+++

the door slams shut. you’re too careless to look back at him, so instead you slam your bag and phone on the island and lean forward on it, your elbows holding you up.

it’s silence for a minute. the sound of your heavy breathing filling your ears before you slip your heels off, stepping out of them. you stand up properly, grabbing your phone.

it’s soon taken from your hands and placed right back on the counter.

“so not only you ignore me in the car, you’re going to come home and act like nothing happened?”

theo walks around the island, standing on the side of it before you look at him. you shake your head as you look at him, his messy hair and raised eyebrows when you take a minute to respond.

“what the fuck do you want me to say?” you continue, and he lets out a deep breath and rubs his hand in his hair with his eyes closed and a sarcastic grin from how stupid you are acting. “we aren’t even together so all you said in the car earlier? yeah, it was bullshit.”

he looks at you again, even more furious than before and all you do is try to do is walk away to your room.

“no, stop you’re not going anywhere y/n. not until we set some boundaries or some shit because i don’t care if we aren’t together, you being all over keeho tonight, i mean fuck, kissing him? right in front of me?! are you fucking kidding me? i wouldn’t have ever went and kissed another gi-“

ring ring ring.

your phone buzzes and you both look down at it at the same time. it vibrates the whole island and what it reads makes this whole situation even worse.

keeho 🤤

the emoji was half a joke. you’d always been somewhat into him, but it was still a sarcastic kind of thing, but how did theo take it? you look up at him and he’s already looking at you.

“answer it.”

who are you to even say no at this point. you look at him a little bit longer before grabbing your phone and swiping on the screen to answer. you put it on speaker.

“hey y/n, you make it home safe?”

you look at theo. “mhm, i made it.”

“is theo there? i wanted to ask you something.”

theo shakes his head no.

“no, he’s not. what did you need to ask?”

“well, i’ve always thought you were really — um, pretty. this is so corny i know but jiung has been telling me to do this for a while but i didn’t know if you and theo were together or anything and after tonight i just wanted to…”

the rest is a blur when you watch as theo walks behind you. you feel your zipper to your dress slowly coming undone as you try to not make any noise, continuing listening to whatever keeho was saying.

“… and i was just wondering, were you and theo a thing before i say anything else? i probably should’ve begun with that, shit.”

it’s now fully unzipped and theo wastes no time before pulling the sleeves down staring at your bare back, besides your bra.

“y/-y/n? hello?”

theo leans down to whisper something in your ear as his hands wander your back and stop at the clasp of your bra. “answer him, y/n.”

“sorry keeho i-“ he unclasps your bra, a small gasp leaving your lips involuntarily. “i was just doing… something. um, im sorry what was your question? oh wait theo and i yeah no we-“ you squeeze your lips together when theo slides your bra off and his hands are already cupping your tits. “fuck.”

“is this a bad time? i can totally call you back.”

“no! that’s okay uhm no me and theo — we aren’t a thing.” you continue, and theo cups your tits harder making you hiss quietly.

“oh well great! — in that case did you maybe want to go out with me sometime? whenever you can, i’m almost always free.”

“i-“ theo’s lips meet your neck, leaving soft kisses which soon turnt into hickeys. his hands begin to pull down your dress, slipping it all the way down to your ankles, tapping your thigh two times for you to step out of it. “i have- fuck-“

theo’s hands lay on your now bare hips and his lips trail kisses down your spine giving you chills, making it hard not to make it even more obvious than it already is.

“you can say no! that’s perfectly okay, and things won’t have to be awkward. it’s just after tonight, when you kissed me i thought something was there, y’know?”

that’s when theo grabs your jaw from one side, turning you head to the other side to leave a harsh kiss onto your mouth, which eventually turned into sloppy kissing while his other hand goes all the way down to the waistband of your panties, not going in yet.

“i mean you don’t just… kiss and it means nothing but maybe that’s just me.”

this only makes theo kiss you harder, hand slipping into your panties now, making you whine.

“y/n?” keeho says.

you rip your lips away from theo. “keeho, im sorry but i have to call you back.”

you don’t wait for a response before hanging up on him.

“fuck, baby, you’re so weak.” you interrupt him with a kiss, this time more vocal as you relentlessly let out moans and whines against his lips, and his fingers meet your clit in slow circles.

it feels so good your lips almost rip from his mouth again, but he keeps you there. “who’s gonna kiss you like me, mm? touch you like me?” he mumbles against your lips when he enters two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and lay your head back on your shoulders.

“who kisses you better?”

you weakly whisper the word “you” in his ear.

he takes his fingers out of you, making you sigh.

“you can do better than that.”

“you! everything about you is better, theo, please…”

“good girl.” he says.

his hand is now at the top of your back, right below your neck, pushing down to make you bend over slightly over the counter. he slips your panties down your legs, soon after undoing the belt of his pants.

he pulls his cock out, already dripping with pre-cum. he rubs his tip along your pussy, making you quiver.

“god, you’re so fucking wet.”

his other hand goes up to cup one of your tits in his hand, and just before he enters you get cocky.

“who’s says it’s cause of you?”

he pauses his actions, and a slap fills the room and your tit starts to sting.

“keep being a brat, and i’ll leave you like this,” he leaves his tip at your entrance. “you don’t want that do you?”

“no- m sorry,” were you really though?

he slams his thick cock into you in one go, making your hand slam on the counter and a long moan leaves your lips as theo laughs behind you.

“oh, my love, you’re a mess.”

nothing but your own moans and fast slapping fill the kitchen, theos whimpers joining unable to contain himself.

“but fuck, you take me so good everytime…” his hand tightens on your breast, squeezing possessively as he continue to pound into you with brutal thrusts, each slap of his hips against your ass echoing through the kitchen. The pre-cum and your arousal make a wet, messy sound with every movement.

“fuck- theo feel’so good baby… keep going,”

he brings his other hand around to your front, finding your clit again and starting to rub slow, tight circles that make your legs tremble. the angle changes slightly, his cock brushing that sensitive spot inside you with every lazy thrust.

he slows down his fast, deep thrusts, his fingers working your clit with expert precision. theo's voice is low and husky as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “you like that?"

“Open up wide. Say ‘Ahhhh’.” You pressed the wooden stick to little Minseo’s tongue to peek inside her mouth, humming pleasantly surprised to find that the swelling in her throat had gone down significantly since her previous visit. 

“Looks like she’s almost fully healed,” you mumbled to her mother who exhaled a deep sigh of relief from where she stood beside the examination table. You pulled back to see Minseo looking at you with a wide eyed, hopeful smile that tugged firmly at your heartstrings. You felt sorry for her and the pain she’d endured the past week and a half, though she put on a far braver face than any of the adults you’d treated since the awful sickness spread across court. They childishly moaned and groaned as if the end of the world had descended upon them. The thought brought a small smile to your lips. 

You grabbed a piece of candy from a nearby bowl and smuggled it into her hand then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “But just to be sure, I think you could use another day’s rest and a hot cup of cocoa. What do you think?”

You gave her an exaggerated wink that made her burst into a fit of giggles as she glanced at her mother who pretended not to listen. You lifted her from the examination table and set her down, smoothing her hair away from her face with a delicate brush of your fingertips.

“I’ll send over the last few tonics she’ll need and she should be fully healed within the next few days,” you told her mother, your smile widening when Minseo ran to attach herself to her leg. 

She gave you her thanks before scooping the tiny girl into her arms and making her way to the exit. Minseo waved her hand enthusiastically at you over her mother's shoulder in parting, and you reciprocated the action gleefully until you noticed the figure leaning against the doorway. Your hand stilled in the air.

Minseo’s mother dropped into a curtsey before quickly shuffling out of the room after Jiung responded with a respectful nod. His head remained lowered even after her departure, his hands shoved modestly in his pockets. You let your hand fall to your side heavily, waiting patiently for him to look up at you.

He could feel your stare burning into his cheek, though it could have been the familiar heat he’d never been able to shake away whilst being near you—even after years of growing up together. Either way, he wished he could have slipped away before you became aware of his presence. Or better yet, returned to just moments ago when he could observe you and relish in your smile and the gentle way you handled your patients, all without consequence. 

It was a selfish thought—wanting to be able to absorb the pleasures that emanated from your mere existence without having to give anything in return. It was hard to believe that anyone would be worthy of such a reward; he certainly wasn’t.

So, he lifted his eyes to meet yours. 

“Hello, stranger,” you remarked.

Having your gaze on him would have been just as nice, better even, if it didn’t make him feel so off balanced. He smiled politely to mask how it affected him. 

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked, while turning back to clean off your station.

“Not long,” He replied, pushing off the door to saunter into the room. 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jiung stopped a fair distance from you and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can a man not visit his friend for leisure?”

You sanitized each instrument on the bench, raising one up to eye level as you spoke, “It’s not often that you visit me for leisure these days.”

You were right. His visits to you have decreased significantly in recent times. But the way you said it—as a joke with just a hint of something deeper behind it—made his chest sting.

He couldn't help but frown. “You’re making me sound like a horrible friend.”

“You’re not a horrible friend, Jiung.” You put the final instrument down and turned to face him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Bad, maybe, but not horrible.”

He returned it with one of his own, though slightly weaker. He wanted to say something to remedy it, but there was no excuse, so you both soaked in the sentence until eventually you patted the exam table to beckon him forward. “Tell me what’s wrong, Jiung.”

He sat down with a straight back and rested his hands on his knees, his fingers flexing around the bones when you stepped into his space. You looked down at him with warm, steady eyes, offering him a small smile to encourage him to speak, a complete contrast to the sarcasm you’d previously exhibited.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’ve just been feeling very faint lately. You know, dizzy…a bit lightheaded…” 

You nodded along, mumbling a quiet, “I’m listening,” as you began conducting your basic tests. You grabbed his chin between three fingers and angled his face towards the light so you could examine his pupils. 

It didn’t matter how many times you did it, or how many times your skin brushed his; his body couldn’t seem to get used to your touch. His breath hitched, his skin flamed, and his heart pounded when you looked deep into his eyes to assess their dilation. You had to say his name twice for him to come to.

“Hmm? U-um,” he said startled, taking a deep breath when you released his chin and turned to record your observations in his patient file. “Y-yeah, no, that’s it.”

You spun back to him and pressed three fingers to his neck without warning, right over his carotid to measure his heart beat. You counted the beats in your head, your brows pinching together at the rapid pace.

You checked the pulse in his wrist as well, just to be sure, your eyes flicking back up to Jiung who seemed awfully interested in the plant stationed across the room.

“Breathe in deep for me… and out.” 

He finally looked back when you released his wrist to jot down something else in your notes. 

“You always have such a fast heart rate,” you commented absentmindedly. “Your eyes are dilated as well. Breathing is slightly irregular. We should work on managing your stress.”

Stress. He nodded in agreement. 

He was glad all the signs pointed to that and even though it wasn’t the real reason—at least in this moment—but it wasn't entirely false either.

“Don’t even get me started… It’s a big week. Our future Queen is arriving soon and I just got out of a talk with my sister. She’s been assigned a guard until the festivities are over and she’s not exactly thrilled with the idea.”

One corner of your mouth ticked up in a knowing smirk. “I can only imagine the dramatics that took place.”

Jiung groaned as he recalled the earlier argument. “You’d think she’d finally realize I only have her best interest at heart…” 

The reply you had formed died on your lips as you glanced through the many parchments you’d collected from this month's visits with a tilted head—far more than any other time you could recall. The symptoms were more or less the same across the board, an added headache or spell of nausea here and there.

“Hey, you’ve been here more than usual this month.” You shot Jiung a quizzical look. “I’m starting to think there’s something more serious going on.”

He did his best to seem impassive despite the thundering in his chest, scrounging around for any diversion he could muster up in his brain. 

“Something serious? Like wha—oh speaking of serious, have you spoken to Taeyang about… everything? I’m worried for him.”

You set the file down on the table and sat beside him with a nod. “Yes, we talked when he returned from his trip to visit her and just the other day. Why? He hasn’t talked to you about it?”

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when you took the bait. It worked perfectly in his favor, as well, because he’d been meaning to ask you about Taeyang anyway. He shook his head at your question.

“No, you know how he is. He probably doesn’t want to look weak in front of us. Which is pointless, mind you, because nothing will top the time he cried after stepping on and killing that frog.” 

“He was nine! And maybe if you all didn't constantly bring that up, he’d open up to you more.” You spoke matter-of-factly, unable to contain the laugh that escaped you. 

He smiled at both the memory and joy on your face and casted his eyes downward as you both reminisced on the easier times not shadowed by responsibility.

Eventually when you spoke again, your voice came out somber. “Anyways, he’s not thrilled by the prospect, but, what can he do? His destiny has been written for him.”

Jiung nodded solemnly before saying, “Still, though, it would be better if he liked her, maybe tolerated her at the least.”

You mulled over his words. “Well, I don’t blame him or her, for that matter. That poor girl… being forced into a new family and country. Anyone would be upset.”

The thought made you look over to Jiung curiously. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just assuming you will have to do the same, no? Marry for alliance…” You tugged at a loose thread on your dress, your heart rate spiking as you tried to feign indifference.

He replied without hesitation, “Yes, most likely.”

You’d been listening to Taeyang complain about his betrothal for years—you had not even considered the fact that as a prince, Jiung would have to do the same, as would the rest of the royal family. The fact sent a bitter taste to your tongue. Growing up so close to them, you sometimes forgot exactly who they were in the grand scheme of things. 

“You have no issue with that?” You questioned, trying to fish out more information from him. When he shook his head, you pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes at him, your skin prickling with a spark of irritation at his nonchalance. 

“If it benefits the crown, of course I have no issues with it.”

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head. Jiung and his devotion to the crown. It irked you for reasons unknown. It shouldn’t have—afterall he was the second born. He was raised almost as strictly as Taeyang was and the responsibilities of such a title had been drilled into him since he was young. 

The difference between the two brothers was that at least Taeyang was able to recognize the unfairness of it all. He complained about and criticized the life that they were born into, while Jiung seemed content with it all, willing to be used as a pawn in the King’s game without any further disagreement. You wished he would just put himself first sometimes and realize that there was more to life than that. 

In an attempt to distract yourself from the growing pit in your stomach, you rose from beside him and tucked your hands politely behind your back.

“So you’re just kicking me to the curb, then?” You quipped mischievously.

You heard his confused hum and whipped back around to face him. You tilted your head with an impish grin, eyes wide and innocent. 

“You don’t remember promising to marry me when we were seven?”

Your heart soared at the flush that crept across his cheeks as he grimaced and made an attempt to stand and flee the room. You blocked him easily, forcing him back down to the table with a firm push at his shoulders. He tugged at the collar of his coat and met your eyes, before casting them over your shoulder when he saw how delighted you looked at his response. 

You squeezed his shoulders once, smiling smugly when his throat bobbed with a thick swallow, his composure barely held on by a thread. His body fidgeted to put more distance between you and him, though he made no actual attempt to leave again. 

You removed your hands and turned to your work bench, expertly throwing ingredients together with certainty as Jiung searched to formulate a response. 

He wrung his fingers tightly together, his voice quiet and wistful. “You deserve to marry for love, not out of obligation or be forced to marry a prince—or anyone for that matter.”

You were only teasing him, but the seriousness of his words tightened something in your chest. You wanted so desperately to tell him that marrying him would constitute anything but obligation, but you kept your thoughts safely caged in the back of your mind. 

You poured the finished tonic in a glass and turned to face him, just barely catching the way he rubbed at his chest with a sullen frown. 

Your brows drew together with concern. “Are you in pain?”

He blinked at you, an unconvincing smile plastered on his face. “Not really.”

You moved to stand in front of him so he was forced to look directly into your eyes. “On a scale of one to ten how bad?”

“Like a three—”

“Jiung,” you cut him off with a tired sigh at his dishonesty, but before you could say anything else, he was plucking the glass from your hand and throwing the liquid back.

His face twisted at the bitter taste as he stood and moved past you to set the glass down and peer out the window. “Wow, it’s already midday.  I should get going… Thank you for the tonic.” 

You didn’t make an effort to keep him this time, watching with dejection as he shuffled to the door, completely dismissive of the turmoil he’d left behind. 

At the last second he turned back to face you, his heart sinking as he took in the hurt on your face. “I’ll see you around?”

Your expression went blank and you turned away from him to continue cleaning your earlier mess without a word.

He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the floor in shame, his shoulder slumping as he clenched his jaw tight. He slipped out of the room, once again leaving you to question just how far the distance between you would stretch. 

·✶·

You didn't see Jiung again until a few weeks later at the engagement.

Despite the disappointment from your last encounter, you had hoped to run into him again, or that he’d pay you another visit. He didn’t, and although his detachment weighed heavily on your mind, you did your best to distract yourself—you had more than enough patients to deal with, anyway. 

But your mind kept wondering back to figure out where it had all fallen apart. You searched through years of memories and conversations to understand the rift but the deeper you dug, the less sense it made.

If you’d done something, why didn't he just simply let you go. Why? Why did he continue to visit you every few weeks then abandon you as if it made no difference. It was unfair, and you were exhausted by the back-and-forth, so you planned to confront him about it that night.

You slipped into the ballroom discreetly just as the couple of the hour exchanged rings. You ventured carefully into the room, keen on making yourself and any possible interactions as scarce as possible. You were only there for moral support, and judging by the tight expression on Taeyang’s face as he led the princess of the West Kingdom down the stage, it was going to be needed.

You looked around to spot any familiar faces—Jiung was nowhere to be found—and set your sight on the bar across the room. You only made it halfway there when you were stopped by a face you only slightly recalled from a year ago. 

They delved into a stream of overwhelming compliments and praises for how you had so miraculously healed them from their sickness (you realized, slightly peeved, that the sickness in question was only a headache) and you nodded your head with a practiced bashfulness before excusing yourself from the conversation. 

It happened a few more times, each time your social battery dwindled further and further. Just as you saw the end in sight, a familiar arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you snugly into their body. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep, patient breath to prepare yourself to deal with the prince at your side.

“Long time no see,” Keeho’s pompous voice whispered into your ear. “I almost didn’t recognize you not hiding away in your dungeon.”

You pinched his sleeve between two fingers and removed his hand from your waist before stepping out from his clutch. “My apologies, Your Highness. Unfortunately, saving lives does take up quite a bit of my time,” you started, Keeho’s lips dipping at your blatant sarcasm.  “Still, it’s no excuse. What ever shall I do to gain back your favor?”

He pouted childishly and huffed out a rough breath before smirking, all too chuffed. You narrowed your eyes at him in question.

“Does your sour tone have anything to do with your secret lover's engagement?”

Oh here we go again. Your hand twitched with the need to thump him upside the head, but with this many people around, you controlled yourself. 

With a dangerously calm voice you spoke, “Keeho, just because you can’t fathom being only friends with a member of the opposite sex, that doesn’t mean the rest of us are incapable of being that shallow.” 

His smirk dropped and he mumbled, “What about us… we’re friends.”

“Yeah, because I’ve rejected you so many times.” 

He snickered and playfully elbowed your side, clearly not offended at all by any of your insinuations. “Hey, I haven’t approached you that way in years…” He trailed off, eyes suddenly fixed on a point across the room. He muttered an, “excuse me,” under his breath before walking away. 

You watched curiously as he stopped a maid with his signature smile. You scoffed, full of judgement and exasperation. “Unbelievable.”

Thankfully, you were able to make it to the bar without any further interruptions. You leaned against it tiredly as the bartender slipped a glass of dark red wine in front of you, and you sipped it with a relieved sigh as the bitter liquid coated your tongue. You turned to rest your elbow on the bar to people-watch, more than ready to leave, when you saw a very disgruntled and annoyed Taeyang marching towards you. 

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour—” 

You gaped at him when he took the glass from your hand and downed it with one long swig, inserting it back in your still opened palm when he was done. 

“Hey! I was drinking that.”

He disregarded your comment with a huff, and you looked to where his fiance was left standing all alone. You caught her eye for the briefest moment before she looked away anxiously, and you frowned, turning to your friend. 

“It’s not very gentlemanly to leave your wife all alone during your engagement.” 

His nose scrunched in disgust. “She is not my wife.”

“Geez okay…” You trailed off. Then not even five seconds later, “It’s not very gentlemanly to leave your future wife all alone.”

You bit back a smile at his dramatic groan. He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly but didn’t say anything else. Your smile dropped to a grimace; if he was this quiet it must be worse than you thought.

You leaned toward him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Is she really that bad?”

“I just…” He trailed off. You waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him as best as you could. He stared intently at his hand in his lap, eyeing the ring that sat heavily on his finger with remorse. “This is hard for me too… I wish she would see that.”

He took a deep breath before turning to meet your concerned gaze with his own pitiful one. You hadn’t realized just how much this was affecting him—he looked exhausted with purple shadows framing his dull eyes. Your heart ached and you forced a clenched smile for him to continue. 

“As if I would willingly choose to spend the rest of my life with someone that hates me. As if I have any say in any aspect of my future. As if it’s so easy for me to just call it off when I never wanted this in the first place. As if—” He choked on the bitter words and swallowed the thick lump that had lodged itself in his throat. He exhaled a weak breath, shaking his head as he looked to the floor. 

He looked so small like this—nothing like the powerful king-to-be that everyone saw him as. What sat beside you was a helpless boy wearing a prince’s costume. 

He cleared his throat and raised his chin up high. “Anyway, there’s nothing to be done.”

“Well, have you tried talking to her and explaining your position?” You pressed, the healer in you determined to find a solution.

He only nodded solemnly and rubbed at his eyes, hunching forward to stare absentmindedly out at the crowd. A multitude of questions hung off the tip of your tongue, but you held them back, sensing that the conversation was over and that he no longer wanted to speak on it.

You slipped your hand from his shoulder and gnawed at your bottom lip before saying, “Well this is depressing,” in hopes of lightening the mood.

Taeyang cracked a tiny smile and you mirrored it with your own pleased one, happy that you could soften a small part of his anxieties. 

“Thank you for coming… I know these things are grueling for you.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “The most grueling part so far was speaking to Keeho, so the rest should be a walk in the park.”

He chuckled at your pettish tone. “Is he still convinced we’re secretly in love with each other?”

“He’s delusional is what he is,” you grumbled then quickly added on, “Speaking of your brothers, have you seen Jiung anywhere? I can’t seem to find him.”

He straightened his posture and cocked his head at you, his smile turning smug.

“You mean speaking of ‘secretly in love with each other’.”

You stared at him deadpanned and unammused, which only made his smile grow. “I’m serious Tae, I’m worried about him. He’s come to visit me more than often this month...”

Taeyang’s expression sobered as he stared at you with pointed eyes. “He has?” 

“Yeah…”

He flicked his eyes away when yours bore too deep into his own, his jaw tightening, deep in thought. You felt something in your stomach drop at his sudden silence.

“Is everything okay?” 

He only looked back at you when the music in the ballroom changed, his eyes carrying a mix of regret and hesitance. 

“It’s time for the first dance.” He stood and smoothed down his suit while you took deep breaths to calm your spiraling thoughts and the bad feeling deep in your gut at his off behaviour. 

“Hey,” he started, waiting for you to look at him before continuing. “He told me a while ago he was heading outside for some fresh air.”

You nodded blankly at him as he cast you one last smile that was meant to reassure you, before disappearing into the crowd to find his betrothed.

Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, drowning out the orchestra and cheers as a cold shiver shot down your spine. Taeyang clearly knew something you weren’t privy to; he hadn’t even answered your question.

You raised from your seat and rushed out the door. 

The cool air outside did little to calm the uncomfortable heat brewing in your body. Your legs moved restlessly through the garden in search of Jiung, the churning in your stomach growing heavier with each passing second. 

You squinted into the darkness until your eyes could adjust, and from the corner of your vision, you saw something moving. You approached slowly until a figure came into focus, hunched down with their hands on their knees. They rose slowly, shoved something in their pocket, and finally turned around.

Jiung’s face came into view, only half lit by the moonlight, but you could see how pale he looked even from steps away. He jerked back a step when he saw you—not expecting for you to be standing there—and he felt his mouth grow dry in fear at what you might have seen. 

When you first called out his name, it was with relief, glad to finally have him in your presence after weeks of separation. But the comfort was short-lived, replaced by a growing alarm at his jittery state. 

He took a few hurried steps back to put some distance between you, stumbling clumsily in the process, until a wall of bushes blocked his path. All you could do was stand there, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He was still trying to avoid you. Even now, with nowhere else to go, he was looking anywhere but your face. 

“Jiung,” your voice came out shaky even as you tried to steady it. 

He smiled at you, thought it was tense and half-hearted. “What are you doing out here? It’s cold. Let’s go back inside.” 

He made a move to return to the castle but froze when you blurted out, “How long are you going to avoid me?”

“I’m not avoid—”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks. I barely see you once a month, and even then, you’re always busy with something,” you interjected, frustration coating every word. “I don’t get it… We used to be so close. W-We used to tell each other everything. I don't know when that changed or why you keep pulling away from me. And now you’re this… ghost who only shows up with a headache or fever and a few polite words only to disappear again. Do you understand how much it hurts? To know something is wrong and have you just… shut me out?”

He was silent, his gaze fixed on the grass beneath his feet like a child being scolded.

“So don’t stand there and tell me you haven’t been avoiding me,” you whispered, voice broken and exhausted from months of trying to pretend that everything was okay. "Is it me?"

His chin snapped up as he took a singular, apprehensive step forward. "No! No, you did nothing wrong."

"Then what?"

You glimpsed down at his lips when they opened and closed in search of a response, or maybe a deflection, but nothing came. That's when you noticed it—a darkness coating the inside of his dry lips.

Your eyebrows drew together and you crossed over to him on instinct. You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, hesitating when he flinched, but pressing forward regardless. His whole body went rigid under your touch, but you didn’t care, not when you brushed his lip with your thumb and it came away smeared with blood. 

"It's nothing," he muttered and jerked back to break out of your hold. He fumbled in his pocket to pull out a crumpled beige handkerchief and raised it to dab at his mouth. "'Must have bitten my lip—"

You snatched the cloth from his grasp and spread it open to find it soaked through with large stains of the same crimson. Your own blood ran cold at the sight as you stared at it, then back at his startled face.

"W-Why are you bleeding?" You whispered, your voice strained with dread.

The silence stretched between you as you waited, fighting against every urge to turn on your heel and walk away in fear of whatever was the cause of this. That same fear kept you rooted to your place.

"I'm fine," he eventually whispered. "Can I have that back?"

You clutched it tighter in your hand until your knuckles turned white and your vision blurred. The heavy weight in your chest ignited into a red-hot fury at the nerve of him.

"Stop lying to me."

He recoiled at the hostility in your voice; you'd never spoken to him like that. He searched your eyes for the gentleness he was accustomed to, but found nothing but temper.

You forced yourself to draw in a slow, steady breath, turning away from him to calm your racing heart. You tried to rationalize his actions and silence, tried to understand them and give him the benefit of the doubt.

But you were so tired of understanding.

You turned to face him again, the last of your composure barely held together. "Please," you whispered. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

He looked down, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow, as the war within him raged on, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

You pressed your trembling lips together, fighting to keep the sob caged in. You waited, and waited, and waited. Just as you exhaled and turned to leave, he spoke.

"I'm sick," he said, voice steady despite the nausea he felt. "I have been for a while."

The confession hung in the fragile air between you. You waited, barely breathing, as you tried to find your voice. Then the healer in you surfaced, pushing past the fear to seek answers.

"Okay… sick with what? For how long?"

He hesitated, and you said his name again, soft and reassuring, and he finally gave way completely.

"It's a rare illness. I first started showing signs of it when I was thirteen."

Thirteen. Your heart stopped.

That was when it began, the distance, growing too slowly for you to even notice until it was too late. You blamed it on growing up and his princely duties.

But no, all this time, all these years, he'd been suffering in silence while you watched, oblivious and wondering what you'd done wrong.

"What are you taking for it?" You pressed on.

"It doesn't matter," he said, voice frail and dull.

You huffed out a sharp breath through your nostrils. "Of course it matters, Jiung. I need to know how to—"

"There's no cure."

You didn't register the words at first; they made no sense. The sound of his voice reached your ears, spreading a new numbness through your blood.

"I don't understand."

His eyes glazed over at your small and distant voice. He let out a hard sigh and closed his eyes before opening them and speaking despite the pained expression on your face. "I've been taken to the greatest physicians on the continent. They said the illness was first recorded decades ago. Only a handful of cases have been documented and they've all…" He winced at the stream of tears flowing down your face, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Anyway, no cure has been found."

You weren't sure when the faint ringing in your ear began, but it intensified as you worked to process the information.

Your legs were moving before your brain could catch up and you walked past him, your hand snagging his wrist to pull him along with you.

"Hey—where are we going?"

"To the infirmary."

He said your name but you dismissed it along with his grip fighting to escape yours.

"We have to get started." Your voice was distant and detached, your mind racing to come up with a solution. "We have to start from the beginning. You have to tell me everything and—"

He dug his heels into the ground and tugged firmly at your hand until you spun around to face him. He said your name again, slow and laced with heartache, "Stop."

"Maybe if we cross-reference the symptoms with similar illnesses then we can find a pattern and—"

He raised his voice, shouting so you could hear him through the hysteria. "I've already seen the best!"

"Well you haven't seen me!" You cried out with a gasp, fresh tears soaking your cheeks as your hand trembled around his wrist.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you."

The words felt like a slap in the face. You stared at his paled face and dim eyes, and something in you shattered.

"So you were planning on keeping this a secret from me until…" The horrid word clung to your throat, but you forced it out. "Until when, Jiung? Until you died?"

He winced at the word and looked at you with pity. His silence was all the confirmation you needed.

You couldn't help but laugh, a small breath at first that bubbled into a mix of sobs and manic, broken laughter. You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle them, but it was no use, the years of neglect manifesting within the sound.

"Wow." You dropped your hand, quickly sobering up to sneer at him. "I knew you were selfish, but this is a new level of cowardice."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Cowardice?"

You hummed, the sound mocking.

"I kept it from you, for you," he said, his voice rising with desperation. "Because I know how you are… I knew you'd exhaust yourself searching for a cure that doesn't exist. I don't want you going through that!"

"What about your pain, Jiung?!" You snapped. "Look at you! You don't think this affects me? You don't think watching you fade away hurts me?"

He grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled roughly before throwing his hands down to plead with you. "Can you please just let it go?"

"Why?" You shook your head at him in disbelief. "Why are you being like this? How could you give up so easily? How could you just accept this?"

"Because I've lived with it for years. I've accepted it. And you need to, too."

"No."

The word was absolute and final. You turned your back to him to wipe away your tears. When you looked at him again, your eyes were burning with a new determination. "I don't care how many healers have given up. I don't care that you've given up. I am not giving up on you."

He called out your name but you were already walking away.

"We'll start tomorrow," you called over your shoulder.

"Please—"

"Goodnight, Jiung."

You didn't turn back. You walked from the garden, past the ballroom still bustling with energy, and didn't stop until you were safely in your locked bedchambers where you could finally fall apart in peace.

·✶·

The first rays of dawn had only begun to filter in through the window when the pounding at his door came.

Jiung jolted awake at the sound and groaned roughly into his pillow, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and mind still latched onto the remnants of the dream that was slipping from his memory. The knocking intensified and he reluctantly dragged himself out of his warm bed, one hand pressed to his throbbing temple as he stumbled across the cold floor.

He cracked the door open and winced when it revealed you on the other side. Your posture was straight and rigid, your lips pressed into a tight, thin line, eyes hardened and serious. A stack of parchment was tucked beneath one arm with a quill held in your hand. Jiung wondered how long you’d been awake for as he blinked at you with one eye still sleepily closed.

“Excellent, you’re awake,” you said while shoving past him to enter the room.

He turned slowly, still trying to process what was happening with bleary vision as you beelined for the curtains, yanking them wide open. The space lit up and Jiung flinched, raising an arm to shield his sensitive eyes to the light.

“Mmgh—” He grumbled as he shuffled back to the bed. “Why are you here so early?”

“There’s no time to waste. We need to get started.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue. He collapsed face-down onto the plush mattress with a muffled groan, nuzzling back into the warmness.

You dragged a chair to his bedside, the legs scraping against the floor with an awful screech that caused him to bury his face deeper into the pillow.

You sank into the chair and opened your mouth to speak until you made the mistake of looking over at him. Your lips closed and for a moment, you allowed yourself to study him.

His hair was a disaster—dark strands sticking up messily in every direction. His cheek was smushed against the pillow which caused his slightly parted lips to pucker out. He had one hand curled near his face as the morning light kissed his skin, illuminating him in its soft glow. He looked more at peace than you’d seen him in a while.

His nose suddenly scrunched up—you almost missed it—before settling back to its resting state. It was unfair. How adorable he looked. You wanted to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, to let skin meet skin and trace his features with your fingertips. You wanted to crawl into the bed and fit yourself snugly under his hand and hold him tight while pretending that the world outside didn’t exist. But it did.

So you rolled your eyes instead to distract from your pounding heart.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” you announced, your voice flat and direct. “You only need to answer them.”

You waited for his confirmation until you realized that his breathing had evened out and his shoulders were rising and falling steadily. 

“Jiung!”

He snapped awake with a startled hum, his head lifting from the pillow, eyes wide and frantic. “W-wha—’m up.”

“You fell asleep.”

