Little Deaths | A Ghostly Ot8 Story

i drink your blood and i eat your skin | part seven.

pairing: vampire! hwang hyunjin x f!reader

warnings: angst

masterlist

playlist

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It was another day and as more time passed by, spending it only in your room, the more the boredom creeped up on you. Even the books you took with you from the library started to get boring, words on pages blending together and creating just a bunch of nonsense. The delicious food turned as bland as your world. The known unpleasant feelings started to show and not even the beautiful house could not keep you away from embracing them. You haven’t seen Hyunjin after the dinner and in some way it bothered you. Loneliness, feeling you knew all too well, quickly joined the party and now it felt way stronger, even deeper. You didn’t even realized that his presence was effecting you in some way…

More like his absence. You however knew better than let your intrusive thoughts win. It is so wrong to want his attention, him. It was so wrong that it felt good…right. You don’t know if he truly was a bad person, maybe it’s just your own head playing tricks on you. Or maybe it was just instinct, maybe it was keeping you safe from him. He is a predator and you were his chosen type of prey after all. He told you that he wouldn’t hurt you but you both know that in some way or another he already did. You weren’t in the wrong to think like this.

You are just careful around him, because you still fear him in some way. Even if you get to know him, will you ever not be afraid? You knew what power he holds and that scares you. He could snap your neck by a blink of an eye.

But…wasn’t that also so exciting?

Hyunjin is so strong, a creature created from the darkness. A vampire that walks with an aura so menacing but also so alluring. It makes you want to have just a little taste of it and before you would know it, you would be already drowning in it. And it would taste even better because his deepest desire.

You really should sort out your feelings. You wished for Mia right now. You missed her, even if it were just days but being ripped away from her like that — you didn’t like it. You choose to stay, you have to remember that.

As you were gazing through the closed windows, you wondered if you could go there. You needed some fresh air and the slightly open window in the bathroom wasn’t enough anymore. After you went to the library the door to your bedroom was mysteriously left unlocked, maybe he knows that you won’t try to run away again. For one you are sure that you wouldn’t be able to, even if you tried your hardest and second of all you don’t really want to….but maybe a walk outside wouldn’t hurt anyone.

To your surprise you found a long, warm coat for you in the closet and also some boots. Every time you had opened it, you always found new things for you. It was endless and you couldn’t help yourself from going over the multiple boxes of shoes. He really does have a taste but being alive for God knows how long, it should come naturally.

It felt wrong going out of your room like this or was it just in your head? You weren’t really a prisoner but still everyone was so careful around — with you. You weren’t that sure which way lead to the back of this place but you were definitely familiar with which way was the main entrance. You calmly made your way to the big staircase and you momentarily stopped, gripping the railing with your hand. You glance into the dark hallway just few steps away from you, you haven’t been there before. There is still so much for you to explore but your lungs really call for the fresh air you promised yourself.

As you made your way down, you noticed that you weren’t alone at all to your surprise. The house looked like it was finally waking up. Two guards were standing at each side of the main door, dressed neatly, bodies pin straight and eyes hard, it made a lump form in your throat. Maybe it’s not going to be so easy.

They didn’t spare you a glance first, even if you now stood right in front of them and you were a little thankful for that. You clear your throat, clasping your hands before you. “Ehm — hello, may I go outside?” Even by clearing your throat, you still sounded like a hurt kitten. ‘Even my voice is not on your side.’

Finally they take a glance at you briefly, before giving each other looks that you couldn’t quite place. You stood there for a while, swinging on your feet slightly. The one on your right with fair hair and looking a little older than you sighed. You weren’t so sure about his age, after all you feel like this house only reeks of the undead but this man didn’t look like it. He doesn’t have the aura around him, the different eyes or anything. He looked like you, human. His company however didn’t. He was more like your age, tall and skinny with dark curly hair and light eyes which for a second reminded you of him. This was interesting. Were there many like you here?

The older man step out, unblocking the view of the door. “I will accompany you, miss.” He said. At that excitement pumped through your veins, finally feeling some kind of relievement in these past days.

You shake your hand, waving him of, making your way to the door. “You don’t have to.”

Before you could wrap your hand around the handle, he put his hand on it, again blocking the entry with his body. You look up at him at that. “I will accompany you, miss.” He said slowly, not that sternly but letting you know that you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay.” You replied. The prices you have to pay to just get a whiff of fresh air…

The other man step aside as well, probably to not get hit with a stream of light that might shine through the now open door. You are curious about what is and what is not true about these creatures but you can tell for sure that they did not like the sun. It wasn’t that sunny outside however but you could smell the warm spring peaking around the color. The sky was still grey, maybe it was because of where you are, middle of the woods and cut from any other people that weren’t residents of this house. But is it really a house? It looked like a mansion, mixed with cathedral, you couldn’t quite place it. At least you now had time to fully analyze it.

The man walked few feet behind you and you find yourself not minding it that much, maybe because he was like you. Did he knew about who — what he was working for or was he compelled? That question ran through your head while you walk around the building, however you didn’t ask. It was none of your business but you hope that they did not keep him, like a alive blood bag…

Tracing your fingers over one of the statues, you wondered again where this marvelous place was located or more like where you were right now. You remind yourself that they had the power to do everything and more, you almost scoffed how easy it must be for them to live. The nicer weather even made the bushes bloom, you remembered that they were empty just days ago but now red roses peaked out from them.

You touched one of the roses softly, it wouldn’t propably hurt anyone to pick one up but you still glance back at your company that watched you silently the whole time. “Can I have one?” He raised his eyebrow, looking confused to why you would ask permission for that but still nodded nevertheless.

You snap the stem then, careful not to cut your finger because that definitely wouldn’t end well if you did. Twirling it between your fingers, you decided to go around, to the direction where you would look out of your window. Just as you wanted to cut the corner you suddenly appeared somewhere else.

The smell hit your nose, just as well the noises of the animals in the stables. Your mouth opened slightly. The stables were right at the edge of the mansion, so there was no way for you to ever guess to be meet with horses. You thought that vampires enjoyed more of dead company than anything. Glancing back momentarily at the guard, seeing that he doesn’t have anything against you to you going there, you pick the end of your long coat and step inside.

The heads of the horses peak out at you and you immediately went to pet each and every one of them, still careful because there wasn’t certitude that they would like you but to your surprise they did. The second your hand touch the soft skin of their neck, it seemed that almost a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Petting an animal really does help with nerves. As you passed through them, giving them each enough pets for them and for you to be satisfied, you came across a one horse that had its back to you. It probably could sense your presence, turning to finally walk up to you and have a look and you gasp softly at the beautiful white color and the black spot at it’s back.

Your lips after so long lift softly at the corners as it leaned into your open hand. You really don’t want to pick and choose favorites but this one surely speak out to you and it definitely liked you the most so far out of everyone. The stables were big, bigger than you expected, this place sure has it’s secrets and surprises.

A loud noise startled you, hand jumping away from the neighing horse to whip your head to the direction. There at one of the stalls stood a man, leaning on the wood, looking you over and you wondered if he’s been there the whole time. Your body stiffened at his dark eyes and matching black hair.

“H-Hello.” You greeted, unsure, looking back your company that to your surprise kept his distance, standing at the entrance to the stables. Looking back to meet the eyes of the lean, tall man, you don’t receive any answer. He looked like one of those statues in the gardens, the aura and his unraising chest giving you the answer about who — what this man truly is.

The horse you were just petting nudge the back of your head, making you jump before your focus was back on the still silent vampire who was still sizing you up. You cleared your throat, straightening your back, suddenly feeling insecure under his gaze. “I am–“ Before you could finish introducing yourself he beat you to it.

“I know who you are.” He said.

“Oh…”

A small smirk appears on his face at your response. “My brother can’t shut his mouth about you.”

‘Really’ You thought. You weren’t so sure what to say to that so you kept quiet. The silence however made you feel uncomfortable, turning around to continue at your petting of the horse. As you do that you could feel him getting closer, you couldn’t hear his footsteps but the burning stare at the back of your head gave him away. You turned back to him, his gaze hard but not looking so unwelcoming, maybe it was just his natural expression and also he was much closer to you that you thought. Basically right next to you

“I’m sorry for asking this but…” You begin. “–are you all…following me?” The question was answered by silence, his face unmoving. “I feel like you are…”

He hummed almost like in thought, his own attention falling to the animal before you two. “Just keeping an eye on you, like everyone.” The vampire answered. ‘What does he mean by everyone?’ Your eyes briefly flicker to the guard.

“Hyunjin likes his sleep…” He continued, making you snap out of your thoughts to look at him as he nodded his head to the direction of the horse. “You ride?”

You shook your head widely, still slightly stuck at his statement. “Oh n-no, but I for sure always wanted to try.” You careased the soft skin of the horse, smiling at it’s noises of contentment.

The vampire watch you in silence, petting the happy animal. The news of your existence shocked everyone, it was such a crazy theory that even he didn’t know what to think. He, like everyone else didn’t want to give Hyunjin the satisfaction that maybe he was right about you. The fact that this animal, your so called soulmate’s untenable horse let you pet him so freely was for sure a little significant. All eight of them had their own look at you at some point, peaking from behind corners in curiosity. Their brother was so mesmerized by you that they just had to have a look themselves. They however didn’t expect you to be like this — look like this. Such a beautiful soul but also so sad, wide eyed like you finally opened your eyes after years of living. Walking amongst the living but so close to the dead. Still you looked and smelled so sweet, like a flower, maybe you were just tormented, lost soul like them. Maybe you are more enchanting than you think…

The black haired man startles you as he suddenly opened the gate to let the horse out. “What are doing?” You asked in wonder. The question only made him roll his eyes in annoyance. He was only doing this for him. Maybe if you saw kindest in others, you could finally start seeing it in him.

You watched the vampire as he put the saddle on the horse. “We are going for a ride.” He stated casually, making you choke on your spit. Because of the gate now being open you could fully see how magnificent this animal is and it made you nervous to even approach it now.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He again rolls his eyes. If this bordered him so much, why was he even doing it then? Your body froze slightly as he suddenly made his way up to you, so quickly that you didn’t even have time to react. One second you were on the ground and now you were being picked up by your waist like you weighed nothing. A small gasp leaves you. “Wait! Wait, I don’t even know your name…”

“Seungmin.” He answered simply, while helping you up on the horse’s back and if you weren’t so focused on balancing yourself you would’ve seen the small amused smile.

The vampire walked with you in his arms, before helping you to get fully seated. “Wait! Aren’t you not supposed to be able to go outside.” You stated, clutching the leather of the saddle tightly as the animal moves under your weight.

A sigh, almost like a laugh comes through his nose at your words. “I appreciate your concern but however the sun can’t harm me from here.” You opened your mouth in realization.

You were know seated on the horse, body so rigid that now you were the one looking like a statue. The vampire still had his arms stretched out, like you were going to fall at any second into them but you were basically frozen at your spot. The animal moved a little, making you grip the saddle even tighter.

“Do you want to go down?” Your company asked softly. You didn’t say anything because you simply didn’t know the answer but as seconds passed by you started to not mind your position. Maybe the whiplash from how quickly you were put so high up was wearing out. “Or do you fancy a walk around the castle?”

Your head snapped to his direction. “Can I?” You asked softly.

“What do you think.”

You sighed through your nose, body not so tense anymore. “I would love to.” You really would.

His lips formed into a small smirk and not because of your words but from the annoyed sigh coming from inside the house that only he was able to hear. His hand then wrapped around the reins, making the horse move from it’s spot, you immediately tensing up again. But after some few steps as you walked your way to the direction of the guard who you almost forgot about, you found the hang of it.

“Accompany her, make sure she doesn’t get hurt on my brother’s behalf and sanity.” Said Seungmin and you couldn’t miss the difference of the tone of his voice nor the way he looked into the man’s eyes.

The guard nodded, blinking away rapidly and grabbing the reins to the horse. “Yes, sir.”

Seungmin turned to you, even if you had the higher ground, you couldn’t possible share the same authority as him. “For my well being I won’t be the one to give you the tour.” ‘Oh? So direct sunlight was the enemy.’ Your eyes then fell on the two man again.

“Just around the forest.”

“Yes, sir.”

You felt a little bad for this unknown man but there was nothing to do. You simply don’t have the power to even have a say about who or who not should be compelled. The way Seungmin now was looking at you, made you think that he could read your thoughts. This intense glare probably came with every vampire though.

You smiled briefly at him. “Thank you, Seungmin.”

He waved you off, looking into the distance. “I did this for myself because I can’t tolerate my brother’s whining any longer.”

“Huh…” You frowned because you couldn’t imagine him doing that, eyes traveling back again at the vampire who stood under you.

“You made a choice to stay.” He stated. “So at least try to enjoy it and stop your own whining.”

“Excuse me?” Flies out your mouth because had nothing other than that to say at the moment but he just ignored your question, turning around to make his way back inside, exactly as the sun appear on the exact spot he stood second ago.

“Goodbye miss Y/N.”

‘Vampires are going to be the death of you.’

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It was a cold night, so cold that even Hyunjin shivered. Though was it really the breeze, coming from behind the closed door that made goosebumps appear on his skin, perhaps it was the unsettling feeling bubbling inside his chest, ready to burst at any moment. He stood behind the closed door to your bedroom, silently getting over the words inside his head. His thoughts were so loud that he didn’t even have time to listen. Hyunjin listened to the sound of your beating heart every second, since you’ve been here, even the many walls separating you apart couldn’t safe you from his ears. The thumbing soothes his soul, like a lullaby but now the sound makes his ears ring. The sound…so close yet so far.

He wanted you to know that yours made his own beat again. There’s no way for him to express his emotions throughout words. He tried plenty of different ways to show his devotion to you but you dodged every one like a bullet. Did you even know that every second without you made him mad? It made his skin crawl, itching, burning and fangs hurting and wanting nothing more than to pierce the soft skin of your neck and make you his. Hyunjin wanted to mark you so bad that he had to bite his own lips to ease the temptation, while imagining they were yours instead.

The vampire didn’t want to say this but your rejections were so confusing to him. He knew how and what he could evoke in humans, he was the creature that trilled on the seduction and the pleasure after all. You however didn’t return it. Or did you? He would like to say that he could see in the depths of the soul that people try so desperately to keep hidden and you weren’t really good at hiding your it. Your eyes gave you away every time he would look into them. The desire, the desperation they held, the wanting and longing to be finally seen. ‘Why won’t you let me in, Y/N?’ Let him in and he promises to ravish every corner of your heart, every piece of your untouched skin and lips…

Hyunjin has to contain himself a little but how when you were the reason and also the answer to his suffering and redemption?

He finally found the courage to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the old mansion, like the creaking wood under his feet and yet he didn’t hear anything from the other side. He waited a little bit for an answer but every moment made suffering even worse. Hyunjin knew you were in there…so he let himself in. He hopes you won’t be angry with him.

His eyes traveled over the room. From the unmade bed, to the multiple books on one of the nightstands. They stopped at the open window to the balcony, the very reason of the cold seeping inside the room. The strong wind made the heavy curtains float but the smell of your sweet scent didn’t immediately hit his nose, like he expected. Sense of panic washed over him, making him take quick steps to the balcony. ‘Have you ran away, jumping from the balcony and running for freedom through the forest? What if you were injured?’

Just as quickly as the panic had reached him, it flew away through the wind as a gasp ringed in the air. He turned around, coming face to face with your shocked expression and he had to slightly sigh in relief, taking in the smell of your skin.

One moment you were enjoying your bath in silence, washing away the smell of the animal you spent your whole day with and then there was a vampire standing inside your bedroom. You didn’t expect him to visit you at all and definitely not so soon after the horrible dinner and also not so late but what seemed like late to you was the beginning of the day for him. Your white nightgown gave you little to no coverage, wrapping your arm around your chest, the man following your action before quickly everting them. “May I ask what are you doing here unannounced?” You spoke up, eyes glancing at how the moonlight casted shadows on his face.

Hyunjin look up at your words, glancing over your figure so quickly that you didn’t even catch it. He had to licked his lips to ease the thirst. ‘God what she’s doing to me?’

“I did.” He said. “I knocked but you didn’t answer.”

“Alright.” You said, nodding not really sure what to say to that. You again watched each other in silence for a while. These moments were making you unsure if they made you uncomfortable or…comfortable. His presence doesn’t brother you that much anymore but you still haven’t got used to it.

Pressing your lips together, you walked to your bed, passing by him shifty. He had to take a deep breath as the wind blew your hair away from your neck. You knew exactly what he was doing as there was no need for him to breathe at all, however you tried to ignore it. You climbed into the bed, taking the duvet closer to your chest. It created a small imaginary distance from him, shielding you from his glaring eyes but you knew that if he wanted to he would tear it apart together with you.

You gave him a look of wonder because for what was he exactly here for? The expression made the vampire snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “I came here to talk to you.” Hyunjin answered simply.

You frown. “To talk to me?” You quoted. “About what?”

He gave a weird look, almost like in thought, before he sighed. “Anything…” He walked up at you, stopping just at the end of the bed. “I just want your company.” Hyunjin almost sounded desperate and how he towered over you, it reminded you of something.

How he looked at you that night and how he made you feel. You knew that it was just your imagination, a dream and it didn’t particularly ended well for you but the way he made almost everything look so appealing…His sultry voice and his eyes, lips, hands — your eyes flicker to his rings, wrapped around his long fingers.

Looking up from the dark color of the duvet, you could see that he had moved a little closer to you with just a moment of your inattention. He leaned his weight on the column of the bed’s canopy, just where your legs were. “Minho said you enjoy reading.”

“Yes.” You said carefully. How can you be surprised?

He hummed at your answer, warmness spreading inside his chest because you shared something in common — and of course he couldn’t forget about love for animals…

Glancing momentarily at the one book on the nightstand, he could see bookmark peaking out from it. “What book did you picked?”

Biting your lip, you also look at the book before placing your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “Would it be bad if I said Dracula?”

Hyunjin laughs, genuine smile on his lips and you couldn’t help yourself but marveling over it. “Interesting, I wonder why the sudden interest in vampires.” There was still the same smile on his face, though now teasing you.

You were so taken back by his reaction that your own lips started to tug at the corners. “Hey, don’t laugh.” You tsked, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s more interesting to why you even have this book in your library.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, still amused.

A sudden big gush of cold air flew from the still open balcony inside the room. It made goosebumps appear on your skin and just as quickly as your reaction to the sudden cold appeared on your body, the man before you took action upon seeing it. “Are you cold? I will close it.” Hyunjin didn’t even give you time to answer, walking to the windows to close it.

Your hungry eyes stared at his back and even from here you could see the muscles underneath the tight shirt. If only he knew that the shiver weren’t only from the cold. The vampire turn around slowly after closing the balcony, looking right at your laying figure. There was so much to say but nether of you knew where to start.

But you however had enough of this killing silence, feeling the way your heart skipped a beat after glancing at him. “I’m sorry but I was just going to bed and —“

“I understand.” He didn’t even look angry nor sad with your words, not like at the dinner. “I will talk to you some other time…”

You nodded again, still being slightly tongue tied. Again watching him walk away from you made you feel empty. Why were there so many mixed feelings? You really don’t know what you want from him…maybe the truth.

Just as walked pass your bed you stopped him with your hand raised. “Wait!” He immediately turned around, almost like waiting for you to say that. “Can I ask you something?” The man in question kept quiet, giving you room to speak.

You also went quiet, basking in the silence. The only noises being the wind banging on the closed windows and you could even hear the frequent dripping of water coming from the bathroom. To your surprise he still kept quiet and unknowingly to you also enjoying this moment. Maybe it was just because he could look at your figure so freely as you were to occupied with your thoughts. You always have to be the one to destroy every pleasant moments like these…

“That night if those men didn’t appear what would you truly do…I know that you already answered but—“

“I am failing to understand…”

Oh, but he did. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You were watching me before, syzing me up…” God, what are you doing, you two were doing so good and now you are messing it all up…

Your mouth was open still, both of you waiting for the million dollar question. But you couldn’t immediately form it, the glare he was giving you made you scared to even think about it. He was giving you a warning look but you still said it anyway.

“Were you going to drink my blood?”

A sneer falls over his features and you wondered how this same face could even form a smile minutes ago. “Why are you asking such question?” He tried to warn you to not go further but the damage was already done. Why can’t you leave things in the past? Was it because you were human that you couldn’t let go so easily?

You watch how his knuckles turned white around the column and you were afraid that he might crush it into pieces. What if that was your throat instead? “I just want to know…did you really have no intention of drinking from me?” You can’t be in the wrong for asking this…

“I can’t answer that.” Whispered Hyunjin, head hanging low and praying that you would just let this go for his and your own sake.

“Yes, you can.” You declared slowly, duvet falling over your body as you sit up to get closer to him. Was he shaking?

“No…”

Your scoff rings inside the room next, head shaking at his stubbornness. You both know the answer already but you needed to hear it to be sure. Maybe it could finally make you hate him…He on the other hand had a really hard time to contain himself. You don’t even know that you were playing with fire right now. Someone so afraid yet blindly teasing the snake with a bare foot at the same time.

“Just tell me damn it! Would you had killed me if they didn’t showed up?”

“No! I was just—“

“Just what?” The question comes out sharper than you intended.

Finally Hyunjin look at you. Long hair covered his eyes, shielding the vibrant color dancing in them. The silence now didn’t sound the same as before. It was exactly the silence before a storm. You suddenly realized what you had done but it was too late now. You completely turned him around. The way he looked right now, perfectly mirrored the way he had looked at you the very first night you met. “You’re—your blood.” He pulled his hand away from the column and even in the darkness you could see the dents in it from his fingers. “I’ve never smelled someone so delicious as you before.” Closing his eyes, a sigh dangerously close to a growl left him. “And you were just in the perfect position — all alone and oh so mesmerized.” Opening his eyes again, he listened to your loudly beating heart. “If they didn’t come…if you wouldn’t scream for help.” He stopped himself from going further, you both know that this confession was all you needed. “I didn’t kill you after that because I have never felt so bad about my victim before…and also seeing you in such pain — I couldn’t possibly continue it.”

Your face crunched up, his raw words bringing out the mentioned pain to the surface but you decided to stay strong for a little longer. “So you would’ve just killed your soulmate or whatever you call this and you wouldn’t even know.”

Next, so quickly that you even had time to blink, he was on you. From the end of the bed, he suddenly appeared before you. His body covered yours and you couldn’t do anything but look into his wild eyes. He was so so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips as he spoke up. “Be quiet.” He growled, his red eyes glaring into yours and after a long time you felt like fainting from fear again. Was this how his victims felt? Your chest that raised with your every breath touched briefly his but you were too afraid to move away.

“You’re not listening, I said vampires can sense the bond easily. So I apologize that your fucking warm fresh—“ His tongue trailed over his bottom lip slightly, glancing at the noticeable vein on your neck. “— pulsing blood pumping inside you is in the way, hypnotizing me so much that I wouldn’t even mind sucking every last drop.” He tilts his head at you. “You wouldn’t even mind…would you, Y/N?” His teasing tone was gone just as soon as it appeared and because of his words you didn’t even feel the hand bruising the skin of your leg.

The tears in your eyes couldn’t be contained anymore. “Sorry for not letting go of the past so easily, sorry for not forgetting that I met my so called soulmate the night I was almost raped and then killed by — you…” Spitting out the word, a pathetic whimper comes out next from you and not because of your crying but by the immense pain in your leg. His left hand gripped your right thigh so hard, that you couldn’t even find the will to fix the skirt of your nightgown that was now bunched up at your waist.

Something in him broke at your tears. What do he do? ‘What have I done’, you thought. The irises around his pupils cleared, face falling into shock. You have never seen such a raw emotion from him before. His now blue eyes glance at his hand. He never meant to bring you pain by his touch but the way your skin spilled over his fingers from how much he gripped it, made him sick to his stomach. He withdrew his hand, like you’ve been the one to burn him and when you sob out in relief he thought he will die again just by that godawful noise.

Both of you could see the obvious handprint on your skin, making you grasp the skirt of your nightgown, letting it fall over your exposed legs. “Get out…” You whispered, his eyes as wide as yours. “Get out!” Screaming the words at him, made Hyunjin almost fall to his feet before you and he had no other choice but to follow your orders.

‘What have I done?’, you thought again, swallowing your sobs. Maybe you really don’t deserve to be loved…

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author’s note:

for my lovey right here: @hanonlymeuu

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***

Imagine a vampire sucked your blood and they didn't even pop a boner. not even half hard. fully flaccid the entire time they sucked your blood. I'd be so humiliated.

﴾ haunt me

pairing: demon!lee minho x f!reader

genre: one-shot, horror au, smut

word count: 11,2K

warnings: small!stalking ⋆ obsessive behavior ⋆ blood ⋆ hair!pulling⋆ ass!slapping ⋆ biting! ⋆ pain!kink⋆ choking! ⋆ small!fear play⋆ dom!leeknow & sub!reader ⋆ rough!sex ⋆ ass up face down!position ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: on Halloween night, you and your friends gather for a classic spirit summoning, eager to make the most of this tradition, unaware that you will be the one to face the consequences…

author’s note: this is actually the first ever thing I wrote here, but I forgot about it but now it’s finally seeing the light of the day

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The blanket around you did nothing for the coldness that seeped into your skin. Your teeth are still chattering, lips dry and nose runny. You should’ve known better, all of you. Your muscles are straining with every small move you make to get yourself a little more comfortable on the hard floor. Your eyes go over the room, finding only disappointment. The costumes, makeup and left over mess reminded everyone of how horrible the party was. You remember how excited you and your friends were. You all spend so much time getting ready, almost freezing to death while walking to the so called party. You looked forward to it so much and maybe you did have way too high of expectations. Everything was awful and mostly — it lacked the Halloween spirit.

Your attention goes back to the television, just as the lead character is being chased by the killer. Her screams pierce your ears, while you take a small sip of the wine in your hands. You and your friends decided to just rather go home and have a small party of your own. The disappointment was so great that none of you had an appetite for searching for another party. However the costume still wrapped around your body was telling you something different. Just watching horror movies and sitting in a costume didn’t fill the need of thrill you so needed.

Soft footsteps are heard, making you all turn, some in fright, thinking that something evil is coming right towards you all, but is just your friend Katherine. The soft light, illuminates her figure clad in dark, long dress, her nails glimmering as she lifts up something to show you. Firstly you only see what seems like a plate, but as another one of your friends goes to switch on a lamp beside you, all of you immediately realize what she was holding.

“Look what I got!” Her voice is chippery, but it holds a small mocking at the end. A series of groans and small sounds echo around you, while your eyes are still on the Ouija board in her hands. Your eyes go quickly over the letters and the planchette. Even with alcohol in your system, you are getting a really weird feeling from the piece of wood. It makes the hair at the back of your head stand up, shivers going down your spine. You are definitely not alone, because your friend Jade is almost trembling from even the thought of using such thing. Your hand falls on top of her messy hair to soothen her, but your eyes are still on the witch who rolls her eyes at her other friend’s noises. “Oh, common, it’s mandatory.”

The girl next to you shakes her head immediately, hand pointing to the board, making the others for a second silent. “You know what happens after using that thing, right?” You have to agree a little with her weariness. You have ever actually thought about talking to the death. Nothing made you believe something evil existed, but also you were not a sceptic. just nothing made you believe there was something more so far. Jade was scared of everything, so your friends didn’t take her warning so seriously and you have to huff softly at that.

“Well, yeah—“ Katherine shrugs, looking down at the Ouija board. “But also no, because I’ve never tried it.”

You watch her as she sits down on the floor before you, your other two friends circling around her to look closely at the wooden tablet. You too can’t help, but tilt your head at it. There were few scratches, dark smudges, but maybe it was that design. “Where did you get this?” You wonder, because you don’t think she has these kinds of things just laying around in her apartment.

She looks up at you, dark eyes peeking out from behind her neon yellow contact lenses. “The thrift store.” Some of you have to laugh shortly at her dry response, some too occupied by the board laying before you all.

“Are there at least instructions?” Wonders out loud your friend Hannah who sits across from you in her scary clown costume.

“Who needs them?”

It has to be the alcohol or maybe you were already getting tired, but as the television is shut off, lights switched off, you have this weird feeling on the back of your head. You scratch at the burning spot, distracting yourself for just a second by liting up some few candles. The flame gives you the small amount of warmth you so desperately need. You can still feel the coldness licking at your skin, but there was also this awful heat gathering in your chest. Were you nervous? Scared? A frown is plastered on your face, eyes never leaving the Ouija board, like the planchette would move at any second.

This uneasy feeling is not shared however, but still your friends seem to get a little quieter. All of you sit on the floor, the only light being the few lit candles around you and the Moon peeking behind the curtains. Was it the thought of doing something you shouldn’t that was scaring you? You refuse to believe that something in the shadows was peaking at you. The paranoia was eating you alive. Your frozen finger digs into your skin, pulse jumping rapidly and you have to remind yourself that it is all just in your head. None of you were touching it so far, however the sight of those scratches, dips and cravings on the board seem to pierce your soul.

You blink rapidly, smudging your makeup, because you have to sigh in exhaustion. You can’t remember the last time you were so paranoid and — scared. Maybe it is only because you have never tried it, but looking at your other friends they didn’t seem too into it. They still chatted between each other shortly, swallowing down the cheep wine. You look down into your own cup, swirling the liquid around as you can’t find the appetite to take a sip right now.

