I've knocked it over countless times, spilled coffee over it, scratched it, done all sorts of damage to this thing."

You can't fight a tiny smile. He really is clumsy.

"Nevertheless," Chan continues, "It's still working. It's still shining and bringing light to this room, to me. And, like I said, no matter the damage, no matter how the outside changes..." He reaches over to the powerpoint again and plugs the cord back in. Warm light floods the room once more. "The same light keeps shining."

You don't even realise how wet your cheeks are until he swipes a gentle thumb across your face. "Even if the light turns off, it's still there. Sometimes, Y/n, we just need someone to help us bring our light back."

He wraps his arms around you. "It's okay if you can't eat. You don't have to force yourself overnight. Just take it step by step. Snack a little. Have sliced fruit. Keep hydrated, and take breaks during practices. You'll find that eating comes normally once your body's system realises that's what's missing. It's nothing to do with your worth."

You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he says simply. His voice is solid, steady, as warm as the light emanating from the lamp. The oversized hoodie draped over his torso is pillowy against your wet cheeks.

Chan is still talking softly, and both of you know that you don't have to listen. All you need to do is bask in the glow of the light and his comfort. You can feel the soft, deep vibrations of his voice from within his chest, along with the steady pulsing of his heart.

You close your eyes, and relax.

a/n: man it's been so long since i wrote something (it's been a week)

ttokki's taglist: @emilyywhyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

𝕄𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕤

⋆˚✿˖° ˖°✿⋆˚

Fem!Reader x Kim Seungmin

Summary: You and Seungmin are roommates and he goes wandering in your room looking for something but ends up finding something else and getting aroused.

Warnings: accidental stimulation, masturbation, edging, hair grabbing, oral (Male receiving), sort of face fucking, you help him masturbate, he gets embarrassed, Seungmin whimpers, He doesn't know how to contain it, lmk if I missed anything else!

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: This one was recommended! I really hope y'all like this one as well. I'm gonna try to post as often as I can but I really don't have a great schedule😞. This one is also kinda short I apologize.I’ll have another one soon hopefully 🫶.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

You and Seungmin have been roommates for almost a year, so you've learned each other's schedules. You work from 8-4, and Seungmin stays home to do his online courses.

Seungmin tends to look for things in your room because he is always home and gets bored, wanting a reason to wander around the apartment.

He doesn't do this often, but this time when he did, he found something that is not usually left out for anyone to see, considering how tidy you are.

Seungmin found himself in need of something to write on and he knew that you had a few sketchbooks that you wouldn't mind him using.

He found what he was looking for but he also found your panties on the floor of your room. It was on the side of your bed laid out for him to see, it's like you wanted him to see it.

It's not like he meant to see it or, better yet get a boner from it. He doesn't know why it's happening but he doesn't hate it. The image of you taking off your panties pops up in his head as he looks at your underwear.

He couldn't help himself from getting off on your panties. He pressed his hip against the side of your bed, his back following, sliding down until his knees reached his chest.

After getting on the ground he spread his legs out, enough for him to have space to comfortably touch himself. Then he pulls his shorts down enough for his cock to be out.

Seungmin reached his hands to the bottom of his stomach, tucking his fingers under his boxers and grabbing his hard cock, palming it gently while staring at where your pussy had been at one point.

He reaches down and grabs his shirt, bringing it to his mouth so it won't be in his way. Seungmin starts to slowly stroke himself as he reaches for your panties. He can't help himself, he doesn't know why he's doing this, his body is just moving on its own.

His strokes start to become harsher, seeing your panties just did something to him. Knowing that your pussy was once there he couldn't help but bring them up to his face, imagining him being in your pussy. Eating you out so good to the point you whimper out his name.

His dick twitches in his hand from the thought. He uses some of his pre-cum to help him pump his hard cock.

“Fuck Y/N”

He whispered for you, groaning out for you. He was close to cumming but didn't want to yet. He let go of himself, watching his dick twitch.

After a few seconds, he starts to stroke himself again, his whole body flinching as he gently touches himself. He brings your panties down to his dick, teasing himself with them.

Seungmin slowly puts your panties around his hard dick, his whole body reacting to every touch. He felt himself around you, stroking himself with you. He wanted you so bad.