“No I was just.” He paused to rub his eyes. “Was resting my eyes. Can’t this wait till later?”

“No,” you shot him down with a glare.

He huffed out an exhausted but defeated breath and rolled onto his side to prop his head on the pillow. Eventually he let his eyes flutter open to meet yours.

The dark circles were even more noticeable in the light than they were in the dark of yesterday. You almost felt bad from how tired he looked, but then you remembered why you were angry in the first place and you looked away from his eyes before they could distract you.

“Question one,” you started, your quill hovering anxiously over your parchment. “When did you first notice the symptoms, and what were they exactly?”

He answered each and every question you hurled at him for the next forty minutes that passed. He didn’t complain, try to resist, or convince you to give it up like he had the previous night. Though, you noticed the way he hesitated on certain details, his eyes jerking away when the reality he faced was too sensitive to tell. He omitted the grueling details in an effort to soften things so you wouldn’t worry, but you did anyway.

By the time you finished your interrogation your hand was cramping and Jiung had sunk deeper into the pillows. You reviewed the notes to make sure you had everything you needed and then finally, you lowered your quill. 

“That should be enough for now.”

You hurriedly collected your things and just as you were about to stand, a small flutter of concern that you couldn’t quite suppress materialized in your chest.

“How are you feeling today?”

The question hung delicately in the air between you. Jiung’s heart both swelled and ached in tandem from your compassion despite the hurt he caused you. In the end you would always be the healer—always putting others before yourself. He mustered up the best reassuring and genuine smile he could, albeit a small and tired one. 

“I feel fine.” 

And he meant it, he truly felt fine and you must’ve believed him because you nodded once stiffly and stood to make your way to the door until he stopped you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You nodded, his eyes fixed on the rumpled sheets instead of your intense stare. 

“Are you still mad at me?”

You barely heard him, his voice a low whisper that tickled your ear and sent the hairs on the back of your neck standing. You nearly winced at the guilt and regret packed into those six words, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to soften your response, not with how tired and heavy you felt since last night's revelation.

“Yes.”

His jaw flexed as he traced patterns into the blanket, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall. He’d known pain his whole life, had endured it quietly and without complaint. But this… This was worse. This was a thousand times worse and if he was able to, he would much rather suffer through the worst his illness had to offer in exchange for never having to see you so cross with him again.

You turned to leave and once again his voice kept you frozen in place. 

“I’m sorry I kept it from you.” Despite his voice cracking, he continued. “But you understand why, right? You understand why I did it?”

You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath. 

“Yes,” you said again. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“What will?”

Your eyes fluttered open to look at him. He was leaning forward in anticipation, fully ready to do whatever it was you’d ask of him. Apologize a thousand times over, beg on his knees, promise he would never keep something like that again—all he needed was the word. 

But would that be enough? What could possibly make up for a decades worth of lies and distance and deceit?

“I don’t know,” is what you finally settled on.

You knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear so you tried to smile. It was broken, a fragile thing that barely held its shape and Jiung returned it with one of his own, equally shattered and lost. 

You slipped out of his room, the parchment crinkling in your tight fist. You blinked away the burn in your eyes, straightened your spine, and started walking towards the library. You had better things to do than cry. There was research to be done. Books to be read. A cure to be found. And you would find it.

You had to.

·✶·

The library became your second home.

Days morphed together in a fuzzy haze of turned pages and flickering candlelight, the corner table you’d claimed barely visible beneath the mountain of books and loose parchment. If you weren’t in the library you were either treating patients—the universe seemed to be on your side because they were far and few—or administering some come concoction to Jiung. 

He complied without complaint despite the foul tastes that made his nose wrinkle and stomach churn, or the pricks of needles at his skin. He was busy, but he never turned you away. It wasn’t like you ever stayed long. Just long enough to record your findings then you were gone and it was as if you’d never come in the first place. He wanted to ask you to stay longer more than once, but ultimately decided if he wanted you back, he had to let you come to him when you were ready, even if it left him dejected and helpless.

You were on your third book that day, your back aching and eyes burning from focusing too long, when Keeho found you after hours of searching.

His shadow fell over you that you willfully ignored until he grew impatient. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere an—”

You held up a single finger to your lips without looking up from the page you were on, descriptions of a rare plant known to cure ailments too enticing to look away from. Keeho snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms as he waited, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor. 

“Are you almost—”

“Shh.”

He narrowed his eyes at you to no effect as you turned a page with a delicate swipe of your wrist, your brows furrowing in concentration as he shuffled restlessly before you.

“I seriously need—”

“Shh.”

“Oh my Gods—”

“Shh!”

The book was ripped from your hands, Keeho slamming it shut with a loud slap before tossing it to the side and knocking over a tall stack of books that crumbled to the ground. 

Your icy glare shifted from the pile to him as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, mumbling, “I didn’t mean to do that…”

You sank back in your chair with gritted teeth as he diverted the conversation. 

“How long have you been here?”

You squinted out the window to observe the angle of the sunlight. “Maybe six hours. Give or take.”

His eyes nearly bulged from his skull. “Six hours?” He fully took in the sight that surrounded you, the hoard of books and empty ink jars, the cup of tea that had surely gone cold hours ago only half drunken. Then, the hollowness under your eyes and the crease that had formed between your brows from hours of concentration. “Have you eaten? Have you slept? You look ghastly.”

“Wow, you really know how to charm a girl,” you said with blank eyes, already reaching for another book. “Just get on with whatever you came here for. I have important things to do.”

When he didn’t respond right away you were fully intending to scold him for being so annoying, but you stopped when you noticed how nervous and hesitant—compared to his usual shameless bravado—he was. 

“I need a favor,” he finally managed.

You tapped your chin in thought, long enough for him to start squirming in anticipation for your reply. You cracked open the new book in your hand and shook your head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. N-O. No.”

“But I haven’t even told you what I need yet!”

“I don’t care, I’m mad at you guys.”

“You guys?” Keeho’s head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. “Who’s ‘you guys’?”

You finally looked up and fixed him with a flat stare. “You and Taeyang. For not telling me about Jiung.”

The color drained from Keeho’s face as his eyes darted around everywhere but your face. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “He told you?”

You scoffed at him and returned to your reading.

He only stared at you for a long moment before picking up a loose piece of parchment, finding your notes on the effects of various minerals on blood disorders, and understanding dawned on his face.

“Is this what all this is about?” He gestured vaguely at the chaos surrounding you. “You’re trying to… what? Find a cure?”

You clenched the book tight in your grasp, your body tensing at the way he said it, like you were fighting a losing battle. You nodded stiffly, regardless.

Silence passed between you and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Then you must understand how scary it is to be losing someone you love.”

You hung your head low until your hair draped over your face as you whispered, “What’s your point?” 

This time he gently coaxed the book from your fingers and carefully set it down as he spoke. “There is a maid here. Her father’s dying. I was going to ask if you could ride out to their village and see if there’s anything to be done.”

You crinkled your nose. “Why do you care about a maid’s father?”

But suddenly you remembered the engagement ball and his smile as he approached the maid and it all made sense.

“Really, Keeho?” You said unimpressed.

“I care about her,” he said with such conviction, his cheeks flushing as he rubbed the back of his neck, that you actually believed him. “It’s hard to explain, but she’s different. And I really need to help her.”

You thought it over for a long moment. You were sure plenty of workers in the castle had sick family members at home, but you couldn’t possibly treat them all, so why was she any different? He met your eyes and you saw a raw desperation you’d never seen before in him.

“I’ll do it,” the words left you accompanied by a small, tired smile. “Just find out which village, and I’ll leave before the week’s end.”

Keeho exhaled, the weight lifting off his shoulders. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

He pulled out the chair across from you and dropped into it with the grace of a sack of potatoes, kicking his feet up on the table.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Keeping you company.”

“I already said yes, Keeho. No need to get on my good side.”

“We’re friends,” he said simply with a shake of his head. He looked from the books again, to your ink-stained fingers, then to the dark circles under your eyes, and his smile turned triste. “I want to stay.”

Your heart swelled as he settled into the chair. You ducked your head and pressed your lips together to hide your grin and returned to your book, the melancholy in the atmosphere shifting to warmth.

“You really think you can save him?’

You looked out the window to the pink and orange sky as the sun began its descent to the horizon; you pondered his question. Your stomach gave a sudden jolt, the fear that you’d been pushing to the back of your mind surfacing in the solitude of the library. What if you couldn’t? You weren’t oblivious; the doubts had always been there. But you never let yourself simmer on them for too long. It couldn’t even be an option… but still. What if you couldn’t?

“I don’t know.” It was the first time you said it out loud. “I have to try, though.”

Keeho nodded slowly. “You mean a lot to him, you know.” He paused to choose his next words carefully. “I know things have been tough between you two, but…”

“I know.”

You wiped the tear that had slipped from your eye and forced them back to the page below you. The letters blurred for a moment, then returned to normal.

·✶·

Keeho’s thunderous snores drove you out of the library not long after, and when he’d shown up the next day only to fall asleep again, you woke him up with a crumpled ball of parchment thrown at his face and politely banned him from keeping you company again. 

He grumbled something under his breath about ingratitude and good deeds never going unpunished, but shuffled out with minimal protest. 

You made decent progress in the days that followed, no breakthrough yet, but you were hopeful and decided that it was a good time to make the trek to the maid’s village.

You were barely two feet in Taeyang’s office when he snapped without looking up from where he was furiously writing. “What now? If this has anything to do with fabrics or papers or bloody fonts then—”

He looked up and saw you standing in the doorway, taken aback, and his shoulders sagged with relief. 

“Oh, thank the gods. It’s just you.”

Your face twisted in question as you took in his disheveled appearance. The buttons of his collar were open, his hair was mussed like he’d ran his hand through it a million times, and there was a wild look in his eye that made him look like he was teetering on the edge of insanity. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

He raised a hand before you could say anything more. “Don’t even ask.”

You wisely decided to heed his warning, seeing as you had more pressing matters to attend to.

“I’m only here to let you know that I’ll be riding out to a nearby village tomorrow morning, in case you notice I’m gone. I’ve instructed Seojin to look after any of my patients while I’m away.”

Taeyang stood from his chair, shoving his hands in his pockets, as his eyes narrowed into slits that would have made anyone else cower away in fear. 

“What’s with the sour tone? And why do you look so tired?”

“Only because I’ve been researching a cure for Jiung,” you said matter-of-factly. “Day and night, for the past several days. No big deal.”

Taeyang froze. His mouth fell open, the color drained from his face, and you felt like you were seeing both Jiung and Keeho again. You continued watching the panic manifest across his face.

“All you Choi men are the same,” you mumbled listlessly.

“When did he tell you?”

You dropped into the chair opposite his desk with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion from the past week finally catching up to you. “At the engagement after our talk. I found him coughing up blood.” You crossed your arms snugly against your chest and fixed him with a searing glare. “Which, by the way, you knew about. You knew something was wrong and you said nothing, Tae.”

Taeyang had half the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry but it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

You huffed, your glare faltering slightly. “Yeah, whatever. Doesn’t even matter now.”

“In my defense,” he added carefully. “I’ve been trying to convince him to tell you for years. If there is anyone that can help him, it’s you.”

You threw your arms in the air with a sound between a squeal and an exasperated huff. “Finally! Someone is confident in my abilities.”

Taeyang smirked with a shake of his head and leaned against the table to look down at you. “Give him grace. After years of being told he was a lost cause, false hope would only make him feel worse.”

You hummed to show you were listening, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Taeyang cleared his throat, eager to change the subject.

“And why are you visiting a village?”

“One of the elders is sick, I want to help him.”

He nodded slowly, accepting the explanation without any further pushback. “Alright, I’ll prepare a carriage and guards for you.”

You pushed yourself out of the chair and shook your head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be faster on my own.”

“No.”

“Tae—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he said firmly, sounding more like a future King than your friend. “It’s dangerous times, we all go out only with protection. Please, or else I won’t hear the end of it.”

You leered at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “From who? Jiung?” Before Taeyang could get a word in, you continued, “I don’t really give a damn what would make him feel better.”

Taeyang sneered at the irony of your statement. You were, after all, the one dedicating every waking moment to finding a cure for the very man you claimed to not care about. But he was too fed up with your childlike behaviour to point it out.

“Do it for me then.”

You groaned unnecessarily loud. “Whatever. Have them ready at noon.”

You swiftly walked out of his office before he could get another word in.

The next day, noon came and went, and the carriage had still not left. The horses stomped their feet impatiently as the guards shifted their weight from foot to foot, waiting for you to show up.

When Jiung walked past and noticed their antsy behaviour, he stopped to question them.

“Who are you waiting for?”

They all dipped their heads respectfully. “Your highness,” the driver spoke. “We’re waiting on the healer. We were supposed to depart an hour ago for a village visit, but she’s late.”

A village visit? You hadn’t mentioned anything about that to him. In fact, you’d stopped by his chambers just that morning to administer a new concoction. His stomach curdled into a fit of tight knots, his heart stinging from the lack of communication from you, though he figured he deserved it. 

But a new jolt of worry shook him. You were never late. You were incredibly meticulous and punctual, almost to a fault. If you weren’t here that meant something deeper than oversleeping or losing track of time was going on. 

He checked the infirmary first, then the library, then the greenhouse where you often frequented to collect herbs, and nothing. You were nowhere to be found. There was only one other thing he could do to check.

“Have you seen her?” He pressed Taeyang with a tight voice.

Taeyang looked up from his paperwork with a groan. “You know, most people wait for me to say ‘come in’ before bargi—”

“Have you seen her?”

“She must have left for the village already.” Taeyang shrugged, turning back to his documents. 

Jiung shook his head, his hands clenching at his side in annoyance at his brother's unbothered tone. “Well the carriage that was supposed to take her is still here.”

Taeyang’s pen stilled mid-word. The confusion on his face was quickly replaced with a dawning realization. Then he grumbled, loud and unfiltered.

“She must have gone by herself.”

“What?” Jiung said, panicked. “What do you mean, by herself?”

“Now that I’m thinking about it,” Taeyang started, looking off to the side as if he were replaying his conversation with you in his mind. “She did say she was going to leave in the morning, but to prepare the carriage for the afternoon.” He paused and looked back to Jiung who was quietly seething at the stupidity of his brother, and Taeyang grimaced apologetically. 

“She could be in danger!” Jiung’s heart was pounding now, his thoughts invaded by different scenes of you and a thousand terrible possibilities. “Gods, Taeyang! Why didn’t you make sure she—”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Taeyang said with a passive wave of his hand. “The village isn’t that far. A half day's worth of riding and she’ll be there. She’s capable, Jiung. You know she is.”

Jiung gave a dismissive shake of his head while he impatiently asked, “Where is it?”

“What?”

“The village,” Jiung’s voice had hardened, leaving no room for argument. “Show me.”

All Taeyang could do was sigh and shuffle the documents away from his desk to point down at a small cluster of cottages nestled at the edge of the eastern forest.  

“Here. It’s about a straight shot down the main road, a few turns here and there and—”

Jung wasn’t listening, already moving toward the door.

“Are you going after her?” Taeyang called out, amused by his brother’s dedication to the healer. Jiung didn’t answer, already out in the hallway stripping off his formal coat to change into his riding gear.

·✶·

You were too lost in your own head to hear the impending stomps trail in from the distance. You stared at nothing ahead of you, trying to piece together different theories or solutions from your weeks of research as you moved forward on autopilot. And when you finally registered the pounding noise and whinny of another horse, Jiung had already blocked your path.

Your horse startled, jerking sideways as you braced your body to not fall off the saddle before your hands clenched the reins.

“Surprised to see me?”

Surprised you were as you blinked, dumbfounded and only half believing that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. “How did you catch up to me so quickly? I left hours ago.”

He neglected to answer, his jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with anger. “Do you have any idea the risk and danger you’re putting yourself in, traveling alone on these roads?”

And just like that, your indifference towards him returned with his condescension. Before you could retort, he continued.

“You didn’t even hear me coming. You were completely oblivious—”

“If you’re just here to scold me, then I’ll be on my way.” You tugged the reins and steered the horse around him, your body tense and eyes fixed straight ahead. Behind you, he muttered something under his breath—you only caught the word stubborn—then he fell into step with you. 

You glanced over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.”

You abruptly stopped and scoffed. “Go back, Jiung. You should be resting.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

You turned your body to fully face him, eyes wild and threatening. “I can take care of myself.”

He nudged himself closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper as his knuckles turned white from gripping the reins too hard. “I don’t doubt that, but if anyone found out you’re a healer, if they knew how valuable you were, they’d—”

A deep, heavy pit formed in your stomach. Valuable. Was that why he’d come? Because your loss would be detrimental to the kingdom?

“I’m not exactly shouting ‘free checkups’ to every stranger I pass,” you persisted.

The frustration in his face chipped away as his Adams apple bobbed with a tough swallow. His tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips as he stared deep in your eyes. “What about a pretty girl traveling alone?”

Any other argument died on your tongue. Heat flooded your cheeks as you fidgeted with the rope in your hands, your eyes darting to look past his shoulder then around at the forest surrounding you, flitting back to him. Now you saw the worry come to light that had nothing to do with your job or capabilities and everything to do with his fear of losing you. Your shoulders sagged, the fight drained out of you.

“Come on then,” you murmured, turning your horse back to the road. “So we can make it before nightfall.

You fell into silence beside each other, stealing looks when the other wasn’t paying attention. Jiung looked less dreadful than he had when you first found out about him, the past weeks of pestering him seemingly doing something positive for his health. 

“You’re looking better.”

He grumbled, his nose wrinkling. “Yes, well, that would be because of all the disgusting things you’ve made me ingest.”

The comment caught you off guard. You felt bashful, wondering if you’d come on too strong and aggressive with your treatments, too demanding, too—

“Thank you.”

Jiung scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed off into the distance. 

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for all you’re doing for me. I know how much time you spend in the library now.”

You rolled your eyes and pouted, your lip jutting out as you mumbled something colorful under your breath about a certain snoring prince who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Jiung’s lip twitched, his expression remaining earnest. “I just… it’s not lost on me. And although it still makes me feel guilty, I just want you to know how much it means to me. And that I’m not taking it lightly.”

It took everything in you not to jut your foot out and knock him clean off the saddle. Because he was doing so well, then all your hopes came crashing down at the mention of his guilt—he still thought you were wasting your time. The gratitude and appreciation was useless if he still believed there was nothing to be done. He didn’t believe in you—a bitter taste that you wished you could wash away filled your mouth. 

You felt like a broken record trying to make him understand.

When minutes passed and you still hadn’t said anything, Jiung shifted anxiously in place. 

“I know things have been tense between us, and you’re still mad at me but—”

“You say that as if I can just turn it off.” You bit your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. 

“I hate feeling this way,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“Hey.”

His voice was so gentle as he willed you to look at him. He was watching you with a crestfallen smile that made your heart twist. 

“I know,” he said softly.

You cleared your throat and looked away. The horses moved on and the silence resumed, though it was more comfortable now.

“I’ve missed this,” Jiung said after a while, voice tinged with nervousness. “Just… being around you.”

“Me too,” you exhaled. 

For the rest of the ride you let yourself pretend that everything was okay, and allowed for his warming presence to chase away the cold worry in your stomach. 

You arrived at the village as the sky turned orange. It was small but charming, filled with cottages and dirt roads and children playing happily in the fields. You approached the first man you saw, pulling back your cloak to reveal the royal seal you’d kept concealed. You quickly explained the situation as he guided you to the maid’s family home. 

The door opened to a jolly woman whose face turned weary at the sight of the seal, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

“Has anything happened to our daughter?” 

You offered her a gentle smile. “Actually, I’m here to see her father. I heard he’s very ill, and I’m a healer. I’d like to help if you’ll allow me to.”

She opened the door wider for you to enter. 

Inside, the cottage was small but well kept. There were two young girls sitting on a tiny couch with books, the woman’s husband sitting on a chair near a crackling fireplace. 

He looked worse than you’d expected. His skin was sallow, his breathing slow, eyes sunken in and slightly yellow. You crossed the room and knelt beside his chair, your voice soft to not startle him. “Hello, sir. I’m here to help you.”

His eyes flicked toward you, confused but hopeful.

You turned to Jiung. “Can you grab all my supplies from the horse?”

He nodded and left the house and by the time he returned with a multitude of bags in hand, you were deep in conversation with the family, all while working through the man’s symptoms. 

He laid out everything on the table, his focus captured by you and the way you spoke to them, fully in your element. He’d almost forgotten what that looked like.

You were so gentle and patient with them, never condescending. You listened to their stories with genuine interest and praised them for their hard work as you held the man’s hand and checked his vitals, your touch careful and kind. They warmed up to you almost instantly, taken by your charm and compassion.

He was deep in his admiration when the older woman turned to him. “And who’s this with you, my lady?”

Jiung opened his mouth to speak, but you cut in smoothly. “He’s a guard.”

The woman studied him for a moment, her head tilting to the side. “Well, aren’t you a handsome one,” she said, her voice warm and reminding him of his own mother. “You must be popular with the ladies?”

Jiung’s cheeks flushed pink. “I—thank you, ma’am.”

The two young girls erupted into giggles behind their books, whispering about his red face and pretty eyes, as the blush spread to his neck. 

You caught his eye across the room and raised a single, teasing eyebrow, laughing when his expression turned mortified and he quickly busied himself with re-organizing your supplies. 

You worked late into the night even as the girls and their father slipped off to their rooms, leaving only you, Jiung and the mother awake. You tried convincing her that she could go to bed too, but she was adamant on keeping you company. 

When you were confident in the remedy you’d crafted, you filled the syringe as the mother stared at the long needle with wide, curious eyes. 

“What is that?”

“It’s a needle. You pierce the skin and inject the medication directly into the bloodstream so it works quicker.”

She nodded along, amazed by the new technology that would have never made it to their village without you.

Jiung watched you step into the fathers room with sleepy, half lidded eyes and when you returned, the mother was waiting with bated breaths. 

“I’ll need to stay a few days,” you told her, packing away your supplies. “To monitor the effects and see if the treatment is working. If it is, I’ll leave you with enough to continue it on your own.”

She bursted into tears and before you could react, she’d thrown her arms around you, pulling you into a crushing hug. 

“Thank you,” she sobbed into your shoulder. “Thank you, thank you. You’re our miracle. An angel sent from the heavens. I didn’t think—”

You calmed her as best as you could, offering your comfort and reassurance as she pulled away to wipe her tear streaked cheek. 

“I hate to ask, but is there somewhere we can stay?” You glanced back at Jung who was almost asleep, slumped against the wall. 

The woman’s face lit up. “Of course! You can stay in our daughter's room since she’s at the castle.” She took your hand in hers and led you to the room as you harshly whispered Jiung’s name, who mumbled out a confused “huh?” before following.

The room was modest with a single bed, dresser and chair. The woman grimaced as she looked between you and Jiung. “Unfortunately, this is all we have. I can wake the girls—we’d just have to push the beds together because they are quite small and—”

“There’s no need for that. This is perfectly fine.” you said firmly, not wanting to cause her any trouble.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between you and Jiung with a question she was too polite to ask, then she nodded and slipped out the door after thanking you again.

The silence she left behind was deafening. You and Jiung stood on opposite sides of the small room, avoiding each other's gazes as you waited for the other to speak first.

“I’ll sleep in the living room,” Jiung spoke abruptly. “O-on the couch.”

“The ‘couch’ is half your size.”

“Maybe the floor.. It looks…”

“Uncomfortable.”

He exhaled sharply. “Okay, then what do we do?”

You set your bag down on the dresser, turning away to conceal your burning face as you spoke calmly, “We’ll just share the bed.”

His eyes went wide. “S-Share?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed.” You focused to steady your face as if your heart wasn’t two seconds away from exploding out of your chest.

“Yes, when we were children. That’s completely different…”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you pouted, lips turning downward at how adamant he was to not sleep beside you, until his next response surprised you. 

“You’re right.” His voice came out strangled. “You’re right. It’s fine. Totally fine.”

“That settles it then.”

You reached for the laces of your corset and began undoing them. Behind you, a mouse-like squeak escaped Jiung as he shuffled to the door. “I’ll wait outside while you u-um—” He cleared his throat. “Get changed. I’ll be outside. Waiting. Take your time.”

The door quickly closed and you exhaled, pressing a hand over your racing heart. You quickly changed into your nightgown and slid beneath the quilt, close to the wall, closing your eyes and trying to slow your breathing. The exhaustion from the day's events caught up to you and before you knew it, you were drifting to sleep minutes before the door opened. 

Jiung peaked inside to make sure it was okay to enter, and he let out a breath of relief when he saw you already sleeping, the last of the candle casting a shadow of your figure onto the wall in front of you.

He quickly changed, keeping his eyes steered clear from you in an effort to distract himself from the flutter of butterflies swarming his stomach. He blew out the candle and carefully pulled the quilt back to slip into the bed beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress.

The bed felt smaller now that you were both in it and he was pressing himself as close to the edge as possible, his back to yours. He could feel your skin ghosting across the narrow space between you, mere inches away from touching. He clenched his eyes shut to ward away his overactive thoughts, but with your scent clouding his mind, it was useless. Because all he could think about now was reaching out to touch you. 

The ferocity of it surprised him. His fingers itched to reach out and brush the hair from your neck, his spine aching to curl around your warmth, to press his chest to your back and bury his face into your shoulder.

He craved for your hand to take his, for your fingers to run through his scalp, for your lips to press onto his skin. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been touched, save for the clinical press of your fingers to his pulse. He longed for the caring caresses and brushes he hadn’t felt since the death of his mother. When had someone last held him?

He couldn’t remember.

He’d been so careful to hold everyone at arms length, he hadn’t realized how starved he’d become. A decade of distance and pulling away and brushing off the concern from everyone around him. But now with you so close to him, he realized just how much of a fool he was. 

His hand twitched again at his side again, and he gripped the sleeve of his shirt tight in his fist. He lay still, aching with a hollow hunger, and let the sound of your breathing lull him to sleep.

·✶·

You weren’t sure how long you’d been awake. It could have been minutes or hours, but all you knew was that time had lost all meaning the moment you opened your eyes and found yourself facing Jiung. 

At some point in the night, both your sleeping bodies—unguarded, uninhibited, and free from pride—had turned to face each other, seeking what they’d unknowingly been craving. Your hands rested between you, the only contact coming from your overlapping pinkies.

The fear that he’d wake any moment was miniscule compared to the desire you had to just study his features. The straightness of his relaxed brows, free from worry. The charming arch of his nose. His lips, slightly parted, soft and pink. He looked so peaceful and unburdened and you wished you could freeze time to exist just like this. 

Your hand was reaching for him before you could stop it, fingertips brushing over his temples until you were trailing a finger down the side of his face. He shifted and your blood ran cold as you stilled and begged for him not to wake.

He didn’t, only turned his head slightly and pressed his cheek further into your palm, nuzzling into your touch. His pinky finger flexed over yours, curling to lock them together.  

You let out the breath you were holding. You allowed yourself one more minute to exist with him, counting down the seconds before you slipped your hands away and slipped out of bed despite the pull in your body begging you to stay.

By the time Jiung woke it was well past noon. When he emerged from the room you were sitting with the older couple as you explained the next steps of treatment. When you saw him, a smile rose to your lips and the older woman was on him before you could say anything, ushering him toward the small dining table as she fussed over him and made sure he had everything he needed. 

You watched with your chin propped on your hand as he asked why you didn’t wake him.

“I thought you deserved to sleep in for once.” You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. “Plus, we have a long day ahead of us.”

He slowly slurped the hot stew he’d been given as he asked, “What do you mean?”

Your smile turned sheepish and apologetic and soon after he was done with his meal, he found himself trekking through the village, laden with heavy bags full of your supplies. An unfortunate cold had run through the poor village and you figured your visit was perfectly timed so you wasted not a moment and helped the best you could, trudging from house to house as Jiung followed behind you. 

By midday his muscles were screaming at him but despite the pain, he didn’t complain and even brushed your aiding hand away when you begged him to let you help carry some of them. You grumbled at his stubbornness but didn’t push further and only slowed your pace to match his flagging steps. 

By the day’s end you collapsed into the bed with similar groans of relief. You were happy to find the father’s condition had improved significantly and that you were able to get through most of the houses. 

You tucked in on opposite sides of the bed just as you had the night before and similarly, you woke up to find yourselves turned over, hands fully intertwined. 

The next day was slower with fewer houses and patients and by the final morning, you were certain the old man would recover fully with the new medicine as you showed his wife how to administer it.

You were most pleased with how things had shifted with Jiung. The anger you’d been carrying towards him melted away, eroded by the days of companionship and the feeling of actually having him back beside you. 

With not much else left to do on your last day, you found yourself just wandering around with Jiung at your side, enjoying the fresh air and the rare luxury of not having to attend to anything important.

You passed by a group of children playing soccer, your eyes glinting as you watched them kick the ball and laugh so hard that one of them had fallen to the ground. You looked away with a shake of your head but couldn’t help but constantly turn back to them, a longing present in your stare.

“Do you want to play?” Jiung’s voice broke you from your daze.

Your eyes went wide, a timid excitement lighting up your features. “Do you think they’ll let me?”

He was severely close to melting into a puddle at the adorable uncertainty in your question, worried that a group of village children might reject you.

“Of course they’ll let you,” is what he said when he really meant I have no qualms with knocking any kid to the ground that dared to refuse you. But mostly, he just wanted to see your happy, giddy smile.

You realized you were worried for nothing when they excitedly cheered and argued over which team the “big person” would be on, tugging you this way and that as you looked back at Jiung with a grin so bright it nearly blinded him. 

He settled on a nearby picnic bench and was appointed as referee, a grave mistake because the score was lost on him entirely. If he had a sword to his throat and knowing the score meant life or death, he’d gladly meet an unkind fate if it meant being able to watch you like this.

You ran haphazardly across the field with your skirt hiked up so you wouldn’t trip, hair flying messily in the wind as you bellowed and kicked the ball into the goal. The children on your team shrieked as you scooped one up into the air, spinning her around in victory. He watched it all with a grin that reached his eyes and an aching fondness that made his chest feel too small for his swelled heart. This was the you he’d been missing, unburdened and effervescent.

By the time the moon rose and the children’s parents had called them home, you stalked over to him, out of breath and delighted. You collapsed on the table top beside him, your chest heaving and cheeks flushed red, remnants of joy sparkling your eyes.

He handed you a glass of water he’d fetched and you downed it in one go before collapsing backward on the table, your arms spread wide, still trying to compose yourself.

“You should’ve joined,” you said breathless and giggly. “That was so fun.”

Jiung smirked as he casted his eyes up to the stars above them. “No, thank you. Last time I was around you and a ball, you shot it at my head.”

You burst out laughing at the memory, clutching your stomach as it squeezed painfully from the force of your joy. “Fair enough,” you wheezed before sighing and sitting up. “Fair enough.”

Your laughter faded away and you lazily dropped your head to rest on his shoulder, disregarding the way he tensed for a moment. You looked up at the sky as well, tracing the constellations you could find as the words spilled out.

“I’m glad you came with me, Jiung.”

You felt his chin brush your head as he looked down at you. “You are?”

You hummed and swung your feet, missing the way he tried to hide his barely-contained giddiness, his lips twitching upward as his stomach did somersaults. 

“And I’m sorry,” you continued quietly. “For making you feel worse when you’re already going through so much. Truthfully, I think I was more angry at myself. It was just easier to be mad at you I guess…”

He subtly shifted you off his shoulder so you could face him properly as he frowned. “Why would you be angry with yourself?”

He waited for you to collect your thoughts and when you spoke again, your voice was smaller and disconnected. “I was supposed to be the person who knew you best, wasn’t I? All the signs were there, but I didn’t dig deeper to find out what was wrong. I let you distance yourself when you were just scared. I wasn’t there for you.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself.”

“Jiung—”

“No. You did nothing wrong. You—” He took a deep breath. “You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped, no matter how hard you try. It was my decision, and you had nothing to do with it.”

You tried to process the words, but something wasn’t making sense. “Then why now?”

He looked at you, questioning.

“Why are you letting me help you now if it’s useless?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “I tried to stop you but you wouldn't listen.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees, eyes fixed on the grass below while he continued, his voice dropping to a low cadence.

“I’m sorry, I want to feel differently but I’ve been preparing to meet death for years now. Every new year I’d watch the fireworks go off and wonder if it would be the last time.”

You wrang your fingers together tightly as he continued.

“And every single time I was around you, all I could think about was how devastated you would be to lose me. I couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your grief and pain.”

“But it’s not your decision,” you cut in sharply. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I did it for me.” Selfish as ever.

“It would still hurt!”

“Maybe. But you’d get over it quicker.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would.”

“Gods, Jiung!” You blazed back to face him. “What will make you understand? You have no idea how much I wanted you to come back to me. I never stopped missing you for a single second when you were pushing me away. And no offense, but you did a lousy job of it!”

He could only blink foolishly as you told him off.

“I mean, honestly. You could have cut me off completely. Mind you, I would have preferred that—then, maybe I could have gotten over you. But no—” You drew out over a troubled voice. “Instead, you continued to visit me and see me and leave me wondering what went wrong. So give it a rest. Because I don’t care. I don’t care if being with you will hurt me. I’d suffer through a lifetime of pain as long as I’m by your side.”