You are startled a little when someone claps their hands together, making your attention move to Katherine who rubs her palms together. “Are we going to do this?” Your eyes flicker to your scared friend, a little tipsier than before, so you are not too surprised by seeing her just nod in agreement. You do not protest either, putting down your cup next to you and outstretching your hands to the planchette that sits in the middle of the floor.

The silence is heavy, completely aware of the darkness wrapping around you, piercing your back. You try to ignore it as best as you can, shaking your head at yourself, pressing your finger lightly on the planchette. Nothing is heard for a second, all of you looking at each other briefly, before Amanda speaks up. “Is anybody here?” She calls out and her voice seem to echo around you almost.

Silence again, but you can’t help, but look around. Though you have to sigh a little when the same question is repeated. “It doesn’t work like that.” You say, cutting through the quiet.

Everyone turns to look at you and your friend can’t help, but raise a challenging eyebrow. “Okay, you try then.” Says Hannah.

You clear your throat a little, swallowing the invisible lump in your throat. The way you are becoming nervous is making you anxious. The blanket around you slips from your shoulders, the cold immediately kissing you. It felt like there was no layer left between you and the darkness. When you straighten your back, shuffling a little closer to the board, your fingers start to tremble. The small frown of confusion by your body reacting like this is visible, but you try to keep it together. Licking your lips, your eyes go around the room, before plastering your eyes back down. “We welcome everyone who wants to join us and if anyone is here, we would like you to make a sign.” You take a deep breaths between each word, not knowing exactly what is suitable to say in this kind of situation.

Your voice seems almost loud in the quiet room, but everyone seems to listen carefully to you. You do too, a little too hard, because the only thing you can hear for a while is your blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes are wide open, searching in the dark behind your friends. You don’t even know for what you are searching, but you feel like the answer is close. You have never talk to the dead, but you can’t say that people who do this are exaggerating. The waiting for something to happen is frightening and you think you have never been so on high alert over something that wasn’t even there.

“Could you maybe knock on something?” Asks Jade, her voice quiet, but in the room even a pin drooping could be heard.

“Or make that candle blow out?”

Questions fly across the room, though nothing happens for a moment. All of you look at each side of the room, your eyes however fall into the hallway where you were sitting next to. Nothing is seen, only those specks of light made by your eyes. However you swear you feel warmth coming from the end of the hallway. It was almost suffocating in a way, already thinking it’s just you, but then something does happen and you feel it yourself as very one else in the room.

“It’s moving….” Exclaims Amanda in shock, staring down at the planchette. Your own breath gets stuck in your throat, because you swear you feel the planchette vibrating under your fingers. Your eyes immediately trail over to your friends in disbelief. It moves subtly in short stops and you have to shake your head at it.

“Who is moving it?”

“It’s not me! You’re doing it!”

The voices of your friends fall to deaf ears. You don’t want to believe it, but looking at the frightened faces of your friends, you can tell that their reactions are completely genuine. Nervous feeling creeps up on you, watching the planchette travel over the board, before it stops at a corner. “Yes?” You say softy the word and you swallow roughly, eyes trailing over the room. You don’t want to believe it, but you are now left with no choice. “Is it yes that someone is here with us?” You ask again, listening carefully.

For a moment you only hear your friends’ whimpers of fear and your own heart in your ears, but then a small tap is heard behind you. Your head whips around quickly, your own gasp matching with the others as you stare with wide eyes at the window behind you. Only the Moon and swinging trees can be seen, nothing other than that. You turn back around to look at your friends, but your eyes fall onto something different.

The candles around you seem to rise, flame flickering and bending like something is blowing at them. Your own face of your fear, makes them look into the direction and few hushed curses are being shared across the room. “Holy shit–“ Says Hannah.

“Maybe you left the window open?”

“You know damn well that I didn’t, Jade”

You are not following their conversation again, lost in thought or to be honest you can’t even think straight right at this moment. Your face scrunches up, shivers going down your spine. You eyes widened again, freezing in your spot. The side of your body burns, it left like something was poking you, telling you to turn around. You can’t move however for a second, from the corner of your eye watching your friends panic over the planchette moving again, but you are not even touching it anymore. The thing that frightens the most is the feeling of someone’s eyes staring at your back.

Your head turns slowly around, body screaming at you not to, but something is controlling you, pushing you to look back into the hallway. The hot air rushes to your face and it wasn’t from the candles. When you finally turn to glance into the darkness, your blurry eyes from not blinking at all don’t see anything for a moment, but soon from the darkness appears a sphere, then it forms and forms till it turns into a silhouette of a person.

You gasp, breath getting stuck in your chest. It is eery, horrifying sight and even if you finally blink rapidly, like it was just your own eyes playing tricks on you, it only seems to get closer. It reaches for you and you want to pull back, but can’t. You watch the mass of darkness become fuller slowly, before you see pair of red beaming eyes forming out of it. You lips fall apart, a loud scream at the back of your tongue, but before it can fall out of you, the candles that you just now realized became even higher dim back down by blink of an eye.

The sound of the board being thrown across the room, makes you snap out of the trance, scrambling away, just like your friends. You are breathing hard, head turning to look at others who only have their eyes on the board in the corner of the room. And you at the moment realize in your frightened state that you have been the only one who saw the truth.

────

With every step, with every breath you took, your head would turn around. Paranoia seemed to follow you the moment you left your friend’s apartment and you hoped that was the only thing truly following you. You lived quite far, too late to catch the last bus, leaving you to walk your way home. However you were at least walking through the city and maybe you were just imagining the burning eyes at the back of your head. And if you weren’t, a look from a stranger couldn’t make you feel like this. Someone — something was sizing you up, following you, perfectly mimicking your movements like your own shadow and just as you though you caught it, turning around swiftly — nothing, only a crowd of people who didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You didn’t either, there seem to be invisible to you and the thing following you that couldn’t be seen either however, had a strong sense of presence. Was there really safety in numbers? After a while, every little noise made you jump, laughter and occasional screams of terror when the unreal monsters jumped at someone, made your head spin. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe, like you already you have already considered, it was only in your head. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to try and talk to the dead and on this night specifically as everyone around you made your delusions even stronger.

You couldn’t breathe. Every time your feet moved faster, it seemed to be even closer to you. So close you that you could feel it reaching the back of your neck or was it just the wind? Your eyes trailed over the people. No one was looking at you, everyone minded their own, drinking the night away and crowding the small square. What if you and your friends decided to go here instead and not the party? What if you wouldn’t play with the board?

Your stroll slowed down to a full stop. It felt like whatever that was following you disappeared, but also at the same time seemed even closer to you. Just out of sight. You didn’t want to search for it, but something was telling you to do so. You stopped at the middle of the crowd, eyes almost like being pulled by a magnet stopping on a one specific place. The people walked through your line of vision before it become clear to you why you were so drawn to that spot.

There — right there, under the roof of a stand stood what it looked like a man by his slightly broad shoulders and short hair, but by the shadow which the roof casted on him, you couldn’t even get a glimpse of his face. However that wasn’t necessary. The way he stood…from his whole body radiated this menacing, evil aura that made your whole body freeze. Your breath was taken away from you, eyes wide, staring at the unknown figure. The same, almost even more intense wave of fear washed over you, it felt the same when you looked down the dark hallway. He didn’t feel like a real person, he felt like something way more than that. Something dark and hungry and it was staring right back at you. You didn’t see his eyes, but you just know. This couldn’t be real…

This couldn’t be real. Things like this don’t exist and if they did you feel like they would be more documented. You weren’t a true believer nor a sceptic, but you really didn’t feel like wanting to know the truth right now. He, it didn’t move and even by blinking, it didn’t vanish like you wished it would. It was probably just a person, a person with a really scary costume.

A gasp leaves you as suddenly someone elbows you. You turn to the person, catching there sneer and you realize that maybe standing in the middle of the street wasn’t a good idea. You looked stupid, but that was the least of your worries as you glance back at the man, only him being nowhere to be found. Were you just imagining things at this point? Maybe your fear was only playing with you. You ignore the weird occurrence as best as you could, deciding to continue heading back home. Your apartment was just few blocks away and at the thought of finally being inside your safe space makes you pick your pace.

The feeling of being followed doesn’t leave you however, but you keep your head high in a mock confidence, showing whatever this thing was that you are brave. You really weren’t much of an actress, because as soon as you reach the entrance door to your building, you rush to unlocked it, slipping in quickly, like the thing would just squeeze right through you. The doors slam shut loudly and you hope that none of the other residents won’t come to scold you. The more you walk your way up the stairs to your apartment, the more you don’t acknowledge the creepy feeling that someone is watching you.

Your apartment door shines brightly at you and you out of breath fumble with your keys. The satisfying click and smell of your home made you sight out in relief. You were so happy to be finally inside, greeting your cat who waited for you just as you opened the door. Your hands smoothen down her fluffy hair, sighing at her calming purring. Everything that happened flew over your head as you finally started to feel at ease. Like you thought — it was just your imagination, nothing more…

You weren’t one for drinking till you passed out, but you find yourself stumbling just a little as you pull off your shoes, already ruined just by a one night of walking. Making your way into your kitchen, you go to give some food to your fluffball who meowed at your every move and that sound really ease your racing heart.

Putting down the bowl on the floor, you watch your cat eating away for a second. You are lost in thought, though nothing specific was running through your head, just blankly staring into space. But just as you move to make your way to your bedroom, you saw something shift from the corner of your eye. Looking up, you however find nothing, but the dark corner of your unlight living room and at that your patience runs low. For yourself, because you can’t believe that you are making yourself see things in your own home where you are supposed to feel the safest.

You flip the light switch next to you, illuminating the room in subtle orange hue, your eyes still unmoving from the spot and still nothing was there. A sigh leaves you, but you refuse to say it was out of relief. At that you went to take your upper layer off, also fixing yourself something knowing that if you won’t eat or drink something, it will kill you in the morning.

You are exhausted, a heavy weight on top of your shoulders telling you to just lay down. In some way however you are still on high alert, maybe the aftermath of your own self scaring you. You thought about showering, but to be honest you didn’t have the energy to do all of your routine at this hour and also there is nothing for you to wash off.

You stumble again, but now over the bottom of your dress, catching yourself just in time with your hand on the doorway to your bedroom. The sheer, soft fabric is thrown on your bed, ignoring the mess all over the room. The corset around you didn’t suffocate you and you wonder what exactly is it that is making you lose your breath. Your hands fumble over your back, fingers just at the lacing of your top, but just before you can pull at it, you hear a noise.

It was loud and it momentarily makes you look back into the direction of your living room. You sigh shortly after, shaking your head at your own delusions. It was just your cat probably. However when you again go to pull at the string of your corset, you hear a meow right beside you, before you see your cat jumping into your field of vision on your bed. You freeze slightly, hands stilling. It is an old building, it makes noises all the time — it was nothing. You try to gaslight yourself by thinking it didn’t even happened, but then there’s even a louder bang! coming from behind you.

Your head whips around wildly, hair falling into your wide eyes that stare into your dark hallway. You feel your heart pounding against your chest and in your state of shock you are not quick enough to stop your cat from running to the direction of the noise. Your hands outstretch before you, in hushed whisper pleading your cat to come back, but her fuffy, long tail is soon gone from your vision. You hate the lump forming in your throat and the way your bottom lip quivers. That noise almost again makes you wonder if you imagine it, but then you hear it again, now in series of three bangs that echoed in your apartment. It sounded like knocking, mocking you to let whoever — whatever it was in, but what if it was already here with you? It sounded like the noises were meant for you to come in, get closer.

The noises weren’t the only thing making you frighten, it was also the way the air around you seems to drop in temperature. You immediately shiver, goosebumps appearing all over your body. But there was this odd warmness, starting right at the entrance of your open bedroom door. It was so appealing…

You finally take a step closer to the hallway when you hear another loud noise. The sudden realization that your cat might be in danger makes you take few steps further even with the fear you held in yourself. You hate her for it, but you are now only scared for her. You quickly look around your room for any kind of weapon, but you find nothing, realizing that your pepper spray was in your purse that you left on your kitchen counter. You just have to be brave…That’s what you try to tell yourself, while slowly making your way out of the room.

The darkness seemed deeper that when you went in your bedroom. It is intoxicating, heavy, it pierces your skin and stings at your eyes. Your lungs scream for air as you try not to breath at all, scared to even make a sound. Your light costume leaves you in very vulnerable state and it makes you wrap your arms around your stomach that grumbles uncomfortably. What if the thing you thought followed you was a man and he somehow got into your apartment? You don’t know if a man is better than an entity, but it certainly would make you feel less crazy. You hope that the knocking was mistaken, that it was only someone at your door. You have to tell yourself that there’s no way for someone to break in, because you locked the door immediately when you came in. However something at the back of your mind is telling you that you have the right to be frightened.

And you were to death, when you stop at the corner, living room just right behind a wall. Your eyes didn’t get use to the darknesss and looking at the threshold leading to your living room, you realized you weren’t going after light. You were only going down the path that seeped warmness, blazing hot, coming right from your living room. There was no light, the one you switched on was left that way, but now there’s not a single flicker of it peeking out. You listen carefully, for your cat or your intruder, but the sound of your heart makes your ears ring, so you had nothing, but your sight right now.

Your hand almost tears the fabric of your skirt as you lean forward a little, squinting into the room. A whiff of the same feeling washes over you again, making you pull yourself back with a choked sigh. It is the same one — like the one you felt while looking into the hallway, like the one when you saw the silhouette of the man and the same one that has been following you. Your eyes become blurry with tears, panicking, mind racing. You have no clue what to do. You have no weapon, your phone is in your kitchen and your keys…right beside the door to your apartment.

It is a bad idea, but if you would run through the living room quickly enough, you can get out. There’s still a chance that the intruder had your keys, so you ask yourself — are you willing to take the chances? Of getting caught by this…thing. You don’t want to leave your cat alone or worse with it, but if you would just make it next door to your neighbor, you can safe her and yourself. Your hand tightens around your skirt, picking it up and sprinting out of your hiding spot, but as soon as you do — you see him.

You choke, the sound bumbling in your throat, your eye staring straight at the silhouette in the corner of your room. Even in the dark, you can see it. The mass of darkness coming from him alone and the hot air suffocates you, just by looking into his direction. Tears stream down your face as you turn back to the direction of the door and back at the man, but then you hear a soft purring sound. Your cat is rubbing herself against the man’s feet and even if you are thankful nothing happened to her, you are terrified from seeing her so close to that man. Her white fur is bright and you almost come rushing to her, but as your eyes go back to the door, you run to that direction instead.

Your hand outstretches, reaches for the doorknob, even if you can see the keys glimmering before your teary eyes there was no salvation for you. You are turned around, roughly pushed to the door and a whimper of pain leaves you as your back meets the wood. Your mouth opens, ready to scream, but like he knew, his hand falls over your lips, silencing your cry for help.

Your teary eyes stare at the faceless person, eyes streaming down your face and pooling at his hand. You are held against the door, but not with his body, it was like your whole body had frozen over. You want to scream in fear, instincts telling you to just run, but you can’t move an inch. Though your body trembles, eyes searching, trying to get a view of this man. He didn’t feel real, his skin is hot, breath fanning over your face. You are starting to sweat from all the different temperatures, sobbing in fear as you hear his lips fall apart.

“Don’t scream.”

His voice is low, quiet yet strong. You don’t want to fulfill his demand, but the tone of voice — it echoed in your mind, repeating and repeating. His hand falls from your lips and you take in deep breaths, choking. You can’t even muster to scream, you can’t and you don’t want to, because he maybe will hurt you. “Please, don’t hurt me — don’t kill me.” You are shuttering over your words, choking again in your tears.

You can see him tilt his head at your pleas, standing right before your shaking body so casually it made you sick. He didn’t even try to do something to you yet and that definitely heightens the terror in you. You sob, crying and you gasping at the sound of him sushing you. You back pressed harder against the door, finally finding enough strength to move just a little away from him, when he leans just a little closer to you. “Where’s the fun in that?” He whispers to you, teasing you almost, amused tone in his voice. You look at him slightly confused, eyes blurry, still not knowing what this man looks like. You don’t feel at ease at his tone nor his words of small assurance. It is like he could see you, because you can hear the click of his shoes, stepping a little away from you. “I thought you wanted me to make myself known?”

You are left even more confused, before it quickly comes clear to you. You can’t — you won’t believe it. Those words pierce you painfully and with seeing him this much away from you, makes you immediately think of the silhouette you have seen following. This man could be just a man, but his words…back at the small seance you spoke them. A sharp intake is heard, shaking your head at the thought of this man being something more. The thought crossed your mind, but you actually never would think that it might be the truth. If it is — if this man is something from the other realm, haunting you, making you tremble in fear that it probably thrives in…you can’t – “No…” Your disagreement is quiet, heart beating wildly in horror as you look over the mass of darkness around him, evil. “This is some sick joke — you are just playing with me. Who’s behind his?” Your words are not making sense anymore to you, too many thoughts of how it could be possible leaves you thinking that it might be just a stupid prank, but no human could make you this sort of fear.

The man sneers, hissing like a snake at your words. It sounded like you just insulted him, gasping loudly when he makes a one big step closer to you and you swear your noses almost bump together. “Do you think your friends can do this?” He says, raising his hand, putting it right before your eyes. Your wide eyes stare at his hand forming into fist and by the act you see the light in your kitchen flickering with every subtle move of his. You look at him, finally seeing in the small flickers of light his face. You didn’t know what to expect, maybe a gross man or the devil himself with horns and a face of death, but you are certainly left speechless.

His dark, brown hair is slightly in his eyes. They shine, deep red at the corners that flicker with the light. Long and sculpted nose leads you to trail your eyes over his high cheekbones to his cupids bow and then his bitten, plump lips. This wasn’t a face of evil, he looked like an angel, no face that should make you feel terrified, but you can see it in his eyes. Sinister, holding evil as well as wisdom that you could never imagine or reach. Even in this small moment you had enough time to look him over, but as his hand closes into tight fist, the sound of the lightbulb shattering makes you fall back into the stage of horror. You can hear your cat running away from the scene and your tears recur, because you finally start to believe. “Do you think your friends could ever make you feel so frightened?” You shake your head, head spinning at what just happened.

He turned on the light with just his hand in the air, with just putting his hand into a fist he crushed it and you don’t want to know what else he can do. “I don’t understand…w-who are you?” You are hyperventilating, praying that is just your imagination again, but you can’t close your eyes and let him vanish from your sight. You need to see him.

“The better question is… what am I?” You are again shaking your head and it’s like he can see your thoughts, because he is making you say out loud what you have been thinking all along. You don’t seem him, but his lips lift up slightly for a moment at his own memory. “When you were playing with that Ouija board, do you know, that you opened the gates for anyone to go through?” A cry leaves you, just as the light in the corner of the room is light up with a flick of his finger. Your eyes stare into his amused ones and somehow you wished you didn’t have to see him. “You didn’t even closed it...”

Realization strikes you, your trembling stopping when you thought of your friends. What if they are also in danger just because of you? You would definitely wouldn’t be able to live with that guilt. ‘What am I?’ His words are the one thing on your mind right now. How much is he dangerous? He doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even breathe it seems, your eyes staring blankly at his face. “Oh, my—“ You can’t even finish the word as his hand quickly by a blink of an eye wraps around your throat.

You feel him squeeze his fingers in a warning, not quite choking you, but it still makes you gasp for air. “Don’t say his name, he can’t help you. You did this to yourself—“

“Are you the devil?” You wonder out loud and his whole demeanor changes, laughing drily at your question.

“I preciete the compliment, but no.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his weird behavior. You still fear him, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to hurt you at all. Maybe he already has you right where he wants, under him with his hand on your throat, playing with your life.

He maybe might not be the devil himself, but he still had those rings of fire around his irises. He is evil, you know it and evil always wants something. Like he said, you have done this to yourself and you have to pay. You know he won’t let you go, he didn’t stop following you from the apartment and even if you know who or maybe what he looks like, it doesn’t calm you down. You still know so little and you wish you didn’t have to know further. You are completely at his mercy and you are pulled back into the present when his hand tightens again, pulse jumping against his fingers.

“Just take what you want—“

He tsked at you, he now being the one shaking his head and you can’t move away from him or even fight against his strong hold as he makes you lean closer to his face. “Be careful with your words.” His upper teeth are revealed with how much he is sneering and it makes you look down at his mouth. His upper front teeth are bigger slightly, but they weren’t the thing that makes your heart skip a beat — his canine teeth were sharp as a razor and you wonder if his sneering is prediction of him maybe biting you, eating at your flesh. “I’m not the type of evil you’re imaging right now…” His voice is a little softer than before and you wonder if he can read your mind.

Then what is he? “T-then what are you?” You ask him, genuinely curious about his answer.

He lowers his head, your breathing stilling, leaving you speechless as he comes close enough to you that your lips are almost touching. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to find out yourself, like the big girl you are?” His breath words bounce off your parted lips, taking in his raw scent.

Heat pools over you, watching him pull away from you just to look back at your face. His words sounded suggestive and you hope your own mind isn’t messing with you. “You won’t hurt me?” Was he just playing with you all along? Just taking in the pleasure of seeing you scared?

“Not if you don’t want me to…I still have to take something.” His dark eyes fall over your body and you want nothing more than to cover yourself, because you realize at the moment how much your costume is provocative.

“Why? I didn’t ask for you — this.”

He tilts his head again, his eyes not holding amusement and you can feel the air thickening around you. “Did you now? Or were your drunk thoughts just speaking for you?” You breathe out, embarrassment making your skin hot at touch and you know he can feel it under his hand.

You are not sure if you wished for it, but it quickly reaches the surface. Your darkest desire of being taken over, filled with heat and pleasure…”Are you—“ You don’t even have to say it as he releases his hold on your throat, just to press his thumb on your bottom lip.

His touch is electrifying, addictive almost and your whole mind and body swirls for a moment. “A demon, that’s all what you need to know.” You almost nod your head in agreement, letting him trail his thumb across your lips, dangerously close to slipping in your warm mouth. You are puzzled by your own behavior, but you can’t fight it. The urge of him just coming a little closer to you, so you can feel more of him is strong. He can see it on your face and then there’s the subtle smile on his lips again, pouting and nodding at how much your body stops to shake. It certainly had an effect on him as wel, but the look on your tear stained face makes the hunger in him even bigger. “Or I could visit one of your friends…” He teases, though also too occupied by the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Just take me.”

You try to justify yourself, that you are doing this for them, but both of you know you want it — need it more. The fear is at the back of your head, forgotten almost replaced by the fuzzy feeling your mind is in. “Careful what you say.” He warns you again, maybe not to provoke him into doing something you didn’t want, but it flies over your head rather quickly.

His touch leaves you, but you don’t search for it as you are again left in small confusion. You know that you somehow wish for something specific, but you never thought it would come in this way. It makes you feel dirty, used already, but also it makes your nerve endings tingle. Desire for pleasure is normal for humans and you wonder how much he has seen them before. “Why me?” You ask him, surely you can’t be the only one on this night wishing.

“You intrigued me — your soul.” He says and his words hit you deeper than they should. “Calling for something to fill this hole in your chest. I can see into places that people so desperately try to keep hidden…tell me, are you hiding something Y/N?” You are taken back by the sound of your name, but you are aware that he must know you better than you know yourself.

“No…”

“Really…interesting.” The soft light creates shadows across his chiseled face, when he leans over you. “The moment I appeared…you didn’t seem so scared anymore. Does this idea of being used by a blood thirsty demon excites you?”

“No…”

The smile is tugging at your heart, a little eery in some way. “Then why can I smell your arousal from here?” You swallow roughly and you soon realize how much you have been pressing your thighs together. You can feel your slick coating your inner thighs, but the embarrassment doesn’t even reach you, because he looks like he drinks it all up. “I’m a demon of pleasure and desire, there’s no need to feel even an ounce of shame…” He is now reassuring you and his soothing voice is so different from the one you heard moments ago.

“But you’re a demon.” You state the now obvious and the statement should make you laugh in disbelief, but it only strikes you with a feeling you definitely feel shame about.

You feel the heat of his skin way before you feel the subtle touch of his hand on your exposed thigh. Goosebumps spread all over your body, swallowing your gasp at how pleasurable just this felt. “And a man still…” His fingers trail over the outer part of your thigh and your leg does jump away a little, but he was too addictive. “Doesn’t this idea of someone inhumanly powerful taking over your body and soul not excite you?” His voice is hushed and it feels so sweet in your ears.

You shake your head, though not doing anything to move away from him. “I won’t let you take my soul.” You can’t let him take the thing that makes you who you are.

“Maybe not…” Your eyes blink at him, head rolling back against the door as he straightens his back to tower over you. “But your body will be mine—“

You have now words, not even a sound leaves you, because you are left paralyzed when his hand squeezes roughly at the soft skin of thigh. Your wide eyes are staring into his, taken back by the bold move. He doesn’t have to hear any permission to touch you, it was all written right in front of him — all over you face, body and even your soul that you seem to be very sure that it will never be his. He has to wonder himself about how much this might be true, because you are responding to his touch like you have never been touched before. Just by his hand, playing with the string of your garter belt that held your white stockings leaves you gasping.

You are in trouble, you know, because you shouldn’t feel this much pleasure from the touch of a demon. However you already feel your body succumbing to him, just like he wanted. His hand travels under the thin layer of your skirt, dipping right into the mess you made of yourself. A sound leaves you unknowingly, head empty as he moves your thighs apart. The skin of your inner thighs is raw from how much you have been pressing your legs together, but you find yourself not caring anymore. With every breath you take, his hand trails higher and he bites his lip at how hot you feel against him.

His eyes travel across your face. Your eyes are barely open and he thinks he has never seen someone so away from their own mind by his moves. And obsessive, disgusting feeling washes over him, watching you sigh out in bliss as the tips of his fingers finally press over your covered clit. Your back arches a little, breasts pushing against your tight corset and he marvels over your barely covered body. “Who are you?” He asks you. You are dirty, thinking that wearing something like this in public is proper. His nature rages at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.

You are slightly puzzled by his question, because the feeling of his hand right between your thighs is already too much for you to handle. “Christine…from Phantom of the Opera.” You response, eyes blinking open at him, just as he starts to form circles over your twitching clit.

“Adorable.”

Sharp moan flies out of your mouth, when he suddenly pulls the material of your underwear to the side. The air kisses your cunt, but it soon is warmed up by his fingers again. You are horrified of yourself right now. Why are you enjoying this? You have to remind yourself who and what is touching you, but you think nothing ever felt better. You have never made yourself and definitely not anyone else almost fall apart just by running your fingers through your folds. He is looking at you so intensely, you want to quiver. “Already this wet?” You can’t feel any shame in you and it is definite that he is making you feel like that. Should you be thankful? He is giving you sheer pleasure, circling your clit directly, after pushing the hood away from it. “Just like that, huh?” You don’t have any response for him, only whimpers of euphoria. “How long has it been?”

Your head rolls back, gasping at his touch. He knew your body better than you. Rubbing just at the perfect pace to make you crazy, pressing hard enough for your hips to buckle. Saliva gathers in your mouth, listening to the noises of your dripping center. You are so lost already that the only thing that makes you wake up is when his movements come to a stop. “What?” You say more because you didn’t want him to stop, looking back at him with big eyes and you realize he just asked you a question.

He leans closer to you, head falling on top of your shoulder so his lips are right beside your ear. He doesn’t really like to repeat himself, but being so responsive to him, he will let you do it once. “How long has it been since someone touched you?” With his question, his fingers travel down, right to your hole.

His breaths hit the sensitive skin of your neck and you have to swallow back a moan when his pointer finger just barely dips inside of you. “Long.” You confess in a whisper.

He smacks his lips, pressing them against your neck so you feel every word that comes from his mouth. “You poor thing, such a pity, but don’t worry—“ He is looking at you again, hand leaving you, making you whine a little and he can’t help but smirk a little. “I will make you feel things you have never felt before.”

With his promise, his hands find the back of your thighs, before he lifts you off your feet. You yelp from how smoothly he does it, pulling you up into his arms and you have no choice, but to wrap your legs around his waist. You are shocked by his strength, not used to being picked up so easily, staring at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t look away from you, even if he walks with you to your couch, not even when he lays you down on it. You feel special in this moment, drowning in the thought of him wanting you, but still his nature is not forgotten. He is made like this, he lives from the pleasure of the other.

Your head falls on the armrest, looking up at him looming over your body. He is already consuming you with his eyes alone and it feels delicious, but it sends a small sense of danger. His eyes flash red under the soft light, body clad in dark clothing perfectly contrasting with yours. Your hands are still in the air, fingers just barely grazing over his broad shoulder, but he soon leans closer to you, letting you hug him again. You feel small, vulnerable and weak, but you don’t want him to know he was right about you liking this. But, oh, trust me that he knows…

His hands grip the fabric of the couch, coming closer to you, placing his lower body right between your parted legs. Your hands seem to push him away from how bashful you have become and he surprises by not entirely rushing you. His head falls next to your neck again, slowly trailing his lips over the skin. Your breathing is formed into short gasps at his wet, soft kisses, eyes falling shut for a moment to savor the feeling. He can smell your perfume, sweat and even blood and it makes him groan quietly, kisses turning rougher, just to get closer to you. “Is this it? Is this all that you want?” You say, shivering still from his own sound.

