You pull back, narrow your eyes, tilt your head all suspicious:

“Wait… when I’m not here… do you, like… get yourself off?”

San freezes mid–back rub.

“…Huh?”

“Answer. The question.” Your eyes squint even harder.

He sighs, looks away, rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Baby, why would you ask me something like—”

“Cause I wanna know!”

He stares at you… then gives up.

“I watch our tapes.”

“Huh?”

“Our sex tapes.”

“San—”

“And I look at your Instagram pictures.”

“San.”

“And sometimes I screenshot your bikini photos before you delete them.”

“San???”

“And sometimes I use the ones where you’re adjusting your top because you always look flustered and—”

“Stop—”

He keeps going, dead serious, like he’s reading a grocery list:

“And that one video where you’re laughing and your boobs bounce a little? Yeah. That one goes crazy. Top-tier.”

“What????”

“And those mirror selfies where your hair is messy. And the ones where you’re not even trying. Those are the worst.” He shifts under you, already getting hard just thinking about it.

You smack his chest.

“You’re SICK.”

He shrugs.

“I’m in love.”

You slap him harder.

“You’re DEPRAVED.”

Another shrug.

“You’re SEXY.”

You bury your face in your hands, dying.

He gently pulls them away, lowering his voice:

“You asked, baby. You really think I jerk off to random women? No. Everything I do, I do to you.”

He leans in, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck.

“And if you want… I can show you exactly how I do it.”

You slide off his lap just a little, sitting between his knees, eyes wide and way too curious for his sanity.

“…Show me, then.”

San blinks once. Twice. His Adam’s apple jumps.

“…Yeah?” he asks, voice already dropping into that low, dangerous tone.

You nod.

He drags a hand down his face like he knows he’s about to ruin you with this demonstration alone.

“Okay,” he mutters, leaning back into the couch, legs spreading a little, “but don’t— don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

You bite your lip.

He sees it. He groans.

Then he slips a hand under the waistband of his sweats, pulls himself out, already half-hard from the conversation alone. His breaths get shaky, on purpose, because he knows you’re watching.

“Normally…” he starts, eyes flicking to yours, “…I start slow. Just— thinking about you walking around the house, tiny little outfit, pretending you’re not teasing me.”

His thumb glides over the tip spreading the precum, — and he sighs, deep, breathy, borderline whimpering.

You swallow so hard he hears it.

“And then,” he continues, pumping slowly, “I think about how you look when you ride me… all loud and needy…”

You shift on your knees.

He definitely notices.

His lashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, broken “mmh—fuck…”

You scoot closer.

He moans again, high, pretty, shameless, because he’s absolutely doing this on purpose now.

“You like watching me, baby?” he breathes out, jaw clenching, hips lifting into his own hand. “Yeah… you do…”

You nod, dazed.

He groans, throwing his head back for a second, biting his lip dramatically, exaggerating it because he knows it gets you.

Then he looks at you through heavy lids.

“You always make me this hard,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Even when you’re not here.”

Your thighs press together.

He smirks, then lets out another deliberate whimper, soft and choked, like he knows it shoots straight into your bloodstream.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hand stroking himself faster. “If you’re gonna watch… watch up close.”

You crawl into his lap.

He pulls your hand to his stomach— so warm, tense, shaking, and keeps moaning softly, messy and pretty, just for you.

He’s doing all of this on purpose.

You lean in so close he can feel your breath on his throat, eyes glued to every movement of his hand, every twitch of his stomach, every shaky inhale he lets slip.

And San loses his mind over it.

“Jesus…” he whispers, voice cracking when he looks down and sees your face—eyes blown wide, lips parted, studying him like he’s something you want to taste. “You’re really watching me like this…?”

You nod slowly. His chest stutters.

He bites his lip so hard a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“That’s— fuck— this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” he mutters, voice warm and breathless. He spreads his legs wider, giving you a better view, pumping his hand a little harder… slower… letting you see everything. “You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”

“San,” you breathe. His eyes darken instantly.

“Oh my god…” he laughs under his breath, ruined already, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Your face heats.

He cups your chin with his free hand, forcing you to hold eye contact while the other keeps stroking, wet and filthy and slow enough to make your stomach twist.

“You like how I do it?” he whispers. You nod. His smile is evil.

“You like seeing what I do when you’re not home?” Another nod.

His grip tightens. His thighs flex under you.

“Y’know what I think about?” he murmurs, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “You. On your knees. Mouth open. Eyes like that. Waiting for me.”

Your breath catches.

He groans. 

“Keep watching,” he says, voice low and trembly. “Don’t look away. Not once.”

You don’t.

Your eyes track the movement of his hand, the veins on his forearm, the way his stomach tightens every time he pumps upward. He notices. He feels your stare. It makes him moan again—soft, involuntary, almost shy.

You whisper, barely audible:

“…You look so hot.”

He chokes on a breath. His hips jerk.

And his voice drops even lower, wrecked and proud and starving:

“Say that again.”

You whisper it again, slower. “So fucking hot.”

You slide closer—slow, curious, innocent in that way that makes his whole body seize up—and tilt your head.

“Can I help…?”

His hand falters on himself, eyes snapping to yours like you just offered him the cure to every problem he’s ever had.

“…yeah,” he whispers, voice already breaking, “yeah—baby, c’mere.”

Your smaller hand slips under his, replaces his stroke. The second your skin touches him he whimpers—a real one, sharp and desperate, right against your neck.

“Oh—fuck—” His head drops to your shoulder. He’s trembling.