You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten. Somewhere in the heat of your argument, you’d leaned in until your noses were just inches from touching. You were shaking as you held yourself back; Jiung’s eyes were glassy, his breathing shallow.

“How could I ever stay away from you?” He whispered.

If you weren’t so focused on him, you would have missed the way his eyes flicked to your lips, quick as lighting, before he continued. 

“I tried so hard.” His voice cracked as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “But I couldn’t. Every time I gave in, I’d promised it would be the last time. But I kept going back. Why… why did I keep going back?”

He sounded so desperate for an answer, to make sense of his behaviour when you both already knew exactly why he too, couldn’t let you go. 

Your hand rose, slow and careful to not startle him, until it brushed his cheek. He flinched back—a quick jerk of his head—but you pushed forward anyway, unwilling to be swayed by his fear, and you pressed your palm fully against his hot skin.

You quickly realized just how much he’d been waiting for you to do so when his cheek sank into your touch like it was shelter on a stormy day. His eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his posture releasing when he leaned forward to chase more of your touch. His lips parted with a slow breath as he prepared himself to lose absolutely everything to you.

“I know,” you whispered.

Your noses brushed, your lips ghosting over his cheek, barely touching as he fidgeted forward. Your finger traced the curve of his bottom lip before you pressed your own to his when he parted them further. 

It was delicate, a hint of uncertainty, but familiar in a way that felt like coming home after a long journey, like your lips had always known the shape and feel of his. It was gentle and testing and so painfully tender, you couldn't bring him close enough. Your lips remained locked until all the oxygen left your body and you had to pull back for a breath.

His eyes were still closed, scared that if he opened them you’d be gone and this would all be a dream. But he needed to see you, needed to see if you were just as ruined as him so he opened his eyes, the tears clinging to his lashes and catching the light like diamonds. 

You were looking at him with a depth he’d never felt. You parted your lips to speak, to put into words how affected you were, but there was no word strong enough. You were sure you could have searched millions of dictionaries and learned hundreds of languages and it still wouldn't be enough. 

He lost all restraint and pulled you back into him. Your lips pushed recklessly against one another as he cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You didn’t part for a second, stealing breaths between kisses until your lips were swollen and raw. 

You edged forward with a grip on his thigh until he had an arm braced behind him on the table to keep himself up, your kisses turning impatient and rough. All you could think about was how much you hated him. 

You hated him because kissing him was the single best thing you’d ever felt and it was his fault that you’d been deprived of it for so long. So many years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds wasted, that you could have lived with his lips pressed to yours. And you didn’t know how much time was guaranteed. So you kissed him like it would be the last time—because it very well could have been.

He took it. Took everything you were giving him.

One of his hands found yours, his fingers trembling as they wrapped around your wrist. He pressed your palm flat against his chest, right over his heart so you could feel the wild, frantic pounding beneath your fingers. The proof—if you needed any more—of what you did to him, how much he wanted you, how desperately he’d been holding back all these years. How alive you made him feel despite everything.

He wanted you to feel it. He wanted you to understand. He wanted to give you everything he could offer, every piece of himself—he would never deprive you again.

But you really needed to take a proper breath. Kissing him made you feel unimaginably dizzy and you felt like you were seconds from passing out. He wouldn’t let you. He chased your lips, finding a new home in your mouth, greedily latching on, passive to the knowledge that he was the same man pushing you away just days ago.

You were only able to separate when you slid a hand to the nape of his neck, gripping the strands of hair to pull him off. A small sound escaped him, something between a gasp and a whimper that tested your restraint to not ravage him right there on the table.

His face was flushed, his lips wet, swollen and pink. When he opened his eyes, they were muddled, the tears blurring the dark heat of his gaze. His hand was still gripping yours against his chest, his heart still hammering for you. 

The weight of what this meant for him struck you. The self-imposed exile from touch and comfort and love withering away with just a brush of your palm. His deprivation finally being healed.

His chest was still heaving, his fingers twitching against your hand as his eyes kept dropping to your lips like he was stuck under a spell.

You tugged his hand and stepped down from the table. “Come on.”

He followed you without question, letting you tug him along back to the house. You snuck back in, padding silently to your borrowed room.

As the door shut behind you, you began to undress. Jiung turned around, the flush on his cheek darkening like clockwork, though he didn’t step out. He didn’t want to be far from you now.

You slipped into the bed as you had the previous nights, facing the wall, as Jiung quickly changed and slid beneath the quilt, facing you, waiting for you to do the same. 

His pulse raced nervously as he waited, contemplating if he’d done something wrong. Was he too much? Had he ruined everything with his desperate, starving kiss? He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and accept that maybe this was all you could give tonight, and that it was more than he deserved.

But then the sheets rustled and you were nudging yourself into his arms. You fit yourself between them, tucking your body against his chest so naturally—his whole body lit on fire.

You took his hands and wrapped them around you, settling them on your waist and back. You buried yourself deep in his embrace, your cheek pressing against his chest, your breath warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.  

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was hold you and calm the shaking of his arms as they curled around your frame. You let out a soft, contented sigh, your body growing heavy and relaxing against his.

Jiung lay awake for a long time, savoring it as much as he could before you’d have to return to the real world tomorrow. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a ticking time bomb or a lost cause. He just felt like a man holding the woman he loved, and he decided then, that he’d try harder to live for you.

·✶·

The first thing Jiung did when he woke was reach for you. His arm swept across the mattress, expecting to meet your warmth but his fingers only brushed cold sheets.

His eyes snapped open to the vacant spot and his heart swelled with panic. His mind began spiraling, conjuring up every irrational thought he could muster.

Had you woken up early to leave before he noticed? Did you regret everything that happened?

He scrambled out of bed and messily pulled his clothes on in record time before rushing out of the room and through the front door.

He stopped in his place to observe you standing in the morning light by the horses, packed and ready to make the journey home. He let out a relieved breath and scolded himself inwardly. Of course she didn’t run, you idiot. He couldn’t believe that his insecurities had driven him this far into thinking you’d do something so opposite to your character. 

But the feeling in his heart didn’t go away, it only morphed into a different kind of nervousness as he approached you, hesitant on how to act in light of last night's events. His mouth felt dry as he attempted to conjure up a sentence, his mind blanking, his brain turning to mush.

Then you were turning around to face him and in his panic, he blurted out the first thing he could think of with hopes to avoid confronting what happened between you. 

“I-I could have helped you pack everything away!” His voice came out louder than intended which caused his cheeks to heat up while he cleared his throat to continue. “It must have been tiring carrying all those bags alone. You should have woken me.”

You walked towards him, looking around to verify that there were no wandering eyes, then raised yourself to your tiptoes, cupped his cheek in your palm, and pressed your lips to his. 

He went rigid, his whole body locking in place with his arms pinned firmly to his sides. His eyes remained open and wide, unsure if this was really happening. But it felt so real, your soft lips causing a vigorous thump to pound in his chest that made him feel so unbelievably alive. Just as he was beginning to process it, his eyes fluttering shut, you were pulling away.

“Are you ready to go?”

He blinked dumbly at you, his hand twitching to brush over where his lips were still tingling so that maybe he could capture the feeling and relive it. 

From behind a curtain in the cottage window, the older woman watched the exchange with a hand pressed to her mouth, smiling to herself, before letting the fabric fall back into place.

As soon as you returned to the castle, a horde of awaiting officials descended upon Jiung, demanding his attention for the mountain of business he’d missed during his absence. 

As they pulled him away, he craned his neck back to meet your eyes over the crowd. He looked so dejected, eyes all grim and lips pressed into a thin line that you nearly laughed.

You gave him a reassuring smile and a small wave goodbye that he didn’t look convinced by, still unready to part from you. But when duty called, he had no choice but to answer.

You found Seojin to review everything you’d missed and thankfully, nothing important came up. Before you knew it, you had slipped back into your usual routine and life at court—patients, research, experimentation.

Except now there was a new starry-eyed addition. And Jiung was everywhere.

You saw more of him in a single week of being back than you had in the entire previous year. They were subtle instances at first that you wouldn’t have thought twice of if they hadn’t become so frequent. You’d find him on walks at the same time as you, grabbing a late dinner from the kitchen the same time as you. You even ran into him more in the hallways than you should have—because what business could he possibly have on this side of the castle—though you suspected it had something to do with the way you’d brush your fingers along his whenever you’d passed each other. 

The infirmary visits had escalated, as well. It was when he was on his seventh headache in the past three days that you called him out on his bluff. Despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t stay away, that much was obvious. 

All it took was a soft hand caressing his neck and a few gentle words to convince him that it was okay to just show up whenever he wanted, no excuses needed.

Now, he was bringing you your morning tea just the way you liked it and organizing the medicine cabinets for you that you’d been neglecting—the list of varying acts of service growing exponentially by the day. It was his special way of showing you he cared, since he was too apprehensive to show you in the way he really wanted to.

That was probably your favorite part—how endearing his embarrassment was. How, despite his flushed face and anxious doubts that he was coming on too strong, he continued to appear at your side. It was as if there was a secret driving force that he was defenseless against, pulling him to you. 

It was strange how much the tension had shifted from brittle to exhilarating. You felt it almost tangibly in the air between you. You could also read it as clear as day on Jiung, because he was not subtle at all, not with how often his eyes dropped to your lips.

Because he craved not only your presence, but you. He wanted to touch you again, wanted to feel the warmth of your skin caress him. He craved the electrifying jolt from your breaths mingling while your lips connected, no matter how dizzy it left him. And Gods, he was aching to look into your eyes after just to see you look back at him with an affection so encompassing—he wanted it to ruin him.

He cursed whatever it was in his body holding him back from letting him do so, which only meant you had to take control into your own hands. 

It started as a reward of sorts for his compliance with all the pestering he’d undergone at your clinical hand. The first time you mixed up a new medicine for him to take since being back, you pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Same time tomorrow?” You’d asked him with a knowing smile.

He nodded back mutely, too flustered to speak.

It became something to look forward to. Sometimes the kiss landed on his cheek, sometimes on his nose (that one left him positively squeamish), sometimes fully on his lips if you were feeling extra bold. Each time his composure crumbled more and more under the simplest of touches.

Eventually, a kiss became two. Two became three and three turned into long, lingering presses that left you both breathless. And he was slowly but surely becoming accustomed to it. He’d rest his hands on places you’d instructed him to without guidance now—your waist, your hips, sliding up your back. 

You certainly couldn’t get enough of the taste of him or how gently he’d hold you with his big hands; especially the soft sounds he made that he always tried to hold back, but never could. You were most thrilled to see the way his whole body seemed to light up under your touch, years of deprivation making him achingly responsive to even the lightest contact.

It made your work easier, having such a cooperative subject. And it gave him a front-row seat to just how hard you were working for him.

He took note of your long work hours and how often you were bent over books late into the night.

One night he’d been trapped in meetings all day, his distracted mind constantly shifting back to you. The moment he was free, he sprinted through the corridors, with an excited, boyish grin on his lip. He couldn’t wait to see you and tell you about his miserable day and hear about yours and maybe steal a kiss at one point or another.

But when he pushed open the library doors and made his way to your usual table, he found you slumped over, fast asleep. Your cheek was pressed against an open book, your hair fanned across the pages, a quill still loosely clutched in your hand. The candle beside you was on its last light, barely illuminating your exhausted face.

He leaned against an adjacent bookshelf to just watch you and take the scene in.. This girl—this stubborn, brilliant, impossible girl—who was willing to go to the ends of the earth for him. What a fool he’d been. 

He crossed the room and slid his arms beneath you, lifting you up from the chair. You stirred against his chest, a crease forming between your brows. 

He stilled, then whispered, “Are you awake?”

“If I say yes,” you mumbled, eyes still closed, “Are you going to put me down?”

He grinned bashfully to himself. “No…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tucked yourself into his chest, your face pressing into the curve of his throat. “Good.”

He carried you all the way back to your room and by the time you’d arrived, you’d fallen back to sleep. He laid you gently in your bed and drew the blankets up over you, hesitating for a second before leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his heart racing when you smiled in your sleep. 

And it had randomly dawned on him one day that he hasn’t had an episode since the engagement ball, specifically since you’d dived into all your research and testing. He experienced no bloody coughing fits, rarely any dizziness or headaches. All the symptoms that had plagued him for years had begun to fade. He was looking better too. The color had returned to his cheeks, the light to his eyes. He carried himself differently, with his shoulders squared back and his chin held higher. He was finally starting to believe it was working.

Though, if he were truly being honest, he was more convinced that it had more to do with you than with any tonic or remedy. You were a cure on your own. 

Regardless, he hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

In fact, he craved you so much, he could barely stand it., Every night he lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, counting down the hours until he could see you again. He welcomed the restlessness with open arms if it meant the image of you remained in his mind.

But one night, it became too much. He was grateful for all you’d given him thus far, but since that last night in the village, he couldn’t get the feeling of you pressed against him—the way you’d nudged his arms open to fit yourself against his chest—out of his thoughts.

His body moved before his brain could comprehend what he was doing, and suddenly he was at your door, knocking softly before he could lose his nerve.

Just as he was about to turn away, you opened it, your hair a tangled mess, eyes squinting to ward off the dim light from the hallway. “Jiung? What—’s everything okay? Do you feel sick?”

You were suddenly alert and before you had the chance to worry, he interjected. 

“Yes—I mean, no I’m fine, I just—” He swallowed hard, trying to very unsuccessfully piece his jumbled thoughts together. “I couldn’t sleep. And I was thinking, um, actually, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry, I can go back, I just thought maybe—”

He cut himself off with a frustrated huff, his ears burning.

“Can I sleep with you?”

You didn’t say anything, you simply reached for his hand and tugged him into the room.

You climbed back into the bed and opened your arms in invitation, waiting as he stood there frozen and disbelieving of his luck. Then, he climbed in beside you, letting you tug him down until his head rested against your chest.

You wrapped your arms around him, one hand combing through his hair as he melted against you with the tiniest breath of pleasure. He listened to your heart, counting the irregular beats. 

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he murmured, fighting against the drowsiness.

“You make me nervous.”

His heart swelled with pride, joy, disbelief that maybe he affected you just as much as you affected him. He nuzzled deeper into your chest and was asleep within minutes. 

·✶·

The day was an unusually slow one for Jiung. It seemed like for the first time in weeks he had no meetings or urgent correspondence. It was only natural that he sought you out.

He found you (unsurprisingly) in the infirmary mixing up a concoction of something he was too afraid to ask about. It was none of his business anyway, he was simply there to take whatever it is you’d give him.

When you finally noticed him hovering in the doorway an excited smile spread across your face.

“Perfect timing,” you said, setting down the vial in your hand. “I think I’ve finalized one of the two options I thought would be most successful.”

He didn’t need any convincing; he sat obediently in front of you on the examination table, watching as you aspirated the syringe, lips still curling in discomfort at the sight of the needle even after being poked and prodded by you for days. 

He rolled his sleeve up like usual and let you tourniquet his arm.

“Hold still,” you mumbled while you disinfected a patch of skin on his inner arm.

He focused on your face as the needle pierced his skin, observing the focus in your eyes and the way your lips parted in concentration, and it was over before he knew it. You undid the tight knot at his bicep and pressed a piece of cotton to the tiny bead of blood that welled up, turning around to write something in your notes, paying him no mind.

“That hurt,” he grumbled, his frown deepening when you still didn’t turn around. 

“What do you want me to do, kiss it better for you?”

His eyes bore into the back of your head, his stomach tying itself in knots. “...can you?”

You took your time in turning to face him, an are you serious etched on your face.

For good measure, he scrunched his nose and let out an exaggerated wince of pain, clutching his arm to his chest.

You sighed, feigning annoyance despite the smile that tugged at your lips. Reluctantly, you walked back to him, carefully maintaining his eye contact. You lifted his arm with both hands to your lips, tipping your chin to look at him through your lashes, and pressed a kiss to the smooth skin beside the injection sight.

You dropped his arm and turned to walk away, gasping in surprise when his arm shot out to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to stand between his parted knees, your hips flush against the edge of the table.

He was already breathless, his eyes glazed over with what you could only describe as lust.

You arched a singular brow at him. “What?”

He struggled to speak, all the bravery he had gone into pulling you back to him. He hadn’t planned anything past that.

“Let me guess, does it hurt here too?” you taunted, raising a finger to run down his parted lips.

He nodded, pressing forward an inch when you pulled it away, his eyes locked onto yours.

You didn’t mean to tease him—well, you did, but only so that he would come to you. You leaned forward, your lips hovering a hair’s breadth from his, his breath hitching.

“How much?” You whispered.

His mouth fell open in a silent plea. You dropped your hands to the table on either side of his thighs, caging him in and leaning in just enough to drive him crazy. You tilted your head the other way, your lips brushing his cheek as you waited for him to speak. 

He trembled beneath you. His hands dug into his knees, trying his best to suppress the whimper trapped in his throat, but it escaped anyway, faint and desperate. 

You leaned in again, your lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Ji.”

His whole body shuddered at the nickname, his eyes wavering shut. You hadn’t used it to address him in years, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing it until now. It triggered something in his body, causing a ripple effect of warmth to spread through every inch of him. 

You leaned back to him, letting your nose graze against his affectionately. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” he whimpered, the words exploding from his chest.

You pulled back just enough to fully meet his gaze. “Well, I’m right here.”

Fuck it.

He tilted his chin down and captured your lips with his. It encompassed all your past kisses, sweet, desperate, and hungry all at once—but amplified to one hundred. You smiled against his mouth, taking the opportunity to slide your tongue against his when he made a surrendering, broken sound. You cupped his blotchy cheek with one hand, the other tangling in his soft strands as he melted into the touch. 

He gripped your hips hard, tugging you further into him until it became a free-for-all. You sucked his tongue between your lips, swallowing his moans as your hands drifted to grasp at his shoulders and chest to make a mess of his clothes, until you wrapped one lightly against his throat. 

You trailed wet kisses down his jaw to his neck, reaching uncrossed territory. His head fell back with a ragged whine—every inch of his skin you touched causing his body to jolt anew. 

It was thrilling to discover just how sensitive he really was; no matter where your tongue brushed—behind his ear, over his Adam’s apple, down to his collarbone—he let out shattered noises of pleasure until his fingers were gripping you hard enough to bruise.

You pulled away, thinking that would be the end of it like your usual contained makeout sessions, but then his legs twitched on either side of you, and his body edged forward, unconsciously seeking more. 

You looked down at his lap, and there, straining against his trousers, was a very obvious, very hard bulge.

You licked your lips, practically salivating at the sight of what a few minutes of kissing did to him. He was watching you carefully, his eyes holding a mixture of dazed desire and mortification.

“Ji,” you purred. “Are you hard?”

He whimpered and nodded, his hands tugging at your waist needily. 

You placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the muscles jump beneath your palm. You rubbed slowly, squeezing the firm flesh and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before asking. “Can I touch you here?”

He jerked his head rapidly, a series of depraved cries flooding the room when you splayed your hand over the bulge, feeling the hot, hard length of him through the fabric. He gasped, his hips bucking up to press further into your touch. You began kneading and rubbing him, squeezing slowly to watch his face contort with pleasure. His eyes squeezed shut, brows drawn together and mouth slack. Little punched-out pants escaped him with every press of your hand.

You clenched your thighs tightly together, trying to answer the insistent throb pulsing right at your center. You were so caught up with pleasuring Jiung, you hadn’t even noticed the slickness pooling, but you pushed your own needs to the side to focus solely on him. 

“You feel so good Ji… want to feel more.” Because you were growing too impatient, you needed to feel more of him.

He was already a mess, unfocused and dazed, when you brought your lips back to his. You worked open his trousers, and he gasped sharply when you finally slid your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers wrapping around his bare cock.

The first touch was a shock to both of you. He was fully hard, the length of him hot and heavy in your palm. You slid your hands down his smooth shaft, reveling in how soft his skin was, just like how you’d always imagined. You returned to his tip, rubbing your thumb along the sensitive slit leaking with precum. You circled the head, smirking with a satisfied hum when he pulsed in your hand and dropped his forehead to your shoulder to watch, transfixed and utterly consumed with how you pumped him.

You moved from base to tip, squeezing when you got to the wet, sensitive crown. His body tensed until he dissolved into a symphony of broken sounds—gasps, whimpers, choked-off moans. 

Watching him come undone was its own kind of arousal. The desperate way his hips began to push up into your strokes, the look of ecstasy on his face made it harder not to slip a hand under your skirts to ride the high with him.

You gripped the hair at the base of his neck with your free hand to pull his forehead off your shoulder just to see how broken he looked while losing all sense of self, you had to tell him.

“You look so pretty like this Ji… make such pretty noises when I touch your cock.”

He tried to string words together but all that came out was a jumbled mix of useless nonsense. You could feel the tension coiling in him, the muscles in his abdomen clenched hard under his shirt, his thighs trembling by yours. You adjusted your grip, tightening slightly as you focused small strokes at the tip—it happened so suddenly. 

His back arched, pushing himself further into your clutch, his mouth falling open in a silent scream at the pained pleasure of his climax rising so quickly. Then he was coming, hot and wet and spilling over your fingers and into his pants with pulsing streaks. You could feel every convulsive jerk and the way his entire being seemed to focus down to that devastating point of release. 

The intensity of it shocked you, especially the way his cum was still flowing out of him, but you didn’t stop. You continued to stroke him gently through every spurt and aftershock, milking the last few drops until his quivering subsided into weak, sporadic shudders. Your own breath grew ragged at the sight, your walls clenching around empty, desperate heat. 

When your movements finally stilled, he was dissolved into a teary-eyed, red-faced wreck. His chin was dipped down as he caught his breath, trying to calm the wave of embarrassment at how quickly he’d lost himself. You slowly pulled your hand out, sticky with his release, as they met the cool air, a stark contrast to the furnace of your own skin. 

Despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t rip his gaze away from your cum-slicked fingers painted as a heavy, intimate silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of his struggling breaths.

He avoided your eye-contact, his nimble fingers twisting a loose piece of thread to distract himself, looking incredibly vulnerable. 

You broke the silence, a question falling from your tongue. “Has anyone ever done that to you before?”

He shook his head almost in shame.

“No one has touched you there?” You clarified for your own sadistic pleasure, enjoying the way his face contorted with embarrassment. 

He shook his head again.

“Jiung… are you a virgin?”

He flinched at the word, his flush deepening, but he nodded once more. “Y-yes.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said to ease his worries with a kiss to his damp cheek. “I’m just… surprised. That’s all. With how charming you are, how handsome—” he finally looked at you, his eyes big and bright as you complimented him. “—how kind. Honestly, it’s kind of bothering me. Are these ladies daft?”

His ears burned listening to how shocked you were that nobody had claimed him before. It’s not like there weren’t any attempts, he’d had his fair share of advances, but they never felt right.

“That’s… that’s not it.” He shifted uncomfortably on the table at the damp, cooling mess in his pants. “I never wanted anyone else… only you.”

A dizzying rush of emotion overtook you. He could’ve had anyone he pleased but he had chosen to wait for you, even knowing that maybe he’d never get the chance to be with you. You were conquered by a possessiveness you’d never felt before, the urge to take care of him and show him in every way just what he meant to you rising in quick succession. 

Before you could say anything, he spoke again. “So you’re not…”

“No.”

His face fell, his heart stinging at your admission. It wasn’t fair for him to be jealous, but he couldn’t help the way the emotion darkened his spirit and stabbed at his pride. 

But then you were admitting something even more profound. “If it makes you feel better, I was always thinking of you during it.”

His dark pupils swallowed the warm brown of his irises as they widened further, searching yours to find any sign that you were lying just to appease him, but he found none. 

“Really?” He breathed, the word barely a whisper, laden with hope and disbelief. 

You nodded while grabbing a nearby towel to clean off your sticky fingers. “It was the only way I could… get there. My mind always wandered back to you. To what it might be like…” You looked dreamy and Jiung wondered if you were re-imagining those moments right now. “To how you might touch me. How you would sound. But now I guess I know the last part.”

He wasn’t sure when he started smiling, but now he couldn’t stop, the wonder and bliss on his face so pure, you had to look away, your own cheeks heating. When you turned back it had taken over his face completely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the last vestiges of tension dissolving. 

His insecurities were gone, replaced by a possessiveness that mirrored your own. You had always been each other’s, even when you were not.  

You washed your hands in the basin then crossed back to throw your arms over his shoulders, kissing his red, swollen lips. Just to really drive in how sincere you were being, you spoke again between kisses. “Every time I touched myself, I’d imagine it was your hand.” 

He felt himself twitch dangerously again, groaning when you took his bottom lip between your teeth, biting and pulling back only to dive back into his mouth. You held his hand in yours, your fingers raking through his. 

“I really love your hands.”

And he was just about ready to put them to use if it meant you kept telling him exactly what you would do to yourself, but then a jarring knock came at your door, and you both froze in fear.

It came again, more forceful now and you both scrambled into action, Jiung’s shaky fingers fastening his trousers closed and you reaching to smooth down his disheveled appearance. Eventually the person grew tired of waiting and pushed the door open on their own accord, and you jumped away from him and grabbed anything to make yourself look busy. 

The princess of the west kingdom strutted in looking more disgruntled and weary than usual. You turned to face her, dipping into a small curtsey. “Your Highness, apologies for not calling you in. I'm currently treating Prince Jiung.”

He turned and nodded respectfully just so half of his face was revealed to her, hoping she couldn’t see his flushed appearance. She curtseyed herself in response. 

“I wouldn't come to you if it weren’t urgent.” 

You drew back at the reluctance in her tone and the tiniest amount of spite that could have gone undetectable if it weren’t for your observant nature. 

She hesitated, eyes flitting to Jiung apprehensively then back to you. “It’s a private matter.” 

Jiung scrambled up from the table as you cringed at the way he nearly stumbled over himself. 

“Right—yes, of course,” He stammered out, quickly escaping to the door.

The princess caught a small glimpse of the lingering flush on his cheeks and the dazed look in his eye, her brows raising ever so slightly.

“I’ll come back later,” Jiung mumbled, closing the door behind him. 

The air in the room felt suddenly cold with the absence of Jiung’s warm presence and the silence from the princess, until finally she spoke.

“It’s Taeyang.”

·✶·

You pounded your fist against Taeyang’s door, the sound in tune with the frantic beating of your heart. It swung open to reveal him looking worn out and tired, his hair rumpled from what you presumed to be sleep. 

You stared at the large bruise on his cheekbone, down to his broken lip until you finally demanded, “Show me, all of it.”

He closed the door behind you with a desolate sigh and peeled his shirt off. You wished you could be surprised at the sight of his torso littered with bruises and welts, but it was a familiar sight—though one you hadn’t seen for a while—a result of the king’s cruel hand. The anger bubbled in your stomach, your expression hardening more by the second.

“I’m okay,” he said softly.

“No, you’re not,” you snapped, already opening your medical bag. “Sit down. Now.”

You worked silently to fix the damage that had been done, finding most of the gashes already rubbed over with a healing salve. You stitched a particularly nasty wound and applied another cream to help with the bruises.

“I haven’t had to do this in a long time,” you mumbled under your breath, snipping the bandage you had just wrapped around his bruised hand.

“Because I’ve been compliant for so long,” he replied, his voice flat. The princess had already explained to you how he tried to stand up for himself, offer his own opinions, but was only met with anger.

You shook your head, and spoke almost pleading, “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Despite the grim situation, there was one thing on your mind itching to come out. 

“You’re warming up to each other, then.”

He scowled at the grin poking through your mouth. “Barely.”

“So she wasn’t the one who found you like this yesterday and helped clean you up?”

He rolled his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his face. “That’s beside the point.”

You shoved his shoulder in exasperation, wincing when he groaned in pain, flinching away from where you’d just pressed into a rather nasty bruise. 

“Like you’re any better,” he grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened when you two were away, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how much Jiung has changed.”

You went quiet, your hands stilling where you were packing up your supplies. “Really?”

He scoffed. “Please. He’s not subtle at all. He follows you around like a lost puppy, he’s always talking and smiling now like a lovesick fool.”

You didn’t deny it, you just dipped your head with a shy smile before meeting his eyes with an unspoken mutual understanding of where you’d both found yourselves, navigating the complexities of your respective partners.

Except things really weren’t as complex as you once thought them to be. In fact, everything felt incredibly easy.

You were just happy to have him back in your life, you’d never expected anything more. And you could see it on him too, the way he woke up everyday with a foreign eagerness, finally tasting a life he’d resigned himself to never having.

Each passing day brought you closer and closer, and you continued to excitedly discover more about each other. Your favorite discoveries occurred when his hands learned the shape of you—boldly starting to lead the way with your help. Your waist, your back, your thighs, he let his hand wander until he mapped every inch of your skin. It felt so unimaginably great, that you’d started to flesh out what your future would look like together in the light hours of the night, voices slurred with impending sleep.

Which was why when you made your way to his room after not having seen him the whole day—a strange occurrence, given his consistent presence—the sight of him slumped against the wall on the floor broke you.

The cup of tea you were holding slipped from your hand and shattered across the floor, the hot liquid splashing and soaking into your dress. You rushed forward and fell to your knees before him, your hands hovering in the space between you, too scared to touch him. 

His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes open but dim and unfocused. Tears had soaked around his eyes, and his mouth—your lips parted with a stunned gasp.

His mouth was coated in blood, the liquid smeared across his lips, dripping out the corners all the way down to stain his white shirt. He blinked at you. “I couldn’t…” he rasped, a weak, wet sound escaping him. “I couldn’t make it to the bathroom.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you whispered, choking on the words. Your heart was pounding so violently in your ears, you thought your skull might crack from the pressure. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, and then his face scrunched in agony as a new wave of pain wracked through him followed by a hoarse, rattling cough that shook his frame.

“Why is this happening?” Your voice rose. “You were fine. You were getting better. The treatments… they were working!”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could repeat, the grief coating each syllable. 

Something inside you snapped, the devastation curdling inside you, manifesting into a hot anger. You ripped yourself away from him, stumbling to your feet. “No! No you were better, Jiung.” The words tumbled out between manic sobs. “You’ve been smiling and laughing a-and… nnnh, just y-yesterday you kissed me and held my hand and you… you…” 

Jiung watched, gutted, as you doubled over with a hand clenching over the ache in your chest. 

“I c-cant,” you wept, the fight draining out of you, leaving only a harrowing sorrow.

It took everything in Jiung not to shut his eyes, to willfully be ignorant to his love crumbling. But he forced them to stay open and spoke in a voice so small, it barely reached you.

“C-can you hold me?”

You were in his arms in second, your own shaky ones enveloping him as you sobbed into his shoulder. You held him tight, as if you could keep him from slipping away. And you suspected in some deep part of your mind, that this embrace was more for you than for him.

He set his chin on your shoulder, turning to whisper in your ear. “Thank you for trying.”

You shook your head, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It’s not over.”

He said your name, gentle but defeated.

“No.” You cupped his face, making sure he was hearing every last word. “I refuse to let you die.”

A faint, heartbroken smile graced his crimson lips. “You refuse?”

You sniffled, nodding, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “You’re smiling, but I’m being serious.”

The fragile amusement on his lips faded. “I know you are. That’s what scares me.”

You stroked his cheeks gently. “Scares you… why? Because I won’t give up on you?”

He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closing for a moment as he gathered his strength and courage. 

“Because,” he began, “Because you care so much, and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you with that much pain.”

“Jiung…”

“You know when I first found out, the part that scared me most wasn’t death… no. It was realizing I’d never get to love you properly, and I love you, so so so much.”

“I love you, Jiung.” You leaned your forehead against his, finally speaking the truth you both already knew aloud. 

There was so much more you wanted to say. You could have gone on and on for hours about how much he meant to you and how you still were not going to give up, but he already knew it all. And what he needed most in that very moment, was simply you by his side.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You helped guide him the full way to the bathroom with his weight resting against your side. At the sink, you helped him wipe the blood from his mouth and chin while he gargled his mouth clean. 

Back in the bedroom, you undressed him carefully while he sat calmly pliant in your hands, eyes closed, trusting you completely. 

“I’ve got you, my love.”

Your fingers, usually so sure and steady, fumbled on the buttons of his stained shirt. Your face warmed as you worked them open, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbones and the skin of his torso. You tucked him under the covers, following behind after only your silk slip remained.

You faced each other on the pillows, his hand finding yours in the darkness, your fingers threading together, a perfect fit. Neither of you said anything and eventually you watched his exhausted eyes drift shut, and soon, your own followed.

───────── ·✶· ─────────

I hope you enjoyed act 1 :) act 2 is out so head on over there :D Don't be shy to leave a comment :p

READ ACT II / SERIES MASTERLIST a collaborative event by @jiuchip & @liliesonthego

series taglist: @jellyybelly @chandlxa @delicatechris @keymeadoww @ericlvr @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @cuppasunu @ferociouspapa2 @nezzasworld @bubu-love-24 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @filmsunshine @shmooooo @jsshu @reiofsuns2001 @kyoluvrs @halaziasupremacy @cherryyberry1 @peonyjoo @glitteryzombieexpert @onedirectionruinedme @rockstartaeyang @wuriwoori @embobema @myfavoritedelusion @soapyfish4life @sisakoekiee @snow0-0fairy @mellownorth @lunaryoongie @meiisamotherbitch @stxrxyyz @equillisation @rainyblahaj @melonia17 @louis4sho @soullesslien @cryptothecat @m-wraith96 @kha0sblossom @x-odid @stxrxyyz @youneedtonot @foreveronez @alienslostinworld @yumi-yearns @sjakewrld  

comment to be added to the taglist!