His lips still for a second, but he doesn’t move away. “Is this what you want?” He now asks you.

You know, you don’t have to think much about your answer, but you still pause for a second. Your fingers twitch on his shoulders, legs closing around his and is it even necessary to give him an answer? The only thing you do is pull is head back down your neck, rolling your head back to give him more room, you are too embarrassed to say it out loud. He lets you, he is letting you have your way a little too much he thinks, but he can’t refuse the offer of your delicious neck.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your pulse, making you moan loudly when he starts to suck all over your neck. His bunny teeth nip lightly at your skin, fighting the argue to just bite down. He feels your nails digging into him, while he moans with you, enjoying just the taste of your skin like this. However the strong scent of your arousal is playing with his head, growling at the thought of eating your cunt. He can picture your face of ecstasy and shock all together. He would suck you all up, fuck you with his tongue and you coating his face in your pleasure.

You are shaking at how rough he nibs and sucks at your neck, the small fear of his sharp teeth piercing your quickly forming into pleasure. But before you can feel it, he releases himself from your neck to slide all the way down on the ground to kneel before you. His sharp movements always leave you in disbelief, your senses not quick enough to keep up with him. You pull yourself up to your elbows, watching him put his hands on your thighs, making your skirt pool at your waist.

Your legs are already trembling, knowing your pussy is left uncovered by his touches, but his attention is still fully on you. “White looks good on you, you almost make me feel bad that I will ruin it—“ The ‘you’ is silent, but the smirk is just a small reminder of what he is capable of.

When his eyes fall down to your cunt, he can’t help, but groan. He maybe is the one living of pleasure of the other, but what he is about to do to you is mostly for him. He doesn’t waste any time, he is inpatient and you as well as he can see from your fluttering hole. He doesn’t trail kisses over your thighs, nothing soft, nothing that you don’t want and when he pulls on your underwear, tearing the fabric he is sure that this is what you really want. It stings a little, the fabric snapping against you, before it is thrown away. His head fall between your legs so quickly your hips jump, clit hitting his nose and hard. Though even if you wanted to apologize, he didn’t seem to mind it at all, only letting his mouth fall open to suck at your folds.

“Oh…” Comes out of you, hand flying over your mouth from the feeling of his blazing, hot tongue running all over you. He spits and drools, saliva mixing with your slick and pooling right under your ass. Your hips keep jumping from the sheer and sharp pleasure. Your clit burns as it is caught between his lips. You are shocked by how quickly you feel yourself on the edge.

His head tilts back, releasing your bundle of nerves with a pop to run his tongue over your labia. Your clit twitches in need, mewing, just as he opens his eyes to stare right back at you. You can’t look away from him, from his red irises, his mouth wide open to catch every drop you give him. The pleasure and pain from his grip on your thighs forms into something else — something you haven’t felt before. You didn’t even know that just by someone going over your lips with their tongue felt so good. You swear you have never been this sensitive and he looks like that he knows exactly how to push you. He doesn’t need any guiding, nothing — he is a true man.

You can’t stop your sounds, the pleasure so good, you think you need to run away from it just to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you, his one hand pressing down against your lower stomach, preventing you from trashing around as his other goes to your hole. When his two fingers breaches you, a silent scream leaves you, your own hand flying to his to stop him, but you are already falling apart. Heat, waves of nonstop pleasure wash over you and your ears ring. Your mouth becomes dry, whimpers turning into cries, because you are sure you are going mad. You didn’t want it to end so soon, you wanted him to stop, to feel more.

Your whole body shakes wildly, the skin of your thighs jiggling around his head. You try to catch your breath while your orgasm is still washing over you, siting up to grasp at his hand. Your mouth is open, eyes now filled with tears, pleading and he watches you in your full glory. “I’m not stopping.” He says, words you so desperately needed to hear vibrating against you, fingers scissoring in you.

You immediately fall back down in relief and you can feel his crazed smile against you. The orgasm is none stopping. You don’t know if it’s because he isn’t stopping or if it was just him, but it is a out of body experience. Your hands press against your eyes, moaning wildly as his fingers pick up speed, tongue not stopping to move your clit up and down. He suck just perfectly, curl his fingers just right and doesn’t stop to take a breath nor to change position — he knows what he is doing. You push your legs up to your chest slightly, wrapping them around his head and the sight is to die for.

His eyebrows are furrowed, hand on your stomach searching for yours to put it in his hair. You instantly run your fingers through his soft hair, before tugging roughly and the deep growl that seems to make the whole room shake, sends you over the edge again. It is stronger, more burning and even painful and he eat it right up. You go silent again, eyes rolling into the back of your head and you pull his head with you also. You do hear him release himself from your messy, puffy cunt, just to watch you fall apart again. You don’t need him to help you ride out your orgasm, it was too good to not let it take over your whole being again.

The taste of you is on his tastebuds, licking at his lips hungrily, before crawling over your body. Your skin is hotter, almost like his and his cock pushes painfully against his pants at your drunk state. You looked beautiful…he needs to have you now. His hand moves your hair away from your sweaty face, making you finally open your blurry eyes. “Kiss me.” You say, hands pulling at the hairs on the back of his neck.

You haven’t seen much emotion on his face before, but this felt unnatural. It was just a split second, but you saw it — disappointment. “I can’t.” He says, shaking his head. His eyes held longing, but he makes you forget about this whole moment by kissing you on your collarbone.

You sigh, pressing your chest closer to him, just as he begins to trail down the valley of your breasts. “Can I at least have your name?” His lips wrap around the soft skin of your breast, sucking it in his mouth.

You hiss, pushing at his head. He sucked a little too hard, maybe telling you something by his action, but before you can question it he glances at you back again. “Minho.” He tells you his name, looking into your eyes as you repeat it softly back. You stare at each other for a moment, you moving around a little and just by it you graze over his bulge. Your leg stops in middle of his legs, gaze still unmoving, even if you press your thigh against him. It makes him hiss and you gasp a the sheer size of it. You can see your own desire reflecting in his eyes and he just couldn’t wait anymore.

His hands fly over to his belt, watching you watching his hands as he works to unbuckle his pants. You are holding your breath as he stands up to push down his pants. Your legs immediately press back together as you finally see him. Your lips parted, drooling almost at the size of his cock. Thick, long, veiny, a little curved just to hit those spots deep inside of you with an angry red mushroom tip covered in cum. You are breathing heavier from just the thought of him splitting you open and ruining you for everyone after him.

Minho is breathing through his nose to take in the smell of your emotions, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and when you sit up, pulling down your skirt, he marvels over the sight of your body covered just in corset and stockings. You looked heavenly funnily enough. When he pushes his shirt from his shoulders you sigh at his muscular body — he was simply perfect. “Turn around.” He demands, voice so low you almost do a double take and when you don’t do immediately as he says, he just does it for you.

He moves you down the couch, turning your body around so your face is pressed into the cushion. Your ass raises in instinct and it grates you a smack across your right cheek. You cry into the couch, the soft skin rippling under his eyes. Then it’s his cock, slapping against you, before laying it flat between your asscheeks. “Fuck, look at that, I’m gonna split this little pussy apart.” You moan back at him, already hazy from just him humping against you teasingly. “Think you can handle it? Oh, you will, all of it—“ He is basically talking to himself right now, already drunk on you.

You are a little concerned, you have never taken something so big, but the thought of him not fucking you dumb is making you whimper like a bitch in heat. You don’t even recognize yourself. You press your ass back at him and Minho only slaps you again, but he finally at that guides his cock to your entrance. The sight of his precum mixing with yours is sending him over the edge, not believing that you are letting him fuck you raw, even if he sees it in the back of your mind. It makes him pull your head back roughly, wanting to watch you crumble on his cock.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, seeing the wild look in his eyes, pretty lips forming into ‘O’ as he finally pushes his tip inside of you. Just that is already too much, but you subconsciously push your hips back at him, swallowing another inch. He lets you adjust, because the way he will fuck you — you will need it. With only hallway through you already feel full to the brim, him already pressing against your cervix, but he is determined to fit all in. He knows you can do it and just after few moments, your ass is finally perfectly flush with his pubic bone.

Your walls suck him right in, wet, warm and soft. He wonders if he is the one being enchanted right now. His hand trails over the string of your garter belt again, loving the way it digs into your ass from how much you arch for him. Minho leans over you again, making him press into you even deeper and he sharply exhale at his tip basically breaks your cervix. “Feel that?” His hand falls down to press at the bulge on your lower tummy. “I’m in your fucking stomach that’s how fucking deep I am—“

“M-Minho—“ He enjoys his name falling from your mouth so much that he accidentally pushes a little too hard against your stomach. To his surprise you only moan louder, hips pushing against him. An open wide smile stretches across his face, watching you move your ass against him.

Your movements are put into stop rather quickly as he pulls out, before pushing into you again with a deep, long thrust. Your mouth is wide open, drooling on the couch already. You feel an abnormal tingling sensation, with his every move of his and with everything that happened that led to this moment it felt worth it. Your pussy molds into a form of his cock, making him smoothly pick up his pace. His one leg on the couch and the other on the ground gives him leverage and with the first sharp thrust of his, you both moan, the sound perfectly mixing with the wet slaps of your skins.

It’s not soft or loving, it’s hard. cock pushing with every move even deeper into you if it’s possible. You are too far gone to do anything other than to take him, your own hand pressing against the bulge in your stomach. It’s sickening how much you enjoy feeling his cock run into you under your hand. Minho has to hiss with every trust in your swollen cunt, hands pinching at your ass and pulling at the strings digging into you. “So g-good— ah!” Your face buries back into the couch, when he snaps at the string, skin burning.

Minho is literally going mad, thrust so harsh, that the couch rocks a little under you both. You can’t believe how much you enjoy feeling pain mixed with pleasure just like he enjoys doing it. The sight of your ass bouncing, hands tearing the material under you and mostly your sounds — he knows that he has to have you someday again. His hand pulls at your hair again, not even missing a beat as he pulls you to his chest. You can’t hold yourself on your own and he helps you rather kindly, with his hand on your neck again, but now he is not being gentle. “Fucking look at you—“ He laughs at your fucked out face staring up at him and he knows he is not looking any better. “Ever thought you would enjoy a demon cock this much?” You choke around the hand on your throat, legs shaking under you. He needs to see more of you, all of you. So he quickly pull out of you, not missing a beat and turning you around to lay you on your back again. You can’t even grumble, because he is inside you back again and the view you have is better than you could’ve asked for.

You don’t say anything, when he rips through the front of your corset, tits spilling out and bouncing immediately with his none stop movements. He spits down right at your nipple, making you gasp at how sensitive it is, feeling his thumb smear the liquid all over you, marking you. Your own hands dig into his hard chest, droopy eyes catching his, before he goes down to your neck, now biting roughly. It makes you arch your back, his sharp teeth piercing you and it doesn’t even hurt half as much as you thought it would.

Moaning, Minho licks at the small drops of blood, eyes rolling back into his head at your sweet taste. Everything about you was so fucking sweet, he can’t believe his own luck right now. Your nipples catch on his, letting you hug him close to you and with the trembling in your legs, he knows you are nearing your orgasm again. “I-I am close—“ You can’t even voice out your words with his rapid moves, feeling yourself drip down on the couch. Your clit rubs deliciously over his pubic bone and with you walls spasming you can feel him twitching inside of you, knowing that he’s getting close too. You just need so desperately something to get you over the edge, something that would make this experience even better and soon those words are spilling out of you. “P-please….kiss me.” You whimper in his ear.

Minho pulls away from your neck, seeing small smear of your blood on those plump lips. “I-I can’t.” He repeats the same words to you and you can’t help, but cry.

“Why?”

“It will tie us together, a kiss will ties us together and you will have to be mine forever.”

He is loosing himself, never he had thought about kissing someone, but yours lips — so perfectly bitten and definitely sweet as every part of you are calling his name. You hear his words, you realize what he is saying, but why would any of you want to end this so soon?

“I want it, I truly want it, Minho—“ Your hands press against each side of his flushed face, his eyes wide, going between your eyes and lips, before he finally leans in.

The whole room around you seems to be set on fire around you, tongues tangling around each other. You taste yourself on his lips and mostly him. You are moaning into him, biting down on his lip, like he did to your neck and he groans lowly when your own teeth breach his skin, mixing your blood now with his. “I’m yours—“ You mumble between kisses, just as you fall apart on him, squeezing him. Minho can’t help, but smile into the kiss, hips stilling as his cock swells, twitching inside of you. He fills with his warm cum, not stopping at kissing you. He will be here every day and every night like this for you and for himself, for eternity, because he found something more pleasure than anything else he ever knew.

And that was you.

﴾ she’s my collar

pairing: han jisung x f!reader

genre: idol au, one-shot, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: alcohol use ⋆ choking ⋆ mutual!choking ⋆ switch!han and switch!reader ⋆ mostly sub!han ⋆ mommy!kink (ehm…yup) ⋆ spitting! ⋆ fingering (f. receiving) ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: while playing a game of spin the bottle, you learn some very interesting things about your friends that night, but probably the most memorable one of them is when the cute boy next to you confesses his dirtiest dream

author’s note: another boy absolutely obsessed with the reader, but that’s exactly how it should be

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You lick your lips, tangy liqueur burning at the back of your throat. Mind fuzzy, you feel your body softly vibrating with the side effects of your sugary drink. Even after one taste you just knew it would not be long, before you would feel your body loosing up, laying back in to the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. The bartender, your long haired friend, sure is not shy with alcohol and looking around the room your blurry vision falls on the mess on the living room floor. If you knew that you would be in such a state like this, you wouldn’t spend so much time getting ready. The black dress, which was probably way too formal for a small house party, started to stick to your skin from the humid air and alcohol in your system. You pulled your hair up just to feel the light breeze going through the room, skin glistening in the soft light, itchy slightly with sweat. You just know you look like a total mess, but there is someone who finds himself disagreeing with this statement.

Han nervously played with the liquid inside his glass, thirsty, but not taking a sip, because he couldn’t miss the opportunity to literally gawk at you. He wasn’t subtle with his looks, but you out of anyone didn’t notice it. Maybe because you got kind of used to his big, doe eyes looking at you or maybe you are simply oblivious. His friends already knew about his little fascination with you, but they didn’t say anything — but one thing about it was funny. Han looked like he didn’t know it himself.

Did he really not realize how much time he spends just staring at you? Tonight especially. Though he did register how he got completely stiff when you walk in with that pretty, little dress, makeup done a little darker than usual. He has an eye for a detail, literally spending the whole party going over your body with his eyes. The first time, the only time, he didn’t look at you was when he got seated next to you. He wanted to sit across from you, get a clear view of how your legs spilled out of your dress, how your fingers played with the pillow between your thighs, how a drip of sweat slowly rolled over your neck down, right between your breast— but no…He has to sit next to you, because of his friend who though it would finally help him talk to you.

You are friend of Seungmin’s. He still remembers when he first met you — so sweet and smiley, he wondered how could you be his friend, but the more he got to know you, he realized, you are really different from what he first thought. Well, get to know you in the sense of watching you from afar and maybe throwing a few words when you would be having a conversation with one of his friends. He usually wasn’t so quiet — Is he really that stupid? He knows that maybe there’s a small crush or something, maybe he is just admiring you. Though his silence, almost shyness, seems to be natural when it comes to you.

There is something pulling him in…He must say that he always liked how confident you are. You didn’t put yourself above or anything, but your humor and the way you spoke made him feel like a fucking high school girl who has a crush on the one popular jock. Oh, but you do really make his heart throb as he purposefully, unintentionally, took a deeper breath to inhale your spicy perfume. Even if he doesn’t want to keep himself away from you, your whole presence intimidated him enough for him to tuck himself a little away from you. Not to make you uncomfortable and also for him to not do anything stupid.

You tilt your head slightly to the direction of the man next to you who for a while seems to only shuffle around in his seat. You wipe away the sweat forming on your forehead, before putting your attention back to the game before you. Few minutes ago you laughed at the idea of playing spin the bottle, but after putting few new rules and twists to it, you are kind of really getting in to it. After few rounds of spinning, still not being picked, you grew amused with the scandalous questions and answers from the guys. However when the bottle suddenly points at you, your smile flatters.

Seungmin watched your face fall into small scowl, completely natural reaction you always have when looking at him. His brown eyes for a second flicker to his friend next to you who again is only looking at you, but other than that his attention is fully on you. “Choose your next words wisely, Kim.” You say, eyes forming into slits at the way he grinned evily.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be anything crazy.” Those words sounded ridiculous coming from him, but you only lean back on the couch, challenging him. The twist to this game is probably the results of the alcohol. From what you heard so far your jaw dropped every time at every new information about your friends and you think that you now know a little too much about them. The brunette across from you, basically knows everything about you and than makes it easier for him to choose his question, easier for him to embarrass you. “Y/N, do your favorite position with someone of your choice.”

Your lips parted in shock. Your hand flies to smack him across his exposed thigh peeking from his jorts painfully, the noise being muted by the others laughing. You scoff at him, watching in small delight how he hissed in pain. You immediately feel heat traveling to your already hot cheeks, eyes going back and forth between your friends. Everyone was still laughing drunkenly, everyone expect him as you turn to look into his direction.

You think he looks even more flustered than you. His pouty lips, stained a little red from his chapstick, fall apart, eyes wide, glistening in the darkness. When you turned your head to him, he almost jumps out from his spot next to you. Han’s heart skips a beat from the question, more like a dare, send your way. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, because that would mean you would have to do it with someone — someone else than him. God, he wished for you to pick him. Seungmin wants to kill him doesn’t he? Maybe it is a payback for the time he figured him all out, he was the first one to confront him about it — of course he denied it. By giving you a free choice of choosing whoever you wanted was probably the most painful thing about his revenge.

However your eyes are still on his and he almost shivers from the way your eye color shined through your slightly smudged eyeshadow. “Hannie.” His mouth falls more open, ears ringing from the way his name fell from your tongue, he nearly forgot his own name.

You could have chosen anyone. Maybe your close friend and put him into some embarrassing position as a payback, but you chose him. He felt sick to his stomach, but in a good way. The lump in his throat was hard to swallow as his whole body froze for a moment in shock. From his small inner tantrum, your sudden difference in body language came unnoticed till now.

The laughing stops at your voice, everyone turning back at you with their own faces of shock. Yours is only turned to the man facing towards you. You feel a small nervousness creeping up on you from his silence, maybe the alcohol gave you a little too much confidence. “You up for it?” You trail off slightly, not so sure about your chosen partner at the moment.

Han however feels his body shake in adrenaline, sitting up quickly. “Yeah-“ His voice was kind of piched, making him cough into his fist, already dying of the embarrassment as his friends snicker. “Yeah, sure.” He corrects himself, leaning back in to his hands, trying to act nonchalant. His friends watch him and you carefully, but not laughing further, they kind of wished for this to happen. They are invested in your answer and also eager to see their friend finally getting to be close to his dream girl in some way.

Han’s confidence which was already fake from the start, now flies out of the room, when he watches you make your way closer to him. His boba eyes fall on to the pillow between your legs, silently wishing you would shove his head between them — wait that would be his favorite position, how silly of him. The soft material is thrown away, drool forming in his mouth as he catches a quick view of your soft thighs and the way you for a moment sit up to pull your dress down, they just so happened to smash together so beautifully.

All air then gets taken away from him when you make your way to him, but mostly because you boldly crawl up to him. The vibe in the room shifts slightly as you go closer to him on your hands and knees. You don’t even know where the confidence of doing that came from but the look on his face is totally worth it, you don’t even look at the other people in the room as they only mimic his expression and his is the only one that mattered. He wants to look away from you, heat spreading all over his chest and face, but the way you move so smoothly and they way your tits spill over your top, is basically impossible for him to look away. You have him totally under your spell, he hopes you know your own immense sex appeal, because watching you crawl over to him from between his legs, should be illegal.

You stop before him, your hands touching his legs, balancing your weight. “Lay down for me.” Han is literally in heaven right now. He almost whimpers at your honeyed voice, eyes falling on to the soft fat of your chest. You literally have him mesmerized so it isn’t too difficult for him to comply, but he still feels how his breathing becomes heavier when he slowly layed back on the floor.

You wish he doesn’t see your hands shaking when you touch his knees, pushing his legs down, so he lays completely flat. You can’t lie that you are not enjoying they way he is trying so hard to look unfazed — Is he really that nervous around you, like Seungmin told you or is it because you crawl up his body like a predator?

Both, definitely both.

Han thinks he will never get this view out of his head ever. You are careful enough not to touch him too much as you suddenly come into his field of vision. Gosh, how pretty are you actually? Your hair falls to your face slightly since you hover above him, licking at your lips. If it would be possibly, he would turn into dust, watching you slowly sit down on his upper thighs, hands falling on his heaving chest. He hopes you don’t feel his heart pounding, he hopes you don’t feel him getting hard like a pathetic boy. He just can’t help it, he can’t help those dirty thoughts racing through his head. He wants so badly to touch you, left hand forming into fist as he looks up at you.

You nearly let out a sound, gasp of sorts, from the view you are having. His eyes were slightly glossy as his spit licked lips, looking good enough to eat. The glasses on his nose fogged up slightly at the bottom from his deep breath which you feel him take under your fingertips. You for a moment forgot about the others, not even caring that your dress is pushed up. You want so badly to sit down, to not be hovering, but already this is even for you too much. He looked so yummy with his sweater pulled down his one shoulder, exposing his collarbones, Adam’s apple bobbing, having the biggest argue to bite at it.

However a voice speaks up at the moment, making you and your current partner snap back to reality. “Cowgirl?” Seungmin voices out, looking at you like you just grew a second head. “That’s it?”

You choke a little over your answer, pushing your weight more onto your hands as you look back at him, not missing the small huff under you. “And? Simple, but good…” You answer, shruggering.

“Who would’ve guessed, Y/N likes to be on top.” Laughs Hyunjin and to you it kind of sounded like an insult, immediately glaring at him, but your head snaps to the man next to him.

“Kind of expected you to be a pillow princess or something.” Says Minho, taking a sip of his beer. His eyes held a teasing look, smirking at you and mostly his friend who still had his eyes on your figure.

“Yeah…” Agrees your close friend again, head tilted up to the ceiling like in thought, before shaking his head with a small smile. “Can’t imagine you toping someone.”

You nearly roll your eyes at them, it hurt your pride a little. Your fingers scrunch up the soft material of Han’s sweater, weight now fully on your hands. He doesn’t move, because he simply couldn’t as he feels the delicious pressure on his body. While you were conversing, you probably didn’t even realize that by leaning more forward, your back formed a little arch. He almost missed the saliva rolling over the corner of his lips, head pulled to the side just to see the way your body formed into the beautiful arch. Fuck, he hopes you don’t feel him under you, because he tugged himself into his boxers maybe a little too stupidly back into his room, where he literally spend his whole day picking up his outfit with Jeongin’s help. If you would just push yourself a little higher, to the right, you would be literally grazing his —

“I can…” Han nearly chokes over the word, eyes widening, not even expecting himself to speak up. You then look down at him, your eyebrows raising to your hairline in a silent question. This all feels to him, like he should be thankful for even getting a look at you like that. “I mean–“ He laughs, but it doesn’t sound amused, he only let the noise out of embarrassment he literally put himself in, it was going so well for him till now…well, at least he can say that he had you on top of him at some point. “–it’s hot when a girl tops.” He swallows, lips jumping into a small smile, feeling sweat drip down his forehead from yours and his friends’ stares.

You have never felt so full with power, looking down at the cute, flushed boy with a smile. Slapping him across his chest, made his body jump, eyes widening, before he snaps his hips immediately back down. “Thanks, baby boy.”

He knew it was meant as joke, watching you in disappointment as you stand up, but he couldn’t stop his cock from twitching in his pants. He immediately sits up at that, grabbing the pillow you were holding before and putting it between his own legs. His moves are so obvious to all of his male friends he wants to literally die, but some of them look like he wasn’t the only one moved in some way with your small performance. The realization that the pillow was literally between your plush thighs, really doesn’t help him find his composure.

You black out a little from the moment you pull away from Han, because you can’t believe you just did all that and said that. It rolled out of your tongue so naturally that it shocked even you. Your hand grasps one of the pillows next to you, putting it between your legs, so you won’t expose anything, well you think you definitely did flash someone by crawling up to Han like a slut, but whatever. It was mostly because you don’t want anyone to get a glimpse of the growing wet spot on your panties. You know it’s not the alcohol anymore, after what you did, you are totally sober.

You were never that shy about speaking about things like that, but this kind of comes to the top of the list of the wildest things you have ever done. You can’t look at him, you can’t. You can’t however get him out of his head, how good he looked under you…You look up from your hands playing with the pillow between your legs, eyes falling on the muscular man, watching his lips move, till you finally find your sense of hearing again.

“Who you would make out with in this room?” From this and the other questions, you think you kind of had the worst one. With only being your first one, you already thought it was enough. You wished that it was something like this, instead of the thing that you did, but deep down you kind of enjoyed it in some sick way.

The question was meant for the cat like man who really didn’t seem to be even a little bit bothered by such question. “Easy, Y/N.“ Minho almost scoffs, gesturing to you, before looking at you for an answer.

From the look in his eyes you think he is hiding something from you, like he knows something you don’t. You give him nothing in return, still salty about his comment, but the man next to you definitely had to pull a face or something as the oldest points at him. “Han looks a bit offended there.” Chan laugh blends into the rest of the cackle and even if you also smile in amusement, there is still confusion. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but his hair is too into his face to let you see him. Thank God, because he would dig his grave even deeper if you would see his furiously red face.

Jeongin brings the attention back to the game as he grips the glass bottle in the center of the circle to spin it again. You watch the bottle spin quickly, reflecting the lights before it stops right between you and Han. However the youngest doesn’t think further about who is more close to it, eyes falling on his friend immediately. “What kink you haven’t tried before?” It still shocks you that this cute faced guy can be sometimes so blunt.

Your own interest in his answers makes you look at him and like he can just feel your stare, he also glances at you briefly. He humms long and loud in thought, eyes going everywhere around the room, before he tugs his head back into his chest. But you didn’t know that from the corner of his eye, he was watching your fingers playing with material of the pillow. His mind grew fuzzy at your lovely manicured nails, mouth again opening before he could even think his answer through. “Ehm…choking?” He answers truthfully, but he wishes for the day he could lie instead.

“What — really?” Says Felix, the others also voicing out their own disbelief.

Han only nods, already wanting to end this conversation, but he can’t help himself from glancing at you to see your own reaction. To his surprise you are not looking at his flushed face, but at his fingers instead. He stops the unintentional playing with his rings, the move making you look up at him through your eyelashes. Your gaze meets his and he again doesn’t look at you, simply because it is impossible. However to his surprise you look away from him first when both of yours eyes met. Did he just catch you checking out his hands? Now he is the one feeling powerful, liking this new, shy look on you just as much as the other.

────

You don’t even know how you lasted this long. It is now the early hours after midnight, maybe not that spontaneous, but considering the party was going on since the late afternoon, you are really shocked that you are still standing. You think that the reason for your upstanding is the game of spin the bottle which kept your body and mind occupied till now. You only drank soft drinks after that, craving something sweet. Sadly your sweet tooth wasn’t suppressed, because there was something way more sweeter you were craving.

Han, not to your surprise again kept this weird distance between you two. Perhaps the thing that you put him through totally blew any chance you had with him. However you are also aware that his silence was a little different from the other ones. Those times felt like he was just kind of shy, but now? He literally looked like he was trying so hard not to finally say something to you.

You spend a long time in the bathroom after that. Trying to make yourself a person again as well as also trying to calm yourself down. You still can’t believe you basically sat on him like that…also this one thing still lingered in your mind. Choking. How on earth had he not tried it before? You don’t know about his game, but from what you have seen he seems to be quite bashful about this kind of thing. Though when you would catch him with the guys talking, he was always the loudest of the bunch. Maybe he didn’t like you? No, he liked you a little too much…

As you felt somehow fresh, wiping of any smudged makeup on your face and also washing the sweat off your body, because you couldn’t function otherwise, you did feel confident enough to walk up to him. Everything is now cleaned up, looking like there wasn’t a party at all and now it was the time for sleep. Seungmin, even if he mostly acts like he isn’t actually one of your closest friends, let you have his bed, while he would sleep on the couch. Still it shocked you a little, because he likes his beauty sleep, but he only scoffed at you, saying that the couch was actually way more comfortable than his bed ever will be. Oh, how you loved your friend’s love language sometimes…

You approach Han while he pulls out a bottle of water from the fridge. You are thankful that everyone else was already either in their room or showering, because you just had to stop in your steps to just stare at his profile. Your eyes travel down his strained neck, head thrown back, you watching closely how he eagerly swallows every drop. A small drop rolls from the corner of his lips and you wonder how can someone look so hot when drinking water, because the way the liquid rolled down his sharp jawline all the way down is throat was simply sinful.

Wiping the small drop of water from his neck, he almost chokes on his water when he sees you from the corner of his eyes. Pulling the bottle away from his lips quickly, he looks at you with big eyes, you not really catching his spooked reaction, because you are trying so hard to play it cool right now. “Do you have something I could change into?” You ask him, breaking the awful silence between you.

“Doesn’t Seungmin have anything for you?” Is his immediate response and your mouth opens and closes at that. His question is genuine, but also yours makes him jump in the inside.