He grabs your wrist gently, guiding your rhythm, but you’re already doing it exactly how he likes—soft at the base, tight at the top, twisting up just a little—

“Baby,” he gasps, breath hitting your collarbone, “you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this—”

His hips buck into your palm. His hand is gripping your thigh, hard enough to bruise.

You look up at him through your lashes and his knees actually shake.

“That’s it,” you whisper, teasing, “you like when I do it?”

He moans. A pretty, broken, breathy sound right into your ear.

“I love—when you—help me—god—fuuuck” He’s collapsing, chest heaving, face flushed, thighs tense beneath you. The wet slick sound of your hand working him faster fills the room and he completely loses the last bit of control he had.

“Y/N—baby—oh my god I’m gonna cum—”

You tighten your grip, stroke him exactly how he likes—

His whole body jerks—

He lets out the most ruined groan you’ve ever heard—

And he finishes right into your hand, warm and messy and so much more than you expected.

He collapses into you, panting into your shoulder, completely melted.

Your sticky hand is still resting on him when he finally breathes again.

“…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice wrecked, trembling all over. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

You hold your hand up— dripping.Absolutely covered in him. A warm, glossy mess. Your eyes go wide on purpose.

“…San.”

He looks up from your shoulder, dazed, hair a mess, breaths still shaking.

And you wiggle your fingers.

“Look at this! You're. SO. Desperate.”

His whole face flushes scarlet.

“Baby—” he groans, grabbing your wrist to hide the evidence, “don’t… don’t say it like that…”

But you lean back, smirking like the menace you are.

“You made a huge mess. This is—San, this is ridiculous. You couldn’t even hold it for a second??”

He hides his face in your neck, mortified, whining like a grown man being scolded.

“You can’t tease me after what you just did to me,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, “I warned you—I told you I was close—you kept going—baby, you know what you were doing—”

“No,” you say, faking innocence, showing your sticky palm again, “you’re nasty. Nasty. Look at this.”

He pulls your wrist down, panicked.

“Stop showing it to me!” His voice cracks. “I know what I did!”

You laugh so hard he swats your thigh lightly, embarrassed, still breathless.

Then he looks up at you—eyes heavy, lips parted, totally ruined—and mutters:

“…clean your hand before you start teasing me again or I swear I’ll make an even bigger mess.”

OH.

You grab a warm towel and clean him up gently, slow little wipes that make him flinch because he’s still sensitive.

You purposely kiss the tip softly just to watch him jolt.

“Y/N—!” You kiss it again..

He slaps a hand over his face. “Stop… you’re gonna kill me…”

You hop off the bed, still glowing, still smug, and go to the mirror. You clean yourself up too—wiping your mouth, fixing your hair—

But then curiosity hits.

You look at your fingers. You look at him in the reflection. You drag your tongue over them.

Slow. Purposeful.

San’s jaw drops.

“…that tastes kinda good. Somebody changed their diet. Good boy.”

His ears turn red.

“Why would you DO that?!”

You shrug in the mirror, wiping your lips.

“I was curious.”

“That’s not— you can’t just— you—” He’s literally malfunctioning.

Then, quieter, almost proud:

“…but yeah, I did start eating more fruit.”

You grin.

“Mm. I noticed.”

He hides under a pillow. Absolutely finished.

Masterlist

“wooyoung, it’s getting late,” you protest, your skirts hiked between your fists as you follow him along the trails that wind around the castle grounds. your feet ache in your riding boots, the sun setting over the canopy of trees overhead as your eyes fall on the raven-haired man collecting wildflowers from along the trail.

“oh, come on,” he laments, turning on his heel so he could slip the stem of a wild daisy behind your ear. you can’t help but blush at the gesture before you roll your eyes playfully. “you think we’ll have a better time listening to everyone bicker at the dinner table?”

“well, no,” you confess, “but i know i don’t want to be covered in mud and thorns by the time we make it back and not have time to change.”

“such a princess,” he teases before offering his hand to you so that he could lead you back to where his horse was fastened to a low-hanging branch. you allow him to hoist you onto its back, following soon after so that he was settled in front of you. instinctively, you drape your arms around his waist and bury your face in the crook of his neck. even after a long evening outdoors, he still smelled of that familiar scent of jasmine and ginger.

you stare out into the vast expanse of land that separates the castle from the rest of the kingdom, oil lamps scattered across the villages in the distance that look like fallen stars. the night sky cast shades of pink and orange, the sun setting behind the rolling hills. as much as you knew that you’d catch a scolding for running away while guests were visiting, you knew that your mother had a soft spot for wooyoung and that it’d be highly unlikely that you were in serious trouble.

“your highness—!” your handmaid gasps at the sight of your shins caked with mud, your boots leaving a trail along the cobblestone path that leads back to your chambers. wooyoung laughs under his breath as he disappears to the guest wing to freshen up himself.

“oh, it’s fine,” you assure her, unable to hide the smile on your face as her eyes dart between you and wooyoung. you knew she was ever the gossip, but you didn’t care. “come, let me get rid of all of this dirt before mother tries to skin me alive.”

dinner comes and goes smoothly, the respective kings and queens conversing amongst themselves while you and wooyoung recounted the spoils of your hike at your end of the table. you nudge his foot beneath the table gently with your own and he pouts at you theatrically.