Jiung and Intak, sitting at your sides and across from each other at your small breakfast table, freeze in the middle of their petulant glaring and angry chopstick pointing. 

It hasn’t even been an hour since they stepped into your apartment—you’d invited them to smooth things over since that night only seemed to unravel the tension into something messier. 

The peace had lasted all of ten minutes before the subtle bickering started up again. And now, here you are, in the middle of yet another battle you were unwittingly drafted into. 

They turn to you, their endless ire towards the other slipping away to shock, one flustered and one appalled. 

“I didn’t even get to fuck you,” Intak huffs, dropping his chopsticks with a clatter into his bowl. His round eyes sharpen and snap back to Jiung. “He practically hogged you the whole damn time.”

Jiung’s hand tenses around his chopsticks before he neatly places them down. “You’re just bitter that you lost,” he responds coolly, though the tic in his jaw as he returns Intak’s glare is anything but. 

You sigh to yourself as, like clockwork, they spur on. You were foolish to think you could ease things over with a peaceful dinner and drinks, but the further they get into their bottle of soju, the further they seem to settle in their pettiness. 

“Guys,” you warn. 

“I won, fair and square,” Jiung states, completely ignoring you. 

Intak sputters, hands flying wildly as he attempts to defend himself. “You cheated! What happened—that was—you weren’t supposed to—“

“Nothing happened,” Jiung cuts in, his demeanour of calm a fickle thing in the face of being reminded of the… unforeseen events of that night. 

Jiung refuses to acknowledge what happened between them. He chooses to live in complete denial. You, however…

Flashes come back to you—of an angry kiss, pushing hands, low grunts. None of anything that had any involvement from you.

Your thighs clamp together as a sharp sting of arousal shoots through you at the reminder. The amount of times you’ve had to physically restrain yourself from touching yourself to that memory is a number you’re not willing to admit. 

But now, with them in front of you looking as frustrated and flushed as that night, you can’t help that your body reacts to it. 

If only they would stop fucking fighting. 

“Guys,” you repeat, louder but all the same ignored. 

Intak has a sly grin on his lips now, one that can only mean trouble. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

You could be wrong, but Intak seems to be in the same boat as you. Unless it’s just another one of his tactics—to hold it over Jiung’s head that he might have actually been into what had happened. 

“I just had to do what I had to do,” Jiung snaps, unable to hide the red that starts climbing up his neck to settle at the tips of his ears. “That’s it.”

Intak just preens, feeding off of Jiung’s fluster. “Is that it, hyung? Hm?” The wider his smirk grows, the sharper Jiung’s glare turns and the redder his cheeks go. “I felt you, you know. I could tell how close you were—“

“Intak,” Jiung cuts in, low and warning. 

But in pure Intak fashion, he barrels through. “You don’t want to admit it.” He crosses his arms on the table, his smirk going lazy as his eyes crawl down the slopes of Jiung’s pretty face and rest on his lips. 

Suddenly, you’re not in the room anymore. You might as well be a fly on the wall, just watching the scene unfold right in front of you. 

“But I think you liked it.”

Jiung doesn’t respond, whether to prevent what regrets he might let slip out or simply because he can’t find the words, you don’t know. 

And Intak takes the opportunity to press on. “And I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes traveling further down, “you’re hard under the table right now just thinking about it.”

The pause that follows is thick and nearly tangible with tension in the small space between you three. 

But there is also the chance that Jiung might throw something. To save the peace of your home, you cut in. 

“If you two are going to fuck, can you not do it where I eat?”

All at once the tension breaks—Jiung clicks his tongue as he picks up the empty bowls and rises for the kitchen (he’s not hard), and Intak beams with the satisfaction that he’s won the argument for once. 

Intak turns to throw you a cocky grin. “Dont worry, we wouldn’t leave you out of it.”

You roll your eyes despite the smile tugging on your lips as you rise with your bottle of soju and escape to your couch. 

“Keep dreaming, lover boy,” you tease without commitment as you drop yourself on the cushions. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t want anything more. But you can’t let yourself admit that. Rather, you can’t let them know that—you don’t know just how much more insufferable they can get. You don’t want to know.

As expected, Intak follows you with his complaints. 

“But that’s not fair,” he whines as he drops down beside you with a pout. “I didn’t get a turn.”

“Because Jiung won, fair and square.”

“Oh come on,” he huffs, his warm hand landing on your knee and clamping down pleadingly as he fixes you with those big eyes and that cute smile that he knows you’re weak to. His voice drops to a low purr as he crowds into your space. “I can do so much better than him.”

Your body seems to not want to heed your inhibitions; instead it welcomes his heat in your orbit, subtly seeking it out.

Intak notices the way you falter, and he braves to slide his hand up to settle on your thigh. The heat of his skin is a searing presence through your jeans. 

“Don’t you wanna find out?” He asks, a low whisper as his eyes settle on your lips. The tip of his tongue flicks out in a subconscious tic, one you’ve become familiar with, and leaves his lips looking even more enticing. 

You do want to find out. Your body pulses with a need to. 

So you swallow down the tension in your throat, shifting just a little closer.  

“Don’t fall for it,” comes Jiung’s deep voice as he settles on your other side, another wall of heat encasing you. It sobers you immediately. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

You mentally shake yourself out of your stupor and sigh to yourself, leaning back on your cushions to escape the line of fire. 

“How would you know?” Intak immediately bites, his attention easily pulled from you and fixed on Jiung. Though his hand remains clamped down on your thigh. “See for yourself, and then you can talk shit.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

Intak sputters. “I didn’t mean that!”

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?”

“I just—you—just, go back to the kitchen!”

“Not until you get your dirty paws off of her.”

“Dirty? I’ll show you dirty—“

“Oh my god, are you guys going to just fight or fuck me?” You snap. Two sets of eyes turn to you, bewildered. “Or are you going to actually fuck each other finally? At least let me watch.”

They gape at you like fish, jaws slacked and eyes wide. 

“You—was that a serious offer?” Intak asks, gaze practically glittering at the prospect. 

“Fucking each other?” You raise a brow. “If that’s what you want, go for it, I’ll happily sit back and w—“

“Cut the crap,” Jiung snaps, and you quickly close your mouth. 

Your body grows hot at the tone of his voice, so demanding and so similar to then. He narrows his sharp eyes at you and somehow makes you feel like you should be the one apologizing. 

“Why did you really invite us here tonight?” He asks.

Well. You certainly weren’t fooling yourself.

You let out a sigh, leaning forward to drop your bottle on the coffee table. “Guess there’s no point in pretending.” 

You become hyper aware of their presence, their prying eyes. The air becomes more heated with each passing second that they wait for your answer. 

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” you admit. 

Your gaze flits between the two of them. Intak just looks hungry, like he’d been waiting to hear that all night. Jiung looks… a little shy. 

He avoids your gaze, looking instead at Intak’s hand fidgeting with the inner seam of your jeans, but he isn’t really looking. 

The thought of making him squirm makes you preen internally. Is this what Intak feels?

“What is it, Jiung?” You coo teasingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about it too.”

“How could I not?” He defends weakly, eyes flicking up to you for half a second but they run away, land on Intak, then flit quickly away again like he can’t figure out where he can look without exposing himself. 

It’s cute. Really cute. 

You chance a look at Intak and see that he feels the same, watching Jiung with that same dazed smile you’ve caught him looking at you with. 

And it makes you ponder. 

“Hm…” You lean back, smiling when both pairs of eyes follow you. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

Neither of them respond. They simply wait and watch, like they’re waiting for a cue. Or a demand. 

You bite down on your lip, reaching for Intak’s hand still on you. You lace your fingers through his, his hand twitching in response like he wasn’t expecting the touch. You give it a light tug. 

“C’mere, Intak,” you call quietly, and like a sailor falling for his damnation, he gives to your beckon. 

His lips press to yours slowly at first. Like he’s testing the waters to see what’s safe despite already having been here before. 

You lift your hand to his jaw in quiet encouragement and he takes it well, pressing more insistently against you with a settling sigh. 

You tease your tongue against his lip and he groans like it’s his ruin, his fingers clamping down tighter into your flesh, almost painfully so. 

Magnetized, he parts his lips for you and you lick your way into wet heat, meeting his tongue halfway. There’s something about him that isn’t as eager as that night. He isn’t trying to prove anything to you. It’s like he’s just… giving himself over. 

It makes you dig your hand into his hair and pull, drinking up that pained whimper he lets out into your mouth. 

“You’re so good for me today, Takki,” you whisper with a swipe of your tongue over his parted lips as he heaves. 

He pouts, blinking his hazy eyes into the present like he’d already been floating away with a simple kiss. “‘M always good for you,” he weakly argues, giving with a soft moan when you kiss him again, short but demanding. 

When you pull back, he latches onto your jaw, not quite keen on being separated from you. Your eyes flutter closed for a quick moment when he mouths at the sensitive spot under your ear.

They open again for your vision to clear on Jiung, who watches the scene completely enamoured. His breathing is a little laboured too, like he’s affected just from watching. 

You reach for his thigh, squeezing down onto the thick muscle and he jolts. “Don’t just sit there.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes flicker down to where Intak has attached himself to your neck, leaving biting, wet kisses down the smooth expanse. 

“Come here,” you whisper. 

It doesn’t take more for him to give into your orbit too, crashing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s more fervent than you’re prepared for. 

But you meet his fire with your own. He tries to claim you from the get go, but you don’t allow it. Not this time. 

You push against his seeking tongue with yours, reaching up to grab his collar and pull him further into you. He gives almost immediately, melting under your hands and moaning into the kiss. 

His hand finds your shirt and clutches it in a fist in an attempt to keep it from wandering. But it explores anyway, climbing up before resting just under the swell of your breast, heavy and warm as he lets you drink him in. 

He whimpers when you bite down on his lip, parting his lips like an instinct to welcome your tongue into his mouth. 

You don’t get much time to map him out. Intak, still present and still insistent, starts nipping impatiently at your jaw. 

You pull from Jiung to meet him, but Jiung doesn’t allow it. He grabs your jaw and turns you right back to him, stealing you with a searing kiss. 

Your gasp gets swallowed up as you momentarily lose yourself to his magnetic pull, the one that demands control at all times. 

But Intak doesn’t let it slide, not like last time. 

He bullies his way into the kiss, carving out his own space as he tongues in through the corner of your lips. 

You’re overwhelmed, your body thrums alive and simmers with nerves as they kiss your senses out of you, both in tandem and selfishly. 

It’s a clash of tongues, it’s carnal and dirty and wet and loud and messy. You’re pressed back into the cushions as their bodies mould over you. There’s a hand in your hair, tilting your head back to make more space. There’s a hand on your chest, grabbing and kneading, one at your thigh and dangerously close to your needy heat. 

You don’t know your left from right, your up from down—just that Jiung and Intak have a hunger for you so raw, the need to kiss you so pure, that they don’t even realize they’re kissing each other. 

You pull from them slowly, careful not to startle them away, and watch it unfold. 

Intak parts his lips for Jiung’s searching tongue, accepting it with a choked gasp that Jiung swallows right up. Intak tries to fight back with his own tongue but is immediately tamed when Jiung bites down on his lip. It’s a push and pull; they even kiss angry. 

You’re still not sure if they even realize. But whether or not they do, you can’t look away. 

You don’t know how long it goes for, how long you have to clamp your thighs shut to keep yourself from losing anymore dignity. How long Jiung and Intak try to devour each other whole. 

But the hunger ebbs away as they sober for breath. Your own breaths get caught as their eyes slowly blink open, seeing through their lust driven haze. When the clarity brings them reality of what they’d been doing, they don’t clash like you expect them to. 

Intak’s lips turn up into a lazy half-smile, smug and self assured as he pants his words. “I knew you were into it.”

No, they clash in an entirely different way. 

Jiung is on Intak in a flash, leaping over your lap to claim the space on Intak’s as he smothers his surprised yelp with a kiss that looks more painful than anything. 

“You’re the freak who couldn’t shut up about it,” Jiung spits into Intak’s mouth, digging his teeth into his lip and soaking in the pitiful whine he gets with a low laugh. He’s out of breath and heaving and a little deranged, but he argues anyway. “Don’t act like you haven't been practically begging me with your eyes for it to happen again.”

Intak doesn’t take it lying down. He grabs Jiung’s waist, takes his claiming kiss for another moment, before rolling his hips up in a pointed grind that has Jiung stuttering and throwing his head back. 

“Is that why you’re so hard?” Intak gasps, grinning at the pinched expression that grows on Jiung’s face. “Because you’re not enjoying this?”

When Jiung grinds down, hard, it’s devastating enough that Intak’s expression breaks down to nothing but pure bliss, a loud moan ripping through his throat. 

“I am, actually,” Jiung says, voice gruff as he shoves at Intak’s body to bully him onto his back. 

Thrown into motion, you quickly scamper back to make space, with no power to do anything else. 

“Where’s all that talk now, huh?” Jiung grits as he hastily tugs open Intak’s belt and the buttons of his jeans, scowling a snarky grin down at Intak’s wide, glazed over eyes that can do nothing but watch. 

Jiung is a man of patience. But not in this moment, you surmise, because he just slips his hand in through the layers he couldn’t be bothered to rid Intak of and grabs ahold of his cock. 

Intak wails, body jolting at the sudden pressure as he flails to grab onto Jiung’s thighs. 

“J-Ji—ah!” Intak breaks off with a cry, head thrown back as moans fall freely from his parted, slick mouth. 

You can’t see much from this angle, but you can see enough of Jiung’s arm moving in a rapid, merciless rhythm to know just how undone Intak is getting. 

The lewd, slick sounds of skin on skin fill the air, of Intak’s pleasured little whines and grunts. It takes away all your restraint. 

You clumsily loosen your jeans, pushing your hand in to press against your throbbing heat. It quells some of the ache but it fires up tenfold when Jiung pulls back his hand, spits into it, then uses it to drive Intak into tears and a babbling mess. 

“Ji—mm, m’gonna—“ Intak breaks off with a loud cry when Jiung seemingly twists his fist, his head tilting back as those tears slip through the corners of his eyes. 

“Yeah?” Jiung taunts, slowing his hand down enough for Intak to settle just a bit. He grabs Intak’s jaw to hold his fraying focus, looking down at him with a grin twisted with a sadistic sort of pleasure. Like he gets off on driving Intak insane. “Am I gonna make you cum? Again?”

Intak, the poor thing, can only latch onto Jiung’s forearm with both his hands and nod eagerly, rolling his hips up in mindless little bucks to chase the heat of Jiung’s fist. 

“P-Please,” he sobs, parting his lips when Jiung’s thumb digs into his lower lip. “Need’ta… need you…”

Jiung falters entirely, his expression falling blank for a second that feels like it stretches longer than it is. You hear him curse under his breath before he shoves two fingers into Intak’s mouth to shut him up then starts fisting him again, rapid and unrelenting, a pace that has Intak thrashing and sobbing under him. 

You dig your teeth into your lower lip to hold back your noises as you rub your clit harder in tandem, your thighs clamping down on your hand. 

You can’t remember being this turned on or this wet—what does that say about you? Getting off to being ignored as the two people you want the most have at each other?

Intak’s body grows taut as it starts to bow up off the couch, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. You drive yourself there too, to the same precipice that Jiung pushes Intak to—before it all gets ripped away when Jiung suddenly pulls back. 

Intak comes crashing back down with a cry of Jiung’s name, the call tangled with a pained sob. 

You refrain from shuddering too, trying to hold yourself still as you climb back into your body, your hand going still where it stays pressed against your core. 

“No!” Intak sniffles. “N-No why did—I was so close,” he pants through his tears, blindly reaching for Jiung through the blur, his body quivering with the loss.

Jiung gathers Intak’s wrists and holds them to his stomach, his own breaths laboured as he watches the boy untethered under him, because of him. 

“Because,” he starts, then lifts his gaze to you. You nearly jolt under the intensity of it, forgetting entirely that you yourself were even there. “You wanted to prove you were better, right?” He’s not talking to you, but the words sink into you and pool low in your gut anyway. “Prove it then.”

Intak tilts his head back slightly, blinking like he’s seeing you for the first time. His eyes turn starry at the prospect, watching you intently for your signal. 

If it were anatomically possible, you’d pull Intak to you and fuck him into oblivion.

“You’re so bossy, Ji,” you say instead, slipping your hand out of your jeans and shuffling closer. 

Intak bristles when you get close, squirming to get out from under Jiung but Jiung doesn’t let him go. 

You press your hand to Intak’s cheek, and he immediately turns to nuzzle into your palm. 

“You want to?” You ask him softly, endeared with how he blinks up at you again and nods eagerly. 

“Want it—want you… Please?”

You smile at his big, begging eyes, glancing up to see Jiung watching with his hands idle on Intak’s lap, mindlessly brushing his thumb over the clothed ridge of Intak’s hard on. You meet his eyes and give him a conspiring smile that he meets with one of his own. 

“You can,” you say, having to grab Intak’s shoulders and push him back down when he immediately tries to push Jiung off of him. “If you can make me come before you do.”

He makes a confused noise, one that goes unanswered as you pull back to start shucking off your jeans and your panties. 

“Otherwise, Jiung gets to fuck me while you watch. Again.”

His complaints die on his tongue when you shuffle to kneel over him. As soon as your dripping cunt moves in line of his vision, his brain reroutes. He grabs onto your hips and sits you right on his mouth without another complaint. 

You gasp at the first swipe of his eager tongue, tremors rushing through your body as he immediately starts to tongue at your clit. 

You’ve fantasized this so many times since that night; you don’t think you’ve met anyone as talented with his mouth as Intak. And he proves it now as he starts a mind numbing rhythm of circling your clit and tonguing at your hole like it’s what he was born to do. 

Seeing how quickly affected you are, Jiung gets right to work. It’s a better angle now as you watch him tug Intak’s jeans and boxers down, freeing him fully. 

You bite down on your lip at the sight. Intak is thick and long, curved enticingly and so, so hard that he’s almost purpling at the tip. 

“Poor thing,” you mumble under your breath, gasping when his tongue drags through your folds while he whines against you. 

Jiung seems just as dazed by Intak’s cock as he wraps his hand around it once again. He has big hands, but even they look small in comparison. 

Intak jerks under the pressure as Jiung squeezes down, mouth faltering against your pussy as Jiung slides his fist up in a slow drag. 

You watch, mesmerized as a pearly drop of arousal beads at the tip then trickles down over Jiung’s knuckles. 

You nearly forget where you are as you're barraged with the sudden urge to lean down and lick his fingers clean, then maybe seek out more straight from the source. 

But you’re pulled right back when Intak’s lips wrap around your clit and sucks down hard enough to seize your body tight for a hot, blinding second. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, bracing down on Intak’s stomach before grinding your hips down, dragging your clit right over his tongue. 

It seems to set everything in motion—Intak grinding you down on his face as he mouths helplessly at you, Jiung holding Intak down with a hand on his hip, the other vigorously working Intak’s aching cock, and you clinging desperately onto your last morsel of sanity. 

Maybe you were in way over your head. There’s no way you can last longer than Intak with the image in front of you, Jiung fisting his best friend like his life depends on it and watching as Intak devours you like he wants to devour him whole. 

So you opt to look away, shut your eyes, but that plan gets immediately derailed when Jiung leans down and wraps his lips around Intak. 

Intak falters with a choked moan, his hips driving up to instinctively chase the wet warmth but Jiung immediately pulls off and brings his hand down on his hip with a harsh smack. 

“Stay down,” Jiung grits before he dives back down, taking him in his mouth again. 

Your clit pulses dangerously at the sight. Of Jiung’s lips stretched around the girth of Intak’s cock, of the furrow of concentration between his brows as he tries to sink deeper. He stops before he can even take half of it, but seems satisfied enough with the way Intak is tensed up and just panting under you, his fingers digging harshly into your hips as a way to brace himself. 

You feel Intak’s moan as a hot breath fanning over your cunt as Jiung slides up his cock, gives an experimental suck on the tip, then sinks back down with a breathy grunt.

You nearly cum on the spot when Jiung bobs his head and starts to fuck his mouth on Intak, his hand wrapped around whatever he can’t take, his eyes rolling back as they flutter shut at heady the taste of Intak on his tongue. 

His cheeks are flushed, the sounds are vulgar and obscene, and you can just tell it’s not about the dumb little bet anymore. 

He’s not blowing Intak because he wants to win—he’s doing it because he likes it. Because he fucking wants to. Jiung never does anything he doesn’t want to.

“Fucker,” you hiss. You reach back to clamp your fist into Intak’s hair and hold him still before you rock your cunt back down over his panting tongue. 

You don’t even care anymore, especially not when the tip of Intak’s nose starts to nudge at your hole. You ride his face and chase that burning pleasure right to the end with the sight before you, of Jiung looking drunk on Intak’s thick cock and struggling to take it as Intak starts to clumsily fuck up into the wet heat. 

You snap with a startled cry, the orgasm hitting you so suddenly that you nearly topple over. 

You catch yourself on Intak’s stomach, shuddering as Intak dutifully licks you through the high despite being in near shambles himself. 

When Jiung pulls off of Intak, it’s slow and hesitant, like he doesn’t quite want to stop. There’s a thread of saliva and precum that strings momentarily between his lips and the tip of Intak’s cock, one that you want to reach over and bat away. Jiung’s eyes are nearly glazed over, lips parted as he pants, like he was the one that just got his shit rocked. 

“Pathetic,” you mutter without thought and his wide eyes snap up to you.

He looks clueless as he stares at you. “Huh?”

“You’re fucking pathetic,” you double down, pushing off of Intak, who lays there limp and unresponsive. You grab hold of Jiung’s chin, forcing his eyes to stay on you. “You’ve been wanting to do that for a while, haven’t you?” You prod, and his eyes widen with each word, red climbing up his skin. 

He starts to shake his head but you tighten your grip on him and hold him still. 

“What, did you really need me to mediate? Are you really that much of a coward?”

He grits his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries to argue but you push him back against the arm of the couch. He falls against it without fight. “Hands behind your head. You’re going to watch Intak fuck me.”

At the sound of his name, Intak bristles alive and starts to climb out from under you, settling behind you. 

Jiung’s jaw goes slack as he rears up to argue. But one sharp look from you has him snapping his mouth shut, hands rising hesitantly to lock between his head and the couch. 

He parts his legs to give you a little more space to settle in the compact area, but all that does is expose just how hard he is, his cock straining against his dark pants, a damp spot seeping through at the tip. 

But you don’t get much time to grill him for it. 

Because Intak latches himself to your back, completely bare from what you can feel of him. He mouths at your neck as his hands climb up under your shirt, clumsily grinding his still hardened cock against your ass. 

“It hurts,” he whimpers into your ear with a press of his hips against you, before he hastily tugs at your top. 

When you pull it off, one of his hands immediately latches onto your chest, kneading at your tit through your bra. The other presses low on your naval to push you back into him and you hiss softly as his cock brushes right against your sensitive mound, his movements eager and hurried like he can’t quite figure out what to do with himself. 

“Please,” he begs, dropping his face into your shoulder to sniffle into it. “Please lemme fuck you, can’t take it anymore—‘t fucking hurts.”

Your heart tugs at the genuine distress in his voice. You’ve been stringing him long enough, and really, he’s been so good to you that he deserves much better than this. 

You card your hand through his soft hair, urging his head up so you can turn to press your lips to the corner of his. He immediately turns to push his lips into yours in a weak but heartened kiss. 

“C’mon baby,” you urge gently into his lips, arching your back to push your cunt against his throbbing length. “Put it in.”

Intak nearly sobs in relief, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist to hold you still as the other reaches down to guide himself into you. 

His tip drags over the length of your pussy, slow, heavy, hot. You think for a second he might turn it around and tease you, get back at you for putting him through everything. But Intak was never one for patience, not like Jiung. 

So he catches against your hole and pushes, not bothering to ease you around him as he drives himself all the way in despite your body’s resistance at the sudden, nearly unbearable stretch. 

Your mouth falls open in a loud, pained whine at the feeling of being practically split open by his cock. You nearly fall over, your body’s weight giving out, but his strong arm around you keeps you up against him. 

Your walls clamp down on him, resisting against the impossible stretch. He’s big, so much worse than Jiung, especially with barely enough prep. But there’s something mindnumbing about the pain that sears through you. 

Intak is a mess too, gasping into your hair as he gathers his bearings from how tight and warm you are around him. 

You barely get the chance to recover before he’s pushing into you with shallow, uncontrolled thrusts that send a flare of stinging pain through you with each one. 

“Fuck, Intak, s-slow d—ah!” You cut off with a yell at a particularly harsh thrust, one that has him nearly kissing your cervix. 

“Can’t,” he pants, his hands sliding down to claw onto your hips. He holds you tightly before he pulls back and punches into you with a hard thrust that has you falling forward and grabbing onto Jiung’s thighs to brace yourself. 

You choke down the pained yelp that rises in your throat. Intak plasters himself to your back, wrapping his thick arms around you again and holding you down as he starts to fuck you with fervour. 

“I can’t I can’t I can’t,” he pants into your neck, his hand lifting to grab onto your chest once again. His hips slam into you, rocking your body with his, his cock piercing in and carving out space inside you, brushing against your walls in spots you didn’t even know were possible. “Can’t—fuck—can’t hold back, need to cum—“ He turns to dig his face into your hair as his hand tugs your bra down so he can paw at your bare tits. “Needed this—needed you for so long…”

All you can do is take it, take it as Intak pounds into you like a man possessed by his carnal desires, ones that he’s been caging inside and letting fester for who knows how long. Of course he can’t hold back anymore. 

“Yeah?” You ask, gasping when he brushes against that gummy spot inside of you. The pain isn’t so much pain anymore as it is fire and bliss. You turn to press your lips to his ear, letting your breathy moans spill right into it as you speak. “Take whatever you need baby… m’all yours.”

Intak falters, his weight dropping on you as his cock pulses inside you. 

Then he rises up, the heat of him against your back ripping away and leaving you cold. He grabs your hips and lifts them, arching your back before he pulls out until his tip catches against your hole, the swollen head stretching the tight ring of muscle. 

Then he slams into you, once, twice, then again and again, with unrestrained, unyielding thrusts. 

You cry out as he starts to insistently piston against your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the precision almost terrifying in his state of carnal chase. 

“Intak!” You yell, your cries muffled when Intak’s hand lands on the back of your head and pushes you down. 

You’re helpless to him and his brutal cock, forced to just lay there with your ass up and take the barrage of pleasure laced with remnant pain. It clouds your head with a fog so thick that you don’t even realize you’re pressed into Jiung’s lap, not until he bucks his hips up in an attempt to press his boner to your lips. 

You blink up through the fog, your vision clearing on Jiung’s pinched expression, his brows furrowed and jaw tight over clenched teeth. His hands are still caught behind his head, though his restraint seems to be hanging on by a thread. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he watches Intak pummel into you and babble mindlessly about how you feel so good, how he’s gonna fill you up, and never gonna pull out.

Jiung’s hips buck up again, more insistently this time that his clothed cock bumps against your nose. You dig your fingers into his thighs in retaliation and he hisses, eyes snapping down to you in a weak glare. 

You manage a weak smile, smug and teasing, before it wipes away with a brutal snap of Intak’s cock against your cervix. 

“Fuck!” You scream, your pussy clamping down on his pulsing girth. He’s close. You’re not sure how he’s lasted so long. 

He drops onto your back again, arms tightening around you as he grinds his cock into you with deep, uncoordinated thrusts. 

“Gonna cum,” he warns with a gritted whimper, his dick kicking inside you as he pushes in and seats himself deep. 

But he doesn’t finish just yet; he reaches down for your clit and presses his thick fingers into it, flicking against the aching nub with quick movements. 

Your body thrashes under the sensation, your walls fluttering around him as you get drawn up to another orgasm. 

“I-Intak…” You gasp, squirming under him. 

He only speeds up, holding you tighter, rapidly rubbing at your clit. “Come on,” he pleads, rocking inside you once. “Come for me first.”

And then he pinches your clit, pushing you right over. You come with a cry of his name, pulsing violently around him as you cream over his cock. 

It drives him over too. He groans and shoves his cock into you once, twice, three times before he spills inside you with a choked grunt, his entire body trembling as he shoots into you and fills you with his hot seed. 

He whines like he’s pained as he releases into you, before dropping his entire weight on you after the wave passes and trapping your body between his and the couch. 

…his and Jiung’s lap, you realize after a moment of coming back into your body. 

You blink your eyes fully open to see Intak’s head settled on Jiung’s other hip, his eyes already open and fixed on the raging hard on right in the small space between your faces. 

You nearly laugh. Until you see the fucked look on Intak’s face. 

Jiung squirms under you, as if trying to shift away. 

“If you two are done,” he starts with his voice low and gruff, like he’d been the one exerting himself. “Can you get off?”

Intak’s eyes meet yours and you know then that that won’t be an option. The idea pulls a tired grin on your lips. 

“I dunno,” you hum, shifting a little under Intak. You shudder as Intak, still buried inside you, twitches anew. You sigh as you turn your face, nuzzling into the side of Jiung’s boner, your eyes flicking up to see him desperately trying to hold in his reactions. “It’s pretty comfy here. Isn’t it, Takki?”

Intak hums in agreement, shifting in to bump the tip of his nose against the hard ridge. 

Jiung gasps a sharp breath then, his hips twitching up in reflex. “Don’t fucking play,” he seethes, though he doesn’t move, nor does he move either of you. His hands remain right where you told him to keep them.

You just giggle, letting the vibration of your voice tease him through the dampening fabric. You’re sure it’s painful with just how much he’s seeped through his jeans. 

“When do I ever?” You taunt, leaning forward to end a bit of his suffering. 

But Intak beats you to it. He presses over your shoulder and runs the flat of his tongue against the rough fabric, leaving a damp trail up until he reaches the tip of Jiung’s cock and latches down. 

Jiung’s hand flies into Intak’s hair, letting out a choked grunt as he pushes his head down and grinds his crotch up into Intak’s face. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, grinding up again when Intak lets out a startled whimper. 

It only spurs Intak on as he starts tonguing over the bulge, trailing his lips tightly down the length before settling at his base. 

“Shit,” you mutter, watching with your jaw slack and another nagging pull at your gut. “I should’ve just made you guys fuck. Would’ve fixed—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Jiung snaps, grabbing your hair with his free hand and pushing your face into his lap. 

You go down easily, lips landing on and wrapping around his base, but not without digging your nails into his thighs in retaliation. 

But he doesn’t respond to that, too occupied with both your mouth and Intak’s on him. The denim of his pants dampens under your tongue as you suckle on him, Intak still mouthing over his heated length. 

“Talk too fuckin’ much,” Jiung pants as he lets you both go, only to tug open his belt.

Intak immediately reaches over you to help him pull himself free with single minded focus, tugging his pants and boxers down to let his cock spring free, hard and leaking with need. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly your arguments die on your tongue, the space too occupied with your drool. 

You don’t bother with your hands, reaching instead with your mouth to swallow his tip in. 

You hum as the salt and musk bursts on your tongue, giving it a firm suck to milk more out of him. It’s nice, the heavy, velvety taste of him. 

Jiung groans, his hand landing in your hair once again, not to push but just to have something to hold onto. 

You can hear the wet sounds of Intak’s mouth sucking and tonguing at Jiung’s base, and you drag down the generous, ridged length to meet him there. 

You don’t even care how obscene it is, the fact that you’re both mouthing at Jiung’s cock like filthy whores while Intak is still buried balls-deep inside you, where you can feel him hardening up again.

All you can focus on is the sounds Jiung is making, the ones Intak makes as he and you lap at Jiung’s cock in tandem, practically making out with it and each other. 

You don't think you’ve done something so dirty, ever felt so dirty yourself. You don’t think you can have it any other way now. 

“Look at you two,” Jiung breathes, his fingers carding through both your and Intak’s hair, fingers scratching down both affectionately and condescendingly somehow. 

You moan against him just as Intak does, dragging your mouth up to swallow him in again, tonguing at the gummy tip. 

Jiung lets go of your hair and takes your chin instead, digging his thumb into your hallowed cheek. “You sound better with my cock in your mouth.”

You let out an offended whine, sucking down hard to watch him hiss and jerk. 

“Brat,” he grits, grunting when Intak starts prodding at the corner of your lips with his tongue in a silent ask. 

You hum, popping off to let Intak in, but you don’t move away. You both tongue at the swollen tip, mouths tangling together as you practically make out with each other on Jiung’s cock. 

You swirl your tongue over the tip and give it a suck before dipping into Intak’s mouth, sharing the salty taste, letting him do the same before he dips into your mouth and sucks at your tongue. 

It’s brainless, completely devoid of any direction, any thought—just pure, animalistic instinct. 

Jiung curses under the barrage, pushed to his limits. He holds you both down with fists in your hair and starts to fuck up into the space between your mouths, poking into your tongue and Intak’s in a mindless alternation. 

Intak’s eyes roll back at the heady feeling, his body spurring to life to start halfheartedly fucking his cock into you, fully hard again.

You just lay there and take it, let the drags of his cock ease the burning that flares up between your hips again. 