You smile softly at him, shrugging. “You know how he treasures his stuff…” Looking at him, you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have asked him that. You were already bold enough for today…His face didn’t tell you much, but from what you can see, it looks like he doesn’t want to. “Sorry, I’ll ask someone else–“

His hand silences you, lips pulled together. He again feels embarrassed by the way he reacts so brightly yet so dimly around you, but he can’t missed the opportunity of giving you something his. “No…come with me.” Your face forms again in the same smile as before, but now it is more genuine.

He knows his steps are looking a little too fast, eager even, but when he walked pass you his nose was again hit with your perfume. He really couldn’t wait anymore to give you something, for you to return it back leaving only the linger of your smell behind. When he nears his room, he suddenly remembers the small mess he left it in. He is already dying inside, because no way you will see his room, be with him even just for a few minutes alone and he really is looking forward to bask in your presence alone. Though he really didn’t want to flick the lights on and give you the view of the mess of clothes, so he just goes inside blindly, trying to find his lamp. After few stumbles he finally turned it on, but it still didn’t make the mess disappear much to his disappointment.

You however don’t really put too much mind to it, because he is man after all and also you are a little occupied with looking around his room. Few posters are plastered on the wall, eyes falling on to his guitar at the corner of his room. You remember liking every post of his playing, spending a little too much time analyzing how his fingers moved so smoothly over the instrument. Han unknowingly to you came after each one of your likes to Minho, jumping in excitement from this small gesture, only for it to be answered with a groan every single time.

You watch the brunette go through his closet, making your way to his bed. His back was turned to you, so he didn’t see you slowly lowering yourself to sit on his bed. He was too caught up in finding the perfect thing for you to leave your scent on. “So…” You trail off, so quietly you feared the he didn’t hear you, but his head snaps so quickly to you, you think he had a whiplash. “You really haven’t tried it before?” You hate yourself for not keeping this small wonder to yourself.

Han nearly forgot about you being here with him, the question striking confusion in him. “What exactly?” Maybe there is too much on his mind right now, like you for example and the need of finding something for you to sleep in.

The small pout on his face is cute, cheeks puffed out and eyebrows furrowed. Again the way he lets himself be so quiet and quite soft spoken around you, helps you come out of your shell more. The fact you don’t feel any effect from the alcohol anymore tells you that this confidence was coming from you only. In the air lingered something raw as he looked at you sitting on his bed and he really can’t say that he hates how you just sat on it without his permission. He kind of liked it how bold you are sometimes. Maybe it isn’t actually such a deal, but it is to him, any way of having you on his bed is a win for him.

You pat the spot next to to you, hand digging into the softness of his sheets. “Come here.” You say, nearly in a whisper and again you are using your spell on him.

A dumb ‘huh?’ flies out of his mouth, because that is the only answer he could form at that moment. The quietness seems to suffocate him as well as also your intense stare, looking like an angel from the way the light of his lamp created a halo around your head. It was never this quiet in the dorm ever, even at night, it felt like you two were the only people here — but in his heart it is only you.

“Come here.” You repeat again with the same tone, patting the same spot again.

Right next to you, again. A little closer, too close, he just knows, he will shut off from the proximity. But he really wants to make you happy and also he is getting really curious about what you want to whisper to him in that sultry voice of yours. Han is a literal puppet, you have him in the palm of your hand and finally — you see it. Your lips are tugged up in to a small smile as you watch him take careful steps to you, before sitting down right beside you.

With your hand blocking him from getting even closer to your body, it kind of calms him. His hands fall onto his lap, eyes going over the crotch of his jeans. The situation, the awful situation you put him through was painful and hard to get through. After you literally made him hard just by hovering over him, you put him through hell, him fighting the argue to not just go to the bathroom and jerk off, till he would cum all over himself at the thought of you. The reason was that his band members would never let him live out a peaceful day if he would and also he didn’t want you to figure it out. Not let you figure out that he would jerk off, just because of you, literally few rooms away — though it’s not like he hasn’t done it before…

“Okay.” He says, palms of his hands sweating wildly as you leaned back on to your hands. He can’t let his eyes travel down the length of your body, he can’t — “What were you talking about?” His voice came out smooth, but not too much to his the ability to talk again vanished away when you say the next word.

“Choking.”

“Oh!” Is the first thing he says, laughing again in disbelief at the way you just so casually brought this thing up. You didn’t talk much before this. Only a few side conversations about a new movie, his love for superheroes etc., but never anything that would get you guys close enough for you to get the green card to ask something so intimate. He swallows nervously as you only stare at him back, waiting. “Yeah, I have never tried it before.” He also shakes his head as he didn’t answer you already.

You know he didn’t. He seems to be honest whenever you are around and you think you’re slowly understanding his behavior towards you. Even if there’s a mask of fake confidence on your face right now, you still try to be the leader of the conversation as you also started it. The more you think this through, the more you realize how you are probably taking this way too far, but in some way you can’t help it. The thing about confidence is that no one know if it’s fake or not. However he still in some way makes you feel a little more sure about yourself, but also you still can’t help, but feel shy around him. How could you not?

You literally sat on top of him, like you would ride his cock hidden inside his baggy jeans to your displeasure. He gave you the vibe of a total loser, maybe because of the black framed glasses, but also he is the hottest guy you have ever seen. You already feel the change between you two when you hovered over his body like that. His brown eyes shined in the light the same way as they are right now, him still patiently waiting for you to continue. You at his stare really become unsure about this whole thing you are trying to get at. “And do you want to?” You ask him, your eyes momentarily falling onto his hands. “Do you want to try it?”

His lips parted at that, answer a little late as his attention is slightly taken away by the way your lips moved, forming those pretty words. “Well, yeah?” He says, both of you already knowing the answer, but his little, pretty head didn’t catch that you meant it a little differently.

“I meant with me…” You say quietly, turning away from him as he only looks at you in total shock plastered on his face.

His heart jumps wildly, head spinning from your sentence. He thinks he is dreaming, he must be, because there’s literally no way that you just said that. He wished to take you right there, but he is only capable of looking like a fish on a desert. ‘-with me…’, he repeats again. Han is ready to pass out. He already thought that he was lucky enough for you to chose him when you were playing the game, but now this? He feels his chest warm up, heat totally different from the usual one spreading across his body.

He watches you turn away from him and — is that you being shy around him? His heart already can’t take this further, but most importantly it hates the fact you are not looking at him. “Are you serious? I don’t know, we are–” He is again lost of words as usual. He really doesn’t want to say the status between you two and ruin everything for him.

Your eyes fall shut for a split second, throwing the obvious embarrassment over your shoulder so you won’t crumble at his feet. “If it would make you uncomfortable–“

“No!” You jump, frightened a little by his loudness, looking at him with wide eyes. His own flicker over your features, missing how your chests rise with the same deep breaths. “Sure!” He says, again wanting to slap himself for answering that. “I mean…whatever — it’s cool.” There is no such thing as cool when it comes to you and specifically this.

The temperature in the room rises up as your frozen body slowly melts. A short silence hangs in the air, taking your time to go over his pretty face. “Okay.” You whisper.

The confirmation makes him hot all over, fidgeting. Han held his breath as you pull yourself up, turning your body into his direction. You both look at each other with longing in your eyes, he almost making a noise when you bite down at your lower lip. He doesn’t know how it is possible, but you are even more beautiful when you are looking at him. Fully at him, no one else, just him. He can already die as a happy man when you shuffle a little closer to him, your hand just grazing his leg over his jeans. Your own breaths came out rigid as you glance at him, following the slow closing of his eyes, like a cat.

A moment past by just staring at each other and even if you don’t mind it that much, the more you glance down at his pretty hands the more you became desperate. You crave his hands on your neck, squeezing just right and hard for you to see black spots. He doesn’t seem to notice your slow struggle, looking at him in waiting. Han only has this look on his face and other than that he doesn’t move an inch. Your mouth opens, nearly a chuckle thumbling out of you by this, it was starting to get a little awkward. “Well…are you going to?” You roll the words slowly out of your lips with a small embarrassed giggle, when he still doesn’t move.

Your words snap him out of the state he is in a little, gaze traveling to your own hand that gestures to your neck. He feels the immediate known burning sensation on his cheeks and chest. “Oh!” Again with this, it seems like you always make him speechless. The shyness on your face makes him smile a little, but it was more sheepish. He should’ve known by the look you were giving him back in the living room that you meant it like this. He is starting to get the idea that there really wasn’t even a small thought of you doing it to him…Though the image of his own hand around your pretty neck is pleasing it’s just not something he truly desires. “I thought…i meant it the other way kind of–“ Han mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

Your jaw falls to the floor a little at his confession. The embarrassment melts into something way more different after those words, even if he looks like an absolute blushing mess, he still waits for your answer. You actually are a little…troubled. Your gaze falls on to his neck, remembering how his Adam’s apple moved up and down, how the small stray string of water traveled down the length of it. “You want me to choke you?” You say, just to be sure, starting to feel the rumbling inside your tummy.

He wants to die. No way you said it out loud. He knows it was kind of obvious from his statement but still…you are literally talking about one of his biggest dreams. He can’t count how many times his own hand was squeezing at his neck, imagining it was yours instead. “Yes-“ He says breathlessly in desperation, swallowing the embarrassing reaction right after at your unrelenting expression. “Well, I haven’t try it either way, but I can do it to you.” He isn’t so sure If he could handle that, but he’s not that stupid to miss the opportunity.

You are still trying to get over the fact that he wants you to do it to him more. You completely forget that you wanted it first, because you simply can’t get the idea of having your hand around his neck out of your head. “Well, I kind of want to do what you want to do…” You say, again biting at your lip.

“Okay–“ He squeaks out.

You slowly move even closer to him, knees touching each other. You don’t waste anymore time, because you think you will go crazy otherwise. You raise your hand to his neck, watching how he nervously swallows, but you realize something. This whole thing was a little…casual in some way. You want him way closer than this, you need it. “Wait–“ You say, laughing a little at how awkward you are behaving. He nearly falls down to his knees to beg you to not stop as the hand that just graze his sensitive skin falls back to your side. “I can’t just do it — that would be weird.”

He sighs through his nose quietly. “Why?” Han hopes you don’t see the way his eyes shinned in neediness.

“It is better if it’s in the moment, you know? Otherwise it’s just not it.” You click your tongue at him, the muscle mesmerizing him for a second as you lick at your red stained lips. Han is actually really in the moment right now, he is already getting off to this in some way. He thought it couldn’t get better as you sit so closely to him, ready to choke him to a blissful death he hopes, but then you really surprise him. “Can I kiss you?” The question hangs heavily in the air. “Just to show you how it feels?”

You leaned closer to him with those words, boldly fanning your words across his face, fogging up his glasses. Han literally moans in his head. He wants to pinch himself right now, but even so if this would be a dream, he wouldn’t want to wake up. Your eyes become hooded, your eyeshadow making your whole look a little too intense for him to handle. He becomes putty in your hands, breathing out a sigh that sounded dangerously close to a whine. “Yeah, just to show me how it feels…” He repeats, already pushing his head down to line his face with yours.

“Yeah…” You say in the same tone, before smashing your lips to his.

You could taste everything on him. From his sweet chapstick that made his lips feel so soft, to the cider he drank on his tongue that slightly grazed over yours. Your eyes are closed to fully savour this feeling, but you could just tell he is trying really hard not to touch you. You want him to, those freaking hands of his make you feral. How they move across his guitar or how he simply opens a can with his middle finger like nothing, made you gush. It’s embarrassing that you are already feeling your panties sticking to you, but you can’t help it. The boy really knows how to kiss.

The quite loud smacks of your lips echoed through the room and when you experimentally pull away little, you immediately feel him chasing your lips. But you make it even better for him as your teeth wrapped around his plump bottom lip, biting and nibbling at it. His mouth falls open in a silent moan and you perfectly take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your tongue wraps itself around his and you have to sigh into him as your spits mix together. It was so fucking messy, just how you like it and just how he needs it. Han was completely at your mercy, body slumped forward, towards you and he just could feel the tears of pleasure burning and begging for more. He didn’t even know that this was your plan all along — to get him like this, completely drunk on you, so he wouldn’t expect your next move.

You had experience, you knew how it feels like when you are the least expecting it. You tremble just at the thought, hand touching his chest, momentarily trailing up and down. Your hand just barely touches his fresh tattoo and it makes him pull himself closer to you at that, but he completely still as your hand travels up. His kisses become a lot less precise, saliva trailing down his chin, but your own tongue stops it, licking him all up. His lips again parted, but now the whine building his chest is finally released as you wrap your finger around his neck, squeezing.

You shiver at the sound, hand already grabbing a little too hard for his first time, but he doesn’t seem to be opposed to it. He throws his head back, letting you climb onto your knees so you could still catch another small whine in your mouth. You are already soaking through your underwear, juices leaking onto your inner thighs. If he would just looked down he would see it, your lace panties completely ruined only by him. You have to pull away a little for him to see his face and it is to die for.

“Good?” You tease a little, because the pathetic frown on him is probably the best thing you have ever seen. You can feel him swallow under your hand, sweat rolling down his face and you quickly wonder what else you can do to him. The need to have him under you again is immense, you want to suffocate him with your body — in a good way of course.

Han is completely fucked right now. His cock is painfully digging into the hard material of his jeans and he knows that if you would squeeze more he would literally cum untouched. “Fuuuck…I-I–“ He can’t form any words, eyes blinking open to look at you.

You humm a little, head tilting to the side, your hair falling over both of your faces. You can see it on his face, in his eyes that the tears reflecting in them are just a pure pleasure. “Hm? Talk to me.” You say, loosing your grip a little to maneuver his head to the side. You feel his pulse pumping wildly around your fingertips as your lips touch his jaw.

A low moan rings in the air, loud enough for you to hear it. Han’s head – whole body is only supported by your hand on his throat, because he can only tremble in your hold when you kiss his jaw, all the way to his ear lobe. “Fuck me…” He groans a little, head fuzzy as your teeth nibble at his ear. Your sudden stop at your passionate kissing, makes him realize what he just said. “I mean–“ He tries to safe it by turning his head to look at you, only again going mute by the way your lipstick is smudged across your lips — he just knows it’s also all over his own and he will gladly wear it for you. “It feels good, better than I imagine, but…”

“But?” You continue, hand still unmoving, tips of your noses touching. He finds the gesture endearing.

His own tongue comes to lick at his lips and he realize he was right as he faintly tastes your glossy lipstick. His hands grip at his sheets tightly, material spilling over his fingers. He looks at you like a marvelous painting, not even feeling the small pain by having his neck in such position. “I need you closer…please.” Those are his words, the last one voiced out in a complete desperation.

You can’t fight against the smile spreading across your face and he melts again at such sight. The next thing that comes makes his cock jump, lips open wide. You swing your leg to strandle him like before, but now he could fully feel the delicious weight on him. “Holy shit–“ You really want to laugh, you really do, maybe make him a blushing mess, but seeing that this is already a little too much for him, you keep your mouth shut for now.

His throat is released from your grip, but before he could complain, your mouth is again on his. When you feel him deepen the kiss, you let out a small noise of bliss. There’s no way you can’t feel him under you and his guess turns out to be the truth when you ground yourself on him. You pull away from him again, just to hear the delicious gasp. His eyes are wide, dark, staring into yours, watching you move on his lap. There’s again this small smile on your lips and you can’t help yourself, but roll your hips harder against his to feel his tip hit your clit.

“You can touch me you know…” Your breathless voice sounds like honey to his ears, eyes shining at your request. You are starting to love the way you can make him look like this. Like a complete mess, so pathetic…If only he knew how much you are actually trying to stop yourself from just dry humping him till you both cum. You grab his hands that are still on his bed, before placing them on your waist, still not stopping your movements. “Here-“ You move his right hand up to your breast, not missing the small twitch of his cock. “–or here.” You leave his hand on your left tit, his hand fitting perfectly around it and he could your nipple poking at his palm. He watches you closely, a nasty curse flying out of his mouth when you move his other hand to your center.

He looks down at your legs, muscles jumping from your smooth moves. Your dress rides up to your thighs and when you tilt your hips closer to him, he gets a glimpse of your underwear. With the lamp light he sees the wet spot on to the front of the lacy material as well as also your stained inner thighs. Han can’t believe, he made you look like that, so wet and so full of lust, keeping his hand on your thigh for a while. You are so so soft — he remembers the day when you put that amazing smelling lotion on your legs after a day at the beach. He didn’t get a look at your bikini nor your body, because he had to go early to help Minho with groceries. He wanted to kill him for that. But now? This is better than he could have ever imagine.

He squeezes your tit lightly, only doing it harder right after when you whimper. You are a literal siren, luring him in to giving you anything and everything. He does want that. His fingers tweak your nipple skillfully, letting out a shocked moan at his sudden confidence. His other hand finally trails up you thigh, dipping his fingers in your essence before they press into you. You just happen to roll into them, sighing at the pressure. “More – give me more, Han.” You sound incredible. It should’ve come out as a plead, but he only hears it like demand.

His eyes keep going back and forth between his hand fondling your breast to you rolling your pussy, but he stops his gaze on your face. Your mouth is open, freely letting out sighs of pleasure and even if he’s probably the one that should be dominant, it’s you instead. He pulls your panties to the side, moaning with you when he trails his fingers through your folds. The grip you had on his shoulder, nails digging into his exposed skin peaking out of his sweater, makes his head momentarily roll back.

Your hole gushes more as his fingers circle your clit, you messily rolling your hips into his hand. The sight of his exposed neck and the need of being filled, the need leads you to shoving him in the chest. He lets out a small yelp as his back meets the mattress, watching you taking his hand between your legs and moving it a little more down. The tips of his fingers find your opening, letting you sit down on them.

He now finds himself again at this position with you being on top of him, but now with his fingers inside of you. The way he curls the tips of his fingers, makes you whimper, his ring rubbing deliciously against you. You are so warm and wet, your ass rubbing against him as you start to ride his fingers. “Oh…oh!” He gasps out, eyebrows shooting up as you bounce on his fingers, his hand becoming still..

Your thighs shook from the pleasure, palm of his hand just grazing over your clit. Even in your state you can’t miss how his breathing is getting heavier and heavier, like it was his cock you were riding. The thoughts make you look down, seeing the perfect outline and you realize you in fact can’t torture him and yourself for ever. “Want me to ride you?” You rasp out, the confidence radiating from you making his hips jump. “Want me to ride your cock, Han?”

“Fuck, yeah – please, ride me–“ He sounds so good like that, looking at you with puppy eyes as you pull yourself off his fingers. You miss the feeling of being filled, but you know it won’t take long before you have something even better.

You shuffle a little down to take his sweater from the front his jeans, giving you a glimpse of his hard abdomen. You are thankful that there’s no belt in your way, just flicking his fly open, pulling at the hard material and his boxers. He helps you pull his pants hallway, both of you too desperate to really strip fully. Your mouth waters as his cock springs up, hitting his stomach, the material of his sweater roughly grazing over him.

If you knew sooner that he was sporting such a pretty cock, you maybe would’ve said something sooner. His tip is painfully red, leaking, big vein running all the way from his balls to his tip. You wish for him to fuck your mouth, so deeply that the short hairs on his pubic bone would tickle your nose — next time…there will be next time definitely.

You grasp his heavy cock, thumb pushing at his hole, leaking even more around your digit. “How much do you want me, baby? Tell me–“ He moans wildly when you start to pump him too slowly to his liking.

He again gets a good view of your tits hanging out of the top of your dress, areola peaking at him. He blushes at your words, gasping as you pucker your lips, spit falling onto his tip, before spreading it over him. “I want you so bad.” He cries out at the end, because you squeeze him even harder. “Y/N, please. I wanted you for so long — ah! Do anything you want to me–“

You get a lot more out of him than you expected and his confession and plead, made you even wetter. “Anything you say?” You ask, him furiously nodding his head as you lean over his body, hand releasing him, cock slapping against your inner thigh. “Then open up–“ Han’s mouth is opened wider with your fingers at his lips and he nearly comes all over you when you spit in his mouth. He whimpers at your taste, he fucking whimpers — he even swallows it before you could even say it to him and that makes you finally sit down on his thick cock.

You quite underestimate his size, you own desperation blinding you. You feel him stretching you, burn however so good, your hips instantly roll down onto him. He already sees stars, looking onto his ceiling, wondering if was just send to heaven. Your walls suck him right in, pussy so good he already fights the urge to not fuck into you — he wants to be good to you, he wants to be your good boy.

You say his name, hands grasping the bottom of his sweater to pull it up, so you can see his slutty waist. He is so loud — he probably doesn’t even realize it, with his hands falling to your chest messily groping you, glasses already falling from his face. You let him pull the top of your dress down, tits spilling out and letting them bounce in the air. “You feel so good.” He moans, a sob or sorts falling out his lips, emotions all over the place.

He is so happy and so fucking horny. The way you move on top of him is so good that he just lets you do all of the work, pushing yourself up and down on him, rutting, hips rolling — he’s a total wreck. But he becomes a total mess when your hand again falls onto his neck, immediately grasping it roughly. “Oh my–“ He can’t finish, your grip kind of stoping him to do so, but he just can’t do anything other than be a whimpering mess. Han didn’t even know himself he could sound like that. You also let out a series of high pitched sounds, your fast movements making his bed creak and bang onto the wall. You hope everyone hears how good you are riding his cock. Fuck, Hyunjin, Minho and Seungmin, they can only wish to be in his place instead.

“Momm–“ Han chokes wildly from his own voice, eyes flying right open to look at you. Your hips shutter against his, your own eyes widening, but he could feel how you tightened around him. The grip on his neck surprisingly becomes tighter as you also pick up your speed. You never thought he would be so submissive, but you loved every second of it and hearing him almost call you that…

“Yeah, baby wanna cum? Wanna cum for mommy?” Han cries out, head pressing into his pillow. His mind spins from your words, hands gripping your waist.

He can’t think straight. A drool rolls down his chin to pool at your fingers around his neck, glancing at you. You moan at his state — he looks like a complete fucked out slut. “Please, mommy wanna cum for you, but — I-I need you to cum first-“

“Such a good boy.” You compliment him, your tongue tasting the sweat on your body. He whimpers again, letting you take his hand from your waist to put it around your own neck. “Make your mommy cum, Hannie–“ You lowly mumble.

As his own hand grabs your delicate neck, pressing into roughly, he soon sees why you love it so much. Your red face, puffy lips and his hand keeping your head tilted down for your gaze to be only on him, Han thinks that this look will be the death of him. His cock throbs inside you, feeling his tip kissing at your cervix slightly — so good. His other hand grips full of your waist, helping you move even more wildly against him.

You both gasp slightly for air, the familiar black spot appearing in your vision. Your own hand tightens around his neck, him giving you a long deep groan in return, completely different from the other sounds he gave you. Your skins meet with nasty loud smacks!, sticking and melting into each other. Your sweat starts to mix together, your hips jumping as you feel your sweet release. Like he could read your mind, he starts to fuck into you, making you see stars, his cock pressing roughly into your spot.

Your mouth hangs open, drool also rolling down your face, before in falls onto his stomach. He groans at your face, loving your messed up make-up and your body leaning more into him. When you start to moan more he keeps up the same pace, watching your legs tremble, body shaking, cunt forming a creamy ring around him as you cum. “Holy fuck! Just like that–“ Han slurs out.

You for a moment just lean into his hands, because you think you almost blacked out for real for the mind shattering orgasm. The way he still keeps fucking you, using your body to chase his own pleasure brings you to a quick overstimulation. You whine, grasping his hand around your throat and he at least loosen his grip a little to let you catch your breath. It burns, but with everything happening so fast you only cry out, squeezing his throat a little too much by your overstimulation.

Han’s eyes widened at your roughness, not missing your own state of fucked out even with the tears in his eyes. “I’m going to cum! — ohhhhhhh–“ He starts to literally sob, making you snap back to reality just to watch him cum under you.

“Gonna cum? Gonna cum for mommy? You’ve been such a good boy – you are mommy’s good boy. l-look at you, fucking this pussy so good, making your mommy cum so fucking hard –“

His hand falls from your neck, pressing into your tummy, his hips jumping as he cums inside you with a loud moan of pleasure. You gasp for air and same for him when you release him from your grip, your body slumping on top of his. With how deep he’s breathing his chest makes you move up and down, the hands on your body falling by his sides, completely wasted. His cum leaks slowly out of you, his cock still twitching and you on the other hand milking him dry. Your head is a fog and his is nothing – literally nothing, because the fact this was the best sex he ever had, makes him unable to form even a single thought.

You both take your time catching your breaths and after few deep intakes of air, his right hand start to caress the top of your head and yours his arm. You can feel him smiling when he kisses your forehead lovingly, making you mirror his expression, pulling your head from his chest. However your eyes firstly fall on his neck, red marks left behind and as he touches your own, you know you must have them also. “Did you like it?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes into the back of his head at such question and also from the fresh memories.

He groans firstly, before laughing in delight, the sound rumbling his chest. “Are you kidding?” Han asks you in disbelief, pulling you down to kiss you sweetly on your lips. “I loved it.” He whispers against your lips, your own forming into a smile. “But–will you...can I be your boyfriend?”

You laugh at him, pushing yourself up to our elbows to fully look at him. “Of course, you dummy ah!–“ You can’t finish as he flips you over, silencing your cry of surprise with a kiss.

When his laugh mixes with yours, body pressing into yours, feeling his soft cock hardening again, you knew you were in for a ride.

blessed

han jisung x fem reader | wc 1.9k | warnings: smut, established relationship (they're really obsessed and desperate), reader really likes jisung's new tattoo, implied soft!dom reader but not really, kind of bratty sub jisung but not really, facesitting(f. rec), oral (m. rec), one(1) use of 'mama', pussyjob

A.N: sorry if this is cringy(?) or not my best. i forget how to format. i'm really out of the habit or writing again, but i kind of liked writing this one. ib dreamie's answer to my ask... dreamy sigh. anyways. let me know if i missed any warnings. reblog and give feedback if u liked:P

"B-baby, please.." Jisung whimpers, squirming against the pillows.

You don't respond with words, instead a hum leaving you as you lave your tongue over that same patch of skin you've been licking, sucking, and kissing at for more than fifteen minutes now. The spot decorated with the fresh ink, fully healed but oh-so-new and exciting still. You can't get over the way it looks on his skin. Exquisite.

Your favourite body. The one you've vowed to worship- well, not yet, not outwardly. But it's an unspoken understanding.

You'd fallen so deeply infatuated with his body prior to the markings, had memorized and revered each of his soft lines and lean muscle. Boyish narrow shoulders and scrawny chest slowly transformed before your eyes, becoming more masculine. Into the wide, rounded, strong shoulders you now grab onto when you're excited or upset. Strong and firm, thicker skin sits around his ribs now. But he's still Jisung. Still with the slim figure and tiny waistline that he doesn't seem to grow out of.

Just as you'd admired those changes as they came, you're compelled to do the same now. It only felt right to rediscover him all over again. You wonder fleetingly if Jisung had forseen this reaction from you; you're sure he must have, at least a little, at some point. You're always praising him.

That's how you've ended up like this. Jisung's shirtless, but his sweats still cling to his hips, doing nothing to conceal his arousal under the fabric.

You haven't touched him yet. Apart from this. Leaving kiss marks around his pretty tattoo, swiping fat licks of your hot tongue against it. It has to sting at this point, his chest tinged the colour of a kitten's tongue. Several deep purple marks litter his collarbones. Your hand rests at the centre of his chest, revelling in your work and his reactions. The rise and fall of his chest.

"Darling," He starts, and just as suddenly sucks in a breath through his teeth, "ah!— it's sensitive!" Jisung whines, shoulders shaking in something like protest.

He could say 'stop' at any time, you're both aware.

You adjust from where you're curled into him, sitting back on your ankles slightly. You lean in just-so to carefully blow cool air over the swollen spot on his chest. Jisung follows suit, giving you the shiver you were seeking from him.

You look up at him, that pretty face, and you relish in those round eyes staring back at you. Something anticipatory. Something distant, faded, something within them telling you: he's at your mercy. You're gentle, sweet, taking in this dazed state of him. All soft and vulnerable. You press a peck to that chocolate chip on his cheek.

He huffs something indiscernible— surprise? exasperation? — and you cup his face in your hand.

"I love you." You tell him. Your lips don't touch, but there's almost no space separating them.

It's his turn to hum, though his expression softens once more, and he lets his lips connect with yours.

It doesn't take very long for Jisung to get lost in it when he's kissing. You take the chance to raise your hand to his chest once more. Your pointer finger outlines the ring of hickeys you've imprinted on him around the script.

The shudder he lets out is oh-so worth it. You grin, and he groans, half-lidded eyes expressing his growing frustration. Puts his head back, and it thumps the wall a little. You laugh and bring a hand to the back of his head and thread your fingers into your boyfriend's fluffy hair.

"What was it you were begging for?" You ask, playing dumb, before repeating his words earlier as you coo at him.

He loves and hates this game. Right now teetering towards the loathing side.

"I'm fucking horny. Your fault." Jisung snaps with a huff. He squeezes the back of your knee as if to accentuate his annoyance.

You easily straddle his lap, not giving him the satisfaction of sitting in it quite yet.

You smile, "Oh... that. Yeah, could tell." Your hand slides down his abdomen, barely scratching at the waistband.