“have you all been enjoying one another’s company?” your mother teases, resting her chin in her hand as her eyes sparkle at the pair of you. wooyoung releases a noise of contempt that you quickly scoff at in disbelief, nudging his foot again until he cuts himself short.

it was no secret that you and wooyoung were closer than anyone. ever since you were children, a budding prince and princess of neighboring kingdoms, you were joined at the hip. he’d been your first chaperone when you debuted formally, your confidante over the years as you both navigated the ins and outs of becoming royalty. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t grown fond of him, of the way he cared for you so meticulously and kept you on your toes all at once.

you don’t say anything, catching wooyoung’s eye with a smile you fail to stifle.

the castle is silent and fast asleep by the time that you hear the familiar thump of stones against your balcony windows. you tug your dressing robes more tightly around your waist and shove the doors open, cool night air caressing you as you squint to make out wooyoung’s frame on the ground below.

“you know, you could just walk through the halls when no one’s looking,” you scold. “who’s going to question a prince?”

“it’s more fun this way,” he counters before scaling the trellis of thick vines that sit beside your balcony. he hooks a leg over the stone banisters and you offer your hand to him as he steadies himself. a familiar heat begins to spread beneath your chest as you guide him into your room, sealing the doors shut with a firm shove. candlelight flickers along the walls, illuminating the room a warm gold as you fall back onto the silken sheets with a blissful sigh.

wooyoung falls back beside you, mimicking the sound you made before dissolving into a fit of giggles. you poke at his waist in protest before he’s quick to grab your wrist and tug you onto him in one swift motion. his arms drape around you as he shifts his weight so that his thigh is nestled between yours. every fiber of your being begs you to still your thundering heart as your eyes dart between his, the usual teasing smile on his face replaced with something warmer, more romantic.

“i love spending time with you,” he confesses suddenly, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he takes your hand in his. he ghosts his fingers over yours, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “actually, i—” he stops himself suddenly with a dry swallow and averts your gaze as color floods his cheeks. “never mind.”

“what?” you coax gently, cupping his face in your own hand as his grip around your waist tightens. your chest swells, your mind racing from what you were hoping he was about to say. the words lay on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be freed.

“never mind,” he repeats, averting your gaze this time before you scoff and swat at his torso.

“say it,” you urge, the room growing increasingly smaller around you as the tension thickens. the air hangs heavy, the pair of you holding one another’s gaze with short, staggered breaths before wooyoung finally surrenders.

“i love … you.” he heaves a deep exhale. “i love you.”

“say it again,” you urge, burying your nose in the crook of his neck to conceal the grin that splits across your face before pressing a kiss beneath his ear. he shudders, partly from relief at your reaction and partly from the feeling of your lips on his skin.

“i love you,” he hums, his palms sliding along the small of your back and traveling dangerously lower.

“again,” you repeat, peppering kisses along his jaw as his breath hitches before something akin to a whine escapes him.

“do you plan on saying it back?”

you laugh, the sound sending a flutter through wooyoung’s ribcage as you glance up at him. the way he looks at you is something you pray you can commit to memory, unwavering with admiration ever since you’d first met him years ago. you lean in tentatively, your lips ghosting over his with a hushed, “i love you, too” before he pulls you into a kiss.

falling in love with wooyoung may be the easiest thing you’d ever done.

you thank your lucky stars at the fact that you were spared from the political turmoil of falling in love with someone that wasn’t of another social class. a prince and a princess were rarely frowned upon for falling in love, after all. neither of you try to hide your arrangement from anyone. you slip into the library at late hours to write letters when he returns home. he has his own royal couriers deliver bouquets of wildflowers and letters in response, enough to have your handmaids gushing over the tokens you share while they get you ready.

you remember the exact day you were informed of your engagement.

it was a warm spring evening, the sun beginning to set later than before as the flowers weighed on the shrubs that lined the castle grounds. you twirled the bejeweled bracelet that hung from your wrist, one of many gifts from wooyoung you’d received recently. you’d heard whispers from the handmaids that the king and queen were calling you into their chambers to discuss plans for your wedding arrangements and you never anticipated that you’d be … excited, even.

“oh, prince wooyoung will have a field day,” you hear one of the staff tending to the courtyard plants mutter to the other as you skip by through the marble halls. you laugh under your breath, giddy as ever as you approach the towering oak doors that separates the crown from the rest of the castle.

the room was warm, a roaring fire already stirred and your parents sat in their armchairs before it. you call out to them as you shut the doors behind you, the rugs strewn across the floors plush under your feet as you pad over to the empty sofa beside the window. your mother smiles at you, but you notice that it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. your father doesn’t bother to look at you entirely.

“you asked to see me?” you coax, feigning as though you were unaware of the rumors traveling through the halls.

“yes,” your father begins, his voice notably more clipped than usual. he finally forces a smile onto his face, twin to your mother’s in that it doesn’t seem like himself. “we’d like to discuss your wedding arrangements.”

your heart swells with anticipation as you nod once, struggling to stifle the excitement that was brewing beneath your skin. you look between them, urging them to continue.

“we’ve coordinated with one of the other kingdoms to have you marry their crown prince by the end of the summer season,” your mother informs you, her smile unwavering as your own grows wide.

“oh, how exciting!” you exclaim, your voice lilted as you clasp your hands together. “i can’t wait to write to wooyoung to know what he—”

“you will not be marrying wooyoung,” your father interjects, his voice summoning a dreadful silence that fills the room. you feel your heart sink to your stomach, your mouth running dry as your lips part just enough to utter a soft, confused gasp.

“what … what do you mean?”