You let Jiung chase his orgasm between the messy press of your mouth and tongue against Intak’s—it’s frantic, lewd, head spinning. 

And it’s completely over for you when Jiung starts whining. 

“Gonna cum,” he whimpers, hands tightening down on your and Intak’s heads. Intak grunts at the pressure but he opens his mouth like you do, just letting Jiung rut against your tongues and faces like a bitch in heat. “Fuck, y’r gonna make me… nngh, fuck fuck fuck—”

He breaks off with a choked yell, forcing you both off of him before he takes his cock and frantically fists himself to completion. 

He cums with another yell, head thrown back as he gasps through it, hot ropes of his cum landing on your faces. You try to catch them with your tongue but it’s far too messy and uncoordinated. 

So you turn to Intak’s blissed out, cum splattered face and start lapping it up from him instead, your brain reduced to nothing but a filthy caricature. Intak seems to share that same mind, licking off whatever he can from your chin and cheek before he forces his tongue into your mouth and tries to take from there. 

You moan against him, sharing the taste of Jiung between what you suppose is a kiss, but you can’t really tell anymore. 

It’s when he cums inside of you again that you realize Intak was still fucking into you with rocky, noncommittal thrusts. It’s much less intense than the one before, but the feeling of him spilling into you again does you in, coaxing out a similarly languid orgasm out of you. 

You settle with a shudder, dropping down on Jiung’s stomach, the cotton of his shirt a soft reprieve against your heated skin. 

It’s a quiet moment of hard breaths and slow realization, with Jiung dead against the couch’s arm above you and Intak laid on your back and panting into your shoulder. 

You don’t move. Don’t think you even can.

The first bit of motion after a handful of moments is Jiung’s voice over you, low and gruff and a little fucked up. 

“What the fuck was that?”

It pulls out a startled laugh out of you. You shift, nudging at Intak’s weight to let you free. 

He whines against you but obliges, though hesitant, slowly sliding out of your cunt with a hiss before he rolls down onto the floor, splaying onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Heaven,” he says, all too serious as he blinks his starry eyes slowly, a giddy grin climbing onto his swollen lips. 

He looks all cute and boyish with that dimpled smile, his bangs fanning over his eyes. Like he hadn’t just blown the guy he’d been fighting with over a girl, while fucking said girl. 

You snort, shuffling down the couch to settle at the other end while Jiung pulls up his pants and tucks himself away with syrupy movements. Of course he’s the only one clothed while you and Intak remain almost completely bare. 

You tug your bra back in place as you curl back into the cushions. “Needed is what it was. To get you dickheads to finally stop fighting.”

Intak giggles from the ground. “He’s too stubborn to stop.”

“Hm. You’re right.”

Jiung glares at you, still boneless where he lays. “I’m right here.”

Intak’s head pokes up from the ground, looking at Jiung with an impish grin. “So? Can you admit it now?”

“Admit what?” Jiung grumbles, refusing to look at him and opting for the ceiling instead.

But Intak, annoying as he is, shuffles closer to rest his head against the arm of the couch, his face right below Jiung’s. “That you wanted it,” he says, waiting with that smile still plastered on his lips. There’s an honest anticipation behind that gaze though, one that seems to be waiting for a particular answer. “Did you?”

Jiung is silent. You watch his throat bob, his eyes flicker down, his jaw work around his teeth.

“No.”

Intak’s smile pulls wider and only then do you see the corner of Jiung’s lips twitch up.

“In that case,” you start, finding yourself grinning too. The heat pooling low in your gut is starting to feel something like a permanent fixture. “Same time next week?”

Turns out, your games weren’t all for nothing. 

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @fixonfreak, @stxrxyyz, @hxraiiii, @peachy-x-k33n, @choxochip, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @boptak, @peonyjoo, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @aalyluvz, @evemds, @willowedjelly, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @delicatechris, @orchidves, @lycxee, @girlcrushd, @halaziasupremacy, @chandlxa, @soulssnucky, @snyngjhn, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @kyoluvrs, @princessthelsa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo, @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak @nota10butadefinite8 @snuckyyyy @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kha0sblossom @sstrawbxrry @momochips @mydearandy @seomisaho @fairylix @ericlvr @kisseobies

𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works

1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

“How are you feeling today?”

The question hung delicately in the air between you. Jiung’s heart both swelled and ached in tandem from your compassion despite the hurt he caused you. In the end you would always be the healer—always putting others before yourself. He mustered up the best reassuring and genuine smile he could, albeit a small and tired one. 

“I feel fine.” 

And he meant it, he truly felt fine and you must’ve believed him because you nodded once stiffly and stood to make your way to the door until he stopped you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You nodded and his eyes fixed on the rumpled sheets instead of your intense stare. 

“Are you still mad at me?”

You barely heard him, his voice a low whisper that tickled your ear and sent the hairs on the back of your neck standing. You nearly winced at the guilt and regret packed into those six words, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to soften your response, not with how tired and heavy you felt since last night's revelation.

“Yes.”

His jaw flexed as he traced patterns into the blanket, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall. He’d known pain his whole life, had endured it quietly and without complaint. But this… This was worse. This was a thousand times worse and if he was able to, he would much rather suffer through the worst his illness had to offer in exchange for never having to see you so cross with him again.

You turned to leave and once again his voice kept you frozen in place. 

“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” despite his voice cracking, he continued. “But you understand why, right? You understand why I did it?”

You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath. 

“Yes,” you said again. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“What will?”

Your eyes fluttered open to look at him. He was leaning forward in anticipation, fully ready to do whatever it was you’d ask of him. Apologize a thousand times over, beg on his knees, promise he would never keep something like that again—all he needed was the word. 

But would that be enough? What could possibly make up for a decades worth of lies and distance and deceit?

“I don’t know,” is what you finally settled on.

You knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear so you tried to smile. It was broken, a fragile thing that barely held its shape and Jiung returned it with one of his own, equally shattered and lost. 

You slipped out of his room, the parchment crinkling in your tight fist. You blinked away the burn in your eyes and straightened your spine, and began walking towards the library. You had better things to do than cry. There was research to be done. Books to be read. A cure to be found. And you would find it.

You had to.

────────── ·✶· ──────────

COMING JUNE 11

Series Masterlist collaborative event by @jiuchip & @liliesonthego

comment to be added to the taglist!

Asking Jiung to let you sleep with him might be a terrible idea. 

But your room is flooded, the hotel’s completely booked, and Keeho’s—you don’t even want to think about it. 

Even if he never really saw eye to eye with you (to be fair, neither did you with him) he should have some ability to show you a bit of mercy… right? 

But then he opens the door and looks at you with such a deadpan look of displeasure that you realize maybe not and nearly tuck tail and leave. 

“What is it?” He asks, and you’re reminded quickly that that’s not an option. 

“My room flooded.”

His eyes widen for a split second, alarmed before his expression quickly schools back to its usual impassive. There’s an awkward pause that follows. Then, “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

Your shoulders slump, just a little (a lot) disheartened at his snippy tone. You’d think years of being in the same group would make him a little warmed to you. But he never did make it easy for you to give him a reason to be. 

“The hotel’s completely booked out.”

“Then—“

“Keeho’s got his girlfriend over.”

Jiung blinks at you as he comes to the only conclusion this situation is bound to have. You clutch your Pikachu plushie, the one Shota won for you years ago, closer to your chest in anticipation. 

You half expect him to just shut the door in your face. But then he steps aside and opens it a little further while looking entirely unhappy about having to do so. 

You roll your eyes but bite your tongue. Not enough apparently because the words tumble out anyway as you step into the room. 

“Try looking a little more upset about it, that might get the point across.”

The door shuts a tad too loudly behind you. 

“Of course you would complain when I do something nice,” you hear him grumble under his breath as he passes you, sidestepping you so pointedly that you’d think you were carrying a disease. 

You can only scoff, watching the back of his grey hoodie as he moves through the room for his suitcase at the other end. 

“Like you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” you grit through your teeth, your ducky slippers squawking angrily as you pad over to the bed and plop down on the edge. 

“I’m doing this so you won’t go crying to the manager about how I’m bullying you,” he sneers as he fishes out a black t-shirt then reaches for the hem of his sweater. “Again.”

Your mouth snaps open to snipe right back and remind him that he’d ‘constructively criticized’ you to the point of tears but the words die right on your tongue as Jiung pulls the hoodie off his body, leaving his well-toned, lean-muscled, intricately inked skin exposed for your eyes in all their pallor glory. 

He seems none the wiser to your slack jaw and dazed eyes as he tugs his shirt on, muttering something about ‘ungrateful brat’ but you’re honestly not listening because you’re too busy thinking about holy shit, does boxing really do that kind of a wonder for someone’s body, and, is it getting hot in here?

You’re only snapped out of your quickly flitting brain by his snippy tone. 

“Guess I’ll take the floor,” he grumbles as he starts gathering the extra blankets in the hotel dresser. 

You blink yourself back to your body—when did you start floating away?

“Huh?” You ask intelligently. “What? No, just take the bed.”

He pauses as he turns back to face you, arms full of white fluffy cotton that you kind of want to crawl into. Or is it his arms…

“You’re going to take the floor?” He asks. 

“What?” You ask again, and Jiung gives a look that promptly makes you feel stupid so you scramble to explain. “It’s a queen bed.”

“And?”

“…it can fit two adults with extra space to—mmph, hey!”

The pillow to your face jostles you hard enough that you nearly get toppled onto your back. 

You scramble to right yourself, grabbing the pillow and chucking it back to him but he dodges it easily as he starts to fix a makeshift bed on the empty floor space by the bed. 

“That was so unnecessary!” You cry as you frantically pat down your hair. 

“It is if you keep saying dumb things,” he states simply. 

“Why is sharing a bed dumb? Are you really that immature?”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don’t want to be in that close proximity to you?”

Well. That stings. And it shuts you right up. 

You’ve always been like oil and water, always wanting different things, always pulled in different creative directions, always had different ways of operating. 

But honestly, you thought it was just that. That you just didn’t mesh well, and that’s okay. Not everyone needs to get along. 

But you never thought that Jiung might just simply not like you to the point that being near you is past his boundary of comfort. And that realization actually sort of… hurts.

You know the silence stretches on for too long that you just stare at him, watching him make his little bed and crawl into it, as if he said nothing remiss.

This new feeling in your chest is strange and uncomfortable, like it’s a tangible thing pulling at itself. So you look away, push yourself to the farthest end of the bed from him, and crawl under the blankets in hopes that being away from him might remedy it a little. 

It doesn’t.

Even after you turn off the lights and toss and turn for what feels like an hour, maybe two.

You can’t help it—his words keep ringing in your ear. And that feeling in your chest keeps pulling tighter and it’s honestly getting a little hard to breathe. 

Does he even understand the gravity of the words he’s said? Does he even care?

You haven’t heard a single sound from him, so you have your answer. There he is, sleeping peacefully in his little dreamland where you don’t exist. 

When did it get so bad? Did you push his buttons too far? When was the tipping point and how did you not see it happen?

You’d always had trouble with him but you never hated him. You hoped that it was all just a silly preamble to something of a meaningful friendship that might grow a few years down the road.

You don’t realize when your hands start shaking. When your eyes start watering. When your breaths start trembling. Or when those quiet little sniffles start escaping you. 

You clench your fists and dig your face into the pillow, mentally cursing yourself for being so affected. 

You’re not affected. Especially not by the likes of Jiung, the asshole. The asshole who you hate to admit has been finding himself taking a lot of your headspace lately. 

Well at least it’s clear now you’ve been in none of his. 

These morose thoughts prattle around in your head, then infest you slowly until they’re clinging to you like a second skin. 

When the bed dips behind you, your heart stops. 

You freeze, breaths caught in your throat. The room pauses like a reel stuck on a terrible frame. You pray he’s only sleep-walking.

“I didn’t mean that.”

The deep timbre of his voice does wonders to start prying off that infestation. You hate that it’s so simple, that he can so easily bring you down. 

You don’t want him to. So you take a deep breath to keep your voice from shaking, and you push away. “Sure you did.”

There’s a pause, one that keeps your skin on edge. 

“Not… in the way that you think.”

Now you’re just confused. “What does that mean?”

“My feelings towards you are complicated.”

“…what does that mean?”

He clicks his tongue, a habit of his that always was pointed to you, to berate you in some way. Right now you don’t really mind it. 

“I just said it’s complicated,” he huffs behind you, and you feel the puff of breath bristle the hair at the back of your neck. 

Only then do you become aware of how close he is, and the heat of his body behind you burns more present somehow.

“Wow,” you deadpan, trying to shake off that prickling feeling that starts to grow under your skin. “You make me cry and you can’t even explain yourself.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh. It makes you smile despite your turmoil, wondering if his face is scrunched in that way it always is when he’s fed up with you. You’re just glad he can’t see it. 

“It’s not that I hate being around you.” A pause. “Well, I do.” Before you can start crying again, he barrels on. “But only because… it drives me crazy.”

Well, you might start regardless. “I get it, I’m crazy, you don’t have to keep saying it I believe you—“

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The world around you feels like it’s about to implode in on itself. The room feels like it’s caving in on you. Your brain feels something similar, before it stutters and crashes and goes completely silent.

“Or… at least have very strong feelings for you.”

You take in the breath that’s been refusing to reach you, but it fills your lungs shakily and without commitment to actually helping you function. 

“You’re sure it’s not hate?” You ask, because no part of you can believe the words uttered from his stupidly pretty lips. Lips you wish you could see right about now. Just so you can confirm that he’s actually talking and this is not the little devil on your shoulder playing terrible tricks on you.

“It could be,” he admits solemnly. “Because I really want to push you off this bed right now.”

You whip around, immediately offended at his smug little face. You completely miss the nerves lingering in his gaze as it drops for a split second. 

“Go ahead.” You glare. “I’ll bring you down with me.”

“I won’t stop you.”

When his eyes meet yours, the moment sobers and you’re quickly reminded of… reminded of…

“I mean it,” he says softly, and you’re reminded of just what it was that had blown your whole world open mere moments ago. “I can’t stand being around you because I can’t stand the thought that you don’t want me the way I want you.”

The honesty of his words, the low timbre of his voice, the solid weight of the night that blankets you—it makes something in your chest settle. Something at peace. 

You recall all his snarky remarks about your dancing. You recall the way he always lingered after every practice to help you, armed with condescension and something else you missed entirely. Something you’re seeing now.

You recall those begrudging ‘hbd’ texts, those little frog plushies that would show up in random crevices of your dorm room at odd times of the year. You recall his insults and how they weren’t really insults at all—adoration disguised under disgust, maybe. 

You recall the little box of tiramisu always delivered to your door after you’ve had a bad day. You just assumed it was Intak. But now you're realizing you only ever mentioned it being your favourite indulgence around Jiung.

You recall wishing every day that these little things led to something—to Jiung. You recall how you’d look forward to the next moment with him that you’d get to torment him. That you were happy for every little reaction you’d invoke from him. You just didn’t realize why. Until now.

The smile that grows on your lips is entirely his fault. “Who said anything about that?”

“You,” he deadpans. “Multiple times.”

You scoff, hitting his arm without real punch but you let your hand linger there on the soft cotton of his shirt. 

“Only because I thought you hated me all this time,” you murmur, the honestly stripping you bare of all your typical bells and whistles.

“Well,” he starts, slowly mirroring the smile on you. “There have been some grave misunderstandings it seems.”

“I suppose…”

“But it’s not unfixeable,” he says, suddenly looking every bit of nervous that you’re feeling. “Right?”

You hum in thought, half heartedly tugging on a loose string on his sleeve. “True. You can start now.”

He raises a brow at you. “Shouldn’t it go both ways? We’re both at fault for this.”

“Mm… Nah. You go first.”

You bite back your laugh at the glare he fixes you with. You don’t even get the chance to say you’re kidding before suddenly there’s arms around you, tight and strong, and you’re being manhandled against your will. 

Your fight dies down when he holds you close to him, your back to his chest. When you realize the position you’re in and melt in his hold (completely against your will), the tension in his body leaves all at once and he buries his face in the back of your hair. 

“Better?” He murmurs into it, his honeyed voice a living thing inside your skull. His arms twist tighter around your waist and send your stomach into fluttery knots. 

You lean into the touch, letting your hand brush over the warm skin at his wrist. 

“Could be better,” you say as more of a breath. 

When his lips brush against the spot under your ear before pressing against your skin, warm and lingering, your breath hitches in your throat. 

“How about now?” He whispers, breath feathering down your neck. 

You swallow down your thrumming heart, tilting your head towards him just a bit but you still can’t bring it in you to look at him just yet. 

“Getting there,” you try to tease, but it falls weak. 

He chuckles lightly against you, before pressing his palm against your stomach as if holding you to him so he can trace the ghost of his lips down the line of your jaw, caging you in with his body. 

He settles at the base of your chin, biting down with his teeth. 

Your eyes snap open at the quick burst of pain, and you turn to glare at him but he takes that chance instead to seal his lips over yours. 

It feels like you’re falling, again and again, as his lips move over yours. It’s slow, hesitant, a little timid.

But when you sigh into the warmth and move your lips in tandem with his, he presses in. 

His hand comes up to your jaw to hold you in place as he dives. Searching, as he indulges in the taste of you on his seeking tongue, a quick, wet slide that teases your lower lip and leaves your stomach burning. 

The sound he makes against you when you meet the next swipe of his tongue with your own makes you lose all your inhibitions. 

You push back, and he goes under your palms as you turn and slide your body over his, never once severing where you’re connected. You’re practically devouring him now, legs straddling his lap, palms pushing his sturdy chest into the mattress, lips parted enough to let your tongue slide against the seam of his lips. 

He gives with a little moan, accepting your tongue with a soft gasp and his hands clutching onto your hips. He pulls you in flush, solid warmth against your already heated body. 

Your tongue maps his pliant mouth, seeking home and staking claim. It leaves him panting under you, little grunts and sounds spilling from his lips. 

“So noisy,” you coo against the wet heat of his open mouth, his damp breathing marring your slick lips. 

He whimpers, lifting his head and leaning up, already seeking your kiss again. “Wanted this for too long,” he muffles against you, slurred and almost unintelligible as his tongue flits out for another taste of your lips. Like he can’t go without it for even a few seconds.

You take a shaky breath to ease the tempest those words brew inside your chest. You peck his lips to soothe him over for another moment. “I can see that,” you hum, giggling softly when he eagerly captures another needy kiss. 

“Don’t tease,” he whines thinly. 

You kiss him deep and slow, easing him down to the pillow again before you reroute. “Not possible,” you hum against his jaw, trailing hot, wet kisses down the sharp cut then flitting down his neck. “You’re too cute.”

He lets out an angry little puff of breath, digging his nails into the fabric of your shirt. “Thought I was an ogre.”

You snicker against his skin, recalling that time you’d petulantly called him a shrimpy ogre when the concept looks for the Killin’ It era were revealed during a meeting with the company head. And about a few dozen others. 

“Still are,” you state, lifting to grin down at him. “This doesn’t change anything.”

When you take in the sight of him, starry eyed as he stares up at you in a daze, kiss bitten lips parted as he pants for air, pale skin flushed a pretty scarlet over his cheeks and down his neck, you think to yourself, huh—this might change one thing.

You watch as that distant, hazy look in his eye turns sharp and pointed. 

And then he’s got an arm around you, flipping you onto your back like it takes no effort before he sets himself on top of you, slotted right between your parted legs.

That starry look is gone, pupils blown wide with a dark, heated desire that leaves your taunts withering on your tongue. 

He places his hands on your stomach, searing through your shirt as he slides them down just to drag them back up, underneath your layers this time. 

Your lips part in a gasp as the heat seeps directly through your skin and pools low in your belly, his eyes snapping down to catch the movement. 

“I think I can change a few things,” he whispers. 

Hell, you think as he captures your lips again. 

This changes everything.

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @missmaiamay, @fixonfreak, @hxraiiii, @elmolovesw33d, @peachy-x-k33n, @halaziasupremacy, @choxochip, @girlcrushd, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @snyngjhn, @boptak, @orchidves, @peonyjoo, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @pxronbeat1, @chandlxa, @aalyluvz, @evemds, @delicatechris, @dejaphobick, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @soulssnucky, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @kyoluvrs, @princessthelsa, @vvalever, @quiiirkiiis2, @v4ciaa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak, @nota10butadefinite8 @snuckyyyy @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kha0sblossom, @sstrawbxrry @kisseobies @seomisaho

𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works

1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

Your sly hand might have fooled anyone—but not Jongseob. 

He nearly missed it. It was quick, a swift movement of your hand guised as a helping one to fix the Lady’s collar. But he sees the brisk swipe down the Lady’s hair, and with your hand goes the small decorative pin at the base of her updo.

It was barely a move. Jongseob was glad for his keen eye—sharpened to observe from years of nothing to do but watch the world live around him, without him—otherwise he would have been completely oblivious to you.

He wonders just how long you’ve gotten away with this. Was he the first one to catch you in such an act?

He watches as you give the Lady a polite bow in response to her grateful thanks, and he wants just a little bit to laugh. That Lady has been nothing but a prissy diva ever since her arrival at the castle. She’s been making demands of their staff like she was the one to be wed to his brother, like she wasn’t just a pity invite from her association to a higher noble. Maybe he should thank you.

When Jongseob sees you turn his direction, he quickly hides around the corner, his heart jumping as if he were just caught in a criminal act.

He lets out a breath and chides himself. This is why people see you pathetically.

He shakes his head and straightens his shoulders, rounding the corner like he initially intended to. But it was poorly timed—of course—because he goes crashing into someone. 

You.

Jongseob stumbles back immediately, a sharp clatter bringing his attention to the ground. There, in the space between his feet and yours, lies the silver pin that he’d just watched you steal.

He bends down to pick it up, twirling the dainty pin between his fingers as he rises again. It’s pretty.

He looks up and his breath nearly hitches. So are you.

But you don’t look back at him. You stare at the pin in his hand, expression void of any emotion. A forced nonchalance. 

“Is this yours?” He asks you. 

Your eyes quickly flit up to his, wide and unreadable. “Yes, Your Highness,” you tell him calmly.

So you’re a seasoned liar. 

He chews on his lip, digging his thumb into the sharp end of the pin. “Where did a woman of your station attain such a thing?”

He catches the hesitation as you part your lips to reply, mustering up a stumbled excuse. “It—It was a gift,” you start, eyes dropping from his to the pin once more. “I got it from my…”

He raises his brow at you and he can see it click behind your eyes that he’s not buying it. But before you can start spewing apologies, he holds the pin out to you.

“Keep it.”

It feels like a small victory for him when he sees actual emotion grow on your face. Shock.

“Your Highness, I—”

He cuts you off again, pushing the pin into your hand. He meets your eyes, the question in them, before he brushes past you and continues on his way to the library.

He ignores the little tremor his heart gives when your shoulder brushes against his. But it can’t be helped; this is the most excitement he’s felt in his endless routine of floating through mundane days. 

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he hopes to catch you in the act again.

If only for the quick burst of adrenaline.

If only to just hear your voice again.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You thought you were done for. 

Even now, a day later while you’re punching dough, the rush from being caught lingers in your veins.

Were you getting sloppy? You’ve only been working here a few days and you already got caught. By the Prince, no less. You need to be more careful than you thought.

No, you’d done exactly what you’ve been doing for years. It wasn’t even your first time dealing with nobles, and no one was wise to your swift hand until now. Not to mention you’ve already taken a couple things during your short time here (a decorative comb and a brooch, nothing terrible) and no one had noticed.

Maybe it's just him you need to be careful around.

But then again, he’d caught you and he’d let you go. What kind of Prince allows a petty thief to roam unpunished in his home? What if you had been worse than just a petty thief? Is he insane? 

Whatever it is, you can’t help but want to figure it out. And you can’t help the simmering thrill that lies living under your skin at getting caught. And if he lets this pass… What more would he let you get away with?

The loud smack of your fist colliding with dough slices through the kitchen and turns the heads of the other maids around you.

Unless he plans to hold this over you, you realize with a startled breath. Why else would he let you go?

“Why are you violating the dough?”

You blink out of your thoughts, looking to your right. Your friend—well, coworker now that she’d been recruited with you for extra help for the wedding—is watching you with an inquisitive, worried expression.

“Just thinking,” you tell her quickly, giving her an impish smile at the brow she raises at you. You glance around to make sure the other maids have returned to their tasks before you lean in and whisper to her, “Would you happen to know where I might find Prince Jongseob?”

𓆩⟡𓆪

The library is your first stop in the evening when you’ve finished your duties for the day. You’re not sure what you’re expecting by seeking out the Prince. If this only pushes you further to the guillotine—well, you were well on your way there anyway. It was only a matter of time your crimes caught up to you.

The library is large, a maze in itself as you wade your way through infinite shelves. You find him tucked away near the very corner by a window overlooking the gardens, his back facing you where he’s hunched over the table, bathed under the dimming sun. The scribbles of his quill ring louder than your footsteps.

You watch him for a moment as he pauses and looks out the window, running a hand through his dark blond tresses while he mutters to himself. He simply stares for a moment at the scenery outside before he turns and hones back in on his writing.

You didn’t know much at all about the young prince. Just that he wasn’t very involved in royal matters. Was he lazy? Self-interested? Too caught up with his nose in his books and quill? 

Is that why he let you go, because he simply did not care?

You’re not sure you’re at liberty to just guess. You need some sort of answer.

“You let me go,” you say aloud, blinking when he jumps at your voice and whips around with wide eyes. You quickly tack on with a half-hearted bow, “Your Highness.”

He stares at you, jaw agape. But he regains himself quickly, clearing his throat and sitting up straight. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m light on my feet.”

His brows raise at you knowingly, and the smallest of smiles ghosts his lips. “I’m sure you are.” He pauses, rolling the quill between his fingers as he ponders on your words. “I’m assuming you’re wondering why.” When you nod, he gives a simple shrug. “In all honesty, I don’t care. I’m sure the Lady has an army of wealth to buy as many hairpins as she’d like.”

A prince acknowledging the unbound, disposable wealth of his kind? Unheard of.

You take a step forward, keeping a respectable distance between where he sits and where you stand, still not entirely convinced of his reasoning being that simple. “Are you sure it wasn’t to hold it over my head? That seems more likely to me than you having a generous heart for a swindler.”

His lips twitch up at your direct tone. Normally you’d dial your distaste for his kind down, considering the environment you’re in, but the part of you that wants to know just how far you can push preens at the opportunity of testing your limits, and his.

He considers your words, eyes narrowing as he regards you quietly for a moment. It takes everything in you not to squirm under his gaze—intense and like he’s unveiling you layer by layer.

“What use would I have with a favour from a maid?”

“I’ve heard stories of your kind taking advantage of the lower class in more ways than one.”

He lets out a puff of breath, sheathing his quill in its holder. “I’m sure you have. But I assure you, I am not that kind.”

Honest. Or is it manipulation?

“Oh?” You ask him, tilting your head. It’s him who squirms under the scrutiny of your gaze now. “I see,” you pause for dramatic effect, to let your next words ring with meaning. “I look forward to figuring out just what kind you are then… Your Highness.” 

You dismiss yourself with a quick bow and turn without another word, smiling to yourself at the flush you leave behind on his cheeks.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The strange prince has found his way into your head. 

But it’s not the worst thing that could have transpired from your confrontation; he’s become a pleasant distraction from your unending tasks in the kitchen. 

You loved baking for the shop you worked in in your small town, but baking for the castle has proven to be a much more arduous task.

These people are needy—wanting things at the drop of a hat whenever they ask, nevermind that it throws you off your track and piles even more work onto your already overloaded list.

You’ve always hated the rich. Working here has only given you even more reason to believe you were right about every prejudice you harboured.

Even the princes have come by the kitchen asking for obscure desserts—although they are surprisingly more pleasant than their guests when they request something from you. 

Well, all besides one. Prince Jongseob, though that’s a case of absence, not nuisance. He hasn’t approached you since the day you’d ambushed him in the library.

You hate that it disappoints you. It’s already been a few days since your last encounter and you hoped that you left enough of an impression for him to want more.

But you told yourself you won’t be the one to seek him out again. 

So despite the way he seems to find his way into the corners of your mind, you push aside thoughts of him to focus on your work. 

You bring the tray of freshly baked biscuits you’ve been working on since the morning to the table at the gardens where a few Lady’s await.

They chatter and titter away about castle gossip, nothing you care enough to be privy to. Besides, your eye has caught onto the short emerald-studded pin in one of their hair—small, but shiny enough to catch your attention.

Taking it isn’t much trouble at all; you make a comment about her looking radiant under the sun, she laughs and blushes at your honeyed words, you offer to fix the mussed shoulder of her dress, and you walk away just a little bit richer.

But of course, luck would have it that you bump into Prince Jongseob again as you round the corner on your way to the castle’s back entrance.

You stumble back at the impact but his hands come out to grasp your shoulders, steadying you before you can go down.

You don’t drop the pin this time. It stays firm in the fist you have held to your chest.

You stare wide eyed up at him as his gaze falls to your hand before lifting back up to yours with a knowing smile. “Should I get used to meeting you like this?”

You lower your hands, folding them behind your back. “I wasn’t stealing when I went looking for you,” you remind him, quiet despite you being the only ones in the corridor.

He swallows, an attempt to keep his composure unaffected. But you see the tinge of red at the tips of his ears. “I suppose that’s true,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your arms only to sit at your elbows. They linger there for a moment before falling to his sides completely.

It's cute that he tries, at least, to hide his fluster. Too bad he’s too obvious.

He clears his throat, blinking his gaze away from you as he places his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping to run into you, actually,” he admits with an even voice.

“Oh?” You smile at him, watching the way his eyes glance at your lips. “I was wondering when you’d come looking for me.”

“When?” He raises a brow. “What made you so sure I would?”

“I have good intuition.”

“Is that what helps you pick your targets?”

“Yes, actually.”

He scoffs, an amused smile tugging at his lips despite the way he tries to smother it.

You take a step forward into his space, taking note of the way he tenses as you lean in. “I may have found my next one,” you tell him, voice lowered as you look up at him through your lashes.

He swallows, eyes stuck like honey to yours. “And who might that be?”

“I’d love to chat, Your Highness,” you tell him, grinning at the displeased furrow that grows between his brows. “But I have duties to attend to.”

You move past him, laughing to yourself when you hear the hushed “brat” that slips from him as you go.

You can’t ignore the way it settles a curiosity in your gut, low and growing, to see just what kinds of reactions you can pull out of him.

Sure, he’s a royal, the embodiment of pretty much everything you’ve grown to despise. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have your fun, right? You won’t be here for much longer anyway. You might as well make the most of your time here.

But you’re not a chaser. He’ll have to come looking for you first. Properly.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Jongseob wanted nothing more. He would hover from a distance, just out of your eye, waiting for any opportunity. 

But you didn’t make it easy, because it seemed you were on the prowl for any chance to swipe something shiny. It seemed to him it was more like a game than an actual need for you to steal. He knew the wages they were paying you were generous enough to not need such extensive efforts.

But if anything, it was entertaining for him. And it only made him more curious about you, past than just the innate attraction he feels towards you.

He’d thought you were pretty when he first ran into you that day, but now, more than pretty, you were intriguing. 

You had approached him. Sought him out. Not for anything necessary, just for your own curiosity. Well, that and the fact that he’d caught wind of your mischievous ways. But he can’t remember the last time someone had come looking for him when they didn’t need to.

It just left him wanting you to seek him out more. He wondered when the next time would be that he might catch you in your path. When he might catch you in the act again. When you might come looking for him again.

He finds himself passing by the kitchen more than he needed to. You’d noticed, of course you had, giving him secret smiles when he would catch your eye as he went before you swiftly made your exit from his vicinity. It leaves his heart in disarray each time.

It’s cat and mouse—he just doesn’t know which he is.

He’s well aware this is some sort of game to you. You don’t strike him as the kind to hold something like this with any sincerity, if your playful smiles and evasive nature was anything to go by.

But whatever it is, it's the most attention he’s ever gotten. He wants more. It's in human nature to be selfish, is it not?

It's been a few days now since he caught you for the second time. And he’s already fed up with the chase. He knows now you’re waiting for him to make the move, and as much as he likes to pride himself in being above foolish games, he seeks your attention.

He sits at his corner of the library, fiddling with the edge of his book as he stares out at the window planning his course of action.

Should he just… go up to you? No, that would be too obvious. Maybe he’ll just “bump” into you again the next time he catches you in the act. Or it may be better if he—

“You’re taking too long.”

He jumps at the voice, whirling around to see you standing there, just like that other day, with your arms crossed and a small pout on your lips.

“Huh?” He asks intelligently.

You roll your eyes, dropping your arms as you step closer. “You were taking too long. I thought I might never talk to you if I didn’t do something.”

He straightens himself, swallowing down his racing heart. How do you manage to make him so nervous with such little effort? 

He watches you as you stop to stand by his chair, looking down at him expectantly as you fold your hands behind you.

“I was going to find you,” he admits, moving to rise to his feet but you reach out, pushing him down by his shoulder. His brows raise at the contact, his heart only climbing higher in his throat.

“Were you really?” You ask with a sly smile on your lips, letting your hand trail slowly down the slope of his shoulder before it falls back to your side. “Or do I make you too nervous, Your Highness?”