"What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Take 'em off me, baby. Get me naked." He grumbles, demanding. Too bad you're in love. Your pointer and middle dip under them to tug them down. You pull them right off, too, like he demanded, so he's free to kick his legs however he pleases.

You straddle him once more, hands planted on those shoulders. Oh.. you're dizzy with arousal again. You'll never tire of this view.

"Sorry. I really don't mean to tease. You're so fucking hot, I can't think straight." You confess next to his ear, voice low and bashful.

"I know baby, I know, oh, God, what do you even do to me? I feel crazy. You make me so desperate." Jisung ducks his head into your neck.

You know. You're the same way. You can't even form words to respond. Desire strikes you dumbfounded.

"Let me feel you. Please? Lemme feel you on me—"

His sentence dissolves into babbling as you press yourself to him, chest to chest, your core situated over his pelvis. You're not exactly sure when you lost your top, and by forgoing a bra tonight, you're left only in your underwear. Jisung's already pressing on your lower back instantaneously, as if to beg for closer, nearer, more.

When your hands tangle in his hair again as your tongue slides into his mouth, his eyes roll into the back of his head. Ever the reactive lover.

"Sit on my face. My baby, please." He's an animal when your eyes open to meet his, and you can't say no to a look so lascivious. You're going to be eaten alive one way or another. His breathless voice is husky now. You don't know if you even register that you're nodding before he's sliding down to lay flat on the mattress below you. His shoulders knocking your thighs forces them wider and you're nudged forward, right over his face, your hands reaching for the headboard.

He grumbles, then huffs and grabs your behind to stuff his face full of you. You squeak, and you feel him reach up and pull your underwear to the side so roughly that the fabric sounds like it tears. Instantaneously he's licking up into you and pressing your thighs down harder to get your pussy in his mouth.

No sound comes out of you, a hand has risen to cover your mouth, but Jisung is undeterred. Quickly eating up every bit you have to give him and gently finding a rhythm to have you falling apart. He knows by now that to get you there faster, he has to start slow.

It doesn't take very long though, regardless. Not in this position, and not with his hot mouth unrelenting on your cunt, your swollen clit pulsing. You unconsciously reach for his hair, something to grip onto. You know he gets even harder when you're loud, so you try not to cover your mouth as you cum.

You try and sit up from your seat on his face, but he pulls you right back. "Let me eat it, baby. Almost done, yeah?" He mumbles, and his tongue dips inside you again. Your brain fizzes out.

The next time you're moving, it's climbing off him.

"Your turn, make room." You tell him, and he shimmies up the bed to make a space for you. He's rock hard, of course he is, he has been for a while now. Your finger slides over his cock first, starting at the tip and trailing down the shaft. He just covers his face with his arm, and you pinch his thigh for that.

"Can I make you cum down my throat? Or d'you wanna save it?" You ask.

His cheeks visibly burn up from that. It's a cute reaction that makes you cock your head to the side, waiting for his reply. "U-uh, um, either, just.. please make me cum." He squeezes his eyes shut to answer.

You stroke him a little, not too much because he's waited already. Put up with a lot.

You suck at the tip to start, then lax your jaw and take his cock deep as you can. You're much better at it than when you first started, all confidence no follow through. Now you can do it without much of a hiccup.

He fucks up into your mouth every so often, and he loves it this way. Your gags, the wet sounds, the drool slipping and sliding down his shaft and pooling at the base of his cock. He feels guilty, though, even if deep-throating does usually make him cum real hard.

"I'm close, mama. Aaah! 'm gonna- cum! Hey, wait," He taps you to come off of him, so you do, although you take your time sliding off and bringing breaths back in your lungs with sticky spit and pearly pre-cum on your chin. You wipe it with your fingers and slip them between your legs. You stand to slide your underwear off.

Seeing Jisung like this; on the edge; feels like sneaking into heaven as a sinner. So disheveled, hair fucked up and curling up at the base of his neck from sweating. His tattoo glistens even under the dim lighting of the room, catching your eye every time. Blessed. That's how it feels to be like this, with him, your eyes feasting upon his erotic, orgasmic, blissful expression and posture. He's slumped over, breathing heavy, and you can see the purple marks on his shoulders. It fills you with intense satisfaction, the image of claiming him as yours. Pride burns hot from the bottom of your ribs, and it's delightful.

Jisung is lost for words, but there's no need for them right now. He grabs at the backs of your thighs and you're swept easily into his embrace. You both gasp when his aching sex taps against your clit and sits snug, albeit twitchy, against your cunt as you maintain eye contact. You kiss, and you're both so floaty that everything is sensational and dreamlike. He ruts against you like that, and it's all gaspy, hypersensitive, and it is unbelievable how in ecstasy you feel. Above the clouds.

You're kissing and breathing in each other's mouths, and you slide against him just as tenderly as he had against you and he's gone, then. You watch, and feel as his body trembles under you, his mouth fallen open as shuddery, earth-shattering exhales crash through him in waves, like he's had the wind knocked from him.

His eyes are open but irises lagging, slowly coming back into focus and he's blinking again. An inhale comes, and then they're coming back all at once.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders again. It's funny how quickly sexual appetite can be satiated and you can immediately switch back to your other senses. Ones you forgot about in those moments, when you're consumed by it.

"Jisungie?" You call his name, and your hand slides over his shoulder-blade and you rub your palm soothingly in circles there.

He hums. You say nothing, and the faintest of kisses is pressed to the side of his neck.

"I love you, too." He says. He hadn't said it back earlier. His head was so dizzy.

You nuzzle your nose into his neck. "I like your tattoo."

He smiles, you know it without looking, "I'm glad."

"Next time, we can get ones together?" You ask.

He pets your hair, humming in agreement. "Of course, my angel."

"Forever"

✰—-summery: seungmin has been realizing that he wants a forever with you. Honestly in whatever way you’ll have him. And maybe little domestic things like kisses on cheeks, lacing fingers a shared lived in home and a big ass ring on your finger, but now so overcome with love, he’s coming to realize he also wants to breed you. He knows no kids are on the radar for now… but a guy can have a fantasy right? And a guy can dream right?

✰--- approx: 30 min read

✰--- A/n i really have noting to say. I’m gonna continue my smutober series in the coming couple weeks yall trust 🙏🏼I have a few more smut fics that I’ll be getting to over the next couple weeks so think of it as an expansion of my lil smutober;)

✰— warnings/info: kissing, smut with sort of a plot ig, cursing, fluffy lovey dovey, tooth rotting fluff basically, breeding kink, raw fucking (do as I say not as I do wrap before u tap yall) ummm sex dream? As always bad spelling. Think that’s it

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

if you don’t have an age indicator saying you’re not a minor in your blog then I will be blocking you! So minors dni!!

•••••••••••••••••••••

Seungmin can't count how many times hes fallen in love with you. from every time you laugh to the way you smoothed our your shirt that one time and have never done it since but for some reason hes been thinking about for two months.

hes a guy of repetition. he likes having a routine, he loves that youre a part of it. and for him, thinking about you is always a part of it. but so much so that he sometimes finds himself daydreaming and distracted, he should be embarrassed, having to ask people to repeat themselves because "oh wow y/n likes that shade of green that they're wearing" but he really doesn't care. but at the same time you make him work that much harder. make him want to do better to either make you proud or impress you like some eighth grader he doesn't know.

he loves his job, he really does, but all he wants to do sometimes is come home to you. it makes him not only work faster sometimes but harder. maybe because he wants to be good enough and worthy for you and your love or maybe just because you bring that side out of him more than it already is. whatever it is he knows you just make him better. and its cheesy and mushy but you really do complete him

his arm looks better when you hold it, his pictures feel empty when youre not beside him, and you feel the same way too-- the bed always is unreasonably cold when he isn't behind you holding you close to his heart. or when hes not inside you, lets be honest.

he laughs at the members when they tease him about you having "girlfriend privileges". and tells him he doesn't see it. but at first he really didnt. now he sees it so well he hears it. he prides himself in making you happy, being the best boyfriend he can. thats one of the things you love about him he takes everything on with a passion, devoted to his goals.

sure he still pokes fun at you and is a lovely little menes but lets be real he lovey dovy with you a lot of the times too! and you get away with so much more with a lovesick puppy look on his face than anyone else. he wouldn't go all aspiring poet and say youve changed him but youve just... brought out another side of him. and as much as he gives you hard time you both know he loves it.

and you secretly love it when he says ew when you kiss him then he tackles you peppering your face with them a mintute later

the slight obsession with you is borderline concerning he thinks at this point-- once someone flirted with him at a bakery and the only thing he could think about was how they were standing in front of that dessert he knew you liked and he politely just asked them to move cause "I think Im gonna buy that for my parter I want to take a closer look". needless to say the person got the message.

though he didn't even fully realize they were flirting with him until he told you the story of how "a week ago when I was at that bakery someone was talking to me but I wasn't paying attention cause they were standing in front of the cold case." he though they were, with the over the top smiles and that little giggle. but sadly he was easily distracted by the thought of how "yn would like this"

The downside to how much he thinks of you is that at some point during the day if he isn't careful hes gonna get half hard. he feels like some pre pubescent boy that can't control himself and he hates it. nevertheless, the girlfriend privileges continue-- with the playful banter between you two and how much you tease him. not many other people could get away with poking seungmin in the cheek and saying "poke" for a full minute without him saying something.

in fact, hes smiling.

and not that youre complaining one bit when sees you after a long day and pounces on you, trying to rip your clothes off. but make no mistake, as stated before hes soft for you. well, mentally at least, cause most of the time he can't seem to control his boner around you. but all this overwhelming feelings of love has to go somewhere... right?

and it just so happens to be expressed and poured out so wonderfully in bed. you think you noticed it before he did, but there has been a pattern with him as of late--

it all started with a team a out you. noting too out of the ordinary. you started on top of him, as he helped you bounced on his cock, so hard and leaking for you. somehow you needed up beneath him after you came, but seungmin wasn't done yet, still pumping into you, somehow deeper than before trying to reach spots he never breached. "damn I love you so much. mhm, gonna fill you up" he breaths out in his dream. your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pleasure, "you gonna put a baby in me? please?" you moan, cupping his cheek and holding his hand in such a sweet and domestic way that it should offset the way he was filling you up with his cum, slipping out of you then plugging your pretty hole with his fingers, thrusting anything that leaked out back in. gotta make sure it takes right? make sure you get nice a round a swollen in a few months

but it didnt, the look of pure love you gave him as he was babbling about breeding you? fuck that really got to him. dream you wanted this too? dream you loved and trusted him so much and wanted forever with him just as he did with you? So when he woke up, still hard and cum leaving a dark stain on his boxers. he didnt know what to do. usually he'd know the answer or honestly go to you to help him. but this was... different, uncharted territory. sure there was always the thought of something like this in the back of his mind but it was never this strong. let alone had he ever had a dream about it.

He turns to the clock, 3:43 sharp and after tossing and turning, flipping his pillow over three times and realizing it felt better on the first side he still can’t fall asleep. He lets his eyes graze over your sleeping still figure, you’re faced away from him body covered by the blanket. But the curves and dips of your are still visible. It’s dark but he feels like he can still see you so clearly. He could probably feel every bit of your too over that thin little blanket. If you could even call it that I mean it wasn’t really doing much to warm you he was sure. That’s when he pulled you close by your middle, pressing your back up to is chest, his fingers dipping under your shirt like it always does when you two cuddle (though when you’re awake it sometimes slides higher than others) god your skin was cold.

He subconsciously moved you closer moving his hips flush with your ass. Though in hindsight that might’ve not been the best idea. Seeing as he was now fully hard from his dream and your body settling into his wasn’t doing him any good. “Min?” Did you really have to call him that right now? But against his better judgement since it very much was 3 am in the morning right now, he stayed glued next to you. “Min?” For once he fumbles, “yeah?” “I know you’re awake.” He bends his neck down to peck the top of your head “doesn’t mean you have to—“ “thank you, I was a little cold” you interrupt him while turning your body around to face him, hooking a leg over his”

well if you didn’t know before now you do. He thinks. “I was already half awake don’t worry,” he sighs “I figured” you smile at the fact that by now he knows all your little ins and outs all your little quirks. “You we’re kinda loud” you chuckle, and before he gets a chance to respond you’re reaching over him to turn on the light, it’s something so mundane so normal but somehow he’s still enamored by you. And with the way you’re basically on top of him, titties in his face he’s not getting soft anytime soon. “I think you’re hearing things.” He playfully scoffs “I think I should schedule you an ear appointment. My grandma knows a good one, maybe you can get matching hearing aids” you chuckle “and I think you still have a hard on”

that shut him up quick enough. you smile to yourself, you swear the man was all bark no bite sometimes when it came to you. seungmin glances over to the clock again. "sweetheart its so late its early..." he mumbles, sliding a not so sneaky little hand up your torso. his hands finds the side of your breast, then your collar bone, then settles back down on the neckline of your sleep shirt, playing with it.

"your dream sounded interesting," you peck his cheek and he flushes as if he didnt just dream about pumping you full of cum a second ago, "what was it about?" you ask, ignoring his comment about the time. you lace your fingers with his and he brings your hand with him under the blanket, settling it on his now painfully hard feeling cock straining against his boxers without a word, just that mischievous little devils grin.

you peck his lips this time, seungmin craining his head to chase you, lips still slightly smelling of that chapstick you always put on before bed. his tasting salty like the light sheen of sweat that coats his face from his dream. though you plan on making him much hotter in the next coming minutes. he pulls you back down to his lips by the back of your neck. a gentle but firm touch that mad you go crazy. the kisses are needy, lustful, but somehow also full of pure love and passion. he doesn't quite know how to express all the good that he feels for you, he isn't sure he ever will, but whenever he kisses you like this of late, he hopes his feelings will get through to you.

and you feel the emotion he pours into it when it happens, you really do. he pulls away a little later, never tired of kissing you and hand down in-between your legs rubbing your soaking pussy. "I just" he smiles through his gasps of air, "love you so much" it was sad really, that that was all he could say but he felt something for you that words cannot express in the English language, or Korean, or any language hes come across.

his eyes look like that one begging emoji. he just... he needs you to understand. he doesn't know why he just blurted it out. but you had just made this cute little face of pleasure. pleasure he was giving you. you felt good because of him. and it had just slipped out!

you didnt realize how much you wanted him, how desperate you were until in a matter of minutes youre gasping and whining for him. "fuck, breed me, make me yours" you say, barely over a whisper into his ear, chin on his shoulder. your sleep shirt bunched up around your hips that raped around his, his arms are laced behind your back, hugging you a keeping you close chest to chest as you bounce and rock yourself on his dick. so caught up in the moment, he misses the smirk on your face when you said it, blissfully unaware that you knew full well what he was dreaming about. and how hot you found it.

he whines, "no dont say that youre gonna make me cum... not--" he breaths out when your cunt tightens around him just so, "not now--" he already had you close to cumming earlier, when he was guiding your wt heat along his leg, grinding you on him. but he wanted to take care of you first ya know? be a gentleman. but he knew he wasn't going to last long if you kept talking like that. he reaches down to your core and swollen bud, rubbing it just how you like.

"well fill me up then min." you accentuate your words with a long, languid rock of yourself on him, his leaking cock hitting just where you want him to. god you feel so full, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head thinking about how full you'd feel with all his warm seed inside you.

"no baby please dont say that either." his voice is strained, his words are lazy unlike how he usually sounds. thats hw you knew he was already close. "no please, I wanna feel so full." you pout, and his mind goes almost blank. he moves his free hand to your hip bone, guiding you as you impale yourself on his cock ever time you lift up and slam back down. though he wasn't really doing much guiding as he was mostly enjoying the soft squeeze of your skin, fingers on your plush thighs. he subconsciously nibbles at your collarbone, surely it'll leave a mark later you said you wanted him to make you his right?

"but you already have my cock in you baby. dont you feel it?" he wonders aloud, meeting your pumps up n' down with renewed vigor. "its so hard for you, god you make me so hard" you still your movements, letting him do most of the work thrusting up into your pussy, making wet squelching noises that fill the room.

"mmhm so big n' hard. cum inside me? I know you'd fill me up so good."

"oh god." that nearly sent him over the edge. you look down to where your bodies meet and his hand is rubbing you, fuck his hand looks delicious, fingers perfectly long and hand with veins popping out. "I need you to cum with me." and not long later you do. you cm hard, knees shaking and out of breath. you'd asked him to cum inside and thats what he does. you feel your insides flood with warmth. damn he must've cum a lot.

he stays inside for a moment and is about to pull out when you stop him, hand on his bicep, "keep it inside." you tell him, and this time he catches your smirk. And seungmin just laughs, kissing your neck in a manner so sweetly you almost forget about his dick inside you. “You heard my dream?” Though he already knew. “Mmhm” “I love you so much” his nose presses into your neck “I wanna spend forever with you” “aw me too min” “hm was it good for you then too?” “So you didn’t hear me moaning for you? Guess not” you tease and he scoffs. “I did. And I think the neighbors heard too. We’ll have to talk more in the morning and do some googling I guess. But thank you” “you’re thanking me now?” You laugh. “Yeah I—“ “I think it’s hot too don’t worry. That’s why I want you to stay inside. We want it to take huh baby” he shivers, running his palm up your spine.

seungmin was a reasonable guy, he knew that this was alll fantasy and having kids wasn't on your radar right now. but he still loved it. He didn’t know what it was, maybe it was just you two growing together, growing intertwined. But as of late, he’s just been wanting or maybe finally realizing just how much he loves and cares for you. how much he wants with you. seungmin hasn't really thought of it before, but maybe he wants and already cherishes those cute little things with you-- like the kisses on cheeks when one of you greet the other at the door, the waking up next to each other at dawn, and everything in-between.

and maybe one day, if you'll let him, he wants to put a big ass ring on your finger. well, some day.

and you loved it too. And him. The way he took his time with you no matter what it is no matter if he already did it a thousand times. Just like a second ago, he caressed every curve and did of your body. Constantly wanted his hands on you, kissing from your neck to your lips over and over.

“Why are you so silent? Don’t you want it too honey?” He smiles from ear to ear “ugh sweetheart you’re amazing” he mumbles before kissing your lips.

~end

thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed please leave some love like comments or a reblog if you did!

INEXPERIENCED.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: One of your subordinates wasn’t performing the way you would have liked, you invited him for a drink in the hopes of encouraging him only to discover that he's inexperienced in other things too. (7,5k words)

Author's note: Let me know if you want a second part. Oh, and happy birthday, Hannie! ♡

"Goddammit!"

The chief's voice is sharp and loud like a crack of thunder but instead of lightning, it comes with a stack of papers hurling toward you.

Fortunately, it's breezing past the side of your head as it scatters in the air and the papers float before they make a quiet landing on the floor.

"Have you been teaching those under your wing right?" The chief yells again, this time personally aimed it toward you with his nostrils flared and his neck gets all red whether from the anger or his collar is too tight, or both.

"Don't make light of our work here!"

It's always safe to apologize first and explain later, it's even better if there are no explanations at all and admit right away that it's your fault.

"We're very sorry, sir!" You sincerely say while keeping your head down, you secretly glance to the side to check on someone and he does the same thing too.

"I'll take responsibility for this," you openly accept the blame as a good senior would do.

"Enough with your apologies!" The chief lowers his voice as he rubs on his wrist and you guess he got hurt from hurling the papers at you with all of his strength.

"Just go back to your work and do it right!" The chief yells once more as he hides the pain around his wrist.

You nod and put on a courteous smile, "Please, excuse us," you say.

You quickly make your way out of his office along with your junior co-worker and none of you say anything until you both turn into the hallway that leads you back to your office.

The person next to you, Han, stops walking and turns to face you, he's looking down at his feet when he apologizes, "I'm sorry. It was my mistake but I dragged you into this."

With a job comes a responsibility and when you get tasked to take him under your wing, you are fully aware that he's your responsibility and his mistake will be your mistake too. Since he's new, it's understandable that he stumbled on things but the problem is he's done it a couple of times already in the last five months he's been working here.

However, you remember you were once in his position and you've experienced how stressful it can be when everyone is pressing you from all sides, you don't want that for him so you try to be a compassionate senior for him.

You gently place your hand on his shoulder and smile at him, "The most important thing is you acknowledge your mistake and apologize. Now, we can just laugh it off," you tell him.

Han lifts his head, showing how sorry he is with his eyebrow downturn and wistful eyes, "We can't just laugh it off," he meekly says.

You put your hand on the small of his back and whisk him away to continue walking down the hallway, "Let's just laugh it off and have a few drinks tonight," you console him.

"Maybe just one drink," he says, feeling concerned with what you mean by a few drinks.

"Let's drink until morning!" You jokingly say, linking your arm with his.

"We can't drink until morning," Han meekly says as you keep dragging him along with you.

"Oh, come on!" You gently slap him on the chest and get surprised by the firm muscles he has under his crisp white shirt, "It's my treat."

-

What's a high-paying job when he earns more stress than money?

Han should consider himself lucky that he has you as a senior. Not only that you're nice, you are so kind and patient with him, you teach him everything he needs to know about his job and the company. You always try to cheer him up when he gets chewed off by the chief. You're not only making this job bearable to him, you make it possible for him to enjoy his work with you around.

"Oh, no!" You gasp as you see the sign taped on the front door of the bar.

"Our sanctuary!" You cry with your lips pursed and your shoulders sagged.

Closed for renovation, it says on it.

It's such a shame that the bar that you both regularly visit is closed on days like this when he needs to drink his sorrow away and just decompress.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" He suggests while scratching the back of his head, raking his brain for any bar he knows in this area.

Your face brightens as the light bulb in your head dings with an idea, "How about we drink at my place?"

"Huh?" His eyes burrowed in slight shock and confusion.

"Come on! It's just around the corner," you don't wait for his answer, you link your arm around him and whisk him away with you.

Turns out, you're not lying about your place is just around the corner. You live in a small house with a miniature garden in the back and everywhere he looks, there's a potted plant sitting in the corner of the room.

It creates such a contrast to the hustling and bustling of the city and the stressful environment at work, it offers a pleasant atmosphere that instantly puts him at ease.

Keeping the window open, the wind chime sings a tune every time a gust of wind brushes in between, sending them clinking against each other.

"How do you manage to take care of all of these plants?" He asks in wonder, foolishly touching the tiny thorns on one of your succulents.

"It's easy," you answer from the kitchen, "You just need to water them."

Han saunters into the kitchen, ready to offer his help as you stand on your tiptoe to get glasses from the top cabinet. He notices the big jar of dark brown liquid with something floating on the surface.

"What is that?"

"That's what we'll be drinking tonight," you answer with a smile.

Being the gentleman he is, he carries the big jar of mysterious drink to the living room, carefully puts it down on the table, and then sits on the floor, looking at it with curious eyes.

"It's cherry brandy," you inform.

"You made it yourself?" He wildly guesses.

"I am," you answer with a proud smile, opening the jar with all of your strength.

As soon as the lid cracks open, Han is already intoxicated by the sweet, alcohol-tinted aroma that is wafting around the room. He watches as you dip the ladle and meticulously pour it into the glass. He knows now that the things bobbing on the surface are the cherries.

"But how?" He asks in wonder as he observes the drink in his hand.

"It's just cherries, sugar, and vodka, put them in the jar, shake them, put them in the dark for weeks, and voila!" You easily share the recipe and the comprehensive steps for making it.

"No, I mean, how do you have time to do all these?" He asks, utterly befuddled.

Work is draining enough to him that he has no energy left to do other things than rest, and when he gets time, he uses it on something as frivolous as playing video games. That explains why he can't relate to your way of life because how?

You look at him and snort as if his question is inane and the answer is obvious. You get up from the floor as you say, "I'm going to get the cheese."

"Please don't tell me you also made the cheese yourself," he jokingly asks because he already has so much respect for you.

This cherry brandy is dangerous. The cherries mask the taste of the alcohol and all Han can taste is the sweet and tangy flavor of the cherries, but he's aware that he's getting lightheaded with every sip of it. The worst part is he can't stop drinking it.

You're using his drunk state as a chance to tease him and he starts grouching, slurring his words doing it.

"What I'm saying is you always change the topic to me apologizing," he whines with his lips forming a cute pout.

"I'm not," you deny, taking a piece of cheese in between sips.

"I know I am incompetent," he grumbles then hisses at the alcohol burning down his throat.

"I beg to differ. I don't think you're incompetent."

"What then? Incapable? Pathetic? Useless?"

"I think you're just... inexperienced and that's okay," you pause to pick a handful of cherries from the jar with the ladle, "I know that you're sorry and you'll keep trying to be better. I have faith in you, Han."

Han didn't know that he needed to hear that until now. Suddenly, the tightness in his chest loosens, and he feels liberated. He can finally breathe and enjoy his drink with ease.

"Let's impress the chief with our next presentation, okay?" You softly smile at him, raising your glass to invite him for a toast.

Returning the spirit, Han smiles and raises his glass, clinking it with yours as he promises himself to prove that you're not wasting your faith in him.

"Damn! This cherry brandy is so good," he praises with his nose scrunched reacting to the aftertaste.

"Can you do this?" You pop a cherry into your mouth while holding the stem between your thumb and index finger.

"Do what?"

You put the stem into your mouth next and begin moving your mouth, almost like chewing it. After a while, you stick your tongue out, revealing the stem is knotted now. It's impressive, yes, but his eyes are focusing on your lips and how they're glistening wet, probably tastes as sweet as a cherry too.

"That's kind of uh..." he's not sure if what he's about to say is appropriate so he decides not to finish his sentence, "Wow!"

"They say that if you can do this that means you're a good kisser," you remark as you fish out more cherries out of the jar with the ladle.

He hesitates but considering that he's not in a workplace and the alcohol dulls his brain, it can no longer tell what's appropriate or not anymore.

"Are you?"

"Mmh?" You hum in question with a cherry tug between your teeth.

"Are you a good kisser?" He daringly asks.

You bite through the cherry and he can the juice flooding your mouth, you're chewing it as you're looking at him, making him wait for your answer in anticipation.

Then you lean forward on the table, you prop a hand under your chin and slightly tilt your head to the side, "Want to try?"

The way you both execute it is like two teenagers doing seven minutes in heaven. You're both sitting facing each other on the floor with your legs folded under you and awkwardly looking at each other.

All of a sudden, you lean in close until both of your faces are merely inches away from each other. Your lips slowly curl into a smile as you stare into his warm brown eyes.

"You have beautiful eyes."

He can't only handle that much and smiles at your compliment, "Thank you."

"But I need you to close them for now."

"Okay," he obeys your order and closes his eyes.

A minute later, Han just realized what he'd done to himself. With his eyes closed, he can't see what you're doing and he can only wait in anticipation with his heart pitter-patter in his chest.

"Where should I start, mmh?"

He hears you mutter and he knows that it's a rhetorical question, you don't need an answer, you do that just to build his anticipation.

In the next moment, Han feels your breath fanning over his ear, sending goose bumps down his neck, then softly, you press a kiss to his left temple.

“Hmm... where to now?” The words are spoken softly against his skin, each one a caress.

He knows it's yet another rhetorical question but it's enough to send his heart rattling like someone sets firecrackers in his chest.

The tip of your nose grazes his skin as you move lower and you surprise him with a kiss on his cheek, making him close his eyes tightly as impatient sears through him.

As if you hear his thoughts, you land the next kiss on the corner of his mouth, so close yet not exactly where he wants your lips to be.

Then you rest your hand on his jaw, holding him in place as you press an innocent peck on his lips. A tingling sensation bounces around in his chest and a second after you pull away only to sink your lips on his again.

This time, you take the lead, you're showing him how it's done, drawing the kisses out. When your tongue slips between his lips, he goes stock-still. He can't comprehend that your tongue is in his mouth, hot and wet, swirling around his tongue.

This is it. This is kissing and kissing is this good. Oh, man, no one tells him that it's this good!

When you break the kiss, he almost lets out a whimper of complaint from the sudden loss of contact.

"What do you think?" You ask, biting your lower lip but he notices a grin peeking around the edges of your mouth.

"The best kiss I've ever had," he honestly admits.

You let out a soft laugh, "We're not at work. You don't have to suck me up," you say, not entirely buying his words.

"B-but I'm not lying," he assures you with his eyebrows downturn and his dark eyes looking at you.

You take your glass of cherry brandy and have a small sip, "Well, if the only other person you've ever kissed is your mum, then I'll take you on that," you jokingly say.

Something catches in his throat and it's the truth. Han doesn't plan on telling anyone about it or ever for that matter but he deems you're trustworthy enough to keep this secret for him.

"I'm a virgin," he meekly confesses.

The handle of the ladle slips off your fingers and it clatters to the bottom of the jar, "Pardon?"

"I have never had sex with anyone," the hesitation makes his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

You bring your glass close to your mouth but not drink it, "When I said you're inexperienced, I didn't think that it included the dating area."

Now it feels like he's just told you his defect and his nerves are being replaced by a wave of regret. His eyes wander off, his voice turns small.

"Was that a turn-off?"

You take a cherry from your drink and shove it into your mouth, as you chew on it a sly smirk rises on your face. You lick your lips and then lean forward, "If I say that I'll pop your cherry..."

Your hand reaches for his face and the pressure of your fingertips on his chin makes him face you again, leading him to believe you want eye contact.

"What would you do?"