“you will be marrying into the northern kingdom,” he informs you, his voice ringing hollow along the warning bells clanging against your skull. “to prince san.”

your face drops, devoid of any excitement as you stare at your mother plainly. color floods her cheeks as she averts your gaze, the fire suddenly feeling unbearably hot. you think of every letter, every flower wooyoung sent to you over the last several weeks. of the way he called on you at noble gatherings and the way your own parents cherished your relationship. to suddenly be bid to another kingdom altogether felt like a dagger had impaled you straight through your chest.

“and when was this decided?” you ask, glancing out of the tall windows. the wrought iron that decorates the glass begins to feel like a cage as your throat grows tighter.

“this past week,” your mother confirms. “darling, we must do what’s in the best interest of our people.”

you knew deep down she was right, no matter how much you’d refuse to admit it. with political tension stirring across the continent, it’d be much more beneficial to serve alongside the northern kingdom than with wooyoung to the south. the northern kingdom was also notoriously wealthy, with a strong capital and a well-respected king. only a fool would choose love over the protection of all of their people.

“does wooyoung know?” you mutter, barely a whisper as your mother finally looks at you. her expression blurs behind the tears that well in your eyes, her brows furrowed as she purses her lips before answering.

“no,” she says gently, shaking her head once. “we plan to host an official announcement before having more … private conversations afterwards.”

“i see,” you say, rising to your feet before you even register that you’ve moved. “i will return to my chambers for the night, then.” your mother calls out your name gently, a sound that grows muffled as you storm out of the room and back into the hall with a deep exhale.

not here.

you hold your head high as the staff spare you passing glances, eager to gauge your reaction to the potential news of your engagement. a tight-lipped smile remains fixated on your face as you hurry through the halls, back to your familiar wing where your bedroom was. it feels like an eternity before you’re able to shut the doors behind you, requesting that your handmaids return in the morning so that you could retire early.

a defeated sob finally escapes you as you sink onto the cool marble floors, skirts billowing around you as you bury your face in your hands. the heartbreak feels entirely physical, a twisted, aching sensation that surges beneath your ribcage. every breath that you force yourself to take feels restricted, every nerve ending in your limbs numb as you wrap your arms around yourself.

you stand just enough to reach for the velvet-lined box from your dressing table, sifting through the letters that smell of jasmine and ginger. the pages are worn from how many nights you’d stayed up rereading them, the ink blurring as tears continue to brim at your waterline.

my love,

i don’t think there are words to express just how much i anticipate the day we’re finally married. i can already picture the entire process. planning our wedding ceremony, bickering over the type of flowers that would line the aisle and what would be an appropriate favor to give out to guests. you’d yell at me in that shrill voice of yours that no one would prefer fish over roasted chicken, that you’d skin me alive if i ever dared to cut my hair before the ceremony because of how much you love my long hair. i’d have to agree, it’s hard being this devilishly handsome.

and i’d agree to whatever you want, like the kind, good-hearted lover that i am. hell, i’d court me if it were possible.

in all seriousness, i impatiently await the day i’m allowed the privilege of calling you my wife. my queen-to-be. my beloved for all of eternity. every day, i thank my lucky stars that you chose me, chose to fall in love with me and allow me the opportunity to love you. i could never imagine loving another in the way that i love you.

please let the kitchen staff know i look forward to their delicious meals the next time we are scheduled to pay you a visit.

and i suppose i look forward to seeing you, as well.

i love you.

the next several days are a blur, with seamstresses plucking at your measurements for an engagement gown and coordinators guiding you through a complicated program for the highly-anticipated evening. your parents and the northern kingdom strategically kept your engagement amongst themselves to avoid word spreading before the announcement. the knight that had become your trusted confidante for delivering letters to wooyoung refused you for the first time, fearful to betray the crown’s wishes. you felt like a ghost of yourself, moving through the motions of each day without truly experiencing anything.

although barely any time had passed since you were informed of your engagement, you could barely recognize your reflection as the handmaids pulled your hair from your face. your familial crown is set upon your head, heavier than ever as they thread strands of hair through its hooks to keep it steady. the boning in your corset nearly stabs you through your ribcage, the lacing tighter than usual.

anxiety begins to rise in your chest for the umpteenth time that week. the symptoms present themselves one by one, reminding you of how much your mind and body dreaded the fact that you were about to be introduced as a blushing bride-to-be to a complete stranger. your fingers curl and uncurl at your sides, desperate to anchor to something other than the fabric of your gown. you can barely focus on what the handmaids are whispering amongst themselves, plagued by the images you conjured of what you expected from wooyoung when he heard the announcement.

“your highness.” the coordinator calls from the other side of your chamber doors, prepared to lead you to your demise.

the ballroom is already well into the festivities by the time you’re led to the top of the main staircase. the faint swell of the string players travels through the halls, accompanied by the chatter of nobles that were likely already much too drunk for the evening. the god-awful anxiety returns, your mind fixated on wooyoung’s likely confusion that you hadn’t already been introduced and the pair of you weren’t already gossiping about someone’s terrible outfit choice for the event. 

your worries are interrupted when another man you recognize faintly appears before you with a bow of his head, hand clasped to his torso. his black hair is swept back from his face, his suit perfectly tailored to a broad frame. his eyes disappear with a smile that graces his features, his cheeks flush from evident shyness.

“princess,” he greets you, to which you bow your own head. unlike wooyoung, you hadn’t seen san in what had to have been years. you last remembered him as a meek, quiet boy. he wasn’t much of a socialite. you remain silent, shocked by the way he’d grown into himself. 

“prince.” 

“well,” he begins, his voice caught in a nervous laugh, “i suppose now is as good a time as any for a long overdue reunion?”

