Summary: Seven crown princes disappear from their homes on the same night. None of the them can be found, but what is the true reason behind their disappearance?
—————
Footsteps could be heard against the cold stone floors as someone ran through the palace. The distinct sound of metal hitting pavement could be heard a moment later, and the footsteps halted. They returned a moment later even louder. Quicker, even. But no one noticed, for the entire palace was sound asleep. No one would notice the prince was missing until the following morning.
“Prince Jungkook is missing!” Squeaked one of the maids who attended him in the morning.
The entire palace went into a panic as they attempted to locate the missing prince. All that seemed to be left of him was his crown, which had been thrown on the ground near the back entrance of the palace. Almost as if to mock them.
Weeks went by, and there was no sign of the prince, but it soon came to the attention of the royal family that they were not the only kingdom missing a prince. It seemed that all six of the surrounding kingdoms were also missing a prince. They’d all gone missing on the same night, and all left one clue: a crown on the pavement near the back entrance. Whoever had orchestrated this scheme had clearly done this purposefully.
Years went by, and the kingdoms gave up hope of finding the missing princes. The year they’d disappeared, they’d all been between fourteen and seventeen years of age. All seven of them had been the heir apparent to the throne.
◇◆◇◆◇
“Hey! I thought Jin said you could have one bun!” Jimin exclaimed as Jungkook crammed another bun into his mouth.
“Does Jin work twelve hours a day at the mine? No!”
Jimin huffed and took a bite of his porridge. Tae joined them at the table, black smudges on his cheeks and his long hair falling into his face.
“Tae, go clean up. We don’t want to get the tablecloth messy. It took a week to clean it last time.” Jin told him as he set another plate of buns on the table.
Tae sighed and stood up again, heading down the hall.
“Namjoon and Yoongi said they’d be home in half an hour, right?”
“Yeah. The new house they’re building is bigger, so they have to work longer hours this week.” Jungkook mumbled around his bun. “Hobi’s gonna be back from the mill in a few, I think.”
Jin shook his head as he set a pot of soup in the middle of the table. “I don’t know how you guys work those jobs. The bakery is hard enough.”
“Trust me, I’d rather work at the bakery,” Tae mumbled as he returned to the room. He was dragging his fingers through his hair, wincing as they caught on clumps of dirt. He sighed and tied his hair back up into a bun.
“I’m so close to shaving my head. It’s making me even hotter than I usually am with this summer heat. Harvesting crops is not a fun job.” Jimin sighed.
“Would you rather look after horses all day?” Tae grumbled. “Sometimes I want to go back to the palace.”
“Soon, Tae. It’ll be soon.”
Tae huffed, taking one of the buns and shoving it into his mouth.
“Hey, I much prefer working at the mines to sitting all day.”
“We know you do, Jungkook.” Jimin sighed. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t supposed to be a prince.”
Jungkook shrugged. “I’m not particularly looking forward to going back to the palace, honestly. My sister would be a better ruler, anyways. Can’t I just marry Jane and keep working in the mines? I doubt my parents actually miss me.”
“Sure, go for it.” Tae muttered.
The other three boys looked at him.
“What? The whole reason we left was to find ourselves. If Jungkook thinks he doesn’t want to rule the kingdom, there’s no point in going back. He’ll just be trapped in that lifestyle again. And there’s no way his parents will let him marry Jane.”
Jungkook sighed. “I’d miss you guys, though. You’re better family than my real family ever was.”
“Please tell me dinner is ready,” Yoongi exclaimed as he walked into the dining room. He had a huge brown streak on his cheek.
“Jeez, why won’t any of you clean yourselves up?” Jin asked. “You don’t get dinner until you wash up.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and turned right back around to go wash his face off.
Hobi came running in a moment later. Thankfully, he’d actually cleaned himself up a bit. His hair was in knots on his head, though.
“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Jimin asked Hobi as he shoveled a bite of soup into his mouth.
“Last week?”
“Wanna join me when I shave my head?”
“Sure,” Hobi replied nonchalantly.
Namjoon and Yoongi joined them at the table a few minutes later.
“Staining has to be the worst part of this whole process,” Namjoon complained as he too bit into a roll.
“Really? You prefer building the roof?” Yoongi asked.
Namjoon paused. “Touché.”
“Jungkook wants to marry one of the village girls.” Jimin told the three who hadn’t been at the table earlier.
“What?” Hobi asked. “Are you not going back to the palace?”
Jungkook snorted. “I don’t want to. Do I have a choice, though? If you all return, it’ll be suspicious if I don’t.”
“We’ll just tell them you ran off with the traders,” Namjoon said.
“That’s a great idea! Why didn’t I go into trading?” Tae exclaimed.
“I thought you wanted to go back to the palace?” Jin questioned.
“Eh. It just sounds better than cleaning up horse poop all day.”
“Please, do not run off with the traders next time they’re in town. Or else I’m going with you.” Jimin jumped into the conversation.
“Hmm. Where’s the razor? You needed help shaving your head, right?”
“Yes, actually. You want to help me?”
◇◆◇◆◇
“Man, your hair has gotten long!” Tae exclaimed as he cut off another chunk of Jimin’s hair.
“You’re one to talk. Half the girls in the village are jealous of your hair.”
Tae laughed. “You sure you don’t want to keep it like this?” he asked, running his fingers through the inch and a half of hair Jimin had left on his head. It was choppy, but at least it wasn’t a foot long anymore.
“Cut the back shorter. Maybe it’ll look better.”
“All right.”
◇◆◇◆◇
“Excuse me, miss, but I’m not letting you into the house.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest as he blocked the doorway. “You can state your business out here.”
“I told you. I need to speak with Hak Namjoon.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “And I told you that I need to know what your business is with him.”
The girl sighed, giving in. “I’ve come to offer him a marriage proposal.”
If Yoongi was surprised, he didn’t show it. “All right. I’ll get him.” He shut the door in her face. “Joon! Someone named Hannah wants to talk to you.”
Namjoon was out the door before Yoongi could blink. Yoongi shook his head. Part of him had always wondered if they’d all truly return to their homes.
◇◆◇◆◇
Jin was working at the bakery the next day when he caught a chunk of a conversation two of the girls were having.
“I heard two of the neighboring kingdoms are fighting. One of them doesn’t have an heir, and the other one wants to take over.”
“Stella! We shouldn’t discuss that! War is men’s talk.”
Jin was glad he’d overheard it, though. The kingdom without an heir had been his. And he was sure it was Tae’s parents that were trying to take it over.
He was the last one home that night, and the rest of the boys had to come up with dinner themselves. Burnt pie was the first thing he smelled when he walked through the door.
“Jin’s home!” Hobi exclaimed as the door slammed shut.
Jin sat down at the table with a grim look on his face. “I have to go home,” was the first thing out of his mouth.
“What? Already?” Tae asked, shoulders sinking.
“I was the only heir…and now I’m their only hope.”
The table was eerily silent.
“There isn’t a way around it?” Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence.
“There never was,” Jin admitted. “I shouldn’t have left, honestly.”
“Can I come with you?” Tae asked.
Jin shook his head. “I think you need to go home, too.”
Tae nodded. He reached up and tugged on his hair, tears filling his eyes. “They’re going to make me cut it.” He hadn’t cut it since he’d left the palace.
“I’ll braid it for you tonight,” Jungkook offered.
“I need to go home, too.” Jimin muttered. “There’s not a better time than now.”
The rest of the guys looked at each other, daring the others to leave as well. But the table remained silent.
“I’ll return home once the house is done,” Yoongi said finally.
“I’m not leaving.” Jungkook said flatly. “Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I’m staying here.”
“Me too.” Namjoon joined Jungkook. “I agreed to marry Hannah. I can’t just leave after that.”
“You agreed?” Yoongi asked, baffled.
Namjoon nodded. Yoongi sighed and buried his face in his hands.
—————
Two
A/N: this has been sitting in my computer for a month and I’ve finally decided I’ll release the first chapter
And don’t ask me how long it’ll be because knowing me it could turn out as 50 chapters
This also takes place in some weird modernish-Korea with a more mixed population that’s split into kingdoms so don’t tell me it’s weird because I know 😂
genre: royal au, angst, little bit of smut (more like steam)
word count: 4.5k
warnings: mentions of war and death, pregnancy, mild politics
prince! namjoon has always been your unlikely confidant, but on the eve of the biggest battle you’ve ever had to fight, you wonder if he’s more than that
note: this is the longest thing i’ve ever written, and i feel like i’m sending my baby to kindergarten. i tried to keep the timeline historically accurate, but some things are a little jumbled. thank you to my best friend for editing this, and hope you like it!!
“Is everything okay?”
Yunho had been silent the whole training session, lips pulled tight and eyes hard, his face only breaking to push out a breath when your sword pressed against the cushion of his chest protector. What otherwise would have been met with a riled complaint—“Oh come on, you know I only gave you the opening because you gave Baram an extra carrot this morning”—was instead a quick bow and the kick of dust from his feet as he headed toward the pavilion.
His back was to you when you walked in, and the soft rain of grit onto sword was the only indication that he was present. You unlaced the chest protector and hung it on a hook before making your way to the stone bath, settling next to him. The sprinkling of sand and the soft clang of metal were the only sounds to fill the room before you had asked the question.
He continued sharpening, hands insistent on the blade, but you saw his lips purse. So he heard.
Swish. Swish.
He made no move of responding, so you laid your sword down and turned to face him.
“If this is about Minji, I know,” you said softly. You had gotten more intimate with the princess over the past few months, what with your training with Yunho and your shared love of the gardens. She was strong and witty, you came to discover, swift to deliver a teasing remark and even faster to lend a hand. You had only ever seen her as such, but you were also aware of the looming presence of Jaebeom, the youngest member of the advising counsel. Though the grounds were large, gossip was a skilled traveler. You would be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn’t stumbled upon his brash proposals of marriage, whether it be directly from his arrogant mouth or from others’. A fool could see that Jaebeom desired nothing less than nominal power, the chance to run his fingers over the cold gold of the throne. But as the son of the head of the Hwabaek, nepotism led him far, and his advances were hastily pointing to an engagement.