-

The tension is climbing fast when you both enter your bedroom, he can't even see his surroundings as both of your lips are locked in a rapturous kiss and you lead him in one direction, the bed.

The moment you have him lying on the bed and you pin him under, his skin gets hot and sensitive, his pulse drumming with eagerness. His cock digs in his slacks, reminding him that it's real and it's not some fantasies he's making up in his head. He is sure he's been turned on before but he can't remember when, even if he did, he's sure it wasn't this much.

From there, it's raining kisses on his lips, and in between the aching presses of your lips, your tongue caresses him, making his skin tingle. When he tries to capture your tongue to take into himself, you evade him. You tease him more by brushing at his lips and dip your tongue inside for a mere second, then quickly withdraw, making him almost groan in frustration.

Okay, he gets it, you're a good kisser so stop playing, he complains in his head.

The way you smile against his lips only means that you know what you're doing and enjoying it. Impulsively, Han decides to seal your mouth with his and touches your tongue with his, an explosion of taste in his mouth, sweet, tangy, tart, so. fucking. addictive.

As he's drunk in your kisses, you run your hand down his body and eventually discover his member poking through the front of his slacks.

"Wow!" You lowly gasp yet continue rubbing his clothed bulge, "You're already this hard?"

Since it's his first time, he doesn't know how to properly react or respond, but he's familiar with this feeling tugging inside him, insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he meekly apologizes.

You gently cup his jaw and stare into his dark, round eyes, "What to be sorry for?"

To assure him, you place a long, lingering kiss on his lips and then sit straddling him on the bed. You untuck the hem of your blouse out of your skirt and bring your fingers to the top button.

"My junior pops a boner on me..." you maintain eye contact with him as you continue undoing all the buttons on your blouse, "Then I can't just look and do nothing."

It's a mystery how he doesn't get blind from seeing your bare upper half body but he knows his eyes are almost out of their sockets the second you take your blouse off, revealing your soft mounds hanging beautifully on your chest.

You're already gorgeous with your clothes on but like this, it's too much for him. He swallows hard as you glide your hand down your sternum and he sees how your fingers lightly graze your nipple as you cup the underside.

You take both of his hands and put them on your breasts, then, you let them go just to see what he's going to do with them.

Nothing. He does nothing but look at his hands holding your breasts and you almost grin at how he looks at them with eyes filled with childlike wonder.

You tilt your head to the side, "So what do you think?"

"They're so soft," he innocently answers.

You hold his hands and move them together, fondling your breasts together with him, you gesture his thumb to play with your hardening bud. Soon, he's doing it himself, kneading on your breasts and once in a while, rubbing his fingers over your nipples.

After a while of letting him touch them, you deem he's ready for more, "Want to kiss them?"

His eyes glance up from your chest to your eyes and then stifle a nod. You scoot a little to the back as he rises from the bed, and this new position brings his mouth close to your breasts.

Sensing his hesitation, you say, "Go ahead. Put your mouth on them."

As he stares at them in silence, Han swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing inside his throat before softly landing his small, pouty lips on the valley of your breasts, a long peck that leaves a searing feeling on your skin and then buries his head in between.

A ragged breath escaped your mouth as you encircled your arms around him, drawing him closer. You tangle your hand in his hair, dark, loose curls, caught between your fingers.

Seconds stretched into minutes and Han hasn't done anything but rests one side of his head on your sternum.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?" You jokingly ask.

"No," his voice is small and low, almost like a whisper.

You reckon he needs some pointers on ways to play with them, you glide your hand to the back of his head and tilt his head slightly upward, just enough to make him look at you.

"How about we put them in your mouth?" You ask with your hand softly scratching the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck.

You lead him by placing your hand on his jaw and with your thumb, you trace his lower lip, then slowly, you part his mouth open with it. You let him do the rest and he catches up fast, he opens his mouth a little wider and takes your ample flesh, then closes his mouth around it.

Han is following his instincts, he tightens his grip around you and pulls you closer so he can feast on you. He has your breasts in his face, his mouth, rolling on his tongue. He can play with them all day.

As you gaze down at your chest, you see his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand kneading on the other, both stimulations sending you twist and arch your back, your ass making friction on his crotch.

"You like them, huh?"

Without detaching his mouth from your nipple, he answers, "I like this."

He moves his mouth to the other nipple and sucks on it, "and this."

It's such an erotic sight that you feel a tingle down there. You bring your hands to the side of your breasts and push them to the middle so he can suck them all at once.

Han doesn't need more pointers, he knows what he wants and going for it. More importantly, he knows this is no fantasy playing in his head. This moment, you, and his undeniable attraction to you are all real.

He's slowly yet surely claiming your body in any way he can, he drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth, kissing you like it's his lifeline and he's hanging on a thin thread.

A murmuring sound hums in your throat as you kiss him back while your hands go down his back, taking the tail of his shirt out of his slacks. You draw your hands back to the front, unbuttoning his shirt and your patience wears thin as you get to the last one, you end up ripping it open.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you place your hand on his bare chest, but it's the swell of his chest muscles that distracts you from your exploration. You never touch hard rounded flesh like this before and his skin is searing hot under your fingertips. Gosh! You want to touch him all over.

As you sink your mouth into his again, you run your greedy hands over his arms, his chest, and his abs. You also admire his exceptional shoulders-to-waist ratio.

On the other hand, Han isn't prepared when you stroke over the fly of his pants, a jolt of pleasure coursed through him and his cock twitches in excitement, and a hoarse groan falls out of his mouth. His mind goes haywire as you unbutton and unzip his slacks, then you withdraw the hard length of his cock. He's almost losing it when your eyes go dark with so much want.

"Oh, so hot," you breathlessly gasp as you wrap your fingers around his swelling member, "mmh... so hard for me."

It's obvious that you have the experience, you seem to know where to touch, what would please him the most, the rhythm he prefers, and know when to pick up the pumping of your hand around his length.

"Am I doing good?" You casually ask, acting like you don't see the effect of your stimulations on him.

"Good," his voice is trembling with so much intensity.

As much as he likes it, he doesn't want to risk coming all over your palm, he wants to explore more of you and more ways to do that to you.

"Want... to... touch you," That's all he can mutter after forcing his brain to form a coherent sentence.

"Want to touch me?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"There," he lowly whispers that he doubts you can hear it.

You give him a haste kiss before answering his request by sitting on your knees, you swiftly undo the hook fastening at the side of your skirt and then ease the zipper over the sweet curve of your hip. Instead of sitting back down, you get off his lap and slowly lay yourself down on the bed. You raise your hips to lower the skirt down and then out of your legs.

"Now, come here," You're patting the space next to you.

It puts him in a trance seeing you lying naked on the bed with only your white underwear on, the fabric is so flimsy it leaves nothing to the imagination.

After a struggling minute, his brain finally manages to process your command, he lays next to you. You waste no time but gently hold his chin, then bring his head close for a kiss.

Maybe it's because you're too good at this that makes Han feels he needs to rise to the level. He does more than a kiss, he licks, he nibbles at your lips, and his tongue daringly invades your mouth to get as much of that sweet taste of you.

A hand finds him and you're taking it with you, placing it on you, guiding him to where you like to be touched. Your neck, across your chest, the underside of your breasts, around the navel and you keep leading him south, not stopping until his hand meets your clothed sex.

"It's wet," he blurts out as he feels the dampness of your underwear against his palm.

"It's even wetter underneath," you mutter against his lips.

Curiosity gets the best of him, he checks right away to see if what you said is true. He slips his hand under the fabric and immediately gets the answer. You're drenched and it gets all over his fingers the more he touches you.

"Oh, my God..." you arch your back against his hand, offering more of you to touch.

He feels encouraged to please you more, he pulls your underwear to the side and slips one finger into you. Low murmurs tumble from your lips and it tells him that this is what you want. He works a second finger in, and the stretching sensation has your head falling back and your heels dug into the bed.

"Curl them," you instruct as you push into penetration.

Han doesn't obey your words right away, he allows his fingers to ease in and out, feeling you out and catching you off guard, he curls his fingers inside you, startling a breathless gasp from you.

With your eyes closed, you lick your lips and then ask, “Are you sure it's your first time?"

His insecurity kicks in again as you show sheer doubt in your question, “What do you mean by that?”

You open your eyes and slyly smile at him, “It means so far you’re very good at it.”

The moment he hears that his insecurity turns into confidence. He applies slow, measured movements and does what he thinks would please you, using your lewd noises as the guide. The motions seem to calm you even as they put you on edge.

Your hand hikes its way up to his arm then nestles in his tousled hair, "My, my! You really are a capable boy when you try," you praise with dazed eyes and a sly grin.

This should offend him but it does nothing but stroke his ego in the best way. Other than that, he just wants to please you more and more even though he has no idea how. The better question is: what to do next?

"Do you mind taking my underwear off for me?"

He doesn't answer but hurriedly gets himself to do it, fingers tugging at the waistband of your underwear, then slowly, pulling it down your legs. The scrape of his nails on your skin sends a shudder down your spine.

"There you go!" You delightfully exclaim once the underwear is off of you.

You get comfortable on the bed, propping an elbow on the mattress as you lie slightly to the side, "Now, take your clothes off."

He's just realized now that his shirt is still loosely draped around his shoulders and his slacks are bunched around his thighs with his hard-on hanging out of his boxer.

With naughty eyes, you watch as he removes the pieces of clothing until there's none left but miles of miles of honey skin. You run one hand down your front then part your legs open, you don't seem to be embarrassed touching yourself in front of him and he finds that very sexy.

Little does he know, what you're about to do next is far sexier.

You put your hands on the back of your knees and then slowly, you pull them apart, exposing your glistening wet core to him.

Han admits that he hasn't seen enough to know but he's sure he's looking at one of the prettiest pussy he's ever seen, glistening wet, pulsating with so much desire, and so damn inviting. Looking at it makes him swallow air, hard.

He wants to play it cool but he fails at it, he wants you so much, he becomes this one big ache of wanting.

As he's about to lower himself on you, you block him from coming closer with your hand on his chest, "Oh, we almost forgot the condom."

You twist your body to the side, hand reaching for the handle of your bedside drawer and pull it open. To cut time, he grabs it for you from a box full of condoms inside the drawer.

"Want me to put it on?" You offer.

"Yes," he shortly answers, not caring if he sounds so eager.

You tear through the foil wrapper and take out the rubber, you give his length a gentle stroke before rolling the rubber down, then you pinch the end to make room for his completion.

You lay back on the bed, head resting on the pillow and a smile lingering on your face, showing him that you're comfortable enough to continue.

"You know what to do next," you say as you rub your hand up and down his forearm.

As he hesitates, you wrap your hand around his cock and rub it between your folds, milking more essence to prepare you for penetration. You're getting impatient for him but you let him decide when to enter you.

After a while, Han finally aligns his cock to your entrance, and with a shallow breath, he pushes just enough until his tip disappeared inside you.

Oh, the face he makes as he enters you, it's priceless.

"I can take a little more," you assure him with fingers lightly scraping the skin of his arms.

"I just—" he bites back a groan and tugs his lower lips between his teeth, "Give me a moment. This is my first time."

As you lay underneath and hear that, you find him hot and cute at the same time, butterflies explode in your stomach and fly around in amok.

"Kiss me," you sweetly ask, bringing his head close with your hand holding his chin.

Han fulfills your wish, lowering his mouth on you again as you wrap your arms around him. As he calms down from the rising tension, you bring your hands down to his hips and nudge him to push more into you.

"Oh..." his groan is hoarse and raw, spilling into your open mouth.

"I want all of you inside me," you whine against his lips.

Conveniently, what you want aligns with what he wants, he pushes the rest of his length inside you until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

A shaky breath escapes his mouth and he buries his head in your neck, you can hear every shudder of his breath, getting heavier with each passing second.

The two of you savor the moment—not speaking, not moving, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room is so quiet you hear the cars driving by outside and the occasional sounds of the wind-chime from the living room.

With a passionate kiss on your lips, he begins moving, he withdraws then thrusts, and the pace turns quick all of a sudden. You understand that this is his first time but he can't fully enjoy it when he's going at a light speed in a second.

"Hey, slow down," You calmly say with a soft peck on his lips and jaw, "don't rush."

He abruptly stops moving for a second and lets out a low sigh, "Sorry, I can't help myself."

Why he has to be this cute in a heating moment like this? You can't help but smile and peck his small lips again. You keep your hand on his neck, feeling the blood rushing in his veins.

"This is our first time," you say, "I want it to be special."

"Okay," he says with repeated nods.

Our first time. That sounds like you're hinting that this will be the first of many. Han feels a flutter all over his body hearing that.

Our first time, he replays it in the back of his head for his own amusement.

Keeping your words in mind, he continues where he left off, thrusting into you again at a moderate speed until he finds his pace. You give him the closeness he seeks by spreading your legs wider and wrapping them around his dainty waist.

In between kisses and moans, you tenderly gaze into his eyes and ask, "So, how do I feel?"

He forces his brain to try and compute words, "You feel hot... slippery and tight."

He pauses to clear his throat and adds, "You feel so good."

"I know," You softly smile and land a peck on his lips, "You feel so good inside me too."

Gosh! If he knew that sex felt this good, he would have done it sooner. He believes that it's all because of you. There's no guarantee that it would feel this good with someone else.

The way you keep clenching tighter around him means that he's doing well but on the other hand, it brings him closer to the edge. How long does sex usually last? He doesn't know but it seems like he can't hold himself back anymore.

"I'm sorry but I think I'm about to come," he says through his gritted teeth.

You hastily kiss his lips, "do you want to cum, mmh?"

Now that you asked him, he doesn't feel good about saying yes because you seem like you still want to continue. He changes his mind, convincing himself he can hold back a little longer.

"No, I can't— I shouldn't," he mutters while shaking his head.

"You hold back so much despite it being your first time," you say with a sly smile.

You put your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, and swiftly, you roll him to the side, forcing him to lay back on the bed while you get on top of him.

"Alright then..." you sigh as you run both hands down his chest, "Try not to come as hard as you can."

Han should've taken your warning seriously. He gaps so loudly as you start rolling your hips against him, back and forth, then in circular motions, painstakingly slow. He's hopelessly grasping at the last shred of sanity left in him.

It's impossible to hold back anymore when you're fucking him good and he's watching you enjoying it with your breasts bouncing along to the slightest of movement, your nails clawing at his chest and the sexiest part of all is that blissful smile plastered on your face.

For a timeless moment, Han hovers on the brink, breathless, until the orgasm crashes over him and he grips at your thighs as you drive into him relentlessly. He hasn't finished with his orgasm yet he can feel your muscles fluttering around him and clamping him down.

With a hoarse groan, you surge into him one last time and come around him, then slowly, you lower your shaking body to the bed.

Without thinking, Han holds you close like you are his. He puts his arms around you and you burrow your head into the crook of his neck as you hold him back.

"Congratulations!" You whisper.

"Mmh?" He asks with dazed eyes.

"Your cherry has been popped!"

-

Han jolts awake the next morning, he's seeing you sleeping next to him, in your room and the sun is shining so brightly outside. The first thought that comes to his mind is he's late for work and panicked.

He rises from the bed and gasps, "Oh, God! Did I oversleep?!"

You put your hand on his chest and pull him to lay back on the bed, "It's Saturday," you sleepily croak.

"Oh? Right..." His panic turns into embarrassment and he blames his body clock for that.

You scoot close to his side and put your arm across his chest, fingertips lightly trailing his collarbone. It feels nice, and snug. Why would he try to leave this heavenly feeling of lazing on the bed with you?

But he's aware that he should also consider that you might want your personal space back and he doesn't want to overstay his visit.

"I uhm... I probably should go," he says yet not moving an inch.

He hears you draw a breath then drop your hand to cup his jaw, "Okay."

Again, Han remains still on the bed, lying so close next to you and in your warm embrace. You suddenly lift your head and roll to the side, overlapping his body with yours.

"Before you leave, want to shower with me first?"

This is unexpected but he's not complaining at all. He reminds himself to keep calm and try to come up with a playful response.

"So we can have sex again?"

You crack a laugh at that and rest your chin on his chest, you gently tap his cheek with your index finger, "Now that you're no longer a virgin, you think you're so hot, huh?"

It hasn't completely sunk into him that he had sex for the first time last night and the reminder makes his heart flutter.

He keeps his cool and nonchalantly shrugs, "Just a little."

-

As much as he tries his best to resist it, Han keeps following you with his eyes.

Yes, he's aware of how creepy it is and he wants to act normal, it makes it obvious that he feels something toward you.

Or rather, why are you able to act normal about this?

He admits that he likes that part about you, you are aware that this is a workplace and there shouldn't be personal business involved within.

However, Han can't help but wonder if he's the only one still thinking about that night.

Now that he thinks about it, you and him never really agreed on what to call this relationship, is it just casual or do you want to take it further, and is not talking about it an adult thing to do?

"Ugh, I don't know," he doesn't mean to let it out loud but thankfully, no one is there to hear it.

His eyes hovering over you again, he slightly swivels his office chair to the side and watches you checking files from one of your juniors. He finds it attractive that you have a crease between your eyebrows whenever you're focused on something and the way you flip the page then hold it between your fingers, oh, it does something to him.

"It looks good," you say as you put the files back, "You can proceed with this one."

Your junior takes the file back from you and holds it in front of her as she asks, "Will you come to our company dinner tomorrow night?"

You don't even consider it but answer right away, "Yes, sure, I'll be there."

Your junior responds with a warm smile, "That's great!"

After your junior leaves, you collect some files from your desk, get up, and bring them with you as you make your way toward his desk.

He doesn't know why but he shoots up from his chair as if he gets caught doing something. You stop by his desk and you have no idea how thankful he is, imagine if you walked past his desk, he would be so fucking embarrassed.

"Han, these are the documents for the next meeting," you say, showing him the files you're holding, "Can you organize them for me?"

"Absolutely!" He answers without a beat.

He thinks you have nothing else to do for him but you linger by his side and then slowly lean into his side while keeping the files open, covering half of your faces.

"Isn't the day after tomorrow is your birthday?" You ask.

His breath hitches either from the proximity or the fact that you know about this birthday, "Yes. How do you know?"

"Oh, well..." You slightly shrug instead of telling him the answer.

Taking him by surprise, you lean in closer and then place a soft kiss on his cheek. His breath catches in his throat and he feels a hiccup coming. He looks around to see if anyone saw that but the official remains lively as usual.

"What's that for?" He manages to ask while holding his cheek as if he is trying to hide the mark even though there is nothing but the searing feeling it leaves on his skin.

"An early birthday present," you simply answer with a smile then walk back to your desk.

Han used to dread company dinner because it requires him to drink and he's bad at drinking.

The first round is at a barbecue place, the drinking is moderate, and he can slow down the drinking by shoving food in between.

On the second round, they're going for a karaoke bar and that's when it gets tricky, someone will somehow notice if he hasn't drunk enough and force him to get on their level. If only they had any ideas that he'd be likely blacked out from drinking as much as them.

By the time the second round ends, Han finds himself stumbling on his way out of the karaoke bar. He's not drunk but he knows he's one drink away from it. Someone grabs his arm and without looking, he knows that it's you. No one likes to link their arms with him, except you.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" You keep your voice low to not let anyone else hear it.

"Yes," he answers without thinking and frankly, you can take him anywhere you want.

"Round three! Let's go!" The team manager shouts, half slurring his words and leading everyone to go.

"But–but how about...?" He stutters, pointing at their co-workers walking away and he's afraid that the two of you might get in trouble for ditching everyone else.

"Don't worry about it," you assure him, walking to the other way of where everyone else is going and at the end of the street, you hail a taxi.

It's obvious that he doesn't know where you're taking him until you tell the taxi driver to pull over and he steps out of the taxi, finding himself at the front of a hotel.

He follows you as you walk across the lobby, coming toward the reception to check in for a stay. The process only takes a few minutes and you get handed a keycard.

He can simply ask you why you're taking him here but it would be so naive of him, right? The most important thing is he likes where this is going.

Arrive at your floor, you lead the way to the room and even though he's still feeling a little lightheaded, his eyes can't seem to look away from watching your back figure as you walk in front of him with your hips swaying side to side and that pencil you always wear to work does nothing but accentuate the shape of your—

"I'm sorry, Han," you suddenly apologize as you walk up to a door and he guesses it must be the room you're assigned to.

"Yes?" He asks, confounded.

Instead of getting into the room first, you turn around on your feet and stand with your back facing the door while holding the keycard in your hands.

"You see I don't really know what you'd like for your birthday so..." your voice turns lower the more you speak but it's the soft gaze and the way you're looking at him through your lashes that suddenly makes it hard to breathe.

"I was thinking we could go shopping together but I can't help myself."

There's no physical contact whatsoever but he gets hot all over, he licks his lips as his eyes flick to your lips that tempted him to kiss.

"I've been thinking about being alone with you and all the things we could do together."

He is right to not ask the question but God, he likes the answer to it.

"So... will this do?" You ask, your eyes filled with wild, naughty glints.

Instead of answering, he takes the keycard from your hand and puts it close to the scanner on the handle of the door, it automatically clicks open.

Now, you know the answer. He couldn't ask for a better birthday present than what's going to happen in this hotel room.

-

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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

the way I loved you

── .✦ content warning : SMUT! MDI!! fem!reader; academic rivals; enemies with benefits; one bed trope; angry love confession in the rain; explicit sex; oral (f and m receiving); dry humping; unproteced sex; litgh degratation; public sex; kinda sub seung;

✮⋆˙ pairing: academic rival seungmin × fem!reader

✮⋆˙ word count: 14,4k

✮⋆˙ synopsis: “We were academic rivals — until we weren’t. Now I can’t tell if I want to outscore him or ride him until he begs.”

✮⋆˙ A/N: heyy!! I had so much fun writing this one cause I kinda reunited all my fav tropes together, so I hope you guys enjoyed it!! please reblog it and lmk what you think ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

I hated him. Absolutely hated.

Hated those stupid, wide puppy eyes that tricked everyone into thinking he was harmless. Hated the way his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead like he was in some damn shampoo commercial. Hated those stupid, plump lips that probably got away with too much just by existing.

But most of all — I hated that smile. That pretty, cocky smile he flashed like he knew something I didn’t.

Every time he looked at me with that skeptical little tilt of his head, the one that screamed “I'm better than you haha” — yes, I could hear the cartoon villain laugh — I knew, deep in my soul, that I could strangle him.

Still debating tho if I’d prefer to do it with my hands or my thighs.

The worst part? It wasn’t just rage pooling low in my stomach.

It pissed me off how he could make me hate him and want him at the same time.

Fucking disgusting.

When Professor Lee handed back our essays and Seungmin’s stupid name was sitting pretty at the top with a shiny gold “A+”, I didn’t even think.

I whipped my head around, caught his eyes across the lecture hall, and mouthed: “Rigged.”

His mouth curved into that slow, infuriating smirk, the kind that crawled under my skin and set it on fire.

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head like he owned the goddamn place, and mouthed back, exaggerated and slow: “Don't be mad just because you’re second best, sweetheart.”

Complete with a wink.

A goddamn wink.

I could feel the heat rising from my chest to my ears. Rage. Or something dangerously close to it.

Seungmin tilted his head, still watching me like I was a particularly amusing science experiment. His eyes glinted, and I knew — I knew — he wasn’t going to let this go.

When class ended, I shoved my notebook into my bag and bolted for the door, hoping he’d get the hint. Of course he didn’t.

He caught up easily, his steps lazy, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets like he hadn’t just declared academic war ten minutes ago.

“Rough day, princess?” he asked, voice dripping mock-sympathy.

I didn’t even look at him. “Bite me, Seungmin.”

“Careful,” he said, his voice dropping half an octave. “Might take that as an invitation.”

I stopped walking and turned to him so fast he almost collided with me. He did collide, his chest bumping into mine with a low thud that made both of us stiffen on reflex.

For a second — a stupid, reckless second — we just stood there. Breathing the same air. Close enough that I could see the tiny mole in the middle of the bridge of his nose. Close enough that I could smell the faint hint of mint gum and something warm and boyish underneath.

His eyes flickered down to my mouth — fast, involuntary. My heart hammered against my ribs. Not from fear. From something far worse. He caught himself a beat too late and pulled back a step, but it was already too late.

I smirked.

“Problem?” he asked, trying to sound bored, but his voice was rougher now. Edgier.

“You wish,” I snapped, shoving his chest lightly with my hand.

It wasn’t enough to move him, but it made him smile — that crooked, infuriating, I-know-you-want-me smile. I wanted to punch him. Or grab him by the hoodie strings and crash our mouths together. Maybe both.

“Tell you what,” he said, hands sliding casually into his pockets, pretending like his pulse wasn’t visible on his throat. “Winner of the next project challenge picks a punishment for the loser. No rules.”

I raised an eyebrow, chest still rising and falling too fast. “You’re serious?”

He nodded, slow, like daring me to back down. “Afraid to lose?” he teased, voice pure poison wrapped in honey.

I narrowed my eyes. “You're on.”

His smirk stretched wider — a flash of sharp teeth and gleaming mischief. “Try not to cry when you lose, princess.”

“Worry about your own dignity first, loser.”

He stepped closer again — not touching, but close enough that my body registered the heat pouring off him. “Oh, princess…” he murmured, low and deliberate. “You’ll be begging me for mercy by the end of it.”

Then, without waiting for my reply, he turned on his heel and walked away, hands in his pockets, whistling some stupid upbeat tune like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb between us.

I stood there, heart pounding, palms sweating, fists clenched at my sides. Already plotting how I was going to destroy him.

Or how I was going to let him destroy me.

Maybe both.

If working in the same room as Seungmin was supposed to be a punishment from hell, it was starting to feel a lot more like slow torture.

The worst kind. The kind where you like it.

We weren’t even officially working together — our articles were separate — but somehow, like roaches or debt collectors, he always managed to appear wherever I was: library, café, empty classrooms.

And every time, the same thing: Provocations. Smirks. Stupid bets.

We sat across from each other now, laptops open, papers strewn everywhere. My screen glowed under the cheap library lights, reflecting the blank document I hadn't touched in twenty minutes.

Because Seungmin was there. Existing. Breathing. Tapping his stupid pen against his stupid mouth like he had no idea how distracting he was.

I chewed the end of my pencil, glaring at my thesis statement like it was all its fault.

“Need help, princess?” he drawled, spinning lazily in his chair.

“I'd rather set myself on fire,” I muttered, not looking up.

He chuckled under his breath — that soft, infuriating laugh that always made my skin prickle.

I refused to glance at him. Refused to notice the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, veins visible on his forearms. Refused to notice how he tapped his pen in an unconscious rhythm that somehow matched the way my heart stuttered when he leaned back and stretched like a smug little shit.

Focus. Focus.

I bent lower over my keyboard, typing harder than necessary.

He reached across the table to steal my highlighter, and his fingers brushed mine — quick, electric. My body jolted before my brain could catch up.

He smirked. Saw it. Filed it away for later.

I hated him. Absolutely hated.

If hating him included wondering what his hands would feel like pressed somewhere else, well — that was between me and my rapidly deteriorating sanity.

Three hours, five insults, and two coffee runs later, we submitted our articles

I stood stiffly at the front of the lecture hall, arms crossed, waiting for the verdict. Seungmin stood next to me, too close. His shoulder brushed mine once. I moved. He moved closer again.

Asshole.

Professor Lee shuffled through the papers, humming thoughtfully.

Finally, he smiled — a slow, proud smile. “Excellent work from both of you.”

I exhaled. Barely.

“But…” He held up one article.

And I saw it. My name. Bold. Clear. Victorious. I blinked. Once. Twice. I won.

The shock punched through me, followed by something molten and dizzying: triumph. I turned slowly to Seungmin, ready to gloat.

His face was unreadable — that blank, impassive mask he wore when he didn’t want anyone to know he was losing his shit inside. Which meant he was furious.

I smiled sweetly. Sickeningly. “Aw. Better luck next time, loser.”

He tilted his head, mouth twitching like he was fighting a smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky. One win doesn’t make you better.”

“No, but it makes you worse.”

He stepped closer, enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. Enough that I could feel the heat coming off his skin again.

His eyes dropped to my mouth — quick, instinctive — and I hated how it made my pulse jump.

Before either of us could say something, even dumber, Professor Lee cleared his throat. “Both of you — a word, please.”

We turned, startled, as if remembering there was a whole room watching.

He led us to his desk, his expression serious.

“You two have been selected to represent our department at the International Academic Congress next weekend.” He paused for effect. “An honor. Only given to our best.”

My brain blanked.

Congress? An entire weekend?

With Seungmin?

I felt my stomach flip in the worst way.

Beside me, Seungmin shoved his hands in his pockets, feigning boredom — but I caught the twitch of his jaw. He hated surprises. Almost as much as I hated liking the idea of being trapped with him somewhere far from rules and reputations.

“You’ll be presenting your articles separately, of course,” Professor Lee continued. “But you’ll be traveling together. Hotel accommodations are arranged.”

I nodded, tight, pretending not to panic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seungmin turn his head, studying me carefully. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Like he was already plotting how to use this against me.

I gritted my teeth and forced a tight smile. Seungmin smirked, slow and lethal.

This was war.

And I was already losing.