“you could say that.” you can’t help but chuckle, quietly grateful for his attempt to quell your nerves. guilt settles like a rock in your stomach as you take his arm, the coordinator reminding you of your entrance instructions. san clasps his free hand over yours, a gentle gesture to comfort you as he glances down at you from the corner of his eye.

“we can speak later,” he promises. you look up at him, eyebrows raised. “about … everything.”

your suspicions are cut short as the doors are thrown open. you’re nearly blinded by the glimmer of the overhead chandeliers, candlelight dancing across every inch of the walls along winding garlands of fresh flowers. your king and queen are sat in their usual thrones at the front of the room, only now accompanied by the northern kingdom beside them. they had already informed the crowd of your engagement and you were being presented as the trophy of their union.

you’re quickly overwhelmed by the wave of comments, congratulations and hushed whispers that fill the room at a rising volume. the lights feel too bright and the candles too warm as you’re guided to the center of the room. noble after noble approaches you with well wishes, with enough residual joy of their own that you nearly forget your troubles altogether.

that is, until wooyoung stands square before the pair of you with a drunken smile plastered across his face.

“what a stellar couple you two make.” san smiles politely while you stare at him, your body running cold. the grin that stretches from ear to ear sends a shiver down your spine, his feline eyes bloodshot and devoid of the light you had grown to love. “there could not be a more perfect union across the continent.”

“thank you,” you reply plainly, your tone an indication for wooyoung to cut the theatrics. he holds your gaze in a way that silences the rest of the room around you. despite the weight of san’s body beside yours, all you can pay attention to is the way wooyoung is utterly heartbroken by your betrayal. you were responsible for depriving him of the opportunity to love you. it was all your fault.

“no, thank you,” wooyoung bows as he answers, his voice clipped when he straightens, “your highness.” he pats san affectionately on the shoulder before he returns to the far end of the ballroom to refresh his drink.

it becomes impossible to ignore wooyoung for the rest of the night. the way he looks at you from his corner of the room, surrounded by other bachelors that are quick to ogle at the women dancing across the floor. his expression is unreadable, more stoic than you’d ever seen from him. your heart aches to break free from your chest, to drag you into his arms so that you could beg and plead for his forgiveness and to tell him that you never meant to hurt him.

the night passes in yet another blur and all you can remember is agreeing to meet san later in the evening for a private conversation before you excuse yourself to the secluded gardens that sit beneath your balcony. even as you sit along the fountain, the gentle rush of water keeping you company, your mind refuses to quiet.

the sound of your name travels across the courtyard and your head shoots up, your heart thundering as wooyoung approaches you. there’s a slight stagger in his step, loose strands of raven hair falling over his eyes. he slows to a stop right before you and you rise to your feet.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you inform him, unsure of how to approach the inevitable conversation you’d been dreading. wooyoung scoffs, the sound low and bitter as he shakes his head and gestures to the otherwise empty garden.

“what, is the blushing bride-to-be going to be caught sneaking around with a lowly suitor?” he asks, a laugh escaping him before he arches a brow at you. the anxiety you’d become all-too-familiar with is quickly replaced by a seething irritation at his behavior.

“you’re not a lowly suitor,” you inform him, crossing your arms over your corset, “but, i hardly think it’s appropriate to approach me while i’m alone during my engagement celebration.”

“oh, we’re celebrating?” wooyoung feigns surprise, a hand pressed to his chest as his mouth falls open. “pardon me for thinking you loved me. i don’t know what could have ever given me that impression.”

“you’re not being fair,” you scold. “you’re acting like this was my choice. like this is ever any of our choices. you and i both know we don’t get a say in any of these decisions.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” the mask finally falls as wooyoung’s harsh exterior melts, his brows furrowed in confusion. you hear the hurt in his voice and you feel another crack make its way through your heart as you swallow.

“i couldn’t,” you tell him, enough for him to understand as his gaze falls to his feet.

“did i do something wrong?”

“of course not,” you say, your voice a strangled whisper as you swallow back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“was i not enough of a prince for them?”

“wooyoung,” you plead, grasping his arm gently. “you didn’t do anything at all.”

“you should return,” he says suddenly with a step back so that he could free himself from your touch. “they’ll be wondering where you are.”

“wooyoung, please.”

“go on.” the ghost of a pitiful smile, filled with genuine hurt unlike the drunken grin you’d seen from him earlier, flitters across his face before he nudges you back in the direction of the ballroom. “there’s not much else for us to say here.”

“i love you.” you knew it was unfair to say it. you knew it wouldn’t change anything. it was a selfish attempt to keep wooyoung tethered to you, to ignore the reality of your engagement to san.

wooyoung doesn’t say it back. he stares at you pointedly for a long moment before nodding once, gesturing again to the ballroom. “you love your people more. as you should.”

it becomes impossible to enjoy the summer.

the days are long, filled with preparations for your wedding and political arrangements between the kingdoms you and san are forced to sit through. nights that were previously spent laying in the fields behind the castle walls, hand in hand with wooyoung as he points out constellations were now replaced with reviewing marital contracts by candlelight in the library. you were rarely given the opportunity to venture into the capital, but word was traveling back to you.

everyone comes to you with stories they hear of wooyoung frequenting taverns alongside commoners, drinking away his sorrows until he was sick. he became intoxicated to the point he was cut off, brawling with other patrons and shouting over how he was robbed of his lost love. not once does he name you, leaving much to the imagination of nobles hungry for rumors to latch onto. he quickly garners a reputation that’s entirely unlike him. he’s no longer the flirtatious, mischievous prince that has everyone wrapped around his finger with sweet words. he was now a fallen, drunken mess that no one wanted to handle.

san recognizes the toll the news takes on you and takes it upon himself to venture to a tavern he hears that wooyoung frequents. it’s well past midnight by the time he gets there, the establishment already reeking of cheap ale and stale bread. it doesn’t take much to find wooyoung, but even san is surprised as he approaches him.

it’d been weeks since your engagement was announced. in that time, wooyoung looked like an entirely different person. thin, his hair long and shaggy. his eyes were sunken and there was little light left in his expression. he looked no different than the average commoner, a shell of his former self. san settles into the stool across from him and raps his knuckles against the wooden table to summon wooyoung’s attention.