So though the princess hadn’t divulged the information herself, you found yourself acting as if she had. Though her words were just as amiable, her smile just as bright, she would be quiet, possibly mistaken for pensive, when she let her mind wander to those thoughts. Sometimes her mouth would turn down when she was admiring the peonies, and you would make sure to inhale the sweetness of the flower and with a sigh, mention how much the scent reminded you of Chulsoo, her youngest brother, after training. She would laugh, retell a story of his nearly fatal smell, and bring you to the hibiscuses. The squeeze of your hand at the end of your walks served as a silent token of gratitude for your company.
“We don’t have to talk about it. I can’t imagine how you feel because I’m upset,” you continued. “All of this,” you frowned at the glint of metal in your hand, “it shouldn’t have to happen. It isn’t right.” You wondered if the weeks to come would only be whistles of errant swords and screams of dying men.
“I spoke to Namjoon yesterday, and Hwabaek hasn’t made an official decision yet, so there’s still a chance. What with the diplomat here, I’m not sure if it will be the decision we want,” you falter, voice trailing. “But if we must go, you know Minji is safe within the walls. Namjoon and Chulsoo won’t let anything pass them, and you know how much her handmaiden loves her. She’ll probably poke someone’s eye out with a chopstick if they so much as pull on Minji’s hair too hard.”
The corner of his mouth quirks at the thought, but his eyes remain on the sword in front of him.
You turn back to do the same, letting your attention wander elsewhere as to give Yunho some space.
“10 days walking, maybe 4 days in the valley, 10, 11 days back. We’ll be back before the melons get too ripe. Less than a month away, which you know isn’t enough time for Jaebeom, even with his brainless haste, so if you’re worri--”
“She’s pregnant.”
The words are soft enough that you have to strain your ears. His gaze hasn’t moved from in front of him, but his hands have stopped moving, now clenched hard enough on the side of the tub that the color begins leaving his knuckles.
You free your hands and rest one on his arm. The tension in his body is obvious, and the arm underneath your palm flexes at your touch.
“She’s what?” You hope your voice isn’t wavering because your limbs are suddenly limp.
Yunho brings a hand up to his nose and hurriedly wipes at it. “She’s pregnant, maybe 12 weeks along. In a month, she’ll be showing, and I,” he pauses, a breath rattling through him, “if I don’t come back, I can’t let her go through that alone.
“What kind of father would I be, what kind of hu—.” He doesn’t let himself finish, and you know he can’t bring himself to say what he can never be.
He’s looking at you now, jaw tense and eyes hard. One tear’s beading down his cheek, threatening the well in your own eyes.
“I can’t go. For Minji and for our child, I can’t go, I won’t. But for duty,” he grits, and you watch as another tear falls, “for my kingdom, for my people, and for my child’s future, I have to.”
He leaves, the only sound from him the clash of the sword against the rack and the slam of the door, leaving you in the dark quiet of the room, wondering how you can convince the Hwabaek to let your men stay. The tears blurring your vision made it difficult to see, but you were able to feel the cool metal of the doorknob. You placed the practice sword in an empty slot on the wall and ran toward Namjoon’s office.
The guards in front of Najmoon’s office informed you that it was empty. He had been out since 8 that morning, and hasn’t returned since. Hwabaek meetings never lasted less than the whole day, meeting when only the servants were up and adjourning long after the oil lanterns had to be lit. It was barely sunset, the light washing over the central courtyard, so you had at least several hours before you would be able to see him. The center was bustling in preparation for the harvest festival that night. Servants balancing trays of multi-colored food and tying white banners with well-wishes written on them, sights that made you frown and turn your head.
Your bouncing leg was revealing your anxiety, so you will yourself to calm down. You had too much time for you to let the thrumming in your body take over, and you needed to be able to gather your thoughts.
Silla was falling. The thought of your kingdom, your home, at the end of its era made your heart and mind heavy. It was by no means a sudden revelation; the past few decades had been marked with failed battles, one too many famines that left the doctors weary from carrying bodies, and a waning sense of pride. Nearly 800 years of culture and beauty, stripped nearly bare by the Goguryeo kingdom of the north. The exchange came slowly. First, the riders pushing too close to the border, stating their search for a convict when they were met with arrow tips in their faces. A couple years later, the invasion of the perimeter. Pillaging and devastating the farming villages that produced the majority of the livestock and crops for the kingdom. Your grandfather told you stories of when your father was still young and optimistic, how he had seen the fires and smelled the rotting flesh, and came home, remaining silent throughout the two day trip. He transferred to the royal guard soon after and never spoke of what happened outside the palace walls.
There was internal turmoil too—corruption, fraud, negligence—you knew that. It was impossible to turn a blind eye while a member of Hwabaek, the most prestigious advising counsel to the king, openly rutted himself against the princess’s credentials in hopes of landing a title. These were bad men, men who thought rarely of others and only of themselves. It was their misguidance that led Silla to the state it’s in now, and you feel nothing but rage, rage that they failed to protect their people and rage that they continue to look at their riches instead of the crumbling kingdom.
But there were also just men, ones who spoke up and were unafraid to point fingers. Though only a prince, Namjoon had assumed all the roles the sick king was unable to perform. You’ve always butted heads with Namjoon, over who would get the last rice cake when you were kids and then which villages would be most fit for a tenant system as adults. He was too diplomatic, you too impulsive. You could never mask your emotions while he was groomed to speak coolly, calmly. There were few things you could agree on, but you knew of the good in his heart which, regardless of how much you disagreed, made you trust him and his judgment.
The day had grown dark by the time you made it back to the courtyard. Glowing with the light of three hundred lanterns, the courtyard’s bathed in a soft light that makes you ache. Every type of rice cake and dessert was piled high on plates, nearly the height of the doorway. Noodles, meats, fruits, whatever the kitchens could make were on display, flanking the space in the middle that was packed with people. Villagers wearing their best clothing, their nails scrubbed clean of dirt. Children weaving in and out of legs to catch fireflies in translucent pots. The dizzying twirl of bodies and ribbons to the beat of drums, which you could feel in the tips of your fingers and toes. It was all too much. The lights, the laughing, the food. Too much for the next month of cold grass and hoarse screaming you will most likely have to endure.
Your feet carry you to the outskirts of the center, up the few steps until you’re resting against a pole. You’ve never been good with crowds, funnily enough, and the reality of tomorrow makes it even harder to stomach the joy.
I have to find Namjoon, you remind yourself. But in a few minutes. Eyes closed and arms wrapped around the beam, you allow yourself a few deep breaths. Five seconds in, two seconds out, eight times. Namjoon had taught you that the night before your first ride.
It had been nothing more than a rebellion taming, something that died down the moment the royal seal was seen. Some villagers in Gyeongju had threatened to throw a royal representative into a river if the price of the fish wasn’t lowered. The rebellion never went further than insults and one tomato being thrown, but you were summoned to lead a small pack to diffuse it.
You had started inviting yourself into Namjoon’s chambers at that point. Your ladies knew by the braid still intact on your head at the end of each night that nothing interesting was happening; his guards knew you only ever talked until the early mornings.
The night before your first task, you had your first attack. You had mistaken it for a headache at the beginning, the symptoms typical of one—temples pounding and vision blurring. The day had been long, hours of training in the sweltering heat and a ceremonial welcoming for a visiting scholar. You blamed the busy schedule and little water you had been able to drink, until your heart began to patter too quickly. Breaths came out too short and fast, and your racing heart seemed to push on, a type of pain more than physical.
Warmth was around you within a second, firm hands framing your face. You could only see the outline of Namjoon’s lips, every other feature too indistinct to focus on. His lips were moving, but it wasn’t until several moments had passed that you realized he was speaking.
“Breathe, breathe,” he whispered, doing with his own mouth what he wanted you to do. His thumbs soothed soft circles into your cheeks, but he was intent in his grip, not letting you go until your exhales were regular.
You dreamt about his hands and his lips that night, but scrubbed the images away the moment your armor weighed heavy on your skin. There was no reason to dwell on an obligatory touch. He had said on multiple occasions after you had come from the infirmary with bandages that he didn’t want your blood dripping onto his bamboo mat. The night before was simply in the best interest of his mat. And you had no reason to look at him in such a way. You had never before, never felt the small stone of nerves in your stomach your ladies often chattered about. The next time you saw him, he didn’t mention it and neither did you, but you couldn’t help but glance at his hands holding the pen.
It became an unspoken ritual. There was no lack of bickering and arguing, but the moments in which you could feel your breath quickening, his hands were on your face, soft words encouraging you to breathe.
So when you felt warmth around your back and a hand on your arm, you continue the exercise, trying to overcome the shakiness of your breath at the exhales. Your eyes are still shut—you knew you would be dizzy if you opened them too quickly—but you feel your arms being detangled from the pole. An arm secures itself around your waist, and the familiar smell of sandalwood and lavender envelops you. You follow the smell as your feet begin to move. It’s not until a small murmur for you to step up that you open your eyes.
The dim lighting is still a little too bright for you, but you’re shuffling forward anyway, still guided by Namjoon. He sits you down on the bed before taking a seat next to you. The heat from his thigh presses into yours.
“You okay?” he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
It takes all your willpower to resist chasing the warmth of his hand. “Yeah, that was a bad one. Must’ve been Mrs. Yun’s fish.” You give a half-hearted chuckle.
He frowns, ignoring your teasing comment, and runs the pads of his fingers gently down your cheeks. There’s nothing but silence and his roaming touch, and you squirm in your spot, the attention flustering you.
“Do we have to go to the valley?”
You hate how small your voice sounds, as if you’re 16 and shaking before your first ride. Daughter of the head of the royal guard, the only female general in the kingdom, head trainer, and the consequences of war still turned your skin to gooseflesh.
He drops his hand from your face at the question, and you strangely miss the feeling of his skin against yours. You sit quietly, waiting for his answer.
The hand that was touching your face rakes through his hair. He releases a breath, and in the lighting, you can see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It’s been plaguing him too.
“You know we don’t have a choice.” His voice is tired.
“That’s not true,” you said, shifting to cross your legs. “There’s always a choice. We can negotiate with Baekje, obtain some land, push our line west, get fresh land for crops.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “The diplomat wouldn’t negotiate with us until we agreed to send soldiers. Bold of him since their soldiers are the ones who need help.” He gives a little snort and rubs his forehead with thumbs. “But he knows how desperate we are for land. They offered half of the valley and connecting ports.”
Your back straightens at his words. “Half?”
His mouth quirks at your tone. “Half. That’s 30,000 pyeongs of the most fertile land. And access to ports to and from China along the Han from January to June.”