The conference was supposed to be an exciting opportunity. At least, that’s what I told myself when I boarded the plane. A few days away from the usual routine, presenting my research for relevant people, making connections—sounds like a dream, right? In theory. The reality? Well, the idea of spending two days in close proximity to Seungmin was a *little* less appealing. But hey, I was here for the experience. And because I didn’t have much of a choice.

The flight was long, and Seungmin had already made himself an expert at finding ways to annoy me.

He sat one row behind me, but naturally, he ended up next to me when the seatbelt sign was switched off. Classic Seungmin move. “Mind if I join you?” he asked as if I had a say in the matter.

I didn’t even bother to look at him. “Please, make yourself at home.” I said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

Seungmin didn’t waste any time. He slid into the seat beside me like we’d been lifelong friends, his shoulder brushing mine in the process. "You know,” he said, stretching his legs out a little too far into my space, “I actually enjoy these long flights. So much time to read, think, or just bother you.”

I pretended to focus on the screen in front of me, but it was hard to ignore him when he practically moved in. “Lucky me,” I muttered, trying my best to be invisible.

He grinned, clearly unfazed. “You could at least pretend to enjoy my company. I’m doing you a favor, really.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” I said dryly.

Seungmin leaned in closer, like he was about to share a deeply profound thought. “I think you’re just afraid of my charm.”

“I’m not afraid of your charm,” I said flatly. “I’m just trying to survive the flight without having to throw you out of the window.”

“You'd kill all of these people if you opened that window, you know that, right?”

Of course I knew, who whe thought I was?

I could practically hear him smirking, even though I refused to look at him. He was annoyingly good at finding ways to make my blood pressure rise with minimal effort.

By the time we landed, I was exhausted—not from the flight, but from keeping my cool around him. The conference itself? That was going to be cakewalk compared to this.

We finally made it through the airport and to the hotel. The city was exactly what I expected: bigger, louder, and more chaotic than I needed. I then with that all my excitement died and I was so ready to be done with everything.

The lobby was eerily quiet, the kind of place where every sound felt exaggerated. When we approached the reception desk, the receptionist greeted us with a smile so practiced it almost looked fake. I wasn’t in the mood for polite exchanges. The way she glanced at Seungmin—almost too interested—made my skin crawl.

She typed something on her keyboard while keeping her eyes on the screen, then lifted her gaze to us with that same, professional smile. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

I stepped up first, handing over my conference credential with a formality I didn’t really feel but was trying to project. It made me look like I had my life together, something that wasn’t going to be ruined by an unexpected trip with my academic rival.

“Hi, we’re from the Department of Social Sciences at National University. We're here for the research congress.”

She glanced at the screen for a moment longer, tapping away before meeting our eyes again. “Ah, of course. Everything’s set for you.” She grabbed a key from behind the desk, placing it on the counter with that same pleasant smile. “Here’s your key. You’ll be in room 325.”

I grabbed the key, but something felt off. The way she handed it to us made me stop, the words almost caught in my throat.

“Just one key?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, hoping the confusion I was feeling didn’t show too obviously. It didn’t make sense that she was giving us a single key for both of us, especially since I knew the rooms were supposed to be separate.

The receptionist looked at me like my question was perfectly normal. “Yes, one key for each couple of participants.”

I blinked, mouth slightly open. A couple? Did she just assume…? I glanced over at Seungmin, who was casually leaning against the counter, an eyebrow raised.

He caught my look and immediately let out a low chuckle. Of course, he found this funny. “What? You didn’t think we were a couple?” He gave me a wink, his voice dripping with that infuriating confidence.

I felt my face flush with a mix of annoyance and… something else. I wasn’t about to let him have the upper hand, but honestly, why was the receptionist so sure of that? Was I really giving off those kinds of vibes?

I couldn’t suppress my irritation.

“We’re not a couple,” I snapped, a little too harshly. “We’re just… two students who happened to be presenting at the same event.”

The receptionist merely nodded, completely unfazed. She didn’t seem to think anything was out of the ordinary about the situation. “Oh, I see. Well, the rooms are all prepared. Would you like me to change the key?”

Before I could open my mouth to say anything, Seungmin was quicker. He grabbed the key off the counter with an air of ease that only made me more frustrated. He was enjoying this, I could tell.

“No, it's okay,” he said smoothly, his eyes flicking to me with that self-satisfied gleam. “We’re fine with it.”

He turned to me, the smugness on his face practically radiating. Of course, this would be his idea of a good time.

I shot him a death glare but said nothing. He was always so quick to take charge of situations that were inconvenient for me. It annoyed the hell out of me.

The receptionist, apparently oblivious to the tension, gave us a polite nod. “Enjoy your stay!”

I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I grabbed my bag and turned away, trying my hardest to ignore Seungmin’s amused expression as I walked to the elevator.

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” I muttered under my breath, trying to sound angry, but I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Seungmin followed behind me, taking his time.

The elevator ride up to the third floor was a quiet one, and as we stepped out into the hallway, I could already feel the weight of the situation sinking in. The reality of having to share a room with Seungmin was a lot less fun when you were actually facing it.

Seungmin, still as calm as ever, walked ahead of me toward room 325. His hand was already on the doorknob when I caught up.

I hesitated, then turned to him. “I seriously don’t think this is a good idea.”

Seungmin paused, his back to me, then slowly glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. For a second, there was no hint of a smirk. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked quietly.

I wanted to answer— everything —but he was already opening the door.

The door swung open, and I stepped inside, Seungmin trailing right behind me. The room was… fine. Clean, neat — boring in the way all conference hotels were. But then my gaze hit the bed.

One. Single. Bed.

A king-size, sure. But still — one bed. No second mattress tucked in a corner. No pull-out couch. Just that massive betrayal sitting right in the middle of the room like it knew exactly what it was doing.

I froze, dread pooling in my stomach.

Seungmin bumped into me from behind and cursed under his breath. “Wait. Are you fucking serious?” His voice was low, disbelieving.

I didn’t even look at him. I just stared at the bed like it had personally betrayed me.

I turned to him slowly, my face blank with disbelief. “Well, unless you’re planning on summoning another bed out of thin air, yeah, we’re serious.” I waved my hand dramatically toward the offending mattress.

Seungmin stepped around me, eyeing the bed like it had personally insulted his family. “They expect us to sleep in the same bed?” he asked, incredulous.

“Apparently ‘academic excellence’ comes with complimentary sexual tension. Maybe they'll even throw in some rose petals and a bottle of champagne while we're at it too.” I muttered, folding my arms.

He snorted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“No shit. You think I did?” I snapped. The sarcasm was practically a second language between us at this point.

The room already felt too small, the air too charged.

He looked at me, his expression sharpening into something defensive. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I’d rather cuddle a cactus.”

I gave him a slow, sarcastic smile. “Cute. I was about to say you could sleep outside with the stray dogs. You’d fit right in.”

He threw me a sideways look, half a smirk playing on his lips. “If it’s that unbearable, I can sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over me.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I practically saw my brain. “The floor’s probably cleaner than whatever germs you’re carrying anyway.”

The tension crackled between us — electric, unbearable. We both stood there, stubbornly glaring at the bed, as if sheer willpower would make it disappear.

Seungmin shook his head, glancing once more at the cursed bed like it might suddenly sprout another mattress. “This is unbelievable. Who the hell organizes a conference like this?”

“Maybe it's a new academic technique.” I deadpanned. “See who survives forced proximity without committing murder.”

He actually snorted at that, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He shook his head, still clearly pissed off. “This is ridiculous. What’s next, sharing a toothbrush?”

I snapped back, my sarcasm sharp as a knife. “Oh, I’m sure that’s exactly what’s going to happen. They’ll give us matching PJs next, too.”

We stood there for another long, heavy beat, neither of us moving.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Seungmin exhaled sharply and said: “We’re not gonna survive this if we keep acting like kids.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Screw it. We'll put a damn pillow wall in the middle. Switzerland rules: you stay on your side, I stay on mine.”

“Fine. But if you snore, I’m suffocating you with a pillow.”

“If you steal the covers, I’m kicking you onto the floor.” I shot back.

He met my glare with one of his own, but there was something else beneath it now.

Something heavier. Thicker. Neither of us said it, but we both felt it. The heat. The pull.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, already moving toward the door. “Let's just get through the conference first. We'll deal with... this trainwreck later.”

Seungmin didn’t argue this time. He just muttered under his breath, low enough that I almost missed it: “Yeah... easier said than done.”

We step off the elevator and into a wide, polished corridor leading to the conference rooms. The air smells faintly of burnt coffee, new carpet, and desperation. The walls are covered in generic modern art — squares inside of other squares — like they were trying very hard to seem sophisticated without actually having a soul. I already feel the weight of expectation pressing down on me like a headache.

Seungmin walks beside me, hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking unimpressed with life itself. His hair falls messily into his eyes, but he doesn’t bother fixing it. Typical.

His eyes dart around the hallway, scanning faces like he’s already categorizing who’s worth ignoring. “Ready to pretend we care?” he mutters, voice pitched low enough just for me.

“Thrilled,” I deadpan, not even glancing at him. “Can’t wait to have my brain melted by endless talks about sustainable quinoa farming.”

He snorts, biting back a laugh. “Sounds like your dream date.”

“Yup. Right up there with tax seminars and dental surgery.”

We keep walking, moving with the flow of the crowd. I can see the bright lights of the conference rooms ahead, and it's all I can do to not roll my eyes at the sheer formality of it all. The event feels more like a display of ‘look how important we are’ than anything else.

He grins — a real one, small and crooked — before drifting off toward a group near the front, already blending in like a professional social chameleon. I roll my eyes and slink toward the back, sinking into an empty chair, pulling out my phone just to avoid making small talk with strangers who all think they’re smarter than everyone else.

The speaker drones on about something to do with regenerative soil or whatever. I zone out, letting the words wash over me like white noise.

That’s when I notice him — a guy standing near the refreshment table, dressed casually enough to look out of place among all the tight blazers and forced smiles. He’s got a lazy grin, a coffee cup in one hand, and the vibe of someone who definitely isn’t taking this seriously.

Our eyes meet by accident. I immediately look away, pretending to be fascinated by my own shoes.

Too late.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later, he’s there, leaning on the back of the chair next to mine like he owns the place, like he’s got nothing better to do.

“Hey.” he says when he’s standing in front of me, offering a slight, disarming grin. “I don’t know if you’re as bored as I am, but I swear this place feels like a corporate zombie apocalypse.”

I glance up at him. His voice is light, teasing, and there's a mischievous glint in his eye that reminds me — alarmingly — of someone else I know. He's charming, but not in the typical, obnoxious way.

I can’t help a small smirk. “I’m pretty sure zombies would be more interesting. At least they’d be honest about their intentions.”

“You look about as thrilled as I feel,” he says with a grin.

“Is it that obvious?” I say, tilting my head. “I thought I was hiding it so well.”

“Subtle as a brick to the face,” he deadpans, smiling wider.

I snort before I can stop myself. Okay, he's funny. Dangerous.

“Chan,” he says, holding out a hand like we’re not at the most painfully formal event on earth.

“Y/N,” I reply, shaking his hand briefly before pulling back.

Chan smirks. “So, Y/N... what's your poison? Boring keynote speeches or awkward networking attempts?”

I fake think about it. “Mmm... death by boredom sounds slightly less painful.”

He chuckles. “Agreed. I’m just here for the free coffee and questionable snack trays.”

“You’re brave. I think those pastries have been alive longer than some of the speakers.”

He laughs — a real, full laugh — and leans closer like we’re already conspirators. “Survival of the fittest. Or the most caffeinated.”

I smirk, feeling a little lighter despite myself.

“Guess I’ll see you at the coffee table battlefield later, then.”

“Only if you’re prepared to fight dirty.” He winks. “I swear, if they put any more bland hors d'oeuvres out there, I might start questioning why I even left my house for this.”

I can’t help it—I actually laugh at that. “Yeah, I’d rather be at home, in my pajamas, eating cereal. At least I know it’s not going to taste like cardboard.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, so you're one of those people. Respect.”

There's a beat of silence, and for a moment, we just stand there, awkward in the best way. But I don’t mind it. It's kind of refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t immediately making small talk about "networking."

Nick shrugs, his eyes glinting with a bit of humor. “So, what’s your take on all of this? The conference, I mean. I’m assuming you’re not here for the food production knowledge either.”

I think about it for a moment before responding. “Honestly? It’s not exactly what I expected. I thought it’d be more... engaging, that I'd have a great opportunity to talk about my research, but it’s mostly just people trying to sound important.”

Nick nods knowingly, looking amused. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the vibe I’m getting too.”

I’m about to fire back something sarcastic when the temperature of the room shifts. I feel it before I see him — that tightening sensation in the air.

I turn slightly, and there he is.

Seungmin.

Standing a few feet away, arms crossed tight over his chest, shoulders rigid. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, but it’s his eyes — sharp, dark — that give him away.

He's staring at Chan like he’s a mosquito buzzing too close.

Chan notices too, casting a casual glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize you had company,” Chan says easily, raising an eyebrow at Seungmin.

Seungmin’s smile is a weapon — all teeth, no warmth. “Yeah. She’s with me.”

She’s with me.

My eyebrows shoot up, but I say nothing.

Seungmin’s jaw clenches, and he steps forward, his gaze still fixed on me, but the edge to his voice has softened slightly as he addresses me. “Y/N, we should go.”

Chan shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “Right. I’ll catch you later, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, feeling the weight of Seungmin’s presence beside me. “Later.”

He flashes me one last grin before wandering off, utterly unbothered.

The second he’s gone, Seungmin steps closer, his body language screaming tension. His glare burns into me, his jaw flexing as if he’s chewing on all the words he can’t say out loud.

The air between us is thick, but I can’t help it. I need to poke at him, need to let him know that I see right through his little act.

I cross my arms, matching his posture. “You gonna tell me why you look like you’re about to start a bar fight?” I ask sweetly.

He huffs through his nose, looking anywhere but at me.

We head back toward the front, the noise of the conference around us feeling a hundred times louder. The tension doesn’t seem to let up, and I know this is just the beginning of whatever this is between us, the silence between us thick enough to choke on.

I can’t help myself.

“You know,” I say, tilting my head toward him. “you’re acting like I committed a crime by talking to someone with a better haircut than you.” I lied, Chans's haircut isn't better than his long bangs that falls onto his eyes.

Seungmin’s jaw tightens, his eyes flickering toward me, but he says nothing. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, and the way his fingers flex against his crossed arms doesn’t escape me. He’s annoyed.

I grin to myself, enjoying this just a little too much. “I mean, it’s not like I invited him to a romantic dinner or anything,” I continue, my tone teasing. “But I did notice your death stare. If looks could kill, I think I’d be six feet under right now.”

Seungmin's head snaps toward me, eyes narrowed. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” I tease. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked a lot like jealousy. Like… borderline ‘punch a guy over a coffee joke’ levels of jealousy.”

He stops walking abruptly, forcing me to stop too. He steps closer — too close — and lowers his voice so only I can hear.

“I’m not jealous.”

I tilt my head, giving him a sidelong glance. “Really? Because it kind of seemed like you were about to challenge him to a duel or something.”

Seungmin glances at me, his expression unreadable, but I can tell he’s getting more irritated by the second. He stops walking again, and his eyes narrow in that way he does when he’s not sure whether to get sarcastic or serious. “I don’t care, okay?” he finally says, voice sharp. “But you could’ve at least told me you were—whatever—you know, talking to him.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Oh, so I’m supposed to run my social interactions past you now? Got it, boss.”

Seungmin’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about, exactly?” I prod, stepping closer to him. “You sure you’re not feeling a little... territorial?”

“Territorial?” He glares at me, clearly trying to keep his cool. “What, like some caveman marking his territory?”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “More like a chihuahua, actually.”

Seungmin glares, his ears pinking. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” I shoot back, my grin widening.

He lets out a short, frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Keep pushing, princess. See what happens.”

I arch an eyebrow, leaning closer, letting my shoulder brush his for just a second longer than necessary. “Maybe I’m counting on it.”

For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other — the conference noise fading into the background — locked in this stupid, electric standoff.

Then he huffs, muttering under his breath as he turns to walk ahead of me: “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

I smile, slow and wicked, before following him back into the crowd.

The second the door to the hotel room clicked shut behind us, the weight of reality hit again — one bed.

Still just one.

I sighed loudly, dropping my bag near the dresser.

Seungmin tossed his hoodie onto a chair and stretched his arms above his head, way too nonchalant for someone about to sleep three inches away from their mortal enemy.

“Guess we’re really doing this,” I muttered, staring at the bed like it was a battlefield.

“What’s wrong, princess? Afraid you won’t survive one night without jumping me?” he teased, kicking off his shoes.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

“Please. I’m more worried about you crying because I stole all the covers.”

He laughed, short and sharp. “In your dreams.”

We stood there for a second, facing the bed like it killed someone of our family.

“Truce?” I offered reluctantly, lifting a pillow.

“Temporary ceasefire.” He smirked. “Until you start snoring and ruin my life.”

I flipped him off without ceremony and started building a pathetic little wall of pillows down the middle of the mattress.

He watched, arms crossed, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Very professional. I feel safer already.”

“Good. Now if you so much as breathe on my side, I’m kicking you out.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I grabbed my pajamas and locked myself in the bathroom before I could throw something at his smug face. Changing into my satin slip felt almost ridiculous. It wasn’t even that revealing — thin straps, low neckline, cut just short enough to be a problem if you looked too long — but somehow, the second I caught my reflection, I hesitated.

Why the hell did it feel like I was getting ready for something? I shook off the thought and stepped out.

Seungmin was sprawled across his side of the bed, now wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, no shirt. His skin caught the soft hotel lighting, warm and distracting. He was tapping away at his phone, pretending not to notice me.

He looked up when he heard the door click.

And froze.

Just for a second.

Eyes raking over me in one quick, betraying sweep before he schooled his face back into something vaguely unimpressed. “Nice pajamas,” he said casually. “Planning to seduce the minibar?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Planning to murder you in your sleep, actually.”

He grinned — wide, wolfish. “Kinky.”

I gave him my middle finger again and climbed into my side of the bed, tugging the covers up to my chest like armor.

Seungmin tossed his phone onto the nightstand and settled against the pillows, arms behind his head. The faint glow of the bedside lamp carved shadows down his chest, and I hated — *hated* — that my eyes kept betraying me, sliding over the lines of his collarbone, the dip of his stomach.

I turned off the light with an aggressive click. The darkness didn’t help.

We lay there, stiff, silent, breathing the same charged air. The pillow barrier might as well have been made of tissue paper.

Minutes stretched. The kind of minutes where you feel everything — the brush of fabric, the shift of weight, the tiny creaks of the bed under him.

I couldn’t sleep.

Neither could he.

I could hear his breathing, shallow and uneven. The bed felt too big and too small all at once.

The shitty pillow wall between us was a joke now — some flimsy excuse to pretend there was still a line we hadn’t crossed.

Neither of us spoke for a long moment. The air was thick. Every shallow breath I took, I swore I could taste him on my tongue. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was tense. Ticking. Waiting.

I couldn’t see him clearly in the dark, but I could feel him — every shift of weight on the mattress, every small movement that jolted straight through my body like static.

Finally, Seungmin’s voice broke the stillness — low, rough around the edges: “You keep fidgeting.”

I scoffed quietly, turning onto my side to face the vague outline of his body. “Maybe because I’m stuck sharing a bed with my worst enemy.”

“You flatter yourself,” he muttered, and even in the dark, I could imagine that insufferable smirk of his. “You’re the one who built a wall of pillows like I’m going to jump on you or something.”

He shifted closer, just enough that the mattress dipped between us, erasing another inch of space.

“Well, I've heard of your uncontrollable violent behavior, Kim Seungmin.” I lied, I heard nothing, but anything, now I might just witness it.

He laughed under his breath, sharp and derisive. “You're so full of yourself, it’s a miracle your head fits in this room.”

He didn’t say anything else immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch — heavy, charged — until I was practically vibrating from it.

Then, almost too casually: “Bet you think about it though.”

I blinked, my heart stuttering. “Think about what?” I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I meant.

“This,” he said simply. “Us. Fighting, fucking... whatever.”

I opened my mouth to snap back — some scathing insult on the tip of my tongue — but nothing came out.

Because the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

The silence between us roared.

Seungmin shifted again, close enough now that the heat of his body seeped through the covers. “What’s the matter, princess?” he teased, voice dangerously low. “Cat got your tongue?”

I hated him. I hated how my skin burned under his words. I hated how badly I wanted to wipe that smug tone off his mouth — preferably with my own.

I swallowed thickly. “You’re delusional.” I said, but it lacked bite.

He laughed quietly, a deep, rumbling sound that curled low in my stomach. “Am I?” he challenged, voice pure sin.

Then, the tension snapped.

I pushed the stupid pillow barrier away with one aggressive swipe, grabbed a fistful of his face and yanked him toward me.

Our mouths crashed together like a fucking car wreck — brutal, messy, unstoppable. We kissed like we were trying to prove something. Or maybe like we were trying to forget something.

He groaned into the kiss, grabbing my waist like he’d been waiting for permission he was never going to ask for.

I gasped when he rolled over me, pinning me down into the mattress, his hips pressing between my thighs with a hunger that sent a shudder straight through me.

His mouth was everywhere — jaw, neck, collarbone — as if kissing me could somehow make up for all the weeks of tension we’d spent pretending we didn’t want this. His hands gripped my thighs, my waist, like he couldn’t decide where he needed me most.

His hips pressed down, slow and firm, and I felt the friction hit just right — enough to make me gasp into his mouth. He did it again. Purposefully this time. Pressing against me like he wanted me to feel just how hard he was. Like he needed me to know what I was doing to him.

Then he started grinding.

Desperately.

There was nothing careful about it. It was all friction and hunger, his sweatpants dragging against my panties, the pressure building every time our hips met. He was breathing heavily now, panting into my neck, his hands gripping my waist like he was trying to keep himself from losing it completely.

I arched against him instinctively, my hands sliding up his back, under his shirt, nails digging in just a little when our hips met again. The fabric between us was too much and not enough at the same time — the pressure maddening, delicious, torturous. Heat pooled low in my stomach, and I hated how easily he made me feel like I was unraveling — so I did what I always did when I felt too much.

I smirked. “Wow.” I whispered, my voice low and venomous as my lips brushed his ear. “I couldn’t imagine grinding was your way of begging.”

He groaned — like the sound had been ripped out of him — and ground harder, sharper, until I could feel all of him pressing against me.

Hard. So fucking hard.

And that’s when I laughed — breathless and wicked — dragging my nails down his back just enough to make him hiss. His breath was shaky against my collarbone, his lips dragging a trail of heat along my skin. He was already panting, his hips grinding into mine like he couldn’t stop himself, like he needed the friction just to stay sane. I felt him — hard, throbbing against my center — and it only made the smirk on my lips grow sharper.

“You’re really down bad, huh?” I murmured against his ear, dragging my nails slowly up his back. “You barely touched me and you're already losing it.”

He groaned, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “You’re not helping.” he muttered, grinding against me again, slower now, desperate.

“Then beg better.” I whispered, my voice deliberately calm, teasing. “Maybe I’ll take pity on you.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at me, eyes wild, jaw tight, completely wrecked.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, his voice a growl now. “You think I can fucking control myself when you're like this?”

“No.” I whispered, rolling my hips up slowly, deliberately. “That’s the fun part.”

Something snapped in him after that. He thrust against me again, this time rougher, more desperate, and I swallowed a moan as his mouth found mine once more. I felt him everywhere — in the way his body moved, in the way his hands clutched at me like I was something he couldn’t hold onto fast enough, in the way our hips met again and again, friction making it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything but feel.

My fingers slipped into his hair, yanking just enough to make him hiss, and I couldn’t help the smug little grin that curled at my lips. He pulled back just enough to look at me, flushed and breathless, pupils blown wide.

“You're dangerous.” he whispered, his voice low and reverent.

“You love it.” I shot back.

He crushed his mouth back onto mine, swallowing my gasp, and his hand slipped down between us to pull at my panties like he couldn’t stand one more second without being inside me. The kiss deepened, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, hands roaming recklessly.

Seungmin kissed like he fought — relentless, stubborn, like he had something to prove.

And fuck, I loved it.

His hands slid under my nightgown, fingertips dragging up my sides, rough and needy. I arched into him, desperate for more contact, for anything to ground me against the chaos exploding under my skin.

He pulled back just enough to mutter, breathless: “Still think I'm delusional?”

“Shut up.” I gasped, dragging him back down to me.

He grinned against my mouth — cocky, victorious — and then kissed me even harder.

“This is purely academic.” I said, smirking into the dark. “Data collection. Stress relief. Killing time.”

“What, like a science experiment?”

“Exactly.”

“Uh-hum, of course.” he agreed mock-seriously.

Clothes became obstacles. His hands found the hem of my slip, pushing it up, bunching the silky fabric at my waist.

He kissed down my neck, slower this time, like he was trying to savor every inch of skin. My shame was long gone, and so were the layers of sarcasm I wore like armor. His mouth trailed lower, over my chest, down my stomach — and when he reached the waistband of my panties, he paused. Looked up. Eyes dark. Lips swollen. Breath unsteady. Like he was about to kneel at an altar. And I was the altar.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I muttered, trying to hold onto some control.

“Like what?” he said, voice low, his fingers already sliding down my panties.

“Like I’m the answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking.”

He smirked — not his usual cocky kind, but softer, full of want.

He kissed down my stomach slowly, like he wanted to memorize every inch of skin. There was something almost reverent in the way he did it — not rushed, not greedy — just hungry, in a quiet, desperate kind of way.

When his fingers hooked under my panties and slid them down, he didn’t say a word. But his eyes — God, his eyes were wrecked. Like he’d been waiting for this since the day we met and couldn't believe it was finally happening.

I let my head fall back against the pillows, biting my lip, trying to stay composed. But the second I felt his breath on my inner thigh, I knew I was in trouble.

And then his mouth found me.

The first lick was slow. Soft. Testing.

He groaned like he was the one being touched, and the vibration made me shiver.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair on instinct, trying to ground myself. He didn’t stop.

His tongue moved in careful, messy circles, as if he was learning me — like every stroke was a question and every moan was an answer. He sucked gently, then harder, switching rhythms like he wanted to see what would make me break first.

I hated how good it felt. Hated how easy it was to melt under his mouth.

So I did the only thing I could do — I mocked him. “You’re really putting your whole heart into this, huh?” I breathed, voice shaky but laced with sarcasm.

He pulled back just enough to look up at me, lips already wet, face flushed. “I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time you yelled at me in chem lab.” he said, voice rough. “So yeah. I’m not fucking around.”

Then he went back in, hungrier than before. His hands slid under my thighs, pushing them further apart. He moaned into me like I was something he couldn’t get enough of — and maybe he couldn’t.

I gasped without thinking, barely able to form the words. He looked up at me with a crooked grin and shook his head before diving back in. And I couldn’t stop myself anymore. My hips rocked against his face. My hands tangled in his hair. My breath stuttered and caught.

My body arched. My breath stuttered. My control cracked. “Fuck—” I gasped, rolling my hips into his face. “You’re gonna make me—”

He sucked harder. His tongue flicked just right. And I did. I came with a whimper I tried to swallow, thighs trembling around his head.

Still, he didn’t move — didn’t stop — not until I was squirming away from the overstimulation,

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

dragging him up by the hair and breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He looked wrecked. And so fucking proud of himself. “You should’ve insulted me earlier.” he whispered, kissing the inside of my knee. “I think I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut up.” I said, pulling him into a kiss.

I pulled him up by the hair, still panting, and crashed my mouth into his. Tasting myself on his lips only made it worse.

My hands roamed his bare back — warm, solid, lean muscles flexing under my touch — and I scratched lightly down his spine, earning a low, broken noise from deep in his throat.

He retaliated by sucking a bruise into the hollow of my throat, making me gasp and tangle my fingers in his hair, yanking just hard enough to hear him groan again.

Somehow, he managed to shove his sweatpants down just enough, the condom appearing – from God knows where – clumsily between kisses, torn open with shaky fingers. Even stoned on adrenaline and lust, we managed — barely.

When he finally slid inside me, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. Raw.

We both gasped — harsh, ragged — the sudden connection knocking the breath out of our lungs. Seungmin pressed his forehead to mine, breathing hard.

“Fuck.” he whispered. “You're gonna be the death of me.”

I laughed — sharp and breathless — grabbing his hips and rolling mine up to meet him, forcing a groan from his mouth.

He moved inside me — slow at first, testing, then harder, deeper, each thrust sending little shocks of pleasure ripping through me. I clutched at him, nails digging into his shoulders, my body meeting his rhythm without hesitation.

The world blurred around the edges — just his breath against my neck, the creak of the mattress, the wet, filthy sound of skin on skin.

The tension in my stomach coiled tighter with every rough drag of his hips, every filthy word he muttered against my skin when he thought I couldn’t hear.

“So fucking tight.”

“So good like this.”

“Mine tonight.”

I whimpered, burying my face against his shoulder, biting down just enough to make him hiss and drive into me harder. The buildup was brutal — slow and fast at the same time — until I was clinging to him, gasping his name like a curse.

He felt it too, I could tell — the way his thrusts became uneven, ragged, the way he cursed under his breath when my nails raked down his back.

I shoved him away, straddling him. “Lie down.” I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, letting my thighs press against his bare skin.