“well, well, well,” he mutters, his breath laced with liquor. his voice raises, enough to garner attention but not enough for anyone else to care. “how dare you all not bow before his highness?”

“wooyoung, stop,” san says sternly. wooyoung blinks once, a sarcastic scoff slipping past his lips as he shakes his head and takes another sip from his glass. “let’s get some fresh air.” without waiting for an answer, san reaches for his arm to urge him outside when he yanks his limb free with a loud cry of defiance.

“why?” wooyoung asks through a dry, intoxicated laugh. “so you can tell me how much you pity me and how much you don’t envy me? to tell me how you’ll love her for me? will that make me feel better?”

“you know she wouldn’t want to see you like this.” san says quietly, trying his best to reason with the younger prince.

“it’s a funny thing,” wooyoung says, avoiding san’s gaze entirely. “the cards were all in our favor. a prince and a princess, a love match. politics are just … cruel.”

“i’m sorry,” san says earnestly.

“you didn’t do anything.” wooyoung smiles at him, his eyes glimmering with tears he fights to hold back. the two stare at one another, a silent understanding that there was little they could do to change their fate. “her favorite flowers are jasmines. she hates waking up early. if she seems stressed, take her on a horse ride through the trails behind the castle. there’s a spot by the creek that she likes to wade through and then she hides from the handmaids so they won’t scold her for getting another dress dirty.”

“wooyoung—”

“just take care of her,” he says, taking a final sip before leaving the tavern for the night.

the wedding ceremony arrives and you fight against every instinct to wonder about wooyoung; what he could be wearing, whether he would even attend, if he’d moved on. every night, you replay the conversation you had with him in the gardens on the night of your engagement. you wonder if there was anything you could have said, could have done to convince him that you would never love someone as much as you loved him.

you stand beside san in front of the guests, the officiant guiding you through the ceremony until you’re turned to face your audience as the newly wedded future king and queen. immediately, your eyes find wooyoung’s. he’s seated at a corner of the room, away from the rest of the royals with his hands folded neatly in his lap. his hair had grown since you last saw him, tied back from his face so that you could see his features clearly. you hadn’t spoken to him since that night, hadn’t written to him.

there just seemed to be nothing going right this entire practice. all yunho could think about was how much his feet hurt and how badly he wanted to play valorant with the company of his favorite person—you. he had the perfect night planned in his head after such a terrible day. he would come home and shower, washing off the stress from his day. and after playing a few rounds of his game, he would tend to you and fuck you senseless.

it seemed like he was finally going to be able to wind down after everything. once you arrived at home you quickly found yunho sitting in his gaming chair, headset on, and hands moving impossibly fast on his mouse and keyboard. you usually would be okay with him playing the game, why would today be any different?

you had the same routine as always when he had practices; come home, shower, and bask in each others company for the night. but today for some reason just seemed like you really wanted to get on yunhos nerves. he was trying his best not to get upset with you, figuring you also had a bad day. but every time you would complain about something new, his patience started to run thin.

yunho was already on his third round of valorant by the time you got out of the shower. you emerged from the shower in a small tank and a pair of underwear, a usual nightly outfit. when you walked into the bedroom and saw his silhouette swallowed by the light in front of him you let out a loud sigh. he acknowledged you with a small hum, way too focused on the screen in front of him. after a long day of not seeing him all you wanted was his attention.

“are you gonna be on that thing all day?” you inquired, the attitude in your tone terribly obvious. yunho takes in a deep breath, his hands still moving skillfully across his keyboard. “no.” he responded, letting out a grunt as he got a kill. it really didn’t even seem like he was paying that much attention to you, which only fueled your anger even more. the room goes silent for a beat, only sound bouncing off the walls being the ones coming from his monitor. “when are you gonna get off?”

“soon.” really? could he only reply with one word?

you let out another sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed before speaking again. “how long is soon?” you keep poking, trying to get more than a single word out of him. yunho takes in another deep breath from his nose, “i don’t know, maybe a couple more rounds.”

“you’ve been on since i got home.” you whine exaggeratedly. your eyes are trained on the back of his head, but you can see how his jaw flexes slightly. bingo. if you couldn’t convince him to get off the game with your complaining, you’d just get him off it by doing what you do best—being a brat. “it won’t be that much longer.” he finally replies. you notice how his voice gets lower, and that only eggs you on. you walk up closer to him, trying to distract him from the screen. “ugh come on-“ “baby please, it wont be long.” he says, cutting you off slightly.

you blink down at him in shock. how much more would it take to get him to turn off that damn game??? then, its almost as if your brain flicks on. an idea, not necessarily a good one, pops into your head.

you stand behind him watching the screen as he plays for a few moments. “is the game more important than me?” you ask, matter-of-factly. you notice how he freezes slightly, and then in a flash his character dies. he curses under his breath, removing his hands from the keyboard until he respawns. “what are you talking about?” he sounds more serious this time. you feel a small smirk form on your face. you’re getting under his skin, you can tell. he’s sitting up straighter than usual. yunho always likes to sit slouched back in his chair while playing—legs with those grey joggers on spread wide open. making it very obvious he was going commando. he looks focused, but not quite on the game. he looks like he’s trying to keep his composure. keep himself from snapping and taking his anger out on you.

little does he know thats exactly what you wanted. so you decided to keep going. trying to see how far you could go with him until he finally gave up and got pushed over the edge. “just say it-” you start letting your voice grow a tad bit louder to show how mad you were getting. “please don’t start this.” he cut you off again. your heart was beating and you could feel the heat rising in your belly. he was actually getting mad. no—this wasn’t just slightly upset yunho. he seemed about 3 seconds from fully grabbing you and having his way with you. his character continuously dying, flashed of red on his screen as he gets shot.