A pause and a quiet exhale. “It’s the best option that we have.”
“What about the soldiers?”
He meets your eyes then, and you have to shut yours to keep from wavering.
“The diplomat got news this morning saying that 10,000 are dead. Only about 2,000 on the Goguryeo side.” He sees you bite your bottom lip to stop it trembling. “The casualties are so high, we have to make the sacrifice. Hwabaek decided 20,000.”
Your breath catches in your throat. 20,000 men, nearly 80% of the soldiers. A number that large hasn’t been deployed since the beginnings of the kingdom. Only the royal guard and some soldiers patrolling neighboring areas will be left to maintain order, which means. Yunho.
“Park Yunho. Let him stay.” You bite your tongue, deliberating how to continue. Namjoon might not even know Yunho, nonetheless know he’s the father of Minji’s baby. He speaks before you can give an explanation.
“Tall guy, scar down his nose, right?” He’s picking at a pill of lint on the end of his sleeve. “I already gave him a leave of absence.”
Your elbows give way, and your upper body nearly collapses into the bed. Scrambling up to your knees, you look at Namjoon in disbelief.
“You what?”
He’s still pulling at his shirt, head tilted to the side so you can only see his profile. You swat at his hand and take his chin to face him forward.
You notice he’s smiling. It’s the smile that he gives to the cook’s child when he asks Namjoon for help with writing his name, the one that touches every part of his face. You tamp down the urge to thumb at his dimple and instead flick it, willing him to talk.
“I was able to convince the scribe to write a letter of absence for him. Said something about Minji demanding a riding teacher, even though she hasn’t ridden a horse since she fell into the dung pile 10 years ago.” The corner of his eyes crinkled at the memory. “The scribe kept getting mochi powder over the writing, so I couldn’t see exactly what he wrote, but I’m guessing it was good enough. Whether Yunho takes it is something else entirely, but we’ll let Minji deal with that.”
Sitting back on your feet, you let out the breath you’ve been holding. Yunho was dedicated and proud, putting his duty first, but he at least had official leave. He could stay.
“Wait,” you say, bringing your attention back to Namjoon. “So you know?”
He finally laughs, a sound that you haven’t heard in a long time.
“You really think I lived with Minji for 24 years and didn’t know she was pregnant? She almost gagged when she saw we were having bean stew for dinner last week. She practically hoards bean stew in the pottery in her room so she can eat it at night. Finding out it was Park Yunho wasn’t too difficult. I found her hanging around the pavilion, which she never does because she complains about the smell, and I saw him sneaking into her room a couple times. She was giggling so damn much, I’m surprised the whole wing didn’t wake up.”
The thought of Yunho tiptoeing around guards made you smile. He was all brute force and no grace, but for the princess, he made sure to tread lightly on his feet.
“Are you...okay with it?”
It was a question that held far more than its words, demanded more than answering if he accepted his sister being pregnant outside of marriage. Did he accept that his sister, the princess, was pregnant with a common soldier’s baby? Did he accept the future of interconnected social classes? As a future king, would he allow society to trend toward that?
He shrugged, looking far less concerned than any other nobleman would have in the situation.
“He seems like a good man. You’ve mentioned him in the past, now that I think about it. He’s a soldier, so he has honor, dedication, drive. And,” he pauses, eyes trained on you. “He makes Minji the happiest I’ve ever seen her, well except now, when she can’t stand the thought of bean stew.”
You sigh, your heart full at the thought of a babbling baby, running in the shade of the peonies with a wooden sword.
“He’ll take care of her. You know he will.” But as you speak, eyes locked with Namjoon’s, you can’t help but think that your words aren’t about them.
He doesn’t speak, so you’re left in quiet. It’s strangely calming, the feeling of not being compelled to talk to break up the silence. That’s always how it is with Namjoon though. He made you comfortable.
A few more beats pass before he speaks.
“Don’t go.”
It was a murmur, lighter than a hummingbird’s kiss, but it rushed through your ears as loud as ocean waves. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew. You knew because your fingers pulled toward the bump of his knee, landing softly on fabric.
A hand covered yours, and the warmth that you’ve become so attuned to blossomed up your arm and throughout your body, making your eyes prickle.
“You know I have to,” you can’t help the shake of your voice.
He gives a sad smile, turning your hand over so that the palm was facing up. A finger traces lightly over the love line, and the tickle makes you close your hand around his finger.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve had some experience with stubborn warriors,” he says. The thumb of his other hand traces your bottom lip. It quivers under his touch.
“I’m usually good with words,” he snorts, a sound that turns into an uneven breath when he feels the scrape of your teeth on his thumb.
“I—Can I show you instead?”
He waits, body still except for his breaths. He’s waiting for your answer, your okay, because no matter how much you argue, he wants your comfort, your happiness. All the times he’s held you, retaught you how to breathe, let you speak your mind even though you were speaking from emotion rather than logic. The realization is nearly as dizzying as his scent slowly wrapping around you, and you can feel your head spinning.
Him. You had to find him.
You’re met with soft eyes, a world of understanding behind them, and all you can do is nod before you’re reaching for his face.
The kiss is wet and salty from your tears, but your heart is light. His lips are gentle, encouraging you to push against him, fit yourself into where you belong. You adjust yourself until you’re settled in his lap, the heat of him against you pulling a quiet moan from your lips.
He takes the break in your breath to lick down your neck, sucking at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. A sigh bubbles out, but you can’t distinguish whose. Your small sounds mix with his muffled breaths, and you can’t imagine what it’ll be like when you can hear him unhindered.
A particularly sensitive spot has you mewling and rubbing your center down against his, earning a groan that falls so sweet against your ears. You grind again, gasping when you feel him push up against you. He’s hard and insistent, and his hands on your waist keep you pressed down onto him so you can’t do anything but roll your hips in hopes of relieving the tension building up in you.
You cup his face to bring it to yours, connecting your lips once again. The pants and sighs feel better against his lips somehow, and the puff of air you feel when you push your fingers into his hair elicits a moan from you.
“Show me,” you mumble into his lips, knowing that he would keep you against him like this until the morning unless you said something.
“As you wish,” he answers, an arm wrapping around you and laying you back until you feel the cushion underneath your head. Body cushioned by the silk of the red sheets and Namjoon’s hands untying your shirt, you can’t help but feel like a queen.
The kisses along your hairline make your eyelids flutter, the delicious ache between your legs a reminder of why you’re so close to falling asleep.
You’re curled around him, legs intertwined with his. The bare feeling of him against you settling warm in your stomach. You were drawing circles by his ribs until his complaints of tickling became too loud in your ear, so you settled your hand on his chest, which is where it lay now, sitting against his heartbeat.
You tilted your head up when you felt the ghosting of his lips leave your skin. He leaned down to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. You smile into it, scooching up to do the same to him. He scrunches his nose when your lips touch him.
You look at each other, eyes roaming over each others’ faces. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were memorizing his face. That dimple in his right cheek. The full lips. The strong brow.
He opens his mouth, but closes it soon after.
“You know what I want to say, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” you answer, and you do. You could feel it through him.
“Seems wrong though, like it’s not enough,” you say.
He hums in agreement. “For once, I agree.”
Your finger pokes into his side, earning you a laugh. The rumble through his body into yours makes you hug him tighter.
“That means you have to come back to me.”
You lift your head up from his arm to look at him. There’s a wet trail inching by the corner of his mouth, and you distract yourself with wiping it so you can’t see his eyes.
The fresh path that forms after your thumb swipes the tears make you quake, but you tell yourself to be strong. After what Namjoon has done for you, the least you can do is give him a fraction of the peace he created within you.
“Of course,” you murmur into his lips.
“You know I’ll always come back to you at the end of the day.”
Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Kim Namjoon on his throne.
A/N: if you listen closely you can hear me ugly sobbing, it’s finally finished! Sorry it took so long, but as promised to a follower, I’m posting Namjoon first! Also sorry it’s not as fluffy/happy as y’all had hoped. I really can’t do fluff (PCs to Vikttoria16)
You shuffled between tables, wiping them clean of the drunken mistakes the village’s fustian knights left behind. You were so tired of working at the local inn, but it was the only way you could afford to adequately support yourself.
It’d been two months since you left the palace to find work elsewhere, and not a day’s gone by where you haven’t thought of Namjoon. Sometimes you wish you could go back. You left behind so much more than the love of your life; you left your friends, your integrity, your home. It was hard on you having to adjust to your new environment, all alone, with no one to support you the way Namjoon always silently did.
But then you think of Namjoon with Jisoo… It just wasn’t worth it to you to stay in the palace knowing you came so close to something only to let it slip away without a fight. That constant reminder would tauntingly dangle in front of you every time you made their bed or cooked their breakfast.
You had to leave, for your sake and for his. Without saying a word to anyone, you disappeared from the palace and into the night. You figured there was no point in telling anyone; it's not like Namjoon would've stopped you if you'd said anything anyway. You weren't sure what you were going to do after you left, you just knew you couldn’t take anymore of the suffering of watching Namjoon care for someone that wasn't you.
Luckily for you, not long after you arrived at the barren town, the inn’s owner was kind enough to give you a job as a maid and server for the pub connected to the inn. She even allowed you to live in one of the inn’s old storage rooms. It wasn’t much different from the room you stayed in at the palace, so it was comforting in a sense. You could easily cry yourself to sleep on the pile of blankets you called a bed, just like in the palace. It was almost like home.
A month after arriving at the inn, you began to feel very fatigue. You brushed it off as a symptom of overworking yourself at the pub, but what could you do when it was your only source of income? So you continued working until you started feeling nauseous in the early mornings in addition to your weariness. That’s when you realized, you were pregnant. You told Sumi, the innkeeper, about your pregnancy because you felt scared and alone. How were you supposed to raise a child on your own? The worst part was your baby would grow up without ever knowing their father.
It was then that Sumi became like a mother to you. She listened to your problems, soothed your aching heart with warm hugs, and loved you like no other. You trusted her more than you've ever trusted anybody before. Not even a month after you met, you felt comfortable enough with her to tell her about your relationship with the crowned prince. You knew she'd keep your secret safe, and it felt liberating to finally be able to tell someone that you loved Kim Namjoon.
And that he loved you, too.