All while he was doing this he didn't hear the front door open. He had been edging himself on for so long that he didn't even realize the time. You've been home for a while.

He lets out more whimpers not knowing you’re home. You could hear him calling out for you, you thought maybe something had happened so you slowly walked up to your door.

You opened the door just enough for you to see inside. Seungmin didn’t even look up at the door as you peeked through it. The image of him was so fucking hot.

He was sitting on the side of your bed, his shirt in his mouth, his shorts down to his knees, his cock in his hand.

Seeing your panties in his hand shocked you. It made you want to help him, he felt like this because of you right?

You open the door gently, watching seungmin glance up at you with begging eyes. He realized what he was doing for a second and got embarrassed, trying to cover himself.

“I uh.. Its not what it looks like y/n! I didn't mean to I…it just kinda happened..”

You don't say anything and start to walk up to him. You look into his lustful eyes, you could tell he wanted you to do anything to him.

Looking down at his cock you could see so much cum leaking from him. He was a mess for you, your panties now covered in his cum.

“Seungmin, let me help you okay?”

He nods his head in approval as you look down at his dick watching him twitch. You put your hand on his hips rubbing around his base before touching his cock.

His hips buck into your touch, whimpers slipping out from his mouth as you tease him. You didn't know that he had already been on the edge of cumming for a while.

You stroke him a few times before leaning forward to take him in your mouth. His hips bucking every time you move your head.

He grabs a fist full of your hair as you suck him off. His hips start to buck forward and fuck into your face, his grip tightening on your hair, whimpers flowing from his mouth.

You bring your head back up, gathering up spit in your mouth to help you stroke his dick again.

“Ngh y/n please”

His begging made you want more than just what you were giving him, but it was already late and the two of you had things to do tomorrow.

“Can you cum in my mouth seungmin? Please?”

He nods his head yes as you go down on him again, taking in his full length. His hand pushed your head down the closer he came to cumming down your throat.

With a few final thrusts into your face, he came down your throat, painting your mouth white. You moan into his thrust causing him to whimper from the vibrations.

You look up at him as you bring yourself up to his view, allowing him to watch you swallow his cum.

“Fuck y/n….your such a good girl for me…”

You smile at him as he strokes your face, both of you trying to catch your breath from what just happened.

“Maybe we could do this again seungmin, but maybe let me help you more..”

“Fuck yes y/n”

After a while of catching your breath, you get up to get a towel to help clean up yourself and him. He kept apologizing about what happened saying how he didn't know why it happened, but you didn't mind it at all. After all, you've been waiting for this moment.

Preview: Sweet as Cherry Wine

In which the cold librarian's heart gets melted by his best friend's sister

Synopsis: Kim Seungmin was the assistant librarian at your uni's library and the love of your life. Oh and also your brother's best friend.

Pairings: Seungmin × fem!reader, includes rest of skz, Winter (aespa)

Warnings: brother's best friend trope, a play on Hades and Persephone, secret relationship, flufff, seungmin is a menace, SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), verryyy little choking, slightly sub minnie?, just a lot of me simping after his fingies, semi public sex (in the library)

A/N: whadup mona fam. Surprised im alive? yeah me too honestly lol. anyway im very sick rn BUT i wanted to complete this because this shit has been stuck in my wips since september 2023 and anyway it's my Minnie phase. Please look forward to the full fic!!!

STATUS: Coming on 23/10/24 (Subject to change)

TAGLIST: Open

“And how she let the pomegranate juice,

Drip from her smiling lips,

Even Hades trembled under sweet Persephone’s gaze.”

The tantalising smell of old leather and paper hugged your nostrils as soon as you crossed the threshold of the outdoors into the library. The entire room had the faint smell of sandalwood wafting through it as well, which your lungs appreciated as you breathed the air in.

Having spent only six months in your university as a freshman, you had never dared to step foot into the university’s famed collection of books more than five times. You were far too intimidated by it. That, and also the fact that you had a tremendous amount of work hanging over your head. And you certainly did not want to disappoint your parents, who worked day and night in ensuring that you had a proper education.