He looked wrecked — eyes glazed, mouth parted, like he couldn’t believe this was real. He obeyed instantly. Hair a mess, chest heaving, lips red. Completely at my mercy. He lifted his head, eyes wild, completely wrecked — pupils blown, lips parted. He looked at me like he didn’t know whether to kiss me or cry.

“Please.” he said, barely a breath. “I need you." He whimpered. “You're so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, almost like he hated himself for saying it. “Like a dream I shouldn’t be allowed to have.” His fingers brushing my hair.

The words made something flutter in my chest, but I ignored it. Instead, I pushed him down by the shoulders, forcing him to lie back on the mattress. He obeyed instantly.

“That's right, pretty boy.” I said, straddling his hips slowly, my fingers dragging over his chest.

His breath hitched at the praise.

I leaned down, lips brushing over his ear. — “You’re gonna keep your hands to yourself.” I said softly. “Just for a while. Got it?”

He nodded quickly. Too quickly. His restraint was paper thin.

I rolled my hips down against his again, this time without any barrier. His sweatpants were already low on his hips, and I could feel how badly he wanted it — the way his whole body arched up, chasing friction, chasing me.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, trying so hard not to move.

I shifted down slowly, kissing along his stomach, watching the muscles tense under my lips. When I reached the waistband of his boxers, I heard him whisper my name again — like a prayer. Desperate. Soft. Shaky.

But instead of going lower, I came back up, hovering over him again. His hands clenched at his sides. He was trembling. He looked like he was losing his mind.

And I loved it.

“You want me to fuck you?” I asked, voice still soft, like I was offering something sacred. He nodded again, eyes locked on mine. “No, Seungmin.” I said, smile sharp. “I want to hear it.”

He swallowed hard. “I want you.” he said. “Please. I want you so fucking bad.”

Only then did I slide down onto him — slow, torturously slow. We both gasped. His hands flew to my hips on instinct, gripping tight, but he didn’t move — like he remembered my words. His head fell back. A sound tore from his throat — low, desperate, guttural. — “Fucking hell…”

I started moving, hips rolling in deep, slow circles. He looked wrecked — eyes fluttering, head tilted back, mouth open.— “Shit.” he choked out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I leaned down, brushing my lips over his. “You’re lucky I like you needy.”

He grabbed my wrist, eyes locking with mine again — glassy, overwhelmed. “You’re in fact a dream.” he whispered. “You’re a fucking dream, I don’t wanna wake up.”

He was completely under me — wide-eyed, overwhelmed, needy. I rode him slow and deep. He reached up, fingers trembling as they gripped my thighs. “Fuck… you’re unreal.”

I leaned forward, dragging my lips down his jaw. And I kept going. Until he couldn’t speak. Until he was all moans and gasps and praise whispered into my skin. Until the only thing either of us knew was this — us — messy, out of control, too much and never enough.

And this time, I didn’t tease. I kissed him — slow and deep — as I kept moving, feeling him tremble beneath me, completely undone

It hit me like a wave — hot, violent, overwhelming.

I came with a cry I couldn't bite back, my body clenching around him so hard it ripped a guttural moan from his mouth. A few more frantic, desperate grinds and he followed, coming with a rough, broken sound against my ear.

We collapsed together, sweaty, shaking, our bodies tangled messily in the sheets and in each other.

For a long moment, we just lay there — breathing hard, the air heavy with sex and everything we weren't saying.

He didn't move away.

Neither did I.

I woke up tangled in the sheets, the faint light from the window cutting through the darkness of the room.

The room was cold, but the heat of his body next to mine made it almost unbearable.

I shifted under the covers, blinking against the soft morning light bleeding through the curtains.

Seungmin was lying on his side, facing me. His hair a mess, his mouth slightly open, his arm carelessly thrown over the invisible line that we had so dramatically ignored the night before. He looked criminally good for someone who had completely ruined my ability to think straight.

For a second, I just stared at him. At the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. At the faint scratch marks I’d left on his skin.

It should’ve made me feel guilty.

It didn’t. It made my stomach flip in a way I refused to name.

I shifted under the covers, careful not to wake him. Not because I cared. Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the smugness that would explode across his stupidly handsome face when he realized he had officially broken my sanity.

But of course, the bed creaked, and his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked slowly at me, his mouth curling into a lazy, dangerous smirk. “Good morning, sunshine.”

I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something. “You drooled on my pillow.”

“You moaned on my neck.” He said it so casually I almost threw the remaining pillow at his face.

I rolled over with an exaggerated huff, pulling the blanket up to my neck.

The bed shifted a second later, and a raspy voice muttered: “You're staring. Creepy.”

I snorted without turning. “Dreaming. About how much I regret this.”

“Sure.” He stretched, the covers sliding lower on his body, revealing way too much bare skin for a casual glance.

I refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I tossed a pillow at his head.

It hit him square in the face. He grunted. “Assault. That's how you say good morning?”

“You should thank me. I could’ve done worse.”

He laughed, low and rough. God, that laugh should be illegal before 9 a.m.

“You already did worse last night.” he teased, flashing that stupid grin that made my chest tight for no good reason.

“Delusional much?” I snapped, pushing the blankets away and standing up, my satin slip sticking to my thighs.

His eyes dropped — quickly, involuntarily — and when he realized, he immediately smirked wider.

“If I'm delusional, at least it's a nice view.”

I threw another pillow at his face and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door harder than necessary.

Behind me, his laugh chased me like smoke under the door.

The last day of the conference loomed over me like a thundercloud. People buzzed around the lobby and corridors, all polished shoes and stiff blazers, pretending not to be nervous while clutching folders a little too tightly.

I sat at the back of the auditorium, my hands cold and clammy around my notes. My stomach twisted itself into knots. My brain, usually so quick and sharp, felt sluggish and heavy.

What if I mess up?

What if they laugh at me?

What if I open my mouth and nothing comes out?

A quiet nudge at my side snapped me out of my spiral. I turned sharply — already defensive — only to find Seungmin sliding into the seat next to mine, a crooked grin on his face. “You look like you're about to pass out” he said under his breath, eyes glinting with amusement.

I scowled. “Thanks for the support, Seungmin.”

He smirked, unbothered. His arm brushed mine as he leaned back casually, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I was over here two seconds away from vomiting.

He studied my face for a moment, his smile fading slightly. “You’re gonna kill it.” he said, voice lower, more serious.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Wow. High praise coming from my archnemesis.” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Seungmin snorted. “Don’t get used to it.” He tapped my folder with the back of his hand. “But seriously. You’re smarter than half the people in this room. Probably smarter than me, too. Not that I'd ever admit it out loud.”

My chest tightened strangely at that. I tried to cover it with sarcasm. “Aw, how cute. If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually cared.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Don't flatter yourself. I just don't want to be associated with someone who faints mid-presentation.”

I let out a shaky laugh despite myself, some of the weight on my chest easing. I glanced at him sideways, heart hammering for a different reason now. “You think I can really do it?” I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.

Seungmin’s gaze softened. He didn’t tease this time. He didn’t smirk.

He just nodded once, firm and certain. “I know you can.”

Something in me cracked a little at that. Before I could embarrass myself further by actually tearing up or something equally pathetic, the coordinator called my name.

I stood up too fast, my knees almost buckling. Seungmin reached out instinctively, grabbing my wrist lightly to steady me. His touch was brief, casual — but it set my skin on fire.

“Go show them why you scare the shit out of me.” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I managed a breathless laugh, clutching my notes like a shield as I walked toward the stage.

His gaze followed me the whole way. I could feel it — hot and unwavering, like a tether pulling at me even across the room.

And somehow, because of him, my hands steadied. My voice, when I finally spoke, didn’t shake.

When I finished my presentation and stepped off the stage, heart still hammering, my eyes found his immediately.

Seungmin sat casually slouched in his seat, arms crossed, looking every bit the cocky bastard he always was. But when he caught my gaze, he gave me the smallest nod. Barely there. But it hit harder than a standing ovation.

I looked away quickly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too wide. I shouldn’t have cared. But fuck — I did. More than I wanted to admit.

By the end of the last presentation, I was vibrating with tension from the happenings of today and yesterday. I couldn't help myself but let my eyes wander to him every second.

Then suddenly, Chan — the guy from the day before — found me again, appearing with a crooked smile and two cups of coffee. “We really survived it, huh?” he said, handing me a cup. "Yeah..." I took it automatically, forcing a smile.

But my eyes weren’t on him. They were locked across the crowd, watching Seungmin sling his backpack over one shoulder, heading toward the exit without even glancing back.

Something inside me twisted violently.

I barely heard Chan say something else. I just shoved the coffee back at him with a muttered excuse and slipped into the crowd, my body moving on instinct.

I followed Seungmin. Out of the conference center. Down the hall. Toward the elevators.

He didn’t turn when he heard my footsteps. He just stepped inside the elevator. Waited.

When I caught up, panting slightly, I saw the look in his eyes. Tense. Dark. Dangerous.

He hit the button for our floor, and the doors slid closed with a soft ding. The elevator was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and electricity.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us had to. As soon as the room door closed, I acted on pure instinct. I shoved him. Hard.

Seungmin stumbled back against the wall, his eyes widening in shock — and something hotter — before narrowing with a slow, dangerous smile.

I didn't wait. I closed the distance, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and yanked him into a kiss.

This wasn’t soft. It was furious, messy, teeth and tongue clashing as I pressed him back harder against the wall, claiming him. He grabbed my hips, hauling me closer, but I was faster — shoving him backward until he hit the bed.

I pushed him down, climbing on top of him with a wicked grin.

He stared up at me, breathless, pupils blown wide.

“You like being bossed around, huh?” I teased, grinding down on him mercilessly.

“Only when it’s you.” he rasped, his hands gripping my thighs like he was seconds from losing it completely.

Fury and need and regret crashing together in a way that didn’t make sense but at the same time felt like the only thing that did.

Campus looked the same. Gray, busy, loud.

But everything felt different.

We didn’t talk about what happened. We didn’t even look at each other.

Pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend we weren’t carrying around the memory of each other’s bodies burned into our skin

In class, he sat two rows behind me. I could feel his eyes burning holes into my back, searing a path down my spine. Every. Single. Second. By the end of the lecture, I was practically shaking with frustration.

I grabbed my notebook, marched out into the hallway — and waited.

When he passed, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door shut.

For a second, we just stood there, staring at each other, the tension so thick it felt like drowning.

“Problem, princess?” he asked, mock-innocent.

I shoved him lightly. “Yeah. You're breathing again. What the hell is your problem?” I hissed, arms crossed.

Seungmin leaned against the wall, lazy, unbothered, like this was amusing. “Problem? I don't have a problem.”

I stepped closer, glaring. “You stare at me like you want to burn me alive and then act like nothing happened.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I do want to burn you alive.”

I shoved him hard. He didn’t even flinch.

Just smiled — slow, infuriating — and let his eyes drag down to my mouth.

My chest heaved with fury. “Stop looking at me like that!” I snapped.

“Like what?” he said innocently, gaze dropping to my lips again.

I groaned and rolled my eyes before grabbing the front of his hoodie and kissed him.

Hard.

He responded immediately, hands sliding to my hips, slamming me back against the door.

The kiss was brutal, messy, full of months — maybe years — of frustration detonating all at once. Starved. Wild.

We stumbled back against the teacher’s desk, knocking over papers and god-knows-what, neither of us caring.

When we finally broke apart, panting, he whispered against my mouth: “You’re fucking annoying.”

“Takes one to know one.” I whispered back, yanking him down for another kiss.

And somehow...

It became a habit.

It wasn’t supposed to become a habit. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

But suddenly, he was everywhere. In my bed. On his bed. In the backseat of his shitty old car, the windows fogged, the gearshift digging into my thigh as he moved inside me, rough and desperate. In the abandoned book storage, under a dusty skylight, where he bent me over an old desk and muffled my moans with his mouth. And now, in the farthest corner of the library.

He had me pinned against a bookshelf, one hand gripping my hip, the other tangled in my hair as he fucked me from behind. The worn wooden shelf rattled with every thrust, the sound obscene in the silent library.

My skirt was bunched up around my waist, panties forgotten somewhere on the floor. His jeans pooled around his ankles.

I couldn’t hold back a shaky moan when he lifted my leg higher, the new angle making me see stars.

His mouth was pressed to my shoulder, muffling his moans against my skin, teeth grazing whenever I clenched around him. He grabbed my wrist, guiding it to his mouth, biting the heel of my palm, making me gasp, as he fucked me harder.

Seungmin growled low in his throat, and I smirked wickedly, whispering breathless: “Can't handle it, can you, baby?”

He growled low in response, fucking into me harder, faster, more desperate, making it clear who was really in control.

And it wasn’t him.

The orgasm hit so fast it almost knocked the breath out of me, my forehead pressed against the dusty shelf to stay standing.

He followed a second later, groaning my name like a curse, collapsing against my back for a few shuddering breaths before pulling out, carefully, his hands trembling slightly as he tucked himself back into his jeans.

We straightened ourselves quickly — or as quickly as two wrecked, sweaty people could in the middle of a goddamn library.

He grabbed his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder like nothing had happened. I smoothed my skirt down, pretending my legs weren’t shaking.

As we walked out of the library, Seungmin shoved his hands into his pockets and said, almost casually: “I... bought that soju you said you liked once.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Was thinking... maybe you could come over. Study. Drink a little. Then…” He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “You know.”

I blinked at him, caught off-guard.

“Wait. That soju? How the hell did you even find it?”

He scowled, defensive. “I just found it, alright?” he muttered, like he hadn’t spent two hours scouring online stores for it.

I raised an eyebrow. “You scoured the internet for it, didn’t you?”

He rolled his eyes, ears pink. “Whatever. Just... if you want to come over later. Study. Drink. Maybe…” He shrugged.

I grinned wickedly. “I'd love to drink myself into a coma with you.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t hide the way the corner of his mouth tilted up.

And maybe...

Maybe I was already too far gone to care

When I stepped into Seungmin’s apartment, a gust of cold air followed me inside, swirling around my ankles and raising goosebumps along my arms. The windows rattled faintly, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the low rumble of thunder, soft but persistent, like a warning. The faint smell of clean laundry and takeout lingering in the air.

It was neat, tidy — almost aggressively so, like he had scrubbed it just to have something to do with his hands.

Seungmin closed the door behind me a little too quickly, shutting out the cold — but not the tension that immediately filled the room.

He didn’t even bother with his usual sarcasm. He just moved toward the kitchen, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders stiff. In that brief moment, I could tell something was off.

I kicked off my shoes and shook the chill off my skin, frowning slightly as I watched him.

Something was wrong. Something more than the storm brewing outside.

“Hey.” I said, having him help me take off my coat and eyeing him suspiciously.

He gave a grunt of acknowledgment and motioned toward the living room, where the bottle of soju sat already open on the coffee table.

We moved to the couch, cracking open our notebooks, pretending we were actually there to study. At first, we did — sort of.

I read over a few pages. He pretended to make notes. We sipped soju in between, the alcohol smoothing the edges of the tension, but not erasing it.

It only grew heavier, thicker. He barely looked at me. His jaw clenched every time I shifted closer.

After nearly half an hour of fake studying and awkward silences, I slammed my pen down dramatically.

“Okay.” I said, turning fully to face him. “Spill it. What the hell is going on with you?”

He didn't answer immediately. Just scribbled something meaningless in his notebook, avoiding my eyes like they were lethal weapons.

“Nothing” he muttered.

I snorted. “Bullshit. Come on, Min. You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them.”

I reached across, closed his notebook slowly, deliberately, and stared him down.

“You’re acting like someone kicked your puppy. You’re moody. You’re stiff. And not even in the good way.”

His lips twitched slightly at that, but he still didn’t meet my gaze. “I said it's nothing.” he repeated stubbornly, but his tone cracked halfway through.

It was almost adorable.

Almost.

I leaned in closer, so close that our knees bumped. “You’re not getting away with it.” I said in a mock-sweet voice. “Not tonight.”

I let my hand trail up his thigh slowly, watching the way his breath hitched. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t move.

“If you're not going to talk…” I murmured, holding his gaze, sliding off the couch and kneeling between his legs, “then I'll just have to loosen you up another way.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he still didn’t say a word — stubborn even now.

I tugged the drawstring of his sweatpants loose, my fingers moving with slow, calculated intent. He was already half-hard — a clear sign that no matter how much he was pretending to be unaffected, his body wasn’t lying.

I freed him with a slow, deliberate motion, my hand wrapping around him. He groaned, low and desperate, his head falling back against the couch.

I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the sensitive tip, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin. He shuddered, his hand immediately sliding into my hair, not pushing, just... anchoring.

When I took him into my mouth, slow and deep, his head fell back against the couch with a broken groan.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, voice already wrecked.

I set a slow, torturous rhythm, hollowing my cheeks, dragging my tongue along every inch of him, savoring every helpless sound he made. His thighs trembled under my palms, and the way his hand tightened in my hair made me smirk against his skin.

His free hand came up, brushing the hair gently away from my face so he could see me — see everything. And then, in the middle of a particularly deep stroke, he whispered it — raw, desperate.

“I saw you…” he rasped, pushing the hair gently away from my face, his thumb brushing my temple tenderly. “At the library... talking with that asshole… laughing… looking so fucking pretty”

I hummed around him, and he let out a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly.

“Fuck, Y/N... I hated it, it made me crazy.” he admitted, his voice cracking as he stroked my cheek. “Wanted to punch him.” he gasped. “Wanted to drag you away... claim you…”

The words sent a sharp pulse of heat through me. I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my hand stroking him lazily. My heart pounded at his raw honesty, but I didn’t let up. If anything, I doubled down — moving faster, stroking the base with one hand while my mouth worked him expertly.

He was unraveling. Completely. And he didn't even try to hide it anymore.

“Fucking jealous.” he muttered, his head tipping back, exposing the long line of his throat.

I felt him tense, his thighs trembling slightly. Before he could lose it completely, he tugged me up by the shoulders, pulling me into his lap with a growl.

“Get up here” he ordered, voice rough, desperate.

Without another word, he pulled me up by the arms, yanking me onto his lap. I straddled him, sliding my body against his, feeling the heat of his skin under my fingers. Our faces inches apart, both breathing hard.

The soju had given him a slight flush — his cheeks pink, his chest heaving — and it made him look almost innocent. Almost. He wasn't.

I could feel his eyes on me, his gaze dark and filled with something I wasn’t sure I was ready to acknowledge. His hands were on my hips, gripping me so tightly it almost hurt, and for a moment, I let myself savor that — the way he was barely holding on, like if he let go, I might slip away from him.

I pulled my sweater off slowly, teasing him with every inch of skin that was exposed, the fabric sliding over my shoulders and down my arms, before I tossed it carelessly aside. His breath caught when my bra followed, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes devoured me, like he was trying to memorize it, the hunger in them making my pulse race.

I stood up, feeling his gaze track every movement as I slowly unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my lace panties. Seungmin was breathless now, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as he reached out to touch me, his fingers brushing against my bare thighs, reverent, sending a wave of shivers through me.

“Fuck, you're killing me…” he whispered, voice hoarse.

I leaned in, kissing him slow and deep, feeling the desperation vibrating through him. Without breaking the kiss I slid my hand between us, guiding him to my entrance, and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, I sank down onto him.

The feeling of him inside me was overwhelming — I could feel every inch of him, stretching me, filling me completely. Both of us gasped at the same time, my body shaking slightly from the intensity of it.

I stayed still for a moment, letting the sensation settle, trying to focus on the way his hands gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as if he was trying to keep me grounded.

“You feel so fucking good.” he groaned, his voice low and strained. “I can’t even…”

His hands moved from my waist to my hips, his thumbs pressing against the sides of my ribs, and then he helped me move, his body matching the rhythm I set. I leaned back slightly, letting him fill me deeper with every movement, my hands resting on his chest for balance as I rocked against him. He reached up, running his hands over my waist, my stomach, my breasts, like he couldn't get enough.

His eyes never left me, watching the way my body moved over his, the way I controlled the pace, the way I made him feel like he was losing his mind. I leaned down, kissing him hard, desperate, letting him taste the hunger that had been building between us.

His hands slid up my back, pushing my hair away from my neck, and he kissed me there — soft at first, then with more urgency. The contrast between his gentleness and the rawness of our bodies crashing together made my breath catch.

“You’re fucking perfect.” he muttered, his lips against my skin. “God, you feel so perfect.”

I increased the pace, rolling my hips faster, harder, the friction between us driving both of us to the edge. He was moaning now, his hands moving to my breasts, squeezing and massaging them as I continued to ride him.

I could feel him getting closer — his movements more frantic, more desperate — and I loved the way he was losing himself in me.

“Y/N... Fuck, you’re incredible…” he groaned, his hands slid under my ass, guiding me, helping me move faster, deeper.

I felt my own orgasm building — the pressure, the heat, the way our bodies were in perfect sync, like we were both caught in the same storm.

I leaned down, kissing him again, this time slower, more tender, as I continued to move on top of him. He pulled me closer, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me into him as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“God, you’re beautiful.” he praised me again, his voice cracking. “You're a fucking dream, Y/N.”

That broke me. The words, the way he said them with such vulnerability, the way he couldn’t hide how much he cared — it was too much.

I came first, my body shaking as the pleasure coursed through me, and Seungmin followed right after, his whole body tensing beneath me as he groaned my name.

We collapsed together, both of us gasping for air, trembling from the intensity of it all.

Seungmin’s hand found my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pulled me into a slow kiss, still out of breath but somehow still wanting more. He pulled back after a moment, his forehead resting against mine as we both tried to catch our breath.

I smiled, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as I looked down at him.

The slow kiss between us deepened, his forehead pressed against mine, so close I could feel the soft flutter of his eyelashes against my skin, his arms still cradling my waist, his body still warm and heavy inside me. Seungmin's hand traced slow, lazy circles along my spine, as if he had no intention of letting me go.

As if I belonged there.

With him.

The world outside blurred into nothing — just the soft rumble of thunder far away and the faint tremble of Seungmin's breath against my lips.

And somewhere, in the middle of all that… my heart stuttered violently. But it wasn’t like before — not the rush of lust, not the usual reckless thrill.

It hurt.

A sharp, aching kind of pain that made my chest tighten and my lungs forget how to breathe.

And that was when it hit me.

I loved him.

The realization knocked the air out of me, heavier than the storm clouds gathering outside the window. Panic flared instantly in my chest, hotter than anything I had felt that night. The thought sliced through me with terrifying clarity.

I tried to breathe, tried to ground myself, but my mind betrayed me — flooding with every moment, every memory that led me here.

The way he encouraged me before the presentation and said — in the most nonchalant way possible — “You’re gonna kill it.” and “You’re smarter than half the people in this room.” Like it was the most normal thing to say to the girl you're supposed to hate.

The way he used to sit across from me in the library for hours, flicking tiny crumpled paper balls at my forehead every time I started to lose focus, pretending it was just to annoy me — but never leaving until I finished every last page.

The way, after the first time at his house we crossed the line, he wordlessly pulled me up from the messy bed, his arms steady and sure, carrying me straight to the bathroom. No teasing, no smirking — just warm hands steadying me under the shower spray, his fingers gently untangling my hair like I was something precious.

The way he disappeared into the kitchen afterward, reappearing fifteen minutes later with a grilled cheese — tragically burnt, awful grilled cheese — because he thought I might be hungry.

The way he always had some sarcastic comment ready to throw at me — just to see me roll my eyes and smile.

The way that when we were alone his fingers always found my wrist, my waist, the small of my back — little touches so casual they could have been accidental, but they never were. Like he needed the reassurance that I was real and still there.

The way he never once made me feel like I owed him anything in return.

The way he just... stayed.

All of it crashed into me at once, a kaleidoscope of moments that I hadn't realized mattered so much until now.

I opened my eyes, searching his face. He looked so peaceful. So real. His hair messy from my fingers, lips swollen from my kisses, a faint pinkness staining his cheeks from the soju we’d shared earlier. He looked like something I could never deserve but stupidly still wanted. No — needed.

The love sat heavy in my chest, raw and suffocating.

I love him.

I loved his stupid sarcasm. I loved his soft touches hidden behind gruff words. I loved his messy hair, his crooked smile, his smartass mouth. I love his little mole on the bridge of his nose. I loved the way he fought me, pushed me, infuriated me — and still made me feel seen in ways no one else ever had.

Panic clawed at my throat. This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

No.

No, no, no.

I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I wasn’t supposed to love Seungmin.

Reality slammed back into me.

I shifted slightly, pulling away just enough for the space between us to feel vast again. Seungmin's brows furrowed, his hand tightening instinctively on my waist.

Leaning away from him, my body trembling as I scrambled off his lap. I could feel the sudden chill on my bare skin as I grabbed my discarded clothes, pulling my sweater over my head with frantic, clumsy hands, avoiding his confused, sleepy gaze.

“Y/N?” he called softly, his voice was thick, confused, still hoarse from our kisses. “Where are you–”

I didn't answer. I grabbed my skirt, slipping it back on quickly, reaching for my bag like the room was on fire.

“Where are you going?” he asked, standing up, his brows furrowing.

I didn’t even look at him. I needed to get out. Out of that room, out of the weight pressing down on my chest. I needed to breathe.

Before I did something irreversible. Before I begged him to love me back.

He moved toward the window and then froze. Outside, it had started to pour — sheets of rain hammering against the glass, the sky flashing briefly with distant lightning.

“It’s's raining.” he said, voice cautious. “Why don't you just... stay tonight?”

I shook my head frantically, shoving my feet into my shoes, my fingers trembling. “I can't.” I choked out, barely able to breathe, my throat closing.

He reached for me but I bolted, slamming the door behind me, running down the hallway, the sound of my footsteps echoing against the walls, my heart breaking with every step.

I ran down the stairwell, skipping steps as I sprinted downward, my heart racing, my vision blurring. The sound of rain getting louder, closer, until I burst through the front doors into the storm.

The moment I pushed the exit door open, the cold rain hit me like a wall, instantly soaking me to the bone — I had forgotten my coat —. I stumbled forward blindly, tears and raindrops blurring together on my face.

I barely made it a few steps before I heard him.

“Y/N!”

His voice, sharp, desperate, cutting through the downpour.

I ignored it. Kept walking. And then suddenly —A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back, spinning me around.

Seungmin stood there, drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving like he had just run a marathon, anger and hurt twisting his face into something almost unrecognizable.

His other hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back slightly so I had to look at him. We were soaked, trembling, our breaths steaming in the cold night air.

His face was wild with frustration, with something deeper, something raw and terrified. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted, his voice cracking with anger and something else — fear.

I shoved him. Hard.

My hands slamming against his chest, tears spilling from my eyes. “This is your fault!” I screamed, my voice raw, breaking. “Your stupid hair– your fucking smile– your goddamn eyes–”

I shoved him again, sobbing now, my fists hitting his chest uselessly. “I wasn't supposed to feel this! I wasn’t supposed to love you!”

Seungmin grabbed my wrists, holding them tightly, forcing me to stop hitting him. His hands were rough but not cruel — desperate. “You think this was easy for me?!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “You think it didn’t fucking kill me to see you every day and pretend you weren't everything I wanted?!”

I struggled against him, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the rain.

“You think I didn’t want to scream every time someone else looked at you like you weren't mine?!” he gasped, voice hoarse with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “I wanted to tell everyone. I wanted to grab you and say— she’s fucking mine.”

The rain pounded harder, soaking through our clothes, making our bodies slick against each other.

I tried to pull away again, but he gripped my shoulders tighter, pulling me closer, locking his burning eyes to mine. “You felt it too.” he whispered fiercely. “Tell me you felt it too, Y/N.”

I shook my head weakly, trying to pull away from him, the rain blinding me, my heart pounding so loud I couldn’t think. “I can't–” I gasped, my voice barely audible.

But he didn’t let me go. He stepped closer, almost shaking with the effort of keeping himself together. “Look at me.” he demanded. “Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me it wasn’t real. Tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you don’t love me.”

I opened my mouth. Tried to speak. Tried to lie.

Nothing came out, not a single curse or remark. Nothing except a broken sob.

“Tell me you don't feel it, Y/N.”he shouted. “Tell me you don't love me.” His voice broke on the last word, and for a second, the world around us went silent except for the rain pounding against the pavement.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat closed up, the words stuck somewhere between terror and heartbreak. “I don't– I–” I tried, but I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t lie.

The pain on his face when I faltered nearly broke me in half. He saw the truth in my eyes before I could even say it.

We crashed into each other. The kiss was brutal, angry, full of tears and frustration and all the love we were too scared to admit. Full of every unspoken word, every feeling we were too terrified to say out loud.

His hands tangled in my hair, yanking me closer, desperate, like he needed me to breathe. My fists clutched his soaked shirt, pulling him down to me as if I could tear him apart and rebuild him at the same time.

Tears mixed with the rain on both of our faces, the salty taste of heartbreak on our lips as we clung to each other in the storm, drowning in everything we had tried so hard to deny.

We kissed like we were drowning. Because maybe we were.

We were soaked. We were shaking. We were real. And for the first time, we weren't hiding anymore.

He pressed his forehead against mine, rain soaking us, his hand trembling on my waist, his breath was shaky against my lips.

“You're messy, infuriating, impossible — no one never would wreck me the way you do. But I'd let you, a thousand times over, cause that's the way i love you.