“Nervous?” He asks, laughing off the electricity that shoots down his arm but he knows his indifference comes off weak. “Is this how you speak to all your superiors?”

You tilt your head at him, your eyes climbing down the length of his body. He feels a trail of heat left behind by them. “No. But it’s already been established that you’re not normal.”

“Is that why you’ve been playing with me then?” He asks with a bold rush of confidence. Even being the one with the power, he feels like he holds almost none of it with you. Almost.

“Playing with you?” You laugh. It’s a sound he wants to chase. “In what way have I been playing with you, Your Highness?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he warns, but your smile only sharpens.

You step forward, your knees brushing against his where you stand. He cranes his head back to meet your gaze. You say it quietly, like its truth. But it’s the farthest thing. 

“I’m not playing with you at all.”

You are. You know it, and he knows it. But there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

It starts with his hand brushing the side of your knee. It ends with you on his lap, warm lips pressing insistently against his.

He’s sure his inexperience shows but you don’t seem to mind it as you deepen his tentative kiss, pushing yourself against him. 

His hands find your hips, bracing against them as he tries to keep himself from shattering into a million pieces. 

It's just a kiss. His first one, but it's enough to leave him feeling like his entire world has just blown open.

Especially when your hand cards into his hair, clasping down and tugging, and your tongue slides against his lips to lick up his moan and seek claim.

He gives it, pliant and wanting under your hands and lips. He would keep giving, if not for the footsteps sounding across the room.

You scramble off of him in a flash, leaving him in complete disorder, and it’s like your composure slips back into place in the blink of an eye.

You give him a quick bow, seeming completely unaffected, before excusing yourself and hurrying off. He’s left short-breathed and wide-eyed in his chair, left to wonder if the moments that just transpired were real or a lonely delusion.

He’s snapped out of his daze by Shota’s voice.

“Jongseobie?”

Jongseob blinks, looking over as Shota appears from behind shelves.

“Have you seen your sister? I turned away for one second and she—” Shota stops midsentence when his eyes land on Jongseob, his brows shooting up. “Are you reading something… intimate?”

Jongseob frowns, brows scrunching in confusion. “Huh?”

Shota’s eyes flicker down, an impish grin forming on his lips. “You might want to take that to your room,” he says with a snicker before quickly scurrying off.

It takes a moment for his words to process, but when they do, Jongseob’s entire body goes cold. He turns back to his table, curling in on himself and dropping his head with a groan.

That was dangerous. Too close for his comfort.

But never once in his life has he wanted to be more reckless.

𓆩⟡𓆪

It's like his body reacts before his brain does whenever he sees you now, immediately thrumming with the heat that you left lingering in his veins from that day in the library.

It’s only been a couple days but he feels like he’s losing his mind. He thinks he can actually start to understand Keeho’s insatiable habits. But for Jongseob, it’s not with any woman that passes by and dares to give him a smile. It's only you that gets his blood rushing.

It's about time he finally does something about you.

He doesn’t think he could ever outright ask you. He doesn’t think he can handle the rejection face-to-face. So he writes you a note, as cowardly as that may be, and slips it into your hand when he passes by you in the morning on his daily walk by the kitchen.

He doesn’t linger long enough to catch your questioning gaze, scampering quickly away to save his heart another near attack.

But it might have been his worst decision, because he spends the rest of the day in peril. Maybe it was too far to ask you to come by his room at night. But that is what you wanted, was it not? Or had he misread everything?

He climbs himself down from countless spirals as he moves about restlessly. It's not as if he has much to do that would take his mind off of the situation he’s got himself in, so he spends the day panicking in the confines of his room.

When he hears the knock, sharp but quiet, he nearly falls on his face in his haste for the door. He convinces himself that it’s just Shota on his way there.

But when you barrel in through the door as soon as he opens it and somehow get him against the shut door in a split second, all his doubts wash away to overbearing relief.

“It took you long enough,” you breathe, as if you were hanging onto your last thread of restraint as tightly as you were fisting the collars of his shirt.

Jongseob swallows, feeling a little like he’s just submitted himself to a predator. “I wasn’t sure if this is what you wanted.” He hates that his voice gives away just how affected he already is.

The grin that pulls on your lips sends a zip of electricity down his spine. “I’m right where I want to be,” you whisper, before crashing your lips over his.

He melts into the kiss, his shaky hands finding home on your hips as he presses into you. You only push him back into the door, laughing at the sharp noise it gets out of him.

“You’re so easy,” you coo against his lips and Jongseob isn’t so sure if he wants to crawl away and hide or crawl into you.

“I’m not,” he tries to argue but gets derailed when you start pulling him towards his bed. He gives to your pull and lets you bully him onto his sheets with a strength that takes him by surprise.

He stares up wide eyed at you as you climb onto him, mounting yourself on his lap before capturing his lips again.

He gives in under your magnetic pull. A part of him wants to be the one pulling, the one to toss you around to his will, but he’s too overwhelmed with the novelty of such intimacy that he wants nothing more than to be taken care of by you.

What does that say about him, someone in power, giving in to someone well below his station?

The idea of it feels more enticing than he thinks it should feel.

He’s brought out of his spiralling thoughts at the pressure of your hips rolling down on his, the heat of your core lining right above the throbbing ache of his own arousal. It strikes him with a pleasure so sharp that it makes him gasp, his entire body tensing.

His fingers dig into your hips, his own bucking up to chase the pleasure.

He blinks through his bleary eyes to see you watching him with such a heated thrill that it makes him think he wouldn’t survive this night intact if it goes the way he thinks it might.

Your hand presses to his cheek, cradling him gently, as you start to rock yourself down on him in an agonizingly slow pace, one that has him struggling to breathe and hold in his noises.

“None of that,” you reprimand and he feels cold at the thought of doing something wrong. “I wanna hear you,” you tell him with a hard grind over his cock that makes him whimper regardless of his efforts.

He drops his head on your shoulder, burying his embarrassment, as his body moves with a mind of its own to meet your movements.

He doesn’t hold back anymore, he lets his noises spill in short grunts and soft moans.

A shiver climbs through him when he feels your lips trace the shell of his ear. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” 

He shudders, embarrassed to have been found out so quickly. Is it that obvious?

He swallows a moan, his arms winding around your waist to pull the heat of your body flush against him. “N-No…”

Your laugh is soft and fond, not mocking like he’d feared, and he squeezes his eyes shut to rein himself in.

“Are you close, Your Grace?” You murmur with a playful lilt in your voice and he lifts his head, fixing you with a sharp look.

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, sharper than he intended. “Say my name.”

You falter, shock threading through your mirth as your body slows against him.

The fear of going wrong starts trickling back in until you whisper his name, quiet and awed, “Jongseob.”

The feeling that rushes through him is indescribable, leaving him dizzy. He shuts his eyes, taking in a sharp breath as you push the weight of you right over his needy cock. 

The pressure becomes unbearable as you chase your hips over his; he knows he won’t last very long like this. He panics, fingers clawing into your dress at your waist. “Wait—”

“It’s okay,” you urge, pressing down sharply and it makes his dick jump in the constraints of his trousers, the coil in his gut wound tightly with the threat of release. “Come for me, Jongseob.”

That’s all it takes for him. His body tenses for a moment before his high washes through him with a startling intensity he’s never achieved before.

He buries his face into your shoulder, muffling his sharp cry as he jerks under your still moving body while you chase your own pleasure.

Your hand clamps down in his hair, soft whimpers of your own falling from your lips as you topple over the edge, and he doesn’t even care that the pressure of your frantic body is starting to hurt him.

He takes it, takes in the soft curses that you cry as your own release crashes through you. His arms tighten around your trembling body, holding you even after it passes. 

You remain tangled in the afterglow, heavy breaths and heavy heat lingering in the air around you.

You feel boneless, even from that quick chase of release. To be fair, it has been a while since you’ve had the chance to uncoil. And the thrill of it being the Prince that you have all pliant under you surely had an influence on how quickly it took for you to lose yourself.

Jongseob slowly untangles himself from you, leaning back against his headboard as he blinks his glassy eyes up at you. He looks cute; lips bitten and cheeks flushed and looking just a little empty headed.

“What are you smiling at?” He mumbles, words a little slurred. It only makes your amusement worse.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, smoothing down the ruffled collars of his shirt.

He groans, rolling his head to the side to evade your gaze. His lips pull into a little pout that you desperately want to kiss away. “You’re not… upset?”

“That you finished so quickly?” You ask, just to see the red on his cheeks brighten. You chuckle when it does, leaning forward to brush your lips against the heated skin. “Not at all.”

You gasp when he turns his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s short but needy enough to leave you breathless. “You’re a tease,” he huffs against your lips.

You giggle, a sound that he swallows up with another short kiss. “I think you like it.”

The corner of his lips twitches up, his heavy lids fluttering shut. “Not sure why.”

You take this as your cue to leave, moving to rise but his hands shoot up to wrap around your waist.

“Where are you going?” He asks, eyes blinking slowly as he frowns up at you.

You hesitate, glancing over at the door. “Shouldn’t I go?”

“Why?” He asks, like he genuinely cannot fathom why you would leave. “Just stay.”

Your brows raise, taken aback by the prospect. “Won’t your maid see us in the morning?”

“I locked the door right after you shoved me in it.”

It’s your turn to blush. Maybe you got a little carried away. “I apologize for that, Your Highness, I was a little—”

He clicks his tongue. “What did I say?” He asks you. When you simply stare at him for a lack of an answer, he scoffs a laugh, moving you with a surprising strength to lay your body down beside him. “Call me by my name.”

You swallow, keeping still as he settles beside you with his arm thrown loosely over your waist and shuts his eyes. 

“Sorry, Jongseob,” you say quietly into the air that feels a little too delicate for anything more.

“Hm.” He nuzzles into his pillow, mere inches away from you as he breathes out and lets himself lull off. “Good.”

You watch the tension leave his face bit by bit as he dozes off to sleep. You wonder just what you’ve gotten into as you drift off to slumber yourself.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You wake up to the sound of soft whimpers in your ear and something hard pressing into your lower back.

It takes you a moment to settle into reality, and through your sleepy haze and the muted sunlight through drawn curtains, you recall where you’d left off the night before. In the young prince’s bed, and apparently, in his arms.

You hear a soft whisper of your name, slurred and stilted, and realize that he remains asleep. But his body seems wide awake as it chases pleasure in the heat of you against him. 

You shouldn’t find this as enticing as you do, but your body seems to have a will of its own as you start rocking back, the lingering heat from last night relivening between your hips. 

You adjust yourself, finding the hard ridge of his slumbered arousal to start rocking yourself back into. The pressure is a little frustrating, just a little away from where you really need him with the awkward angle. But you chase it mindlessly with languid grinds. The pleasure of the situation along with the remnants of sleep fog your brain enough that you miss when he stirs awake with a sleepy croak of your name.

His body stutters when his brain catches up, but as soon it does, he curses and immediately moves, but not away.

He moves you by the hips to arch your back just enough for him to line his clothed cock right over your needy cunt. You gasp a sharp moan at the sweet pressure of him right where you need it, and you chase it with the guide of his sturdy hands as he grinds himself hastily against you.

“I see you’re awake,” you manage through your stuttered breaths, fingers clawing into his silk sheets as you grasp for restraint.

“Thought I’d dreamt it all,” he heaves into your neck, voice low and gruff with sleep, needy with want as he buries his face into the back of your neck. “Fuck,” he whimpers, his pace stuttering but not relenting. You can feel him twitching against you.

You laugh breathily, pushing your hips back in desperate little bucks. “I’m right here.” You whine when his arm wraps around you, his hand clamping onto your breast. “Were you dreaming of me, my Prince?”

His fingers, although clumsy, press into your nipple through the fabric of your dress, pulling a gasp from your lips. “Yes,” he whimpers, breath hot against your neck. 

“Yeah?” You reach your hand back, carding your fingers through his hair as you push sharply back against him. “What was I doing?”

He lets out a broken moan, fingers digging deeper as he grinds frantically against you, twitching like he’s on the edge of falling for the second time with you.

His voice is frenzied and breathy as he tries to explain through his arousal. “You were—mm—we were in the—”

A sharp knock cuts him off and the heated moment freezes over. You can practically feel the panic that sinks into Jongseob’s body when the knock persists.

But it's not coming from his door; it’s coming from the window.

“What…” He trails off and when the knock comes again, harder this time, you both spur into action. “Shit, go!” He whisper-yells as he clambers off the bed.

You scramble to get up and pat yourself down. “I can’t go through the door, guards are doing their rounds!”

The knocks keep coming in hard thuds, only doing worse to Jongseob’s panic as he tries to right his clothes, untucking his shirt to hide the evidence of last night and just now.

“Under the bed!”

Before you can argue, he starts to unceremoniously shove you down. Given that you have no other choice, you drop down and tuck yourself under his bed as Jongseob pulls the sheets to cover the open edges, dousing you in darkness.

The small space leaves you laying flat on your back as you stare up into the abyss, your prying ears left unchecked.

“Sister?” You hear Jongseob yell after a moment. You’re not sure whether to be relieved or scared.

You hear a feminine voice muffle something through the window before you hear some shuffling, sliding windows, and a thud.

“What in the heavens are you doing?!”

“Escaping.” His sister pauses. “What in the heavens were you doing?”

“I was napping.”

It takes great effort to hold in your laugh. Napping at dawn? You didn’t take him for a good liar but even this is impressive.

They banter for a few moments, something about a Shota and a grudge. Nothing much in suspicion of anything, until you hear heels, not Jongseob’s, start closing in towards the bed.

“NO!”

Your body jumps at Jongseob’s sudden yell, closer than before, and you thump your head on the wooden slats of the bed.

You hold in your curse, hand flying up to rub at the sore spot on your forehead. Your heart picks up speed when his sister starts grilling him.

“What was that sound? You’re being weird.”

“And you’re invading my personal space,” you hear Jongseob spit right back before you hear more shuffling then their footsteps stumbling away and towards the door. “Go find somewhere else to hide. Find Keeho!”

“Fine! But if Shota comes asking, you didn’t see me. Got it? And I’ll forget why you’re acting so suspicious.”

“Okay, fine. Now leave!”

You sigh, slumping against the floor in relief. You’re about to make your way out before you hear his sister yelp, sending your heart in trouble again.

“Seriously?! What are you?!” You hear her cry but it seems pointed outwards.

And then the doors shut and you’re left in silence. You remain in place, waiting for Jongseob’s signal.

It comes as a quiet, “You can come out now.” 

When you come out clutching your head with one hand and dusting yourself off with the other, he lets out a laugh that he quickly stifles. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly with a smile he tries to smother away.

You narrow your eyes at the red spot blooming on his forehead. “I would get my revenge but it looks like it's been done for me already.”

He reaches up to rub the spot with a sheepish smile. “Sister.”

You laugh, carding your hand through your messy hair. And then it hits you.

“No!” You gasp, hands flying over your mouth as the dreadful realization settles in.

His eyes widen, matching the horror in your own. “What is it? Do you think she saw—”

“The Princess arrives tomorrow!” You cry, immediately taking off and barreling past him. 

But he catches your elbow, pulling you back to him. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

Those big eyes nearly get you to drop everything, but then you’re reminded of the pile of chores and food you need to plan and make. 

“I have so much work to do, Your Highness” you tell him apologetically, prying his hand off of you as you start backing to the door. His expression twitches into an unsatisfied frown. “And the engagement ball is soon too, I really need to get back to work.”

He doesn’t stop you though, just watches you go with that frown set on his lips. “Can I still see you?”

You stop as you reach the doorknob, looking back at him and those earnest eyes.

“I’ll try,” you answer, pulling on a smile as you twist open the door and prepare yourself to sneak through the guards. “Until next time, Your Highness.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Going back to work after… that made it difficult to focus on your tasks. But you tried, scurrying around the kitchen as you tried to catch up.

Your maid friend chattering about her own issues with Prince Keeho surely doesn’t help to keep you focused.

“An angel,” she scoffs from where she’s sat in the corner of the kitchen. “The audacity he has…. Tell me, would an angel have to pathetically slave after arrogant lords and ladies and princes and princesses and—URGH!”

You certainly understand her gripes. Though you probably can’t be of much help that you’d nearly slept with one such prince. Maybe that’s what she needs too.

“Well,” you smirk, throwing her a glance over your shoulder. “We clearly know what he wants. You’ve heard the rumours, haven’t you?”

“Against my will!” She huffs. “I would do anything to not hear about his whorish behaviour. I don’t care to know that he sleeps with half the castle without a care for their station or their ruined reputations.”

“And the half he isn’t fucking he’s flirting with,” you add with a snicker, swiping the sweat off your forehead with an arm as you finally turn to her. 

She’s a beauty, your friend. Surely if she wanted to have her own fun, she could. You consider suggesting it, but knowing her, she would call shame to such behaviour. You’re far too different from her. 

You lean against the worktable, eyeing her. “I can’t blame him, though.”

She blinks at you. “Excuse me?”

“Look at you!” You gesture to her with a frantic hand, sprinkling flour on the ground from your dusted hand. “You’re gorgeous. If you weren’t dressed in that hideous garb anyone would think you were noble-born. Plus you have that…. don’t-touch-me icy look that drives men mad. Remember Illia from the town?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “I told you never to bring him up again. And it’s not a look! It’s exhaustion.”

“Well.” You shrug, tone taunting as you lean forward. “Why not?”

“Why not what?”

You recall Jongseob’s moans ringing in your ear, the way he whimpered your name and gave all of him under your hands—a prince turned to nothing all because of you. 

How do you go about explaining a rush like that to your orderly friend? 

“Why not sleep with him?”

As you expected, she nearly chokes over her own breath. “Why—” she wheezes, pounding her chest with a palm, “—why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Come on,” you laugh. You wonder how she’d react if you told her what you’d done. “He’s royalty. He’s handsome—don’t try to deny it—and rich. When will you ever get an opportunity like that again? You never know, it could be fun.”

She shakes her head, face still flushed. “He is vile,” she snaps, lowering her voice to a low hiss to hide her treacherous words. “He is lazy and arrogant and shameless. God I just hate how these people think that just because they are royalty they have a claim to whatever and whoever they want. I mean, they were born into it, they just got lucky.”

Your smile fades at her words. Of course you agree. What you’re calling your own fun is probably just another way for Prince Jongseob to get off on his power over you. No matter how much you seem to have the power in bed, the reality will always be the same. You can’t let yourself forget that.

You let out a slow breath, turning back to the dough that’s been fighting you for the past half hour. “I’m with you on that one,” you concede. “We live in completely different worlds.”

Silence settles between you as you continue kneading at your dough, previous fire dawdled away. 

“Damn it,” you hear her mutter before some shuffling. “I have to go. I’m supposed to pick a basket of fruits and deliver it to the throne room. Apparently the Princess that is to be wed to the Crown Prince is to arrive tomorrow.”

You hum as she goes for the door. But then she stops, and you hear her gentle voice asking, “You’re doing okay?” You pause as her voice wraps around your heart like the warm embrace of a family you’ve never had. “Eating enough? Staying out of trouble?”

You laugh bitterly to yourself at her question. If only she knew.

But you lift your head and give her your best grin. “So far, so good.”

“Keep it that way,” she warns despite the smile tugging on her lips. “You’ve always had an aptitude for causing chaos. Don’t let it get you fired or worse.”

You bite down on your lip to smother the actual smile that pulls on your lips. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve incited chaos that left her as a victim by association. You miss those simple days in the village.

“Go deliver your fruit,” you push, then tack on teasingly, “angel.” 

She shoots you the glare that you’ve grown to adore before slipping out of the kitchen and leaving you to your own, pondering devices.

Your smile immediately falls, sadness and dread looming over you at the thought of having to leave her. She’s still none the wiser of your plans. And you need to keep it that way.

No one can know that you plan to leave this life behind the first chance that you get.

𓆩⟡𓆪

In all honesty, you don’t get the time to seek Jongseob out. 

You see him here and there over the next week of preparations for the engagement, and all you can manage to share is a few secret, longing looks.

Every time you see those eyes, you’re reminded of what they looked like pleading for you. And every time, you’re instilled with the urge to have him that way again. But every time, you’re called away for duties that keep piling and piling.

Who knew feeding hundreds of greedy upperclassmen would be so much more difficult than a few handful of townsfolk at your old bakery?

You hope Prince Jongseob doesn’t think you’ve entirely abandoned him. But then again, does it matter? It’s not as if there were any agreements beyond mutual relief.

Though you can’t lie—all you’ve been able to think about through your grueling week is him. Getting him under you again, finding new ways you can break down the prince as nothing but shattered pieces in your hands before building him back up to your liking. 

That night in his bed didn’t just scratch your curious itch. It fueled a morbid desire that seemed to lay dormant in you until he opened your eyes to it. 

Now, you wanted nothing more than more. How much would the Prince crumble for you?

It distracts you from your main mission. You’ve only managed to swipe a mere few decorative combs and tiny pins that a lady wouldn’t bat an eye for if it went missing. Nothing nearly enough to where you want to be at this point if you plan to leave just after the wedding when you receive your final payment, if you decide to stick around for that long.

But the engagement ball is a box of treasure for you as you scour around with a platter in your hand. You’d joined the maids as an extra hand to serve the guests.

But with every bow and glass of wine given, you take inventory of the expensive pocket watches and heavy jewels sitting pretty on the guests, just begging for you to take them.

You mark a few targets in your head. The golden opportunity comes during the Prince and Princess’s dance, and you thank them for being such a spectacle as you close in on the Lady with the ruby bracelet you’ve been eyeing, standing by the sidelines and watching the dance completely enamoured.

You invade with a fresh glass of wine on your tray, just about to make your mark before a voice sounds behind you.

“You haven’t forgotten about me, have you?”

You gasp, whirling around to see Prince Jongseob standing behind you with his arms folded behind his back, an impassive look on his face.

He looks—good. His royal garments are fitted well enough to make you realize how broad his shoulders really are, his hair styled back with a few pieces framing his face. The shiny crown sitting atop his head couldn’t have enough garnets to sway your gaze from him.

“Your Highness,” you breathe, all too alert now of his watchful eye. 

He raises a brow at you, glancing over your shoulder. “I thought I’d find you lurking around here. It's practically a treasure box.”

That’s exactly what you thought.

You let out a stinted laugh, glancing around to make sure there aren’t any other eyes on you. You look back at Prince Jongseob to see him still watching you.

You raise the tray to him. “Would you like some wine?”

His gaze shifts down for a split second. “I don’t want wine,” he says in a low tone that makes you forget what it is you were doing in the first place.

But you quickly snap yourself out of it. You can’t let a pretty face distract you.

“Well then, it seems I can’t help you,” you hum, flashing him a quick, teasing smile before turning back to your task at hand.

You stop when he speaks again, quiet enough for the sound to carry only to you through the rising music. “I’ll be at the library,” he says. “If you were still curious about my dream.”

The tray quivers in your hand as you listen to his footsteps retreat.

You take a deep, steadying breath to soothe your racing heart. You suppose just one mark will do for today. As long as it’s an expensive one.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The ruby bracelet feels sharp against your bosom as you traipse wearily down the halls. 

If the Head Housekeeper found you sneaking off in the middle of service, she would have your head. But as long as you made it back for closing, you would be safe.

Though you’re more focused on what lies ahead for you. You can just picture it; the Prince sitting in his corner, anticipating your arrival, and wondering to himself whether or not you’d come.

It makes you preen to think you have him on such an edge without much effort.

But when you make your way to the far corner of the library, it’s vacant.

Your stomach drops. Have you been duped? To think you wasted such precious picking time for this.

You curse under your breath, turning to leave. And you go barreling right into a solid body, stumbling back with a sharp gasp as your eyes land on Jongseob’s smug face.

“I had a feeling you’d come,” he says simply, like he hadn’t just thrown your heart into a wringer.

You take a breath, stepping backwards. “What made you so sure this time?”

“Just a feeling,” he answers, taking a step forward.

You don’t know what it is about him right now. There’s an aura around him that demands, and you find yourself wanting to fall prey to it.

“I don't have much time,” you tell him through a swallow as your legs hit the table behind you.

“Good,” he mumbles, crowding into your space. “Because I don't have much patience.”

You’re not sure where he’s found this confidence. But you can’t wait to watch it crumble. 

His hands find your hips, easily lifting you onto the table as he slots himself between your knees. His eyes are a force of heat that stays locked steadily on yours. But you don’t miss the way his hands tremble as they slide down to your knees. 

“I had you just like this,” he murmurs, his eyes raking down your body. It takes you a moment to realize he’s retracing his dream. 

Then he slides his hands down further until they hook under the skirt of your dress. Warm palms press against your bare skin, leaving trails of heat as they slide back up your legs. They gather the skirt up around your hips before they pause at your thighs, shaky fingers kneading the flesh. 

“Every night since then the dream would come to me,” he says through a ragged breath, like he’s affected from simply recalling the memory, as his eyes trail back up to yours. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

You swallow under the weight of his gaze, a shaky gasp leaving you. 

Before you can speak, he lunges forward to crash his lips to yours in a searing, wanting kiss. 

His hands slip further up, fingers digging into your bare hips as he pulls you to the edge of the table. He drinks up the little noises that leave you as pushes his body to yours, leaving not a sliver of space between you as he presses you down to the table.

A small part of you wants to give into the pull to submit. The bigger, more prominent part of you detests the idea. 

You hook your legs around his waist, pulling him flush so you can feel the hard press of his arousal against yours. 

It gets a broken moan out of him at the sudden pressure, a sound that has your reeling already. You dig your hand into his hair and pull, licking your way into his mouth when he gasps. 

You can feel his composure crumbling bit by bit as he starts to give into his body’s instinct to grind mindlessly against you, too overwhelmed by the urge to seek any bit of pleasure to be controlled or calculated in his movements. 

You pull from the kiss, smiling up at his already flushed and blissed out face. 

“You’re too easy, Your Highness,” you taunt, your free hand moving to grasp his collar to pull him back in. 

But he rebels against your pull and holds still, gaze sharpening down at you. “I told you to call my name,” he grits.

You use the hand in his hair to tug again, preening at the way his eyes roll back and his hips stutter against you. “Apologies, Jongseobie.”

You yank him back into the kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue, before you let your hand wander down his body to unclasp his trousers. 

The effect is immediate as you slide your hand in to grasp him, hard and hot and throbbing against your palm. 

His entire body jerks at the feeling, pulling from the kiss to instead bury his face in your neck as a choked moan spills from his lips. 

“You’re so sensitive,” you coo, deceptively sweet while you let your hand slide along him in an agonizing drag. 

He shudders through his body, nails digging into the skin of your hips where his hands still lay latched on. 

You giggle at the helpless little noises that pass him. “So responsive too.” 

You turn your head to press a kiss to the apple of his flushed cheek, your hand picking up a steady pace that has him twitching and leaking into your palm with every upstroke. 

“Is this it, Jongseob?” You hum against his ear. You feel a little manic at how easily he’s succumbed to you. “You’re going to let a maid defile you?”

“N-No, I—“ He breaks off with a loud whine as you twist your fist, his cock pulsing with the threat of release. 

You laugh, letting your other hand scratch down into his scalp. “Are you going to come already?”

He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily into your neck. You quicken the pace of your fist but his hand suddenly latches around your wrist, stopping you midstroke. 

He takes a breath to settle his trembling body, lifting his head to drop it down against yours. “No,” he says firmly, bleary eyes locking onto your inquisitive ones. “Not until I fuck you.”

Heat threads through your body at his bold declaration. You find yourself wanting nothing more. 

So you let him go, pulling your hand off of him to brace against his bicep. “Fuck me then.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

You hold his gaze as he reaches between you, your heavy breaths mingling as one as he guides himself against your folds. 

Your body trembles as you feel the tip of him slide through your slick, catching against your throbbing clit. 

He’s no better, breaths shaking at the sensation of you as he guides himself down to your entrance. 

The first push is agonizingly slow, and overwhelming enough for Jongseob’s weight to come crashing down to you. 

But you don’t fare better, the stretch of him even just halfway in leaving you gritting your teeth to hold in your noises. 

“Fuck,” Jongseob breathes, head dropping back down to your shoulder. “You’re—warm.”

A short whine spills from your lips when he pushes in further, the hand you still have in his hair tightening. 

Your walls pulse with need, practically pulling him in. The longer he goes without moving, the more you think you might go insane.

“Jongseob,” you pant, pressing your legs into his sides. “Move.”

“Give me a second,” he hisses.

He lifts his body after another moment, bracing one hand beside your neck on the table and using the other to hold you down as he pushes in as far as he can go with a groan, eyes squeezing shut as his head hangs low. 

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of finally being full, lips parting in a deep moan when you feel him caress the deepest parts of you as he gives an experimental roll of his hips, cursing under his breath. 

Then he pauses, and you nearly move to flip him over and take rein, but then he pulls almost all the way out just to slam back in. 

The force of his thrust bucks your body up the table, ripping a cry from your throat as his entire body shudders over you. 

You expect that to be it, but then he’s digging your hips down into the table and fucking into you with an intensity that leaves you completely breathless. 

Your hands scramble to hold down onto the table, your body tossing up with each of his rough, albeit a little clumsy, thrusts. 

Your eyes threaten to roll back with each pulse of pointed pleasure, struggling to hold his gaze that stays fixed on you with a surprising level of composure as he drinks in every little shift of your expression. 

But with the way he pulses in you, you don’t expect him to last much longer. And you don’t want to be left behind, so you reach a hand between you to bring yourself up in tandem with him but his hand catches you again, pinning your wrist down to the table as he fixes you with a hard look. 

“Don’t.”

You want to protest as his pace falters down, but then his thumb is pressing right into your clit and every complaint dies on your tongue. 

The sharp strike of pleasure has your body bowing off the table with a gasp, sent into intoxicated tremors as his thumb starts to circle the pulsing nub. 

The coil in your gut burns hotter when he starts fucking you again, hasty and unyielding. 

“Who’s defiling who now?” He breathes, and you don’t have enough mind to fire back, too muddled out by the unrelenting pleasure. 

It’s a free fall from there, a desperate chase of release as he fucks into you with renowned vigour, driving both you and himself to the precipice. 

The hand not pinned under his claws into his bicep as you feel your body tremble with the threat of release. It goes unsaid as he doubles down, flicking his thumb rapidly against you as he fucks you through your tremors. 

He falls with you, stuttering and spilling into you before his body gives out all at once, the weight of him pressing you down as you both heave through your afterglow. 

The air remains heavy and charged as he breathes into your neck, lips ghosting against your skin as he whispers, 

“My room. Tomorrow night.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

The days that come remain the same. For the most part.

You wake up, work like a peasant for people you can’t stand, swipe a few shiny things to add to your slowly growing collection, and repeat. Except now, you spend most of your nights keeping Prince Jongseob’s bed warm. 

It’s nothing but a primal chase of pleasure and relief, minimal words spoken between you before you get him under you. 

It stays just that, an unspoken agreement to seek each other out whenever the need strikes. 

It’s something you can manage between your duties and your own mission. And listening to your friend’s daily grousing about her issues with her own prince.

“Seriously, I just don't understand him. I mean, how can someone go from unbearably amorous to so standoffish in such a short time? I know I yelled at him but, seriously, I can't be that intimidating,” she huffs, then pauses a breath, her next words coming with more thought and heft she probably means for them to have. “I wish he'd just say what he's thinking instead of being so cryptic. It's making me anxious.” 

You drop a few more fresh strawberries into the basket at your feet, mulling over her words. There has to be more to her feelings than just surface level irritation. But you’re not exactly sure this is the best atmosphere to pry into it all. Not that she’d appreciate it. 

“Well I don't think he can just confess his undying love and affection to you after you hurt his little heart, now can he?" You say instead, satisfied with your pivot when your friend blooms into a musical giggle. 

“I suppose he is more sensitive than I thought,” she hums. “Enough about my grievances. What about you? You seem different. You’re all… mellow.”

“I’m always mellow,” you insist as you move onto the next bush, kneeling down to parse through for ripe berries. 

She scoffs, loud and judging. “Right. And I’m in love with Keeho.”

“Aren’t you?”

You hiss at the sharp kick to your lower back, swinging around to swipe at her ankle but she quickly jumps away. 

She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at you. You turn back to your bush, huffing. You consider telling her about your latest escapades, but with her judgements about Prince Keeho, you can’t imagine she would be at all accepting of your little trysts. 

Would she understand that Prince Jongseob isn’t at all like his snootish brothers? That he actually tends to you after each night that you give yourself to him just as he gives himself to you? That he doesn’t just demand things of you, but waits to be deserving of them?

That you find yourself wanting to uncover him more and more with each night that you slip away into his quarters?

Like some sort of demon invoked by just a thought of his name, you catch sight of him passing through the other side of the gardens. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as his gaze sweeps around, landing right on you. He falters in his track, and it feels like the yards of distance between you are nothing as your eyes catch. 

You hear your name being called, but you don’t respond. You feel like you can’t. Until Jongseob’s gaze moves away from you, his attention pulling towards the older maid who passes by struggling to lug along a heavy looking basket. 

Jongseob immediately moves to take it from her, giving her a reassuring smile as he helps to escort her and the basket inside. The sight warms you in a way you don’t expect. 

You’re pulled from your pleasant musings by a sharp, dramatic gasp. 

“You have a crush!”