“i mean it’s painfully obvious, yunho.” he dies again. then he just sits there. he doesn’t press any more buttons. his hands just rest on the keyboard. you can practically feel your heart in your throat. the silence is deafening—but its thrilling all at the same time.

he pushes up from out of the chair and immediately turns to you. his hand swiftly reaches up grabbing you by your cheeks to tilt your head back. you gasp at the suddenness of it all as you scan his expression. his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek, granted he had been doing that the entire time before he stood up. but now you could see his eyes. the rawness in them. you had finally done it. you tipped him over and he couldn’t take it anymore and now he’s gonna make you regret it all. “what the fuck is up with you today?” his voice sounds rough, and it went straight to your core. you’re practically shaking in his grip with excitement as he speaks to you like this. you go silent for a beat, and he shakes your face a bit. “hello? gone dumb already on me?”

you take in a deep breath, “i just wanted your attention…” your voice is low now and your eyes are big. you’re playing dumb. he can tell. he knew you wanted to irritate him. “no no, don’t act all cute now.” he says sharply. “down. on the floor.” you freeze for a moment—not because you’re shocked—but because you want to get under his skin just a bit more… one last time.

he huffs a laugh out of his nose, “funny.” his hand moves from your face to grab onto your shoulder, pushing you down all the way to your knees. you had been so focused on his face these past couple of minutes, that you didn’t even notice how hard he had gotten already. he brings his free hand to his sweats, pulling them down, along with his boxers, just enough to free himself right in your face. his hand that rested atop of your shoulder slowly slid up to grip the hair at the back of your head. he reaches down and takes ahold of your wrist, bringing it in front of your own face. “spit.”

you quickly obliged, letting enough saliva gather in your mouth before letting it fall into the palm of your hand. your hand gently wrapped around his dick, and he was already hot and throbbing in your grip. it made your breath hitch and your thighs clench beneath you. “go on. do what you were made to do.” you kept your eyes on his face as you slowly began to stroke him. up and down, not hurried or rushed at all, wanting to watch every facial expression he made from the teasing. his breath began to get heavy, and his grip on your hair increased slightly. when you brought your hand back up to the tip, you squeezed gently, and a low moan erupted from the back of his throat. you watched as his eyebrows would pinch up more and more from the pleasure, more little curses spilling under his breath. he had let you do enough to where he was covered in your spit, his cock shining in the light that came from his monitor. you bring your hand back up to his tip and before you can even do anything he grabs your wrist again.

“enough, enough.” he uses the hand tangled in your hair to bring you closer to him, his dick barely even an inch away from your face. “open your mouth honey…” you kept those big eyes trained on his face, opening your mouth like a little puppy. he brings the tip to your lips, smearing spit all over them. “just a little more…” he says as he pushes further into your mouth, letting the warmth envelop his length. he pushed in until he can feel himself at the back of your throat, the hand in your hair keeping you there.

he stutters out a moan, like he was letting his restraint slip. but he wasn’t gonna let you control anything. each time he pulled out he’d barely give you a few seconds before he was pushing your head back down all the way. you felt so full, so overwhelmed. you were blinking away tears that formed with each gag around his cock. “there you go doll, take that dick like you were made for it.” he repeated the same motions over and over, bobbing your head up and down on him until he couldn’t take your throat squeezing him anymore. he pulled you off, lifting your head up towards him. you were already a mess. your spit running down your face, a string connecting you both as he pulled you away.

“you just couldn’t fucking wait, could you?” the words sent a shiver down your spine. of course you couldn’t, but you wouldn’t admit that to him. the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair came up to your chin, wiping all the saliva from your face, then slowly entered it into your mouth. “clean up your mess… since you wanted to be a greedy slut i’ll treat you like one.” you felt yourself moan around the digit, making sure to lick up the entirety of it. once he was sure you were done he removed his thumb from your mouth, tracing it down your lips and chin.

yunhos grip on your hair loosened and whispered, “you gonna be good for me now?” you nodded up at him, tears still in your eyes. he nodded towards the bed without a word and you knew exactly what that meant. you scrambled to your feet and by the time you made it to the bed and turned around he was already on you. his hands grabbed at your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach in one swift movement. one hand moved, pulling you up by the hip to arch perfectly for him. he let his hands roam across your body. your skin started to feel hot, and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties. a small whine slipped and you let your head fall onto the pillows in front of you. “aw, is someone getting impatient?” he mocks, bringing a hand to your core. he ran a finger through your folds, the fabric bringing more stimulation but still not enough. you whine again, reaching behind you for something, anything. all yunho did was huff out a laugh, grabbing your wrist and pinning your hand behind your back.

his hand continued with its teasing, getting you wet enough until he saw a patch start to seep through. yunho didn’t even bother removing your panties. he only moved them over to the side, noticing how they stuck to you for a bit.