After you finished cleaning off the tables and sweeping the floor, you grabbed one of the many candles that lit the pub and disappeared behind the bar. It was around midnight, ten minutes past closing, and about time you locked up the entrance of the pub. You searched the shelves under the bar and shuffled around old rags trying to find the key. Usually it hangs on a hook under the countertop, but of course you forgot to put it there after you opened this morning.
Sumi always berated you for your carelessness - you were always misplacing things. You never did that at the palace. Then again, you were mainly in charge of cleaning and cooking, not watching over small dumb keys. The lack of light didn't help. No matter how many candles or lanterns you lit, the pub would never be bright enough for you.
Eventually you noticed the key at the back of the shelf behind a glass mug. You probably shoved it back there on accident after putting a cup back.
As you reached for the key, you heard the door of the pub open and then shut with a loud thud.
Oh, great, you thought. Probably another drunk.
There were too many occasions in which you had to chase out a drunkard - some nice, others not so much. You really hoped it was just someone asking for directions or the innkeeper coming to tell you to hurry up. You mentally prepared yourself to meet the unidentified stranger.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized as you stood up, “but we’re closed.”
The stranger jumped at your voice, his back turned to you. Finally, he turned around and faced you. You immediately recognized his face; he was one of the pub’s regulars.
He greeted you with a smile. “Uh, hi.”
By his steady voice and somewhat calm composure, you assumed he wasn't drunk. He looked like he was around your age, maybe a couple of years older. His hair was dark brown and laid flat against his forehead.
He scratched the back of his head and knitted his brows together as he took a step towards you. “I don't know if you remember me, but I was here earlier today…”
“Yeah,” you said. “I remember.”
The sheepish grin he bared widened. “Well, my name's Taehyung, and I was - uh - I wanted to ask you this earlier but timing wasn’t right. You were so busy getting people their orders and stuff. I didn’t wanna bother you. But I was kinda wondering if… you’d wanna go out sometime?”
You couldn't help but smile and let out a small chuckle. He came all this way, this late at night, to ask you out. His rambling gave away his nervousness which you found cute.
That thought suddenly left you as it sunk in just what he was asking. It'd only been two months since you left the palace. You weren't sure if you were ready to start seeing other people. You wanted to move on because you were so tired of crying over a married man that you'd probably never see again, but wasn't two months too soon?
When you didn't say anything, Taehyung cleared his throat. “We could just get something to eat? Doesn't have to be anything serious.” He tried to convince you to say yes.
“I don't know…” you responded.
“Just one date.” Taehyung motioned the number one with his pointer finger and took another step closer to you. “And then if you don't think we could be anything serious, we can just be friends.”
Would this be a good idea? You asked yourself. You knew you'd never get over Namjoon if you just stayed at the inn and worked, but you didn’t want to go out with this guy just to help yourself get over someone. Taehyung didn’t deserve that.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think...” your voice trailed off. You wanted to tell him no, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. He seemed so nice; he was always smiling and laughing when he’d drink with his friends at the pub. He had a cute smile that was hard to forget.
If it weren't for Namjoon, you probably would've said okay without a second thought.
Taehyung’s smile faltered slightly, and you immediately felt bad and wanted to take back your rejection.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” his smile was back, only not as bright as before. “If you ever change your mind, just let me know.”
Taehyung turned around to leave.
Would one date really be that bad? He did say it’d be enough. Who knows, I might actually have fun. You debated with yourself some more, still unsure if you wanted to go or not.
You thought about Namjoon again. He would have wanted you to go. He would want you to move on and be happy. You could hear his voice in the back of your mind, and you could see his dimpled smile, the one you loved so much, form as he’d say, “Come on, Princess, this guy could be your new prince.” You could hear him telling you it wasn't like you to be so hesitant.
As Taehyung neared the door, you senselessly called out to him, “Wait!”
With his hand on the doorknob, Taehyung turned around to look at you. You didn't know what you wanted to say, but you knew you didn't want him to leave.
Stepping out from behind the bar, you tentatively walked towards him. Your hands were balled into fists by your sides, you clenched and unclenched them, nervously. “Uh, I change my mind. I'll take you up on that offer.” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, hoping you weren't going to regret this decision.
That familiar smile was back again, and Taehyung's eyes lit up, “Really?”
You smiled gently and nodded your head, “Yeah, but you gotta keep your word. If I just want to be friends then we'll just be friends. Okay?”
Taehyung nodded his head vigorously, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Of course! Are you free later today?”
It was Sunday, so you knew the pub would be closed today. Sumi didn’t believe in drinking on the day of the lord, so that was the one day out of the week the pub didn’t open. “Yeah, I am. The pub will be closed, so I’ll be at the inn next door.”
“Okay, great!” Taehyung said, his excitement evident in his scrunched eyes and wide smile. “I’ll come pick you up around noon.” Taehyung gave you one last look before leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.
You really hoped the Namjoon in your head lead you to make the right decision.
After you locked the pub up last night, you made your way to the inn where you found Sumi, warming you up some leftover dinner. You told her about your date with Taehyung and how you'd be gone - you assumed - for most of the day.
Sumi was elated to hear you were trying to move on, but the motherly part of her was still worried you were forcing yourself too soon. She kept reminding you that you weren’t obligated to go on this date and that you could leave in the middle of it if you felt like you needed to. You wanted to be annoyed by her nagging, but all you could do was appreciate her concerns.
Once Sumi was finished nagging you, she began to ask you what Taehyung was like since she had no idea who he was. There was only so much you could say since you didn’t really know Taehyung either, but you did know he had the sweetest smile. Of course, it was nothing compared to Namjoon’s, but it did make your heart flutter just the tiniest bit. You told Sumi he was a brown eyed cutie with soft features that reminded you of a puppy dog.
The more Sumi talked about the date, the more excited and anxious you became for it. You’ve never been on a date before - never went through the process of picking out an outfit, anticipating what you're gonna do on the date, or wondered if this could be the guy. So, your nerves were kicking into high gear as the date neared.
It was almost noon, about an hour till, and you were all ready for your date. You did your hair and wore your nicest dress; it was Sumi’s dress when she was younger, and she was nice enough to give it to you since you didn't have any clothes other than the ones you wore on your back the day you two met.
As you stood in the inn’s kitchen, you kept having to drink water to calm yourself. You were getting so anxious.
What if he’s the one? The one that'll take your breath away even more than Namjoon ever could. The one you can actually grow old with. The one that'll make you forget Namjoon. Although you found that highly unlikely, you couldn't help but wonder.
What if he isn't the one? What if he just makes you miss Namjoon even more? You've never loved anyone like you loved Namjoon.
Your thoughts were boundless and slightly irrational for just one date, but having to bounce back from a love that meant the world to you was scary. You didn't know what was scarier, the thought of never finding love again or actually moving on from the one who taught you how to love.
You were in the middle of downing your fourth glass of water, pondering if it was too late to cancel the date, when Sumi walked into the kitchen. She eyed you, admiring how beautiful you looked in her old dress. It reminded her of when she was young and lively.
Sumi smiled gently as she said, “Taehyung's here!”
“What?” You almost choked on your water. “But the date's not for another hour, I'm not prepared!” You thought back to what Taehyung said and remembered he told you around noon, not at noon. You stood next to the island in the middle of the kitchen and placed your glass on it. Your grip on the cup was tight as you looked to Sumi. Nervousness settled into the creases of your furrowed brows.
Sumi chuckled. “I found him standing in front of the inn, he asked about you. He really did look like a puppy - a lost one.”
“What'd he say?” You inquired.
“Just asked if I knew ya, and I told him I did and to wait in the check-in area. You can still cancel, you know?”
You knew that, but it'd be rude to have him come all this way only to cancel last minute, right? No, it wouldn't be rude, but it wouldn't feel right. It's just one date. Just two people hanging out, getting something to eat. It's not like he was expecting you to fall in love with him today.
“No, it's fine. I'm dressed. I'll go.” You released your grip on the cup and inhaled deeply. You gave Sumi a smile and thanked her for notifying you that Taehyung was here.
He's not gonna propose for goodness sake, stop being so nervous, you told yourself.
You gathered your courage and made your way to the inn’s lobby where you saw him sitting on one of the couches, his back turned to you.
“Hey, sorry I made you wait,” you released a shaky chuckle. “I wasn't expecting you to be so early.”
When he stood up and looked at you, your heart dropped. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat because that wasn’t Taehyung waiting for you. “Namjoon?”
He looked tired and worn out, but his eyes lit up the second they met yours. Your name dripped from his lips like honey, all sweet and loving, as he took a step towards you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Namjoon smiled, and his oh-so-familiar dimples made your heart flip.
Namjoon wore the clothes of royalty, but they were slightly tattered and dirtied - evidence of his quest to find you.
Seeing Namjoon brought back all these painful feelings and made nostalgia bubble in your stomach. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch him or hold him, tell him how much you’ve missed him, how much you still love him. You didn’t need him here to make you lose your will to move on.
The fact that Namjoon was here was surreal. You’d always fantasized about him coming to find you, but you never expected it to actually happen.
“What are you doing here?” You asked as you took a step back. Your heart was racing and your palms sweaty. You flattened them on your sides to rid them of the claminess.
You always thought if you saw Namjoon again, you’d run straight into his arms and never let go. But now that he’s really here, your legs felt like lead, heavy and immobile. There was an anchor in the pit of your stomach keeping you from embracing the love of your life. You were paralyzed to your very core.
The tone in your voice made the sparkle in Namjoon’s eyes die out, and his dimpled smile disappeared without a trace. “I came to see you.”
The weak part of you melted at his words, but you quickly regained your composure. He’s married, you reminded yourself. “Does Jisoo know you’re here?”
You were so conflicted with your feelings. You wanted to be happy he was here for God knows what reason, but the practical - and slightly cynical - side of you kept screaming for you to disregard your feelings because if you don't and succumb to them, then you'll be left vulnerable and susceptible to being hurt again. Seeing him brought forth a rush of feelings that you’ve been trying to lock up for months now. The gates have opened, the dam broken, and your feelings were like a unyielding flood trying to drown you.
“No,” Namjoon sighed. He dropped his head and stared at his feet. Namjoon thought you’d be overjoyed to see him. Then again, he did show up out of the blue with no warning whatsoever. He never stopped to consider for even a second that you wouldn’t want to see him. “I… ended things with her.”
Namjoon lifted his head and searched your eyes, looking for some kind of reaction.