You blink rapidly, smoothing away the smile you didn’t realize had pulled on your lips before looking up at your friend incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“On Prince Jongseob!” She whispers, dropping down to kneel beside you with her eyes wide. Frantically, she presses her palm to your forehead and your neck. “Are you ill? Do you have a fever?”

You swat her hands away, scrunching your face at the ridiculousness. “No, I don’t, stop that!”

She pulls her hands back to herself but she doesn’t relent. “I saw the way you looked at him. He’s cute and all but I didn’t expect you of all people to feel that way for the likes of him.”

You scowl at her, grabbing your basket and lifting up to your feet. “I don’t,” you snap before you start marching towards the back doors. 

You don’t have enough berries for your tarts but you’d rather come back out here later than take another moment of your friend’s interrogation. 

“Just be careful, okay?” She says, still shadowing behind you as you weave your way to the kitchen. “I’d hate to see you get hurt by someone like him.”

You sigh to yourself. 

No, she wouldn’t understand. 

No matter. It's not like you have actual feelings for him. And it’s not like it’s anything serious or any grand, permanent change in your life. You’ll just keep it to yourself.

𓆩⟡𓆪

But he makes it difficult to keep things on the low. Because he’s started showing up more and more in your daily routine. 

He starts appearing in the kitchen before breakfast, hovering around you.

“Do you need any help?” He asks you each time. 

And you tell him no each time, caught up in the flurry of helping prepare breakfast for the royal bunch. 

And each time, without fail, he’ll still help you carry things to the dining room. 

You gave up trying to swat him away. He’s stubborn, you learn, just like the rest of his family. But honestly, it’s an extra hand that you get and his company isn’t entirely terrible. 

Neither is the quiet commentary he grumbles under his breath about how dunce Prince Jiung is or how pretentious Prince Keeho is. 

And at some point you start welcoming the company throughout random points of your day. 

He’ll find you on your daily berry pickings, keeping a respectable distance as you recount your daily grievances about the arrogant nobles and mannerless guests you come across. In turn, he gives you the gossip involving  each name you bring up. 

“You know,” you start, dropping fresh berries into the basket he holds before moving onto the next bush. “With all that intel you have on these people you could probably use it to blackmail them or barter business deals.”

He snorts, sifting through the basket to pick out a large blackberry. “Taeyang has a strict no-babies-at-the-business-table policy,” he says drily before popping the berry in his mouth. 

You reach out to whack him but he swiftly evades it. “If the baby keeps eating all my harvest then I’d understand why,” you huff, pulling the basket back. “Is His Royal Assness aware you’re a grown man?”

He laughs, curling in on himself a little. You note the way his bangs have grown enough to brush over his eyes at the movement. “Please do me a favour and go tell him that yourself.”

You roll your eyes, standing up and starting back to the castle. “You want me fired.”

He catches up to fall in step behind you. “Why would I want that? Then I would have no other person in this wretched place.”

You falter at his words. You’d expected him to make a comment about how he’d have no one else to keep his bed warm or something along those lines. 

You stop, turning to face him, and he stops too, meeting your curious look with one of his own. 

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, heart hammering for reasons beyond your understanding.

A faint pink brushes the apples of his cheeks. He averts his gaze, lifting a hand to scratch nervously at the back of his head. “It means what it means,” he says meekly. He gives you a small, shy smile before he turns and brushes past you. 

You’re left there standing in the corridor, wondering if your arrangement might mean something different to him than it means to you.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You don’t get much time to think about it, nor do you get much time to visit Jongseob, because you get caught up in the next few days preparing a dessert sampler menu for the Crown Prince and Princess to taste test for their wedding. 

You’re caught up in the flurry of preparing different custards and toppings, testing new recipes and old to prepare items that might be suitable for their liking, when Jongseob strides in, eyeing the mess that is your kitchen. 

“Either something is going very wrong or very right,” he remarks. 

“Very wrong,” you grit, vigorously whipping the cream in your bowl despite your arm crying out in strain. You’ve been at this for hours and you’re nowhere near a selection, and the tasting is tomorrow.

He walks close enough that you feel him peering over your shoulder. “What’s the mission this time?” 

“Dessert tasting,” you say, dropping the bowl onto the counter with a clatter and a huff, rolling out your strained arm. “I need a menu and I’m pretty sure my taste buds are giving out on me from being burned one too many times and I have too many recipes to try out and not enough time and all I know is that nothing is—“

You cut off with a yelp as you’re turned around, Jongseob’s hands taking claim of your biceps as he holds you to face him. 

“Take a breath,” he tells you, looking far too amused at your spiralling. 

You huff, pushing his hands off of you. “I’ll take a breath when I’ve gotten something useful done.”

“I’ll help,” he offers, and before you can protest that he’s a nightmare at cooking (he’s never picked up a spatula in his life), he moves over to the notebook you have sprawled open to the side and scribbled with about a hundred recipes you’ve gathered throughout your years. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him pick up the notebook and flit through the pages. 

“Helping,” he states, then pauses at a page to critically eye its contents. “Taeyang hates vanilla. So anything with vanilla as the main profile, get rid of it.”

You blink. That cuts your options down by almost fifty percent. 

“He likes fruits,” he adds after looking through a few more pages.

By some miracle, you can actually start to visualize the spread now.

You glance around, cursing under your breath. You shouldn’t have put off fruit picking for later. 

Seeming to catch onto your dilemma, Jongseob puts the notebook down and picks up your basket you have tucked away at the far corner. 

“Tell me what you need,” he says, then waits patiently for your order while all you do is stare at him. 

Safe to say, without Jongseob, you wouldn’t be standing here before the Crown Prince and Princess with a neat array of freshly made desserts. 

Jongseob waits off to the side with the same anticipation as you. He had been quite the help in the making of everything so you suppose this is for his own approval as well as it is for you.

“I like the lemon tart,” the Princess says and the grin that stretches on Jongseob’s lips is almost as wide as your own.

But his falters when Prince Taeyang announces his distaste. “It’s too sour.”

“That’s what makes it good,” the Princess argues, which sets them off into another one of their infamous quarrels.

“Of course you’d like the sour stuff.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s the saying? You are what you eat?”

You have to stifle your own laugh at the cheeky, almost lovesick, grin that pulls on Prince Taeyang’s lips while the Princess turns to Jongseob with a huff.

“How have you dealt with this for your whole life?” She asks him.

Jongseob lets out a small laugh, amusement tinkling through the sound. “I’d consider myself lucky that I can’t remember a lot of it,” he says lightly. “I’d offer you advice but I don’t think anything would be enough to prepare you for a lifetime with him.”

It's an easy and entirely unserious jab. But it feels like some sort of trigger has been set off by those simple words, because Prince Taeyang tenses.

“As if it’s any easy with you around,” he snipes with a tongue that’s sharper than you think is necessary. You tense as Jongseob’s face falls, a quiet rage starting to simmer under your skin as the Prince continues. “I don’t understand why you’re here anyways, you’re not needed. Shouldn’t you be playing with your little guard boy?”

Jongseob doesn’t let the comments slide unchallenged. “I didn’t realize you ran the kitchen as well, Your Majesty,” he sneers with an anger you don’t expect from him. You feel a strange sense of pride as he meets Prince Taeyang’s glare with his own. “Excuse me for traipsing in your untouchable presence.”

He doesn’t wait to give Prince Taeyang another chance, marching out of the kitchen. You desperately want to follow but your duty keeps you glued to the floor.

You glare at the floor instead of at the Prince. You’d always known he was arrogant but to see him treat his own like that just confirms everything you suspected of his kind.

“I vote for red velvet for the cake,” you hear him say without any real commitment.

You only acknowledge him with a stiff nod. As soon as he leaves, the Princess follows, and you take your chance to flee the kitchen in search of Jongseob.

You find him where you expect, tucked away in the corner of the library with his head in his hands.

You don’t approach him just yet, watching him instead from a distance. His slow breaths and his quiet mutters take up the space.

“He really is an ass,” you finally say. He doesn’t jump, doesn’t react—as if he was already expecting you.

He doesn’t respond either, just turns his head to look out the window that spills the late afternoon sun over him.

You move closer to take a seat on his table. There’s a spot amongst his books and papers that’s always cleared for clutter and ready for you.

“Is he always like that?” You ask him gently. 

You’re not sure why you’re here, why you feel the need to comfort him. But you suppose after all his help, it's the least you can do.

He gives a slight nod of his head before silence ensues again. You don’t disrupt it.

You had the inkling that he was always pushed to the side by his family. He never seemed to interact with them much outside of mealtimes but you figured it was voluntary.

But now that you think back on the way Jongseob had seemed so eager for his brother’s response to the taste test, you surmise your judgments might not have been correct.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” he finally murmurs. 

You lean forward, inching into his space. “Why?” He doesn’t acknowledge you, still keeping his eyes out the window. “Is there some sort of reputation you want to hold in front of me?” You ask lightly. “Some sort of image? To impress me?”

When the corner of his lips quirk up, you feel a surprising sense of satisfaction. Like getting a mere reaction out of him was some monumental deal. “It doesn’t take much to impress you.”

You gasp, feigning offense as you knock your foot against his knee. “Are you saying I have low standards? Because that’s more telling of you, not me.”

The sound of his laughter is enough to lift the foreboding weight of melancholy you’d started feeling for him. 

“I suppose it is.”

Your hand reaches out as if answering it’s calling, reaching over to brush a stray strand of his hair back. His eyes flutter at the touch as he leans into it. 

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask quietly, dropping your voice an octave. It’s not uncommon that you use each other as a way to relieve stress. 

He hums in thought, eyes fluttering open to watch your face for a moment. Then he leans forward even further into your space and lays his head on your lap, moving your hand with his to lay it in his hair. 

“Just this,” he says in a small voice. 

It leaves you stunned for a moment as you watch him shut his eyes and get comfortable in your lap. But you find yourself giving in, letting your fingers card through the soft tresses. 

A warm burst of adoration fills your chest at the sight. He looks so small. Vulnerable in a way you haven’t had him before.

You don’t know how long you sit there watching him for because before you know it, his breaths give away to quiet snores. 

The realization hits you with a spike of cold—that you wouldn’t mind having him like this and not just for purely transactional purposes. 

But it can’t be that way. 

So you slip out from under him, slow and careful as you rest his head against the table, before you pad away and leave him behind. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

Jongseob shouldn’t be surprised to wake up alone. But that doesn’t stop him from wishing you’d stayed. 

He lifts his head with a groan, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead from being pressed to the cold table for who knows how many hours. 

He knows he shouldn’t wish for anything more when it comes to you, despite how much he wanted it. He was almost entirely sure you were looking for a bit of fun during your gruelling time at the castle. 

But he’s never had something like this before—something to call his own in a home that doesn’t feel much like home. 

But it’s a foolish thought, isn’t it? His own family can’t put in the energy to be involved with him, or care enough to keep him involved with them. So why would you?

He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s scraps of attention from a woman he doesn’t really know much at all about. And it’s clear that you want to keep it that way. 

He may be pathetic enough to want more, but he’s not pathetic enough to grovel for it. If he’s being taken advantage of, he might as well make his own advantage too. 

His advantage may not take form in what typically might be considered advantage, but it’s the thing he craves most.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You’re not sure where Jongseob’s sudden bout of affectionate behaviour comes from, but it’s become an increasing presence in your daily routine.

It takes form in little things—the secret brush of a hand as you pass by him in hallways, the soft, lingering looks from across your kitchen during the times he hovers, the brush of his lips against your ear as he whispers for you to meet him in the library, his hand holding yours as he speaks to you in tucked away corners of the castles. The kisses just to… kiss. Not to lead into anything salacious or heated, but just a quick press of lips because he can. And you allow it.

And most recently… well.

You press into his body, pushing him further into the crowded shelf behind him. His hands find your hips, grasping onto you tightly as he whimpers thinly under your kiss.

Your hands curl into his collars as you start to mouth down his jaw, slotting your leg between his to push against his growing hardness, and he chokes out your name in response.

“Yes?” You hum, nipping at the hinge of his jaw as he lets out a shuddered breath.

To your confusion, he peels you gently off of him before he brings one hand to your chin to lift you into another kiss. But this one is much softer.

“That’s not what I called you up here for,” he murmurs, smiling at the furrow that grows between your brows.

You blink, trying to come down from the thrumming tension that had started growing under your skin. “Then… What did you call me for?”

His smile widens into something more fond as his arms snake around your waist. “Just this,” he whispers, before bringing you into another gentle, fluttering kiss.

It's not unlike ones he’s been favouring these days. Ones that you can’t really seem to resist.

You can’t help but smile into the kiss, at the flutter that it makes your heart feel. It’s nice. Even if it’s not what you’ve been seeking out, it feels nice to just be held with no other intent.

“You seem different these days,” you think aloud when he finally pulls back enough to let you speak.

There’s still a tiny smile on his lips as he tilts his head at you, brushing back a stray lock of your hair. The gesture affects you more than it should. “Do I?”

“You seem… light, I suppose,” you say, watching as his smile turns shy. “I catch you smiling to yourself now. You used to look a little like a dark cloud.”

He simply laughs, shaking his head as he pulls himself off of the shelf and steps away from you, opting instead to take your hand. “Can I show you something?”

That something just so happens to be a room tucked away in a corner of a barren wing of the castle, riddled with paintings and looking like it’s a bit lost in time.

His mother’s old art room, he told you.

You pace around the quiet space, taking in the images on the wall lit golden by the late afternoon sun.

“These are beautiful,” you say, turning over to where he stands by the window and watches you with a soft smile. “She was very talented.”

He hums, nodding as he makes his way back over to you.

“I used to spend a lot of my childhood here. With her,” he explains, glancing past you at the walls. “She was the person I was closest to in my family.”

The way he speaks of her makes a strange melancholy settle in your chest, aching for something that you never had. Something that Jongseob once did, but no longer.

His eyes reflect that same pain as he looks back at you.

“Whenever I feel lost, or untethered to the people around me, I find my way here,” he says, stepping into the space in front of you. “To feel closer to my mother. To what I had, I suppose.” He places his hands at your sides, gathering you in his arms. His eyes hold you with a gentleness and a devotion you don’t think anyone has ever held you with. “Now I come to you.”

When he kisses you, you let yourself fall into the fantasy—that he could be your getaway just as you are his.

𓆩⟡𓆪

It hits you that this fantasy could never be yours. You’re reminded of why you came here in the first place—to leave.

And you have your ticket right here in your hands, the chance that you’ve been waiting for your entire journey here.

A necklace built of emeralds and garnets worth enough money for a humble lifetime.

Prince Jiung, who had been caught up in the distressed state of his sister who had just faced death, had placed it right in your hands. Among all the chaos, no one else had seen you slip away with it. 

You’ve never been handed things in your entire life. Except now, for the thing that matters most.

So why does it feel like the hardest thing to take?

You mull over it for days in your own chambers, spend countless sleepless nights clutching the small case in your chest as you build the plans in your head to make a break for it.

You could slip away like you always do. You’ve been one to meld with the shadows effortlessly. It’s what you’ve been doing your whole life.

So why does it now of all times feel like the most difficult thing to do?

You have an inkling what the answer might be. But you don’t let yourself even think about such a possibility.

No. You tell yourself that you will stay for just a little longer to make some more money from the castle before you can finally flee like you’d planned to.

That’s why you tell yourself you’ll be staying. No other reason.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You’ve been avoiding him, and Jongseob can’t understand where he went wrong. 

It eats away at him, because he thought he’d finally gotten someplace good with you. You’ve been responsive to his affections. If your arrangement with him had been fully physical for you, surely you would have pulled away earlier. Why now?

So when Shota brings you up when Jongseob had gone to visit him while he recovered from an attack protecting his sister, Jongseob doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, like you and your little baker?” Shota snipes from where he’s leaning back on his bed in the medic room, cleaning up a bowl of rice.

Jongseob blanks, his body growing cold. What had they even been talking about? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters quickly, averting his eyes as he clears his throat and straightens himself.

“Sorry to say but you’re not exactly subtle with your lovey eyes,” Shota adds with a giggle.

He feels his insides crumble a little. Maybe he’d been too forward with his affections. Of course you would run from that. Gods, is he really always so needy?

He grits his teeth at the thought. He’s not surprised if that were why his own family distanced themselves, if he’s so overbearing for even a lover.

“They’re not lovey eyes,” he snaps, feeling his defenses grow rigid over his body.

“What is it then?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. What even is it? There’s nothing to label. You’re not his the way he is yours. There’s no name for that.

The realization makes him deflate. “It’s nothing at all,” he says, as honest an answer he’ll be able to give.

He can feel Shota’s eyes growing concerned, and his defenses grow even more, his shoulders raising as he curls into himself. He hates pity.

“Seob—”

He’s about to denounce Shota himself until his sister bursts through the door, unannounced and ill-mannered as usual.

“You’re still here?” She asks like it’s such a displeasure to have him in her presence, and his instinct is to scowl and claw at her.

But he quickly reels himself in with a deep breath, forcing those feelings to bottle away in that little pocket of self-destruction he’s created for himself deep in his chest.

He simply glares at her instead, scoffing as he rises to his feet. “As if you don’t hog him for practically every hour of the day.”

“Don’t you have a maid to play with?” She retorts icily and that makes his composure waver.

The urge to fight sears through before, once again, he reels it back in at the last second and breathes. “Whatever,” he mumbles, pushing past her for the door.

Shota’s voice stops him before he can leave. “Jongseob.”

Jongseob pauses, glancing over his shoulder at his only friend.

He doesn’t have to say anymore for Jongseob to decipher the look in his eye. I’m here.

Jongseob feels the tension in his heart loosen just a bit. Shota’s been the only one in the world who can tell when he’s in need of a hand. Even if he never asks for it, never takes it, Jongseob appreciates its presence. He appreciates Shota’s presence. 

But it still doesn’t feel like enough to make his smile reach his eyes. “I know,” he says, before letting the door shut behind him.

He’s not sure anything will be enough, he realizes as he makes his way up to his mother’s room. Maybe except you.

And he realizes as he wallows in his miseries, tucked away in his lonesome in the dark room, that his need for you has transcended the simple ache for companionship.

He doesn’t just want you at his side to hold him or let him weep on your shoulder.

He wants you to love him, just as he’s started loving you.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The realization makes your absence feel even more devastating than it already was. It suffocates him until he starts feeling blue and numb to his fingers at not having you near him. It’s been two weeks now that he's had a proper conversation with you, and you can try to dress it up as being busy with work as much as you’d like, but there’s only so many excuses he can take until his sadness turns to anger.

If you’re done with him, then so be it. But he needs to hear it from you.

So he finds you in the gardens, tucked away behind tall berry bushes as you harvest for the day.

You seem perfectly at ease, humming to yourself as you sift through raspberries at a languid pace, like you haven’t got a worry in the world.

Busy, he scoffs.

He glances around to clear the coast before he makes his way to you.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You gasp, bristling at his sudden voice, and he captures your waist before you can turn around, pushing himself against your back.

“Y-Your Highness,” you stammer, and the name makes his blood boil hotter and his fingers dig into you harder.

He can correct that later.

He leans down, pulling your body firmly against his, his lips brushing against your reddened ear as he speaks. “My room, tonight,” he whispers. “Don’t make me have to come find you again.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

The command had shaken you to your core, lingering in your veins as you went about your day with your hands shaky in anticipation.

You have been ignoring him. If only to push away the truth you’ve been neglecting yourself to face.

But it seems like you don’t have much choice now. He’ll come looking for you regardless if you try to evade him again.

Besides, something about the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d grabbed you, made you want to comply.

It might just be your body talking. It had been a while since you’d had him under you, and with how often it was and how jarring the sudden shift to nothing had been, you couldn’t exactly be blamed.

So you pretend it's just that that led you to sneaking to his room in the late hours, and not that tiny thing in your heart that’s been missing something more.

His door is unlocked, like it always is. So you let yourself slip in, shutting and locking it quietly behind you as you let yourself peer around.

He’s nowhere to be seen. 

Frowning, you step further into the room, glancing around. 

“Jongseob?” You call, wrapping your arms around yourself at the chilly night air. “Is this some sort of intimidation tactic?”

“Not a tactic.”

You whip around at his voice, heart jolting when you see him stepping out of his bathroom wearing just some slacks as he towels at his damp hair. 

His skin glistens over his lean muscles, and it takes great effort to keep your eyes up on his face. 

He takes in your rigid posture with slow, searching eyes like that of a predator sizing its prey. It makes a subtle heat rest low in your belly. 

The air around him is different tonight. 

You nearly step back when he drops his towel on the back of a chair, turning to saunter over to you. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say to me?” He asks, stopping a couple steps in front of you. His voice is deep, sharpened with an edge that lets you know he’s far from pleased. 

You shouldn’t be surprised—you’d left him hanging with no explanation. But you didn’t have much of a choice. You just don’t know how to explain it to him without giving something away. 

“I apologize, Your Highness, I’ve been busy—“

“Wrong.”

You blink, taken aback by his tone. “Excuse me?”

He lets out a sharp breath like he’s annoyed. “Be honest with me,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching down. “Do you wish to terminate our arrangement?”

Your eyes widen. “No!” You say instinctively, then pause. Of course that’s not what you want. Even though you’ve been acting according to the exact opposite. 

“Then what is this?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. 

You’ve been trying to bury these feelings, but they come out now that he’s standing right in front of you. You don’t want this to stop. 

He takes a step forward when you don’t respond, crowding into your space. You take a step back but he only closes that distance again. 

“I think I know what it is,” he murmurs quietly, eyes falling to your lips, and your heart does a traitorous flip. 

You try to take another step back but it’s a fruitless attempt. “What do you think it is?” You ask him despite the way your voice quivers. 

“I think you’re scared,” he whispers, and you feel your stomach fall when your back hits the wall. He stops in front of you, just barely an inch from your body. 

He hovers against you like a tempting thing, your fingers prickling to reach out and touch. 

“I think you’re scared of what’s growing between us. So you pulled away.”

There’s truth to his words. But you can’t acknowledge them.

“There’s nothing growing between us, Your Highness,” you tell him, forcing your voice into an even thing. Even if you don’t mean them, they have to seem real. 

His expression falters, a split second of something inexplicable, before it falls back into that indifference you saw of him in those first few weeks. 

“Is that so?” He asks, his eyes trailing down to your body. “Is that why you’re trembling?”

You squeeze your hands into fists at your sides, trying to force your body to still but it’s a weak effort. 

He takes a slow, calculated breath before lifting his gaze to yours again. 

It’s cold. Distant. Different than you’ve grown used to from him. 

“Okay,” he says. “Then let it be nothing.”

You frown, brows stitching together in confusion. “What do you—“

“Let it mean nothing,” he says, his hand reaching behind your waist for the tie of your apron. You take a sharp breath when he pulls the strings undone and peels it off of you, tossing it to the side, uncaring of where it lands. “Let it mean nothing,” he repeats, his voice hollow as he reaches again for the zipper of your dress. “But don’t you dare pretend like I don’t exist.”

You remain frozen under his icy stare as the zipper comes undone, unmoving while he waits for your response as he reaches for the shoulders of your dress. 

His hands pause there. “Understand?” He asks you with the same ice to his tone. 

You swallow, feeling your body heat despite it. “Understand.”

The dress pools to your ankles, leaving you in the thin slip that does nothing to shield you from the cold. 

His gaze drops to the way your nipples pebble under the garment, his ice melting away to heated desire in an instant. 

This would be the time you step in and take over. But right now, you feel nothing more than the desire to drop to your knees for him. 

“On your knees,” he tells you, and your eyes widen at the prospect of him having somehow read your mind. 

“What—“

He clicks his tongue sharply. “Did I say you could speak?” Your mouth snaps shut. “Get. On. Your knees.”

You fall to your knees, wide eyes peering up at him as he looks down at you with some sort of dissatisfaction. His hands work to undo his trousers with sharp but languid movements. 

He pulls himself out in his hand, stroking slowly, and you watch feeling completely trapped by his every move. 

Your mouth falls open when he steps closer, but he pulls right back when your hands reach for his thighs. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me.”

You close your mouth, cheeks burning. His tone isn’t anything particularly harsh, but the way he commands you, the finality of his words, leaves no space for disobedience. 

You place your hands under your thighs, trapping them there and he hums in satisfaction. 

Then he moves forward again, prodding the tip of his cock against your lips, and you drop your mouth open again. 

But he doesn’t slide inside. Instead, he smears the moisture beaded at his tip along your lower lip, teasing you for moments that leave you waiting and a little humiliated at how he toys at you with a tiny little smirk on his lips. 

“What is it?” He asks you, raising a brow. But you say nothing. 

He laughs, but it’s mocking. 

“What, nothing to say to me now?” He slides himself in just to prod at your tongue before pulling out to tease against your lip again. 

You make a soft noise at the salt that bursts on your tongue. Your jaw starts to ache just a little, but still you keep silent. 

He hums, flattening the palm of his free hand against your crown and holding you in place. “What a shame,” he mutters, then slides his cock into your mouth to the hilt, ignoring the way you gag as he pushes you into his pelvis. 

You choke around his length as he pushes into the back of your throat, tears prickling at your eyes at the sudden intrusion, but you get no chance to recover. 

Because then he’s fucking into your throat in earnest, groaning lowly at the warmth of your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, not bothering to show any mercy to you as you struggle to take him. “I think I prefer you like this,” he adds with a breathy, broken laugh.

The tears waste no time to trickle down your cheeks, your nails digging into your thighs as you force yourself to take it. The words sting more than they should. 

But the sting gives way to the throbbing ache that settles between your hips at the pure bliss that overtakes his features as he keeps fucking into the wet heat of your mouth, eyes squeezes shut and head tilted back. 

You feel his cock twitching in your mouth after not too long, and you’re convinced he’d just use your mouth and send you on your way. 

But just before he can tip off the edge, he pulls out and leaves you coughing and gasping for breath. 

He doesn’t give you time to recover, reaching down to grab your elbow and pull you up to your feet. 

“Take that off,” he tells you, voice gruff as he bullies you towards the bed. 

You stumble along on weak knees, tugging off your slip on the way and letting it flutter to the floor. 

He grabs your waist before you can reach the bed, manhandling you there himself before he bends you over the edge, pushing you down with a hand between your shoulder blades.

You yelp, body jostling against the sheets at the harsh treatment, but he doesn’t even give you the chance to settle properly before he shoves his cock into the heat of your slick cunt. 

It burns after weeks of nothing. Not that he seems to care, because he starts fucking you with the same vigour that he’d been fucking your mouth. 

You scramble to fist into the silks, grabbing onto anything you can as your body thrashes under his harsh thrusts. 

Your moans go muffled into the sheets when his hand pushes your head down, the other digging into your hip to hold you down as he pounds into you. 

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a single word to you as he takes what he wants. 

And you’re helpless to give. 

The humiliation of it, feeling like you’re just a toy for his pleasure, feels as head-spinning as it did to use him like he was just a vessel for your pleasure. 

And despite it all, despite the subtle pain that lingers between all the pleasure, both physical and emotional, you find yourself wanting to give even more. 

He fucks your orgasm out of you and drives you into overstimulation with no care as he chases his own pleasure, grunting and gasping through it as he finally reaches it and spills into you. 

When he pulls out, ripping away the heat of him and leaving you cold, he keeps you held down with his hand on your neck as he breathes himself back into his body. And you just lay there, trembling from the aftermath and leaking with him. 

You gasp when you feel two of his slender fingers brush over your sensitive skin, gathering his seed as it spills out of you only to push it back into your fluttering walls. 

“Come back tomorrow night.”

Your stomach falls. He always asks you to stay. 

But you suppose you’ve lost that privilege now. So you gather your things and put yourself back together, stepping out of your room feeling like you’ve just lost a piece of yourself. 

You feel used. 

You wonder if that’s how he’s felt all this time with you.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The more nights you spend with Jongseob, the more you feel like you’re losing him. The more you feel like you’re losing yourself.

Each night it’s the same. Minimal words are spoken before he takes you as he wishes and then kicks you out of his room. 

And yet every night, you find yourself crawling back to him. 

You can’t bring yourself to leave. Because now more than ever, you realize you want more of him. You want more than this.

You’re not sure if he wants the same, if he ever did. 

And his distance, his cold shell—it’s still not enough to make you want to leave. 

It makes you want to stay. To have scraps of him, even if it’s just cold gazes and heartless sex. You want any of him, anything he’ll give you. 

And it hurts that he’s not giving you more. 

But you’d written this fate for yourself, had you not? By treating him like he was disposable, leaving him the second it became inconvenient for you, just like his family has done to him.

You deserve this.

So you keep letting yourself go back to him and you keep letting yourself be hurt by him.

You let his distance be your only company for your remaining time at the castle, right up until the moment you leave.

It's the night before the wedding. Well, morning of, now that it’s past midnight.

The night is restless with anticipation as servants put together the last bits of the ceremony together. It gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away amidst the chaos.

Your things are packed. The jewel case is attached to your waist, hidden under your cloak.

Everything is ready. 

And yet you still can’t do it.

Maybe it’s because you hadn’t let yourself see your friend for one last time. But you know that the second you see her, you’ll come clean about what you’ve done and what you’re about to do, and she won’t let you leave.

But you know deep down, it’s about him. You know you have to see him one more time.

So you wade through the castle feeling like a ghost. 

He’s not in his chambers or in the library, so you go to the one other place he could possibly be at.

And there he is, sitting at the window of his mother’s room, bathed in moonlight as he stares out the glass. The sight of him looks fitting enough to be one of the paintings up on the wall.

“Jongseob,” you breathe, letting the doors fall shut behind you.

For a second he looks almost grateful to be seeing you. But then he forces that same indifference he’s been wearing around you for two weeks now, and your heart crumbles just a little more.

“What are you doing here?” 

You swallow. You’re not sure. You can’t say goodbye so… you’re not quite sure what it is you’ve come to do. 

“I suppose… to just see you.”

He watches you for a moment before turning back to the window. “You can see me tomorrow at the wedding.”

His dismissal feels like the final blow to your heart. You lower your head, willing the tears away. 

“I may not be here for that,” you admit quietly.

The silence that follows is deafening, but you don’t look at him.

“So I was right,” he finally says, sounding more human than he has in a while. But you’re not sure if you prefer it, because now he just sounds pained. “You are leaving.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath to settle your trembling heart. “I was never meant to stay this long.”

“Then why did you?”

He sounds closer now. You lift your head to see him on his feet, a few steps closer but the distance still feels farther than anything you can close.

The tears make their way down your cheeks. 

“Because of you,” you whisper.

His face crumbles and his fists clench at his sides. “That can’t be true. It's like you said. We’re nothing.”

“I was lying,” you admit, wiping your cheeks but your eyes keep watering no matter how much you blink them away. “To you and to myself.”

His eyes start to glisten. “Why?”

“Because I knew if I let myself feel it, I would never be able to leave.”

“Then stay,” he says, begs as he starts moving towards you.

“I can’t.” 

He stops in his tracks. You turn away from him, shaking your head as you wipe your cheeks again. 

“I can’t stay here. I have nothing, Jongseob. I don’t have a family, I don’t really have a home. If I stay here, I’ll just be stuck slaving away for the rest of my life. I have no purpose here.”

“You have me,” he says quietly, like he’s unsure if it really means anything to you.

Your heart feels like it's on the brink of shattering. “And what good will that do me?” The words crush him, you can see it in his face. But you need to face reality, need him to face it too. “You said it yourself, Jongseob, you don’t have a home here either. These people do not treat you as your own. Everything that you have here, it’s not really yours, is it? What can you give me?”

He lowers his head, trembling with a bitter laugh. “I never have been enough for anyone, have I?”

“Jongseob, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right,” he cuts you off, lifting his gaze and you drop your hand that had been reaching out for him. He’s smiling now, and it’s not pained like you would expect. “You’re right. There’s not much here that I can give you.”

Then he steps forward, closing the distance himself to take your hand in his.

“Let me come with you.”

Your eyes widen, hand lying limply in his. “What?”

“Let me come with you,” he begs, taking your other hand and closing to space to press the heat of him against you. “We can start over in a place that wants us both. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you everything you deserve.”

Your head is starting to spin. Run away with him? The thought had never crossed your mind.

He senses your hesitation, but he only persists, holding your hands to his chest. “I have things that we can sell and we won’t have to worry about money for the rest of our lives. It’ll be just us.” He’s never looked at you as desperately as he is now, dark eyes glittering with tears, lips quivering with emotion. “We’ll both be free.”

You want nothing more. But it doesn’t change how things unravelled between you.

“I thought you hated me,” you whisper, and his expression crumbles.

“I was angry,” he admits, wrapping you in his arms. You rest your head against his chin, squeezing your eyes at the new wave of emotion that ebbs through you at his delicate touch. “But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You burrow yourself into him as a sob wracks through your chest, feeling his tears drip into your hair. You want to give into him. But your guilt doesn’t let you rest.

“I stole the necklace,” you whisper into his chest.

Jongseob feels himself freeze as the confession registers in his mind. 

Of course you had. Was he really so blindsided by you that he couldn’t put the dots together?

He pulls away from you, holding your shoulders. He aches at the fear in your eyes, refusing to look up at him.

“Do you have it with you?” He asks gently, then watches as you remove a case that’s a few inches long and fits in the circle of your fist out from the band around your waist.

He stares at the case, small and unassuming, the very thing that his older brothers have been searching for for the past month.