you felt the heat of him as he pressed his tip against you and you started to writhe underneath him. “stay still—you’re gonna take what i give you.” he whispered as he started to push into you. with how wet you both were he could easily slide in, not stopping until he felt you clench around him when he hit that spot. you moan simultaneously, and he barely gave you any time to recover before he began moving. he kept your hand behind your back, pushing it down even more to get you to arch further, ripping a loud moan from your throat.

yunho immediately set a brutal pace, the sounds of your moans and whimpers echoed around the walls. “y-yun.. please!” you could already barely speak properly with him hitting your g-spot over and over without fail. the feeling of his hand around your wrist pinning you down and the other on your waist is making your head spin. he lets out a low groan when you clench around him again, slowing down his thrusts and pushing himself all the way in until he noticed your legs slightly shaking. he leaned down further until his chest was almost pressing against your back and brought his mouth to your ear, “baby you’re already shaking? i thought you could take it…” he teases with a tsk. he emphasized his sentence with a deep thrust, practically punching the breath from your lungs. he repeated the same motion, slowly pulling out before pushing back in hard and forcing moans out of you.

“maybe if you weren’t so fucking greedy and waited i could’ve taken care of you doll…” he whispers to you. everything he was doing to you was filling your senses and you felt yourself getting overwhelmed with it all. each breath you took was filled with his scent, you could still taste him on your tongue, his hands felt like fire burning over your body. but you still wanted it all. you hadn’t even realized your mouth was open this entire time until you felt the side of your face getting wet. you were drooling all on the pillow. it was almost as if he was reading your mind when he started talking again. “god, am i fucking you dumb already?” you don’t even know why but apologies quickly started spilling from you, mixed with loud moans and sobs.

“m’sorry, i swear! wasn’t trying to be greedy-“ he quickly shut you up with another hard thrust, lifting back up so he could resume his pace. “no… you’re not sorry. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

the sounds coming from you were borderline pornographic. you felt your legs began to shake again and before you knew it you were coming. hard. the feeling of you clamping down on him made yunho moan too. once you finally felt yourself coming down you barely had any time to recover before he started fucking your again.

“no fucking manners either, you couldn’t say please?” he growled, looking down between the two of you, watching your pussy as he slid in and out with ease. your moans faded to low, high-pitched whines. “i didn’t- mean to…” you pant out. he laughs at you before removing his hand from your wrist, only to put it on the back of your neck. he used it to keep you pinned down right where he wanted as he pounded into you from behind. the room was filled with the harmonies of your noises and the nasty squelch of your spit and cum. you opened your mouth to speak again but you just couldn’t. every time he saw you try to speak again he’d cut you off with a rough thrust that would knock the wind out of your lungs.

yunho hasn’t slowed down yet, and you could already feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach growing again. “y-yu… im close…” you whimper into the pillow, trying you best to be as coherent as possible. you felt so full in the best way humanly possible, but with your impending orgasm not even minutes after your first is making you sensitive. “cant- fuck i’m so close!”

he laughs at you again, slowing down his thrusts but only getting even rougher with them. “say please…” he mutters as his grip on the side of your neck gets slightly tighter, making your brain go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. you moan loudly, opening your mouth to speak but you just can’t. the hand on the back of your neck quickly moves, reaching to grab your face, only forcing you to turn your head and look back at him. “say it.” he took his bottom lip onto his mouth, biting so hard he almost drew blood. the way he was handling you only made you moan louder—the contrast of this yunho and your usual sweet boyfriend was making your head spin.

“please yun! please… can’t take it-“ he cuts you off immediately, “say you’re sorry.” your legs were shaking again from the overstimulation. he really was trying to fuck you dumb. yunho swiftly moves his hand from your face to your throat, impossibly increasing his speed as he hit your g-spot with every movement.

you feel tears forming, only this time they actually started to fall. you looked a fucking mess—face wet and lip swollen from unconsciously biting it. yunho looked like he could keep going as long as he so pleased, eyes intense and focused as he watched every expression on your face. he was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead, the view in front of you only causing you to clench down even harder on him. “m’sorry i promise… so sorry- only wanted your attention.” he let out a sound of fake sympathy while letting his free hand reach between you both, skillfully rubbing his middle finger against your clit. your body would twitch with each touch, it felt like an electric shock each time.

your eyes rolled back as your body started to lock up. you shut your eyes tight as you felt the coil in your belly finally snap as your orgasm washed over you. flashes of white were the only thing you could see and yunhos moans were the only things you could hear. “fuccckk baby, there’s my good girl…” he thrusted again once. twice. then stilled as he emptied himself inside of you.

you could feel him shaking too, the both of you panting and whining as the sensitivity took over. yunho slowly pulled out and you whimpered at the loss. when he let go of your face you had realized your entire body was weak and limp, and you instantly fell forward onto the pillows. you felt the warm sensation of his lips against the cool sweat on your shoulders. “good job honey… did so good…” you could only hum in response, too tired to do anything. you were both breathing heavily, and his hands roamed across your body, gently squeezing anywhere he could. he quickly noticed when your breathing got shallow, but he didn’t want you to fall asleep yet.

“no no, sweetheart… not yet.” he says softly, flipping you on to your back and lifting you by the arms. you let out a whine in protest, keeping yourself limp to make it harder for him to lift you, which really didn’t work. “gotta take another quick shower before before bed, okay?”

“mm okay.”

“next time, it’ll take way more than just an ‘i’m sorry.’”