“Y/Nnie come on!” Your friend, Jeongin, grabbed your hand and dragged you further into the grand building. Jeongin was the first friend you had made in college, having argued furiously with him in your sociology class on the modern feminist forms of thought. Deciding that he was smart enough to never keep you bored, you promptly shook hands with him. He must have thought so too, because the very next day, he introduced you to his band of friends, with whom he had grown up since childhood.

And now, you could see one of those friends waving to the both of you from a very large table. It was Lee Minho–dance prodigy, archeology student in his third year, frequent arson enthusiast and a cat dad. That was what you had gotten from him, six months into your friendship

“Hyung!” Jeongin practically leapt on the stunningly beautiful man as soon as he came near him, “I’ve missed you so much!”

Minho made a face of disgust, but you could see the faint smile threatening to spill out as he hugged Jeongin back.

“Let go of me before I suffocate you, brat.” Minho said, giving you a smile as Jeongin reluctantly pulled back, “Alright, Y/N?”

“Good as always.” You responded with a grin. “Oh, congratulations on your win at the Dance Masters by the way!” Minho tilted his head at you as a ‘thank you’, with his ears turning furiously red, and his smile widening.

“And what about me?” A smooth voice made you jump as the ever-present smile of Hwang Hyunjin appeared before your eyes.

“Give me a warning before you pop out of nowhere!” You laughed, being engulfed into a tight hug by Hyunjin, “And congratulations to you, as well.”

“Why thank you.” Hyunjin did a dramatic sort of curtsy after unleashing you from his arms, “Hyung, have you seen Lix anywhere? He forgot his keychain with me.”

“He’s still stuck in class.” Minho muttered, raising his arms up abruptly and stretching with a very loud sigh, “My bones are so stiff, I swear to God.”

“Could you keep it down, old man?”

Perhaps the most annoying voice in the entire campus rang in your ears as you spun on your heel to see the bane of your existence. The world’s most insidious bastard faced you, in the form of a 5 '10, history-majoring, glasses-wearing, probably drinks pomegranate juice in the morning sophomore.

Kim Seungmin.

The universe couldn't have made a more negative person.

And a more perfect secret boyfriend too.

Taglist: @vixensss @miyeonna @15092000volcano + comment or send an ask to be added!

how they fuck you against a mirror/window

changbin + hyunjin

changbin:

- a muscle momm-ahem i mean daddy!!

- normally prefers shower sex because he likes to pin you up against the shower door and watch your tits be squished on the door in the reflection of your bathroom mirror as he fucks you from behind

- is a giver so loooves to eat you out

- if you were down, he would eat you out in one of those bathtubs with massive windows next to it, and his cock would leak of pre-cum with how much trust you have in him to be exhibitionists together

- his knees would literally tremble when he glances to his right and sees your reflection in the fogged up mirror of the bathroom

- he would be holding you up with ease on the corner of the bathtub, your leg propped up next to you and the other leg over changbin’s shoulders, hands tangled in his slightly wet, dark coloured locks

- after eating you out to the point where your legs clamped shut and you were cross-eyed, he would plant soft kisses on your damp shoulder

- and then BAM! he’s got you flipped so your tits will be the only view of your next door neighbour, holding your arms back by your elbows, entering you slowly yet desperately

hyunjin:

- a romantic boy who would buy a full-length mirror and place it in your bedroom just for you

- every time you got changed, he would sneak a glance at the naked reflection of you, cock forming a tent in his sweat pants

- his dream came true though

- he had your legs wide open, pussy exposed to the mirror

- he would be kissing your nape, your neck, your shoulders…everywhere because he loves you so much and thinks you are a piece of art

- he would roam his hands all over your body, pinching your nipples hard, then caressing them softly with the tip of his fingers

- he loved the way he could see his fingers disappear in your heat, other hand rubbing gentle circles on your swollen clit

- would be SO hard and his cock would be digging into your back but we don’t talk about that

- dips his fingers into your pussy, then pulls it out to show you (and the mirror) the wet strings that formed between his fingers from your juices

- makes a show of sucking his fingers with a moan, making eye contact with you in the reflection

- would fuck you reverse cowgirl style, making sure you could see for yourself how your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your face crumpled up with pleasure

- also the way his glistening cock would slide in and out of you with ease

- would stop thrusting if you weren’t looking at your reflection