Your mouth fell open in shock. You wondered for a second if you heard him correctly. Did Namjoon really just say he “ended things” with the princess of a neighboring country? “Ended things” with his wife.
“What are you talking about?” You questioned. “Nothing’s as simple as ending things, Namjoon… Are you saying you got divorced?”
“Not exactly,” he responded. “I told the king about us…”
As soon as Namjoon muttered those words, it felt as if the ground that was keeping you steady suddenly crumbled from beneath you, and you were falling. The rush of adrenaline that consumed your every nerve wasn’t exhilarating in the slightest, it made your hairs stand on end and your heart clench.
“Namjoon,” you whispered. “You didn’t.”
What exactly did he tell the king? “Hey I’ve been screwing one of the maids for the past couple of years.” That’s the only way you could have imagined the scene to go down.
“I told him I love you,” he continued. “Told him I can’t be with Jisoo, and that I want to marry you.”
Before you could even digest the fact that Namjoon just said he wanted to marry you, he continued.
“He told me to never bring divorce or you up ever again, especially not in front of Jisoo, or he’d disown me. He said that this was the path chosen for me since birth, and that he’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted, and I didn’t deserve to ask for more.”
You couldn’t help but agree with what the king was saying. This was the path chosen for him. He’s a prince for goodness sake. It’s his duty to help bring our country and neighboring countries together in any way possible. Even if that meant marrying somebody he doesn’t love because someday he’s going to be king, and he needs to learn how to sacrifice his happiness for the sake of this country.
Besides, what did he think he’d get out of telling the king? Did he really think that just because he says he wants to marry you that his parents would allow him to sever ties with Jisoo so soon after their marriage? For a maid no less? Even if they were okay with him divorcing Jisoo, they wouldn’t let him do it to be with a maid. Perhaps someone of royalty, but never a maid.
That thought saddened you, but this was your reality.
“So I left,” Namjoon’s husky voice pulled you out of your reverie.
“You should go back,” you found yourself whispering in a soft voice. He can’t just leave the palace as if there won’t be any consequences. How typical of a prince to assume he can do whatever he wants. “Namjoon, this isn’t right. You were born to be king. You deserve a lavish lifestyle in the palace where you belong. You wouldn’t survive a day in a commoners shoes.”
What would happen to Jisoo? How would this affect our country's relationship with hers? Who will be king now? So many questions ran through your mind as you wondered what would happen if Namjoon did stay. Of course, Namjoon’s younger brother Jimin could always take the throne, but he was considerably younger than Namjoon. He was only sixteen years old. It’d be a long time before he could become king.
Namjoon walked towards you, his face hard. “No amount of riches could keep me away from you. I deserve to choose how I live my life, and I choose to live it with you.”
“Namjoon…” It’s not like you genuinely wanted him to go back, but you knew what was right, and him staying with you wasn’t. He has a duty to uphold.
“If I can’t be with you, then I don’t want to be with anyone.” He hesitantly reached up before slowly cupping your face in his large hands. They were warm and felt like home. He was thankful you didn’t withdraw from his touch like he thought you would. He knew how much he’s hurt you, and he was so worried the damage was irreversible.
“But you don’t get to choose.” You looked into Namjoon’s pleading eyes, they were dark and solemn. You never would have thought you’d have to reject Namjoon, but here you were, saying no to a man practically begging you take him. Oh, how you wanted to take him.
You reached up and engulfed Namjoon’s hands in yours. You gave them a light squeeze before removing them from your face, watching as his face fell with despair. You took two step backwards, bringing some distance between you two. It made it so much easier to reject him when you couldn’t feel his warmth and imagine yourself wrapped up in his arms. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you smiled at him.
“Y/N,” his voice trembled.
“Go back, Namjoon. Go back to where you belong, and live the life that you should. You could be happy with Jisoo if you tried.”
“I left everything for you.” Namjoon huffed. “Do you really think they’d take me back after what I did to be with you? I walked out on the royal family; no one even knows where I am, Y/N. They’ve probably disowned me already.”
You considered Namjoon’s words for a second. No way they’d disown him that easily. Surely they’d take him back. At least that’s what you hoped.
You opened your mouth to assure Namjoon they’d accept him without hesitation, but he cut you off.
“I won’t go back.” His voice was firm. Namjoon took a step towards you, closing the space you’d just created. “I love you, and I know you love me, too.”
Everything around you stood still. This was the first time Namjoon’s ever directly told you he loves you. He’s said he loved you, he’s said he told his father he loves you, but he’s never told you face to face, out loud, “I love you.” It nearly broke your entire resolve to send Namjoon back. You were too taken aback to retaliate, so Namjoon continued without giving you a second to completely compose yourself.
“You don’t want me to go back, and you know it. Don’t give me some bullshit lie that being a prince is what I deserve, and the palace is where I belong. We both know that’s not true; I belong with you wherever that may be.
“We could be happy together. I don’t care about this country, I don’t care about money, and I sure as hell don’t care about Jisoo or what the king and queen think. I love you Y/N, and I want to be with you. I want to live with you and wake up to you every morning and go to sleep to you every night. I want to get married and have kids with you. I’ll work day in and day out to give you everything you deserve. Stop putting me before yourself because you deserve to be happy, too, and I know that you’d be happy with me.”
I want to have kids with you. You immediately thought about the child you were carrying. If Namjoon stayed, your child wouldn’t be fatherless, and you could actually tell Namjoon that he’s going to have a kid. Of course you wanted to live with him, raise your kid with him, and you had no doubt in your mind that you’d be happy with Namjoon. The thought was so deliciously tempting that the more you entertained it, the more your resolve seemed to dissipate.
You imagined Namjoon as a dad, taking care of y’alls little baby and playing with them. You pictured yourself growing old with him and watching as that child turned into an adult and started to love like you and Namjoon did.
Instinctively, your hand rested on your belly. The tears that were welling in your eyes earlier finally spilled over. A soft sob fell past your parted lips. You bit your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and allowing more whimpers to escape. You looked down at your small baby bump. You gripped your dress and let the cloth bunch up in your clenched hand.
Would it be wrong of you to change your mind and ask him to stay? You wanted that - you wanted that happy ending, and by God did you deserve it. Namjoon was right, you deserve to be happy. You were hardly ever selfish or voiced your wants and needs. Would it really be so bad for you to let yourself have this one thing even if it meant getting in the way of Namjoon’s life?
Suddenly, you found yourself searching for reasons for him to stay. He wanted to be with you. You didn’t force him to come find you or leave his family behind. He did that all on his own. Who are you to say no to that? You should be grateful and accept him with open arms.
“What?” Namjoon asked when he noticed your tears and your hand on your stomach. He wondered for a second if you were in physical pain. Concern laced his words as he asked you again, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m,” you choked out, “I’m pregnant.”
A second or two passed and suddenly you were in Namjoon’s arms. He held you tight against himself. You could hear his heart hammering inside his chest. Namjoon rested his chin on your head, trying to find the right words to say.
He was so caught off guard. He didn’t want to insult you, but he had to ask. “Is it m-”
“Yes it’s yours, you idiot.” You answered without him having to finish his question. Your tears stained his shirt as you buried your face further into his chest.
Namjoon thought about the last time you two had sex. You must have been at least two months along. He immediately felt bad thinking about how scared you must have been when you found out all alone. He was a little bitter because he knew, if he’d never came to see you, he would have never known about his own child. But that wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was you were so obviously shaken, and all he wanted to do was console you.
“I can’t go now, Y/N,” Namjoon lifted his chin from your head and leaned back so he could look you in your eyes. His thumbs wiped away the tears streaming down your face. You stared into his brown eyes, they were soft and inviting. “You need me as much as I need you. I can help you raise the baby. You don’t have to do this alone. Jimin can be king, Jisoo can find some other prince from some other country, but you’ll never find another man that will love this baby as much as I would.”
With each passing word, Namjoon continued to tear your resolve to shreds. There was hardly any piece of you left that was convinced he should go back to the palace. You were overcome with a sudden desire to keep Namjoon all to yourself. Screw what was right.
“But-”
“Sh,” Namjoon silenced you. “No ‘buts’. I’ve let you go once, and I’m not doing it again.”
Namjoon leaned down and kissed you. It was a soft affectionate kiss filled with love, there was no urgency to it. You simply melted into him, and that was it. There was no turning back; he’d won you over. As Namjoon deepened the kiss, he pulled you close into a loose hug. His hands rested on your waist, intimately. You snaked your arms around his neck and clasped your hands together.
Your heart was pounding loud and clear, and you were sure Namjoon could hear it, too. After what felt like an eternity, you broke the kiss, your eyes still closed.
It still hadn’t quite registered that you and Namjoon are finally going to get your happy ending. You knew there were going to bumps and obstacles along the way, and you might have to fight to stay together, but you knew it would be worth it in the long run. Finally, all the suffering would come to an end because Namjoon was yours.
“I love you,” you whispered.
“I love you, too.”
“And then what happened Mommy?” Your daughter asked. You sat perched on a rickety old rocking chair that Namjoon tried to make for you not long before Nayeon was born. She was seated at your feet, her legs crisscrossed, her chin resting on her clasped hands, and her eyes gleaming.
You’d just finished telling Nayeon the story of how you and Namjoon got together and how Namjoon so bravely left his home and family to be with you. You weren’t afraid to mention he was the prince because you knew if Nayeon mentioned it to any other kid, they’d think it was a simple story.
In fact, your story had spread throughout the country. You were the protagonist of the great love that overcame societal differences. Your story inspired young women everywhere and helped them realize that, if meant to be, love was boundless and could overcome anything.
You picked Nayeon up and placed her on your lap, and her arms naturally wrapped tightly around your shoulders. “And then you came along,” you booped her cute button nose.
“So if daddy was a prince and soon to be king, does that make me a princess?” She inquired, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Every six year old dreams of being a princess, but in Nayeon’s case, she was one.
You chuckled as you said, “I guess it does.”
The grin on Nayeon’s face only grew wider; she couldn’t wait to boast to her friends that she was a real life princess.
You pushed a strand of her long dark hair out of her eyes. They reminded you so much of Namjoon’s, slanted towards the end but bright and wide with wonder and so full of curiosity. She was compassionate and understanding, very intelligent, too. She took so much after her dad. Although Namjoon likes to argue she took all those traits from you.
“Then does that mean the baby inside you will be a princess, too?”