He’s seen the turmoil it’s given Taeyang, to not be able to give the gift he’d created for his wife. 

Jongseob could take it and bring it up to him. Maybe finally then he would do something right by his brother’s book.

But then he looks up at you, and realizes that there’s nothing more that he really needs.

Just as he’s about to tuck the case back into you, the doors to the room fly open. 

His head whips up to see Taeyang standing there looking completely disheveled and utterly furious as his eyes lock onto the case held out in your hand.

The moment stands still. Then Taeyang’s eyes snap up to you.

“You,” he hisses, moving towards you and Jongseob immediately pulls you behind his body, pushing you both back.

“Brother, wait!”

“Jongseob, move,” Taeyang snaps, piercing eyes still locked on you over his shoulder. “That filthy cretin—”

A surge of rage pierces through him. “Don’t!” Jongseob yells.

Taeyang falters, anger giving way to shock. He doesn’t recall raising his voice at his brother, maybe ever at all.

“You can’t hurt her,” he begs, anger quickly giving way to fear. Your body trembles against his and he pulls you closer against his back.

Taeyang grits his teeth, expression setting with a familiar anger he’s all too used to. “Who is she?”

“It doesn’t matter. I love her,” he says. He feels you tense against him. “And we’re leaving.”

“What are you talking—”

“It means we’re leaving,” he cuts in firmly, straightening his shoulders. “For good.”

Taeyang’s expression falters. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Jongseob thinks he actually sees a hint of remorse in his brother. But it isn’t enough for a lifetime of neglect. “What reason do I have to stay? None of you really respect me.”

Taeyang goes quiet, just staring at him. Even now, Jongseob can’t read him. He can read everyone but him. 

“You don’t have to leave,” Taeyang starts, stepping forward but Jongseob only steps back with you. Taeyang falters again, falling back. “I’m sorry, brother. I know my treatment of you has been unkind—”

“Unkind?” Jongseob hates that his voice cracks. But the years of emotion he’d been bottling up come rushing to the surface. “You ignored me my whole life. I get it, you’re a busy man, but I did nothing to deserve the way you treated me.” His head falls like the weight is too much to keep, his tears falling to the marble floor below. “All I wanted was to be seen by you. I didn’t think losing Mother would mean losing my entire family.”

He’s sobbing now, uncontrolled trembles wracking through his body. He loses his grip on you, on his own body but before gravity can take him, Taeyang’s hands are on his arms and holding him up.

“Jongseob,” he whispers, pressing a hand to Jongseob’s wet cheek.

Jongseob trembles against the touch, the first bit of warmth he’s ever felt from him.

“Go,” Taeyang says, and Jongseob lifts his head, blinking through the blear to be met with Taeyang’s own teary eyes. “I’ll give you everything you need. You deserve to be happy.” He glances over Jongseob’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you.”

Jongseob sniffles, pulling back and wiping his face. “You’re not upset?”

“I am,” he says with a small smile. “But you’re a man now. I can’t stop you from chasing what you want… Even if it is questionable.” Again, he looks over Jongseob’s shoulder and Jongseob feels a small fist clutch into the back of his shirt.

Jongseob forces himself to straighten and pull himself together even if it is just a semblance. “We’ll stay for the wedding,” he says. “But that’s it.”

Taeyang nods, a solemn look on his face as he takes a step back. “And my necklace?”

Jongseob pauses. Something tells him if he really wanted, he could demand for the necklace as well and his brother might just let it go. Which goes against everything he knows about Taeyang. 

He narrows his eyes. “Something’s different.”

Taeyang sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

Before Jongseob can grill him, he feels something prod into his hand. He looks down to see you slipping the case to him, and he grasps it, lifting to look over his shoulder at you but you slip behind him again to hide.

He smiles fondly before turning back to Taeyang, who’s watching with his brows raised.

“The baker, huh?” He asks, taking the case when Jongseob hands it over.

Jongseob flushes. “Not everyone has a grand childhood nemeses to lovers arc.”

It’s Taeyang’s turn to blush. “Right. Well, I wish you nothing but the best,” he says, giving him a rare, soft smile before he starts to step back towards the door. “Come see me after the wedding.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Saying goodbye to Shota feels harder than his own brothers. Especially when it’s Shota who’s the one bidding farewell not knowing it’s the other way around.

“Well, I’ll be off then,” Shota says, turning from the carriage to Jongseob with his eyes twinkling and a bright grin on his lips.

Jongseob’s spirits lift at his friend’s sunny disposition. He hates to have to ruin it.

“I knew the day would come,” he says, smiling back. “You deserve it, Shota. You’ll make the finest Knight.”

Shota flushes a little, punching his arm weakly. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I have you to thank.” He pauses. “Now will you tell me why you look so down?”

Jongseob’s smile falls. There’s really no hiding with Shota.

So he takes a breath and braces for the truth. “I… won’t be here when you return,” he says, heart falling just as Shota’s smile does. “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he sighs. “I suppose we’ll figure it out along the way.”

“We?” He tilts his head then realizes, eyes brightening. “Ah! The baker girl.”

Jongseob, despite himself, smiles. “Yeah. Her.”

Shota grins at him, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m happy you’ve found someone like that, Seob. You deserve a family.”

“You are family, Sho,” he says. His chest aches when his friend’s face falls again despite how hard he tries to keep up his smile. “I’m sorry to do this. But I just… I can’t be here. This life is just…”

“Not for you,” Shota finishes.

Jongseob’s shoulders slump. “No.”

“It never has been.” Shota places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, his lips pulling up into something happy and sad. “I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way.”

He scrunches his nose. “You’re proud of me for running away?”

“No,” he snorts. “I’m proud of you for finally going after what you want. Not just for your brothers, but for you.”

Jongseob quiets at that, letting himself be pulled into Shota’s crushing hug.

“Just don’t completely disappear. Write to me, okay?”

Jongseob smiles then, wrapping his arms around Shota and squeezing back. “I will.” He pulls back after a long moment, blinking back the tears that gather at his eyes. “Take care of my sister, yeah?”

Shota gives him a final smile and a final bow of his head. “Yes sir.”

He laughs softly, bidding him a final take care before he turns and wipes his eyes, letting his sister take his place.

His chest aches when she moves past him without a glance his way, but he pushes it away and moves forward. She doesn’t know, he reminds himself.

Jiung, who’d been waiting at the sidelines, grabs Jongseob’s arm before he can move past. 

“Jongseob,” he says. He looks like he wants to say something more than what he does, solemn eyes blinking rapidly, but apparently thinks better of it. “She’s waiting for you.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

You wait beside some secret exit, a carriage at one side and a nagging friend at the other.

“I mean, you’re sure about this, right?” She asks you as she checks your bags for about the hundredth time to make sure you have everything. “Running off with some prince? It feels a little hard to believe, like some fairytale in an awful romance novel.”

“Oh?’ You ask, folding your arms. “Like a maid falling for the prince that she’s assigned to? At least mine involves a heist.”

She blushes, turning to glare at you. “It’s barely a heist, more of a stumbling-into-precarious-situation.” But her glare bleeds quickly away, sadness and worry tugging at her gaze. “I just can’t believe you’re leaving.”

Your eyes fall, guilt rising in the tight concave of your chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I knew you would’ve tried to stop me.”

“Damn right I would have,” she huffs, stepping closer and pulling you into her arms to hide her tears from you. “At least I know you’ll be taken care of.”

“Oh, I’ll be taken care of alr—ow!” You pull back to clutch at your hair and glare at her. But she only pulls you back into her grip and you melt into her, holding her back as tight as you can. “Thank you for taking care of me when no one else did.”

She sniffles into your hair, smoothing it down with one hand before pulling back and putting on a smile for you. “Thank you for all the adventures you’ve given me,” she whispers, wiping at your dampening cheek.

She glances over your shoulder, squeezing your arms before she steps back. “We’ll see each other again. Keep in touch with me, Mrs. Choi,” she teases.

You feel a grin pull onto your lips. “Will do, Mrs. Choi,” you tease right back and she laughs, letting the wind carry it to you as she turns and makes her way back to the castle.

You watch her go, sighing to yourself. She really did become your sister in some cruelly comical way.

A hand at your back, warm and familiar, pulls your attention to Jongseob as he steps into your view. 

“Ready to go?’ He asks, letting you slip your hand into his.

“I am. Are you?”

He looks back at the castle, a solemn look in his eye. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

You take a step closer, placing your hand on his cheek to bring his gaze to yours. “You don’t have to do this—”

“I want to,” he states, placing his hand over yours as he turns to place a kiss against your palm. “I think I have to,” he adds, a teasing smile pulling on his lips. “You’ve swindled my heart along with those little jewels of yours. How can I survive without it?”

You laugh, pulling your hand back to hit at his chest. “Well, my scheming might have been pointless. It turns out I don’t need those jewels,” you tell him, grabbing his collar to pull him in. “I just need you.”

please leave your thoughts below!! i'd love to hear what you think <3

SERIES MASTERLIST a collaborative event by @jiuchip & @liliesonthego

series taglist: @jellyybelly @chandlxa @delicatechris @keymeadoww @ericlvr @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @cuppasunu @ferociouspapa2 @nezzasworld @bubu-love-24 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @filmsunshine @shmooooo @jsshu @reiofsuns2001 @kyoluvrs @halaziasupremacy @cherryyberry1 @peonyjoo @glitteryzombieexpert @onedirectionruinedme @rockstartaeyang @wuriwoori @embobema @myfavoritedelusion @soapyfish4life @sisakoekiee @snow0-0fairy @mellownorth @lunaryoongie @meiisamotherbitch @stxrxyyz @equillisation @rainyblahaj @melonia17 @louis4sho @soullesslien @cryptothecat @seobsongz @m-wraith96 @kha0sblossom @x-odid @stxrxyyz @youneedtonot @foreveronez @alienslostinworld @yumi-yearns @sjakewrld  

comment to be added to the taglist!

When Jiung climbs into bed and plasters himself to your back, you know it’s going to be one of those nights you won’t be able to leech him off of you. 

Not that you’d complain about it either, because he’s pretty cute when he’s clingy and needy. Especially when he helplessly ruts his boner against you, whining into your ear about how he’s so tired. 

“You don’t seem tired, love,” you say with a quiet giggle, breaking off into a soft gasp when his hand finds your chest, palming your tit with no real urgency. 

“I am,” he grumbles, voice low and edged with an exhaustion borne from a long day. 

He shuffles behind you, adjusting so he can slot his clothed dick right against your ass before grinding against you with slow, languid rolls of his hips, sighing contentedly into the back of your neck. 

You shudder as his breath brushes against your nape, rocking your hips back to meet his mindless pace. Even though the pressure isn’t exactly where you need it, it has heat pooling low in your belly with anticipation. 

“Long day?” You ask him, reaching back to card your hand through his short, mussed tresses. It feels brittle and dry, but you’re just glad it’s back to his natural black now. 

“Mm,” he assents, sliding his other hand down to your lower stomach, pressing there to urge you back into him. “Preparing for the next comeback. Just concepts and stuff… so many meetings,” he huffs, his voice thinning out into a quiet whimper at a particularly hard roll of your hips. 

“Poor thing,” you coo, humming when he starts to roll your nipple between his fingers, the thin fabric of your tank top not much of a barrier from the touch. “I still can’t believe how quickly they get you started on new comebacks.”

He lets out a frustrated grunt, turning to mouth at the exposed skin of your shoulder. “It never stops.”

Jiung trails the hand on your stomach even lower, letting his fingers trace lightly over your clothed pussy. You let out a soft moan when his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the swollen nub, and it feels exhilarating even through the layers of your panties and tiny cotton shorts. 

“‘M lucky to have you to come home to,” he mumbles against your skin. You can practically feel his cock throbbing against you even through his sweats, still bucking lazily against your ass in half-hearted search for relief. “Don’t know how the others get by all single and alone.”

You giggle at the breathy tone of his voice, his words starting to slur into each other with the slow influx of pleasure. 

“At least they’re not codependent like you,” you tease lightly. 

Your body trembles as his fingers press harshly into your clit once before leaving you entirely. The protest dies on your tongue when you hear him start to shuffle himself free. 

The blunt head of his cock presses against you then, dragging along the soft fabric as he traces your heat through your shorts. 

“It’s not my fault,” he grumbles, using his hand to fold your leg and prop it up on the body pillow in front of you to give him better access. “You did this to me.”

“I made you—ah, fuck—I made you clingy?”

He continues to just rub the head of his cock over your clothed cunt, the mess of his precum adding to the already damp mess of your shorts. 

“Hmm,” he hums his agreement, pushing in when he finds your hole like he’s wanting to fuck you through your clothes. The pressure makes your body jolt. “Y’r a witch.”

You moan when he starts to drag his cock through you once more, nudging over your clit again and again. You reach down to find his dick and press him harder into you, and Jiung takes the opportunity to start slowly fucking into the tight space between your palm and your pussy. 

He starts to heave and hitch at the friction on his sensitive skin, hand clutching onto your hip to hold you in place. He’s throbbing against your hand, hot and slick. His breaths are wet and warm against your neck as he continues babbling on. 

“Can’t imagine my life without you,” he admits, his other hand tightening where it still lays pressed against your tit. “Wouldn’t have survived debuting.”

“Wouldn’t have survived anything,” you correct, biting back a moan when his tip catches over your clit. “You’d be a train wreck.”

“Mm… Still… still am,” he mumbles, quickly losing track of his train of thought, his words. 

You’re growing foggy too. As much as this lazy grind is tightening the coil in your gut, it’s not enough to snap it. 

You need to feel him. 

“Yeah, you are,” you murmur, reaching down with your free hand to pull aside the crotch of your shorts and panties, exposing yourself enough to press the heavy weight of his cock against your bare cunt. 

You both groan at the feeling in tandem, his hips spurring up to grind his cock into the slick mess of your folds, the slide much smoother and much more pleasant. 

You use your palm still keeping him pressed against you to guide him snugly between your folds, allowing the deep, delicious drags of his cock to soothe right over your clit. 

“Oh, right there Ungie,” you whine, gasping when he starts to speed up just a little. “Feels so good… wouldn’t survive without you either…”

“I know, pretty.” He presses a kiss to the space behind your ear, humming the soft words right into you as he chases the wet heat of your cunt and your hand. “No one can—nngh—take care of you like I can.”

You turn your head back to seek out his lips, finding them in a clumsy press of a semblance of a kiss. “No one,” you whisper into his mouth, flicking your tongue out against his searching one. 

You can feel his cock pulsing steadily against you now, his precum pooling generously against your hand. His pace is starting to stutter even despite his need to keep pushing into the tight space. 

“W-Wish I could bring you on—tour with me,” he says through breaths that are practically gasping. His fingers pinch into your nipple, his nails clawing into your hip where he holds you. 

You whine at the sharp trickles of pain that quickly ebb away to pleasure. “Maybe next time,” you start, breaking off with a gasp when the head of his cock punches against your clit and pauses there, before spurring back up to fuck against you again. “I can go on sabbatical.”

“Please,” he begs, burying his face into your neck to dig his teeth into your flesh and whine against you. “Please, I always need you but… but you’re not there… don’t wanna go again without you…”

His needy pleas drive a stake through your heart and light the fire low in your gut, so prominent and so intense that you think you might just sink him into you and latch on and never let go. 

“Okay, baby,” you whisper, and his arm tightens around you. You grab hold of his cock, wrapping your fist firmly around the generous girth, making him stutter and pause, so that you can drag him down to your hole and slowly sink him into you. “Won’t let you be alone again… oh fuck…”

Your mouth falls open with a stuttered breath as his cock stretches you open, slow inch by agonizing inch. 

He lets out a choked groan as he settles himself deep into your fluttering walls, whimpering when you clamp down onto him. 

His sweaty forehead digs into your shoulder as he gives an experimental roll of his hips, seating himself as deep as he can go. 

The moans that spill out of his and your lips are practically a symphony to his ears. 

Then he slides out, slow and sweet to drag every inch of his veiny cock against your gummy walls until just his tip catches around your tight ring, before he sinks in again with a deep, rolling grind that eases out another one of your sweet moans. 

His grip is impossibly tight on your breast, but you can’t even feel the pain past the buzzing that lights your skin alive. 

He reaches down with his other hand to grab the crotch of your shorts, tugging them further to the side to allow him to easily sink into you with those slow, deep, indulgent thrusts that he loves to fuck you with. 

“Promise?” He breathes, and it takes you a moment to catch up to what he’s saying with those broken, whimpery words. “Promise you’ll come with me next time?”

You let out a moan in response when he angles to start dragging right against your sweet spot, spreading electric heat through your body with each push of his cock. 

“‘S long as you promise to fuck me good like… ah, like this every night…”

He lifts his head to press his lips against your ear, and it tickles as he whispers an eager, “Promise,” against them but the fog in your brain overrides any reaction that’s not a direct result of him fucking you to putty. “I’ll fuck you just the way you want, love, whenever you want.”

You clamp down on him, hissing when you feel his cock twitch harshly inside you with the threat of coming undone. He’s just shoving himself into you at this point, too blissed out to have any coordination.

“Then never stop,” you plead, turning your head to seek out his lips again. “Want you in me forever.”

You’re not sure what you’re saying anymore. But neither is he.

He presses his lips to you, but he’s more just breathing into your mouth than kissing you. 

“Never leaving,” he gasps, his hand letting go of your shorts to grab onto your hip again and hold you still as he starts to weakly slam into you. You clutch onto his arm as your body jerks with each time that he pushes into you. “Never leaving you, never gonna—fuck—never pulling out again—“

“Fuck, Ji! I’m… think I’m g’nna…”

He doesn’t let you finish, just reaches down to start clumsily and hastily rub your clit with his shaky fingers. 

Your legs tremble at the surges of hot pleasure that sear through you, making your walls pulse erratically around his cock. 

“Love,” he sobs, burying his face in your hair as he shoves himself all the way in, just grinding into you as deep as he can to wring his orgasm out of himself. 

You cry out when you feel his tip kiss against your cervix, the sensation so sharp that it pierces through you and rips your orgasm out of you. 

You jerk and tremble and shudder through your high, pulsing wildly and creaming around him—and it’s enough to do him in. 

He cums with a cry of your name, pushing your body down into the bed with tight hands and spilling himself deep into you, grinding his seed into you as he milks himself of all he’s worth. 

Like a puppet getting his strings cut, he collapses on top of you with a choked gasp, seizing through the waves of his wading orgasm. 

You lay there under him, trembling with him as the intensity of your highs lull out into sharp breaths and quivering bodies. 

When he moves, he doesn’t pull out. He just wraps his arms around you and rolls you both onto your sides again, tucking you close to his chest, his softening cock still buried deep into you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to muster the energy to talk. And even when you finally do, you turn your head to see his eyes closed, long lashes fluttering faintly over his flushed cheeks, dark bangs plastered to his damp skin, shiny lips parted to let slow, even breath pass through, if a little shaky. 

The warmth that blooms in your chest is terribly fond. 

Content at the sight of him so at peace and with the feel of his cum trickling out of you, you dust a light kiss over his lips and shut your own eyes. 

taglist: @jellyybelly, @jseobbie, @tintedsvn, @fixonfreak, @stxrxyyz, @hxraiiii, @peachy-x-k33n, @choxochip, @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta, @boptak, @peonyjoo, @kittyshotak, @oyasumiaikko, @straystar-8, @aalyluvz, @evemds, @willowedjelly, @velvetjoong, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @delicatechris, @orchidves, @lycxee, @girlcrushd, @halaziasupremacy, @chandlxa, @soulssnucky, @snyngjhn, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl, @kyoluvrs, @princessthelsa, @nichozzystuffs, @mo8ny4951, @rockstartaeyang, @shmooooo, @cherryyberry1 @keymeadoww @p1issocool @tikfreakingtak @nota10butadefinite8 @snuckyyyy @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @skibidiloreni @kha0sblossom @sstrawbxrry @momochips @mydearandy @seomisaho @fairylix @ericlvr

𓆩⟡𓆪 check out my masterlist for my other works

1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

He rolled his eyes and tugged on your arm to pull you into the room, shutting the door and rounding to face you. No less than a second later, his lips were on yours. 

You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth as he pulled your body to his with a hard grip at your waist, goosebumps erupting onto your skin at his eagerness.

"No hi? Hello? Mmm—how have you been?" You mumbled in between kisses, pulling back fully when his tongue slid against your bottom lip. 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" He questioned in turn, the hurt in his eyes clear as day. 

You bit your lip as you looked at him fully for the first time, your eyes taking in his bare face, messy hair, slight dark circles, and pink cheeks. He looked undeniably beautiful when he was at work, styled to perfection with his makeup and hair done, but this look? This was your favorite. 

Maybe you loved it because it was the look reserved for you and all the rough, messy nights you'd spent together through the years. 

Before you could reply he added on, "And why are you so dressed up?"

You smirked back at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "Sorry, I was busy with a date."

The grip on your waist tightened as his face hardened, unimpressed by your words.

"Kidding! Lighten up Keeho, you're about to get fucked. Geez when did you become so—"

He cut you off with a kiss and walked you back further into the room. His tongue brushed your lips again, and this time, you parted them to let him glide it across yours. One of his hands smoothed down your hip and over your ass, gripping the flesh to push your hips further into his. 

You pulled back again, to his dismay, and said, "Oh, by the way, I ran into Jiung in the elevator! Just wanted to let you know because you're probably going to hear about it tomorrow." 

He responded with a frustrated groan, his eyes falling shut at the second interruption, "Fuck, I don't even care... Why are you so talkative today?" 

"Damn, you're not able to wait five minutes to have a conversation?" He knew you were joking but he still felt the guilt rush in at his obvious lack of control. He relaxed his hands so they were no longer gripping but holding your body gently as his eyes softened at you.

"Can't... I've been waiting for this for months. Plus, you ignored all my messages. Sorry, I just really needed to see you."

You bit back a smile and pulled his face back to yours, your lips brushing his slower this time as he exhaled into you, the earlier anxiety and tension in his body releasing under your touch. 

"I must be your favorite NDA if you're this eager."

He tugged your lip between his teeth before letting it go to whisper, "You're my only NDA."

Your body heated at his words, your heart pounding harder in your chest as he shifted his lips to run over your jaw and down the side of your neck. His hands brushed the hem of your top, tugging it up and over your head when you raised your arms to help him.

His lips fell to your chest as he licked and sucked at the soft skin, palming you over your bra while his other hand worked to unfasten the button of your pants. 

When he finally got it open, he sank to his knees, kissing first over the swarm of butterflies in your lower belly before further down, folding the top of your jeans to tease his tongue along the top of your underwear.

He slid them down, guiding your legs out of the garment before placing his hands around your thighs to hold you. He dove into your core, his nose bumping right over where your clit was throbbing behind your underwear, his lips pressing an open-mouthed peck right to your center. He breathed in deeply, letting your scent overwhelm his senses until he felt his body light ablaze, every inch of his skin burning with a desire that only you could satisfy.

“You’re gonna understand soon why I couldn't wait.” He licked a solid strip from your clothed hole to your mound, then, “Gonna show you exactly how much I missed you.”

He peeled the fabric down and leaned back on his knees to watch as you stepped out of them. You peered down at him, observing the way his heated gaze stayed locked on where you needed him most, before his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

You quirked an eyebrow up at him, wordlessly beckoning him forward and he obliged, accepting the invitation. The moment his lips brushed your folds, your hand tangled in his hair, gripping the locks to have some form of control over the situation. It was a futile attempt, though, because all it took was one roll of his tongue over your clit and you were putty in his hands.

“Mhm, I wouldn't have known you were so wet by the way you were talking.” His voice was smug as he curled his tongue to collect your slick, sucking it back into his mouth to properly taste you. 

You gripped his hair harder and tugged at the roots to push him flush against your heat. “Look who’s talking too much now.” 

You expected him to respond with some sassy retort that you’d have to counter. But instead, he silenced any other thoughts as he flicked his tongue greedily at your entrance. Your mouth fell open as your eyes rolled back in unison.

He lapped at your cunt and tugged your thighs open wider to bury his face deeper into you, your arousal coating his chin, lips and nose messily. Your breaths left you in ragged pants that shifted to moans when he alternated between flicking your clit and sliding his tongue inside your entrance.

You looked down at him on his knees for you—at his scrunched brows and glossy lips pleasuring you so earnestly, at his hair, touseled by your fingers, then finally at his half lidded eyes as they rose to meet yours—full of a genuine devotion that was far too much for just a fuck buddy. But you were weak, especially for him, and selfishly indulged in it. 

“You look so pretty on your knees, Kyo.”

He hummed against your skin, losing himself in the feeling of your wet, warm cunt running over his face as your hole clenched desperately around nothing every single time he abandoned it. The sound of your tortured whine led him back in with a renewed hunger.

Your thighs started shaking as your climax began to build and he held them tighter in his hands to steady your movements.

“Stay still, don't move your hips.” He ordered with a click of his tongue as you whined louder for him.

“C-can’t—I can’t… I think I’m gonna—oh—” Your words bled into nothing as you choked out a silent cry.

Keeho smiled up at you, mumbling against your heat, “I forgot how sensitive you were.”

You tried to keep your hips still as he ate you out, but your climax raced higher. You gripped his hair and started grinding yourself across his nose, rubbing your clit against it with every buck of your hips. He didn't stop you; he just let you use him to get yourself off and push yourself over the edge. 

You came with a startled cry, your legs shaking even more as you tried to balance your weight with the intense orgasm that wracked your body with tremors. 

Keeho sat back on his knees when they seized and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, doing nothing but smearing your orgasm further around the skin. He stood and cupped your face, brushing his thumb along your lip before pressing his to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

When he pulled back he was wearing a cocky smirk and he said, “I think that's the fastest I’ve made you come.”

You shoved at his shoulder weakly before whispering an “asshole”, and pulling him right back to your lips. 

You pushed him back to sit on the edge of the hotel bed and straddled his waist. His fingers found the clasp of your bra and tugged it open, letting it fall softly from your shoulders as you pushed it fully off. 

His lips found your nipple, his tongue circling it and lighting your senses on fire. You shifted yourself on his lap so your core was aligned with the bulge pressing through his jeans, and you sank down, rolling your hips along the rough fabric and savoring the friction that brushed against your clit. 

He groaned around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft pop and looking down to where your bodies connected. He watched you rock against his boner, taking in a deep breath at the addicting sway of your body, then groaning when the pressure grew. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy so much.”

“She missed you too.” You mewled, then yelped a second later when he lifted you and turned to toss you onto the bed. You landed with a bounce, your mind going dizzy at the way he easily manhandled you. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, ogling down at your bare body when he noticed your distracted state. He followed your eyes as they led him to his bulge, more specifically the mess you’d made over his jeans, the fabric damp and glazed with your earlier release. 

“Look at the mess you made…” He chuckled and worked the button open to slide them down his legs as he leaned over you on the bed, his knees sliding between yours to part your legs for him. “Such a dirty girl.”

Your hands found the hem of his shirt and you impatiently pulled it off him, reveling in the sight as he leaned back on his knees. He was way broader than the last time you saw him. You wanted to rub your hands over his defined chest and trace and grip the thick muscles of his arms—you wanted them wrapped around you, squeezing and holding you so tightly in his grasp to feel the full weight of his strength.

You were too lost in gawking at him to notice he slipped off his boxers, too, his hard cock catching your attention the moment it came into view. Your cunt clenched in anticipation, a fresh wave of arousal leaking out of your hole when it hovered directly over you.

“Look at you, practically drooling over my cock.”

You clamped your open mouth shut, swallowing down the flood of saliva. He pressed his hips directly to yours, letting his cock rest heavily on your lower stomach

“Stroke it for me, pretty girl. I know you want to touch it.” 

He was right—your fingers were twitching to reach forward. You slid them over the silken head, his lips parting with a heady moan, then lower, rubbing your palm up and down over his thick length. You repeated the action, pressing him further onto your stomach as he began to jerk his hips against your skin.

“Look baby.. this is how deep I’m going to fill you. You’re gonna take it right? Just like you always do.” His eyes narrowed into slits, locking onto his cock gliding in your grip and the trail of precum that painted your skin with every shallow thrust.

You whimpered as you raised your hips, trying to run him down through your folds, his tip barely pushing against your clit. “Please Keeho… I need you.”

“I know baby, I’m sorry.” He leaned down to peck your lips before gripping his cock and running it through your slick, collecting as much of your wetness as he could to press against your entrance. “Gonna put it in now, don't you worry.” 

He pushed in, relishing in the feeling of your walls parting to make room for him. He gripped your hips tightly with both hands as he buried himself deeper into your heat until he couldn't sink further. He paused inside of you and god, it didn't matter that you’ve already fucked more times than he could remember; every time felt like the first time.

You were warm, so fucking warm, and tight. You moulded around him so perfectly, your walls conforming to the shape of his cock—it was hard to believe that you weren't made specifically for him. 

“Waited so long to fill this tight cunt—o-oh fuck…” 

His jaw dropped open when your gummy walls fluttered around him, holding him captive as you seemed to suck him in deeper. You nails dug into his wrist where he was holding you down, tiny whimpers and whines escaping you at the fullness. 

When your cunt loosened its hold on him, he slid out to the tip then pushed back in, this time angling his hips upwards. It took a few more thrusts for him to get into the rhythm but when he did, he saw it. The unmistakable sight of his cock pushing at the skin of your lower belly. 

It bulged with the shape of him, his fingers pressing into the skin to feel the outline of his cock as he fucked into you. He was enamored by the sight, watching the swell rise and fall with wide eyes as your body reshaped itself for him. 

“You feel that? Look how fucking full you are…”

Your back arched when he drove in harder, your hand slipping over your belly to feel the head of his cock nudge your flattened palm. You cried out, tears glazing your eyes at the euphoric pressure. 

“S-so full…nghh—!”

He gripped your hand in his, pressing them both down to feel him thrust into you. 

“I bet no one has taken you this deep huh? No one but me?”

“N-no one but y-you…”

His heart swelled as you did everything you could to get the words out, so fucked out it was hard to form a thought. He was so far gone for you and he wanted more, more of your skin, more of your noises, more of your heart.

“Look what you do to me… how deep I have to go just to feel like I’m close enough to you.” The words were coated with emotion, love weaving through the filth to mend your bodies together. 

His hips snapped against yours now in a damning pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Your body jolted with every hard thrust, your cunt continuing to flutter and clench helplessly around him. 

“You’re taking me so good, fuck,” he sighed in disbelief. “This cunt’s mine… say it.”

“It’s y-yours—Ah!”

With a guttural groan he pulled out, ignoring your whimpering at the loss, and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Ass up for me,” he ordered.

You obeyed, tiredly sliding your knees up to raise your ass for him, cheek pressed into the mattress. You arched your back deeply for him, presenting your dripping cunt for him to take. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises and drove back into you with one brutal thrust. The new angle let him sink even deeper than before, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. 

He set a punishing pace, hips slamming into yours with wet, filthy slaps. Each thrust sent your face pressing further into the blanket beneath you, your desperate moans muffled by the fabric. 

“K-Kyo.. t-too much.” 

“It’s not.” He grabbed your shoulders and hauled your torso up, holding your back flush against his heaving chest. “You can take it, you’ve done it before.”

He snaked one strong arm around your neck to keep you up, his forearm pressed just beneath your jaw, holding you trapped against him in a possessive lock, while his other hand splayed flat against your stomach. 

He fucked back into you with short, devastating strokes, his arm tightening just enough to remind you exactly who was fucking you senseless, who you were coming undone for.

The words slipped before he could hold them back, “Mine.”

And when you replied, a breathy, “Yours,” he lost all sense of self.

Your walls pulsed wildly around him, your whole body trembling in his grip as he grinded against that perfect spot inside you, you came with a strangled cry. Your cunt clamped down onto his cock, slick gushing down your thighs. 

The last thread of his self control was ripped away from him as you fell apart in his arms. He buried himself to the hilt with a gasp as he came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside you as his hips stuttered and jerked. He could still feel your stomach twitching under his palm, and as your orgasms fully ebbed, he didn't let go. 

He held you close to him, his cock still filling you as he breathed hard into your hair. Your head fell back against his neck as you tried to catch your breath. Against his better judgment, his lips found your neck, kissing the skin softly as he trailed his lips to your ear to whisper, “I don't think I can be away from you for that long again…” 

He hoped, deep in his heart, you would understand the hidden meaning in his words and he waited, and waited and waited until—

“Me neither.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief.

—

Taglist:@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx, @missingjulia , @hxraiiii @mingijelly, @bluedenebii, @kukkurookkoo, @tilly-death @mysweetjongseob, @lycxee @willowedjelly , @l5byrinth @tinastar13 @evemds @jellyybelly @elmolovesw33d @missmaiamay @stxrxyyz @seonghwaswifeuuuu @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @vvalever @oyasumiaikko @chandlxa @choxochip @ji-eun-bun @cryptothecat @ava-lazaza @princessthelsa @kyoluvrs @jiungs-wednesdaygirl @delicatechris @chandlxa @rockstartaeyang @orchidves @straystar-8 @liveyourownlife4good @boptak @dreamerliya @keeilly @alienslostinworld @aalyluvz @cchocochipandy @embobema @madelineblackwell @hoe4yunhoooo @jiuchocopie @qiqivv @whoowannarockwjennie @kamxstar @progiggl3r @decodedollie111