“Who knows?” You smiled. “Maybe they’ll be a prince.”
Your daughter placed a small hand on your round belly and jumped when the baby kicked. She giggled endlessly, and it was music to your ears. You gave her a tight squeeze and proceeded to smother her in kisses and tell her how much you love her.
Eventually, she asked you to continue with the story, so you did.
The world continued to turn after you and Namjoon decided to stay together. Everything really fell into place. It turns out the neighboring country was secretly planning to assassinate the entire royal family with Jisoo as their perpetrator, so she was executed, and the relationship with her country hasn’t been the same since. For awhile, we were in war with them, but once Jimin became king he put an end to it. He realized it was only wasting rations and hurting civilians who were losing loved ones in a stalemate war. If it weren’t for the war, however, you were positive the royal family would’ve sought out Namjoon and forced him back into the palace to be king.
Namjoon never went back to the palace. You two stayed at the inn for a couple of months. You were too weak to work yourself, so Namjoon took on your shifts at the pub and the inn. With a little help from Sumi, eventually you accumulated enough money to buy your own home and finally get married. It wasn’t a big wedding, but it was perfect in your book because Namjoon was the groom, and that’s all you’ve ever dreamed about.
After you moved, you still visited Sumi often, especially since she was Nayeon’s godmother, and even started working at the pub again when Nayeon turned three.
“What about the guy you were supposed to go on a date with?” Your daughter cocked her head to the side and pulled her eyebrows together, curious.
The corners of your mouth twitched up slightly. You rocked the chair back and forth and hugged Nayeon to your chest. “We became very good friends.”
You thought back to the moment Taehyung walked into the inn’s lobby, looking for you, only to find you crying in Namjoon’s arms. You were so upset that you forgot all about him and apologized profusely for having to cancel the date and any further offers he’d want to make.
Taehyung was no fool; he easily read the atmosphere and assured you he was okay. He told you he wished he’d gotten there sooner, but timing really just wasn’t right for him when it came to you. You remember the chuckle that escaped his lips as you both thought back to his incessant rambling on how he wanted to ask you out sooner.
You always wondered what would have happened if he did.
Suddenly, Namjoon walked through the front door, pulling your attention away from your thoughts. Your daughter perked up, immediately leaving your lap to hug him. She truly was a daddy’s girl, even though she claimed to love both of you equally.
“Daddy!” She squealed.
Namjoon effortlessly picked your daughter up and pulled her into to a tight hug. “Hey, Buttercup.”
He was dressed in casual work clothes, a white short sleeved shirt tucked into his pants. Ever since Namjoon started working, he’s grown more robust, his hands bared calluses from working to support your family, and he genuinely seemed happy. You never thought he’d make it this far.
“Mommy told me I’m a princess!” Nayeon smiled a toothy grin. Namjoon looked to you with a raised eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.
You shrugged your shoulders and smiled slyly at him.
He turned his attention back to the squirming daughter in his arms. “That you are!”
“I’m daddy’s princess, right?” Nayeon asked in a sugary sweet voice. She wrapped her arms around Namjoon’s neck and waited for an answer.
“Sorry, Buttercup,” Namjoon smiled, setting her down onto the ground. He strode towards you and rested one of his hands on the armrest of the rocking chair and the other on your stomach. His hand caressed you as he smiled thinking about the little baby boy or girl inside that would soon be entering your lives. He leaned down till his face was merely inches from yours. “But that spot’s been reserved for your mom for a long time now.”
He kissed you, smiling against your lips. With his eyes closed he pulled away, and when he opened them, he admired you like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. “I told you you’ll always be my princess.”
namjoon is a scholarly prince, always reading reading reading and has a stack of books by his nightstand or on the ground
every morning he nearly trips over the encyclopedia set of philosophy on the ground next to his bed
gets to lessons right on time but they always go overtime bc he wants to learn more about the world
annoys his tutors by asking too many questions, so they give him their supplies and help guide him to other resources
he’s just prolonging his studies bc he doesn’t want to attend dance lessons, where his clumsy feet always get the best of him
will read books and books about dancing late at night but for some reason they don’t translate to his body
hates horseback riding
talks to the castle staff with respect and proper honorifics
is on his parent’s court of advisors, who treat him just the same even though he’s the youngest there
he likes going to public events and is usually called upon for a speech
very diplomatic and proper, some of the younger castle staff members are scared of him because of his height and intelligence so when someone accidentally spills tea on him, they think they’re in for a loud reprimanding but nO he apologizes too and helps clean it up, no yelling involved
he’s always tripping and breaking or tearing something in the castle
last week it was a page from his history book (he shed a tear at that), he chipped a tea cup and shattered another, and ripped a hole in a new blouse
he’d prefer wearing basic, plain clothes, but his mother’s always persuading him to wear clothes imported from various countries
but he’s too lanky and tall and so his clothes always need to be hemmed
and that’s how he knows you!! bc your one of the seamstresses in the castle
you’re quick and precise with a needle and thread and you always find yourself repairing his shirts when there’s snags or holes and patching his pants when they’re ripped
bc on more than one occasion, this boy may or may not have ripped his trousers because they’re just too short on him
like the hemline is wayyyy above his ankles and they’re so short but yet they fit him so well up top (tall ppl problems smh)
and so when he’s changed out of his ripped clothes, he personally takes them down to the seamstresses’ room down by the lower levels
he’ll greet all the elder women and men before spotting you at your workbench sewing the buttons he popped in his navy blouse from yesterday (that happened when he tugged his collar a bit too hard when he was dancing with one of the other women during his lessons, hEY it gets steamy dancing for hours;) )
namjoon will watch you work on the buttons in silence till you finish and look at your handiwork, him staring at you with heart eyes grinning from ear to ear with dimples and all
you work on his pants as he explains what happened this time and you keep quiet as he rambles on about the newest thing he learned in his lessons or what new book he stayed up reading
he’ll even bring you the book he’s on and read you passages as you sew and explain anything you don’t understand, sometimes leaving you with the book so that there’s always a reason to come back, not that tearing his clothes is enough anyways
heck, he’ll even try to show you how to dance a waltz, but with his terrible footing and the fact you don’t even know what a waltz is from swaying back and forth, you both fall over with you on top of his chest and your lips dangerously clOSE TO HIS
but you both laugh it off and never speak of that time ever again
he’ll try to teach you other languages from time to time, but you prefer listening to him speak english or japanese or chinese bc his intelligence is so sexy and his vOICE sends chills up your spine
in a way, he tutors you about the rest of the world, teaching you what he knows and also confiding in you bc 1) he trusts you and you trust him and 2) you can literally count how many times he’s split his pants so nothing else is embarrassing or awkward anymore except the romantic tension between you two
bc you won’t admit it to anyone but you really look forward to when namjoon comes and visits with a torn piece of clothing and basically explains how the world came to be or tells you the history of the kingdom
you stay up thinking about how his eyes light up when he tells you his analysis about his newest novel or how he gets pouty when solving riddle books or how his voice sounds when humming music lyrics and melodies he’s just ad-libbed on the fly
if you look tired, he will lecture you on the importance of your health and sleep and you tease him right back about staying up late and reading
you’re his main seamstress and so you always know what blouses and shirts and pants look good on him and what sizes he is and what needs to be fixed to look right on his body
you’re basically giving yourself heart attacks everyday bc namjoon looks great in everything (unless he tries to dress himself in the rare occasion he does, which works out sometimes)
on the days of balls and special events, you proceed to dig yourself a deeper grave by making namjoon wear his formal royal attire bearing his family crest and everything
his hair’s perfect, his jacket fits him well, his shoes are polished, his shirt’s crisp and clean, his family’s crest is shining, he looks exactly like the picture perfect crown prince kim namjoon bc he is exactly that!!
which makes your crush on him just as deep as that grave bc you know you don’t have a chance with being with the crown prince
but namjoon is intelligent, considerate, sweet, and everything your heart desires and more and he sees you for you and not just as some staff member in the castle he lives in
during one of the balls, you sneak in with one of your sunbaes in royal attire and you notice how sophisticated and poised namjoon looks, how regal and intimidating he is with his lips drawn into a thin line until he laughs at something a visiting princess says
you watch from afar as he dances with other visiting royals, accidentally missing a step and squeaking his shoes on top of his partner’s feet
which elicits a laugh from some elderly women as they call it a wakeup call and a breath of fresh air at a stuffy/proper ball and also some yelps and hmpfs in distaste from princesses at the misstep
one princess even stops dancing with namjoon and he awkwardly walks back to the outskirts of the dance floor
it makes your heart melt until you lock eyes with him and his lips become that dimpled, adoring smile with the crescent eyes and the eye crinkles and then he’s standing in front of you, asking if you’ll dance with him
you two begin to dance and you’re so nervous, you step on his feet right after he’s accidentally stepped on yours and you both begin laughing until you remember that you’re both at a public event
the bubble of you two is broken by reality when namjoon is swept away by another princess for a dance, and then another until he’s called to by parents and after that you lose him
the night ends and you go back to the work room and change into your normal clothes, returning the clothes to the laundry when you hear someone knock on the door
namjoon sheepishly pokes his head in and enters, his white shirt from the ball in his hand and a small book in the other
he shows you the tear in the front and you decided to fix it up, walking over to your bench and pulling out the thread and needle
and like normal, namjoon starts talking but after the first couple stitches you register that he’s reading a passage from what sounds like a law book? or a history book?
he’s basically describing how one of his ancestors changed the laws of marriage and banned the rule saying royals can only marry royals and emphasized how anyone within the royal bloodline should court and marry whoever they choose
and then he ends this whole speech with a “may I, kim namjoon, court you, (l/n) (y/n)?” and you look from your needlework and see him on one knee
your silence and disbelief confuses him for a moment until you shout a loud “YES” and tackle him with a hug
you both agree to keep your courtship on the down low, only your family and his knowing of your relationship
the other seamstresses highkey ship you from the very start and speculate in hushed whispers
pda around the castle usually never happens as someone is always watching but he does give you a kiss on the cheek from time to time
when he leaves on visits to other kingdoms, he leaves you with another novel but there’s scraps of papers shoved inside confessing his undying love for you and how he misses you
you still repair his clothes and choose his outfits for every event, except this time, getting dressed takes a little bit longer (if you know what I’m sayin;) )
bets are called and talks between your family and his are arranged and you two definitely stand the test of time, eventually getting married after two years of a quiet relationship and three years of being in the public eye to ease your appearance into the open
even after five years of being together, you can’t deny the butterflies in your stomach and how your heart swells at just the thought of namjoon and there’s less holes and tears in his clothes, but slip ups still happen
and only after all these years of being together does namjoon tell you that he’d purposely tear his shirts and rip his pants to spend time with you
Summary: Seven crown princes disappear from their homes on the same night. None of the them can be found, but what is the true reason behind their disappearance?
—————
That weekend, Jin, Tae, and Jimin all packed their belongings. They all had long journeys ahead of them.
“Promise you guys will write?” Jungkook asked as the boys finished getting ready to leave.
“I will. For sure.” Tae nodded as he pulled his shoes on. “Are you sure you’re not going to at least go see your sister?”
Jungkook sighed, but before he could respond, Jin set a hand on his shoulder.
“Tae’s right. You need to at least go see her. She doesn’t even know you’re alive, Kook.”
Jungkook sighed. “All right. I’ll go. But I’m not staying.”
Jin shrugged. “Your choice.”
“I’ll pray they don’t make you cut your hair, Tae.” Jungkook tried to avoid Jin’s comment.
Tae offered him a small smile. “Thanks.”
◇◆◇◆◇
Hobi jumped as the door was slammed open that evening. In came a girl with wavy, strawberry-blonde hair that was knotted back in a braid.
“Where’s Jungkook?”
“He headed your way five minutes ago.”
She sighed. “I was afraid he skipped town with the rest of your brothers.”
Hobi shook his head. “He refused to go with them.”
“Why are you still here?”
“That’s a good question. I should’ve gone with the rest of them, honestly.”
“When will they be back? My friend has been throwing a fit that Tae left. She’s had the biggest crush on him for years and was about to confess.”
Hobi raised an eyebrow, wondering why she’d offered him that information. “I’m not sure they’ll be back.”
“What?”
“They’re moving back home.”
“Why did you guys move away from home in the first place?”
Hobi shrugged. “Wanted to get away, I guess. You should go after Jungkook.”
“Yeah. I was planning to talk to him about something tonight, anyways. See you, Hobi!”
Once Hobi was sure she was out the door, he sighed. Maybe he should just head back home too. Jungkook and Namjoon both had girls to be here for, but all Hobi had was his job. There was really no reason to stay.
◇◆◇◆◇
“We have to cut it,” Tae’s mom told him as he stared blankly down at his bed.
“Why? What’s wrong with me having long hair? Mae can have it, so why can’t I?”
“You know why.” She snapped at him. “You’re a boy. Boys don’t have long hair. Especially not princes, Taehyung.”
Tae scowled. He shouldn’t have come back. He hated being confined by his parents’ rules. Why had he let Jin talk him into it?
“I’ll send Kale in to cut your hair. Don’tfight him.” With those words, his mother left him alone in his room.
He looked down at his calloused hands. Why had he ever complained about working a job? At least he’d been free to be his own person. Now he was trapped again. He was about to be forced to be the ideal prince he’d been born to be.
“Your Highness, welcome back.” Kale smiled as he entered Tae’s room. Tae cringed when the man bowed to him. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I didn’t want to come back,” Tae admitted. “How have Mae and Kaya been?”
“They’ve missed you. I swore them to secrecy that you left willingly.”
“You told them?” Tae gasped.
“I was told I’d lose my job if I didn’t tell them what I knew, Your Highness. I apologize.”
Tae shook his head. “I wasn’t dragged back here, so it’s fine.”
“Your mother had told me I am to cut your hair short. Are you all right with that?”
“I have no choice.”
◇◆◇◆◇
Jin’s mother practically jumped on him the moment he entered the palace.
“You’re alive!” She cried as she threw herself at him. He smiled and patted her back.
“I heard you’re having trouble with another kingdom. I figured it was time to come home.”
“Your father is going to be so relieved! How have you been? Where-where did you go?”
“I went to Gyeongyu. I wanted to…live a life that I made for myself for a while. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters. How was it?”
“It was good, Eomma. I loved it. I wish I could’ve stayed. I know I have a duty here, though.”
She smiled at him. “You’ll be all right staying this time, then?”
Jin laughed. “Yes, Eomma, I’ll be all right. I have a job to fulfill now. I can’t leave you.”
She sighed as she looked him up and down. “You’ve gotten so big! Wow, look at these wide shoulders.” She laughed. “Just like your father.”
“Can we do something about my hair? It’s gotten a bit long,” Jin laughed. He felt bad even asking, because he knew Tae was probably being forced to cut his hair while Jin had the choice. But he really couldn’t stand eating his hair.
“Of course! Let’s get you some fresh clothes, first.”
◇◆◇◆◇
“What on earth happened to your hair?” Jimin’s brother, Andre asked as he tugged on his hair. “It’s so short.”
“You try working in hundred-degree weather with a foot of hair on your head. You’d change your mind.”
“Your hair was that long?”
Jimin nodded. “A friend of mine cut it last week.”
“Dad’s gonna be so mad. I haven’t seen your hair this short since you got molasses in it.”
Jimin smirked. “If it gets too long, I’ll do it again.”
“Please, do not do that.”
Jimin laughed. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course! Don’t ever make me keep a secret like that again!”
“No promises.”
◇◆◇◆◇
“Jane, I do want to marry you. But we have to keep it a secret.”
“A secret? Are you kidding? I have to tell my parents!”
Jungkook shook his head. “If you tell them, I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?” she asked, outraged.
Jungkook sighed. “If I tell you why, you can’t tell anyone. You hear me? Absolutely no word to anyone.”
She nodded slowly, not entirely sure she even wanted to know what he was about to tell her.
“I’m the crown prince of Johyuk.” Jungkook whispered.
“What? But…your brothers?” she asked, thoroughly confused.
“That’s a long story. But I have to go home. If we get married and my father finds out, he’ll just nullify the marriage. I haven’t decided if I’m going to stay there yet, but I have to go see my sister.”
Jane nodded. “So…how long will you be gone for? When should we get married? Will I come with you if you go back later?”
“I don’t know yet…. We should marry as soon as possible. If I decide to stay, I’ll come get you. How’s that?”
“But…my parents. Jungkook…I can’t just leave them.”
“Not even for me?”
“I want to. I just don’t know what I’ll tell them. They always thought we’d stay here, in the village.”
“Johyuk isn’t that far away. They could visit. Honestly, they could move there with us.”
“I don’t know, Jungkook….”
“You have a week to think about it. I’m leaving in two to go back.”
“That soon?”
He nodded.
“Ok…I’ll think about it.”
◇◆◇◆◇
“You quit your job? Hobi, are you nuts?” Namjoon asked.
“No. I’m going home. You need to, too. Figure something out with Hannah. Even Jungkook’s going.”
Namjoon shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll be stuck there forever the second I step in the gates. My father hates me, and I’m sure he hates me even more after this.”
“He’s dying, Namjoon. You won’t be stuck there for long.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Think long and hard. Yoongi and Jungkook are both leaving in two weeks.”
Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Kim Namjoon on his throne.
Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Namjoon, dom!Namjoon, thigh riding
Parts: 01 | 02 | 03
Other member vers: Hoseok | Jimin | Jungkook | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung
A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.
You’d been working for the royal family for over a decade now. You knew every nook and cranny—every secret passage and hidden room in that palace. It was practically your home. You took care of it, constantly sweeping and dusting and mopping.
You also took care of Kim Namjoon, the spoiled prince residing in it. You always cleaned his room, washed his clothes and made his meals. But then somewhere in the mess of everything, you began taking care of him in a different way.
You always had a close friendship with the prince but that’s all it was—friendship. Until one day, two years ago, he approached you. That’s when it all began, your secret relationship with the seductive prince.
No one knew about your relationship, everyone always assumed it was purely friendship. No one ever expected the handsome prince to fall for a lowly maid like yourself, which made the relationship all the more perfect, in a sense.
At least twice a week you two would meet up for discreet, eager sex, and today was one of those days.
“Come ride me,” Namjoon demanded sternly, eyes already mentally undressing you. He sat in his gold throne with his crown sitting crookedly on his head. His robe fell around him, engulfing him in a pool of black fur.
You went to lock the door behind you, but Namjoon stopped you. “Don’t. Leave it unlocked.”
You figured he wanted to leave it unlocked simply to add to the excitement of it all.
Slowly and unhesitatingly, you approached him, a little wary of the unlocked door.
The lust filled look he gave you made your mouth water with anticipation, and soon you forgot all about it. You could see his erection from across the room forming a tent in his silk pants, leaving little room for imagination.
You’ve seen his cock many times before, yet it never failed to make you weak in the knees just thinking about it. It was long and slender, and you couldn’t wait to feel it pressed against your aching core.
With every step you took, you began to undress yourself, teasing Namjoon. You started by carefully removing your panties and dropping them to the floor, causing a small groan to escape Namjoon’s lips. You smirked slightly, loving how much of an effect you had on this demanding prince. As you continued to approach him, you began to unzip your slightly tattered dress, letting it cascade around your body and fall to the floor with a light thud.
You watched as Namjoon ran his tongue over his lips, and you never broke eye contact with him. The defiance in your eyes to submit to him drove him mad with hunger, fueling his desire to have you obedient and writhing with pleasure that only he could provide.
You knew exactly what Namjoon was thinking, too. And it only turned you on more. You couldn’t wait for him to snake his slender fingers around your throat as he forced you to take all of his cock at once. Just the thought of it made your folds wet with need.
The mere thought that anyone could open that door and catch you standing there naked was so scary and yet exhilarating.
You stepped over your dress, kicking it back with your foot in the process. The only thing left was your bra and dirtied apron. Quickly, you removed your bra, allowing your apron to hug your naked body.
The cold air and lack of clothes made your nipples stand erect, and Namjoon could see them pressed against your apron, begging to be released.
“Stop teasing me,” Namjoon groaned. You saw his jaw clench and his grip tighten around the armrests of his golden throne. “Hurry up and take it off.”
Your teasing was hurting you as much as it was him. You wanted nothing more than to discard all clothing and let him have his way with you already. But you kept the apron on, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you completely naked and exposed.
Finally, you stood in front of Namjoon. He grabbed your apron and pulled you close to him. He looked up at you through his beautifully long lashes; his eyes were hard, no sense of amusement in them. You thought he was going in for a kiss, but he simply reached his hand up and pulled out the pin that was keeping your hair in a tight bun.
Your hair descended around your shoulders and face. Namjoon inhaled at the sight of you; you were gorgeous. You were so perfectly beautiful with your angelic features that he wanted nothing more than to fuck the innocence right out of you.
He dropped the pin to the floor—the sound it made was light and yet it boomed in the quiet, extravagant room. You hadn’t even done anything and yet the both of you were already breathing hard with impatience.
Finally, Namjoon grabbed a fistful of your hair and crashed your lips into his. Without giving you a second to adjust to the kiss, he pushed his tongue past your lips causing a moan to fall from your mouth. You could feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile.
The slight tug on the back of your head where his hand laid added to the pleasure. You tilted your head to the side, allowing Namjoon more access to your mouth, but instead of taking advantage of your effort, he pulled away from the kiss.
You whimpered at the loss of touch.
“I told you to ride me,” Namjoon hissed, his hand leaving your hair and finding its way to your hips. He moved his thigh in between your parted legs and pulled you down onto the muscle, instantly groaning at how wet you were for him. “God, you’re so wet, and I’ve barely touched you.”
The silk beneath you was cold and thin, and you could feel Namjoon’s thigh clench beneath you so it was hard enough for your clit to grind against.
“Namjoon,” you moaned breathily. You tossed your head back and arched your back before grabbing onto one of the armrests, placing your other hand behind you on his thigh to steady yourself. You pressed your heat harder against him. You needed more friction—you need to feel his stiff cock slamming into you, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you that easily. Not after you cheekily teased him with your stripshow.
“That’s it, Princess,” Namjoon reached his hands up and began to knead your breasts under the apron. He leaned forward and sucked on the exposed skin above it. He loved leaving hickeys on you so that everyone knew you belonged to him. You were his to fuck and fuck and fuck and no one dared to believe otherwise. “Look at you, using my thigh to get off. What a dirty slut.”
Namjoon’s thigh was covered in your juices and it killed him. He wanted nothing more than to feel your dripping wet pussy clench around his cock. Wanted to see you come undone with unbearable ecstasy.
You closed your eyes and continued to grind against him. “F-fuck,” you breathed when you rubbed your clit at just the right angle. The pleasure ran throughout your body, causing your toes to curl.
Namjoon stopped leaving hickeys on your skin so he could lean back and watch you pleasure yourself. He still hadn’t touched his cock, so you let go of the armrest and reached for it yourself. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Not yet.”
You dropped your hand and whispered, “I-I’m close, so fucking close.”
“Don’t come until I tell you to, Princess.”
“But-” you whined.
“Shh, be a good little girl and listen to me,” Namjoon whispered. “Just a little bit longer.”
You slowed your hip movements to prevent yourself from reaching your high sooner. You were moving painfully slow. “I can’t,” you cried, biting onto your bottom lip. “Please, please, please. Let me come, I’ll do anything.”
“Not. Yet.” Namjoon said through gritted teeth. Precum dripped from his aching cock, begging to be touched. It soaked the front of his silk pants. Seeing you begging him to let you come was just what he wanted—to put you in your place. Let you know he was in charge. This was his revenge for you teasing him.
You tried hard to keep yourself from coming. You clenched your thighs together and tightened your abdomen, but nothing helped. You came all over Namjoon’s thigh. You were so spent from the orgasm that you fell forward onto Namjoon’s broad chest, your breathing heavy.
Namjoon looked at the cum dripping down his thigh. “I told you not to come. Nasty girl, making a mess on my pants. Bad girls deserve to be punished.”
You knew you should be scared. Namjoon was very intimidating when he was angry and when you were disobedient, but for some reason the thought of him punishing you only turned you on more.
You watched as Namjoon leaned over the side of his throne and picked up a bedazzled collar, a leash attached to it. Real diamonds, rubies, and sapphires covered the white leather material.
The thought that he had that made especially for you made your core tighten.
He placed the choker around your neck and marveled at you. Then, he picked you up off his thigh and forced you down onto your knees in front of him. He spread his legs and carefully pulled down the hem of his pants.
Your mouth watered as you waited to finally be able to see his thick cock. He reached into his pants and grabbed ahold of himself before tugging his cock out of his pants.
He was the perfect length and girth. Always filled you up to the brim.
He looped the leash around his hand as he watched you crawl towards him. He tugged on the leather, causing the choker to tighten around your neck. You whimpered at the tightness.
You were inches away from his cock and all you wanted was for him to shove it down your throat. You licked at your lips and then looked up at Namjoon through your lashes, waiting for his permission. He smirked, loving the want and need in your eyes.
With his free hand he grabbed ahold of his cock and pointed it towards your lips, “Suck,” he said, and you eagerly complied. “And don’t you dare touch yourself.”
You opened your mouth and licked at his slit, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. You heard him groan and continued your assault on the head of his cock.
Suddenly, you licked his balls and the base of his cock, causing him to jump. He wasn’t expecting that. He moaned your name. You knew he loved when you sucked on his balls.
You moved back to the tip and swirled your tongue around it. Then, all at once, you took him into your mouth all the way to the base. His hips bucked further into your mouth as he screamed out your name. He placed his hand on the back of your head to keep you still on his cock. “Oh, fuck!”
You knew you two should probably be quiet, you didn’t want anyone walking in on you. Then again, that was part of the excitement—knowing literally anyone could catch you at any given moment.
His moan egged you on as you flattened your tongue against his shaft. Namjoon released his grip on your hair, allowing you to come up for air. A strangled moan escaped his lips in the process. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth. “Do that again,” he breathed.
Inch by inch you lowered your mouth to the base of his shaft, loving the way he filled you up. You could feel his head at the back of your throat and you gagged a little, basking in the pain.
Namjoon continued to groan and moan your name. He closed his eyes and threw his head back.
You were getting so wet hearing your name fall from his lips. You figured since he wasn’t looking you could reach beneath yourself and give your clit the friction it needed. As soon as you reached your hand up to rub at your clit, Namjoon yanked his hand back, tightening the collar more.
“Don’t even think about it,” he hissed. “Make me come all over that pretty tongue of yours, and then maybe I’ll let you touch yourself.”
You needed to feel something on your clit, so the aching at the pit of your stomach would finally go away. All you needed to do was make him come and then you could finally finger yourself. Luckily, you knew just how to get Namjoon to come.
You quickly pulled your mouth off his cock and then swallowed him back up. Then, you did his favorite thing—you gulped around his cock, tightening your mouth on it. His hand was back at the back of your head and you moaned around his cock, knowing he loved the vibrations it caused.
Grabbing a fist full of your hair, Namjoon held you in place as he bucked his hips up and began to fuck your mouth, rough and fast. “Look at your pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Bet you love when I fuck your throat raw.”
You moaned in agreeance. “Come on, Princess, keep moaning for me.”
You could barely breathe as Namjoon slammed his hips against your mouth. You brought your hands up and grabbed onto his thighs, raking your nails across them. He loved the feeling of your nails digging into his skin.
You attempted to swallow around his cock again, but it only made you gag a little. Still, your mouth tightened at the attempt causing Namjoon to fuck into you even faster.
Tears sprung to your eyes at the pain and lack of air, but you made no movement to stop Namjoon. You knew he was close because you could feel his cock begin to thicken and pulse erratically. You looked up at him, making direct eye contact. “That’s right, Baby, take it all for me. Your mouth feels so fucking warm and good.”
Namjoon stopped moving his hips and started bobbing your head up and down his cock.
You reached under his shirt and let your hands roam his taut body, feeling each and every ridge where one ab ended and another began.
“Shit. Oh, fuck!” He yelled, his voice echoing in the room. Then, just as Namjoon was about to come, he pulled you off his cock to prevent him from doing so.
You groaned. “That’s not fair!” You squirmed and squeezed your thighs together. Your knees were hurting at this point and your legs shaking. “Just come in my mouth already, Namjoon. Please I need to taste you.”
You begged him to come. You wanted to taste him, but, more than that, you needed to finally be able to touch yourself. Your juices were dripping down your thighs, cold.
“Wouldn’t you rather me come inside that slutty little pussy of yours, baby girl?” Namjoon panted. This constant flip flop of praise and degradation drove you mad—you loved it.
You nodded your head vigorously, “God, yes. I want you to fill me up and fuck me so hard. I want to feel your cum deep inside me.”
“Of course you do you dirty cockslut. You probably want my cum dripping out of you tomorrow morning.”
You groaned at the thought.
“Come here, Baby,” Namjoon grabbed his cock. “Come fuck yourself.”
Shakily, you stood up. The pressure from being on your knees disappeared and you almost lost your balance. Namjoon let go of the leash connected to your collar and grabbed your arm to steady you.
You smiled at him. Even though he loved being controlling and dominant, he was still a soft, sweet prince underneath it all.
You straddled the dark haired boy, wrapped your arms around his neck, and drank in all his beauty. His cock sat between you two, hard and pointing at his stomach. Namjoon untied your apron, his soft hands grazing the small of your back. You shivered at his light touch. Then he gently lifted the piece of clothing up over your head. Your hair got caught in the string of the apron, and it fell into your eyes as Namjoon tried to take the apron off completely.
You both smiled, a laugh escaping your lips. He pushed a strand of your hair back and just stared into your eyes. You two hardly ever had such an intimate moment like this during sex.
Once the apron was off of you, Namjoon dropped it to the floor. He eyed you gently, just taking you in. Namjoon ran his hands up and down your body, slowly, as if he were trying to memorize each and every curve of your body. Trying to memorize how perfect you felt in his arms.
You arched your back, and Namjoon took this chance to run his tongue between your breasts before sucking onto your nipple. Your growing moans filled the room. “Namjoon,” you breathed.
And then silence fell between you two as Namjoon continued planting kisses all over your chest and neck and cheeks. Neither of you spoke a word, for once.
Simply bathed in each other’s warmth.
The silence was comfortable. You felt so safe and sound in his arms, you wished you never had to leave. But being a maid—his maid—made that impossible.
You loved this man so much. Not for his riches or power, but for the kind and caring person that he was. The person that could see past your sullied clothes and low social status.
As much as you cherished this affectionate moment, you hated how much it made you realize you two could never be together. Your relationship could be nothing more than sexual. You couldn’t hold his hand in public, couldn’t go on dates or dance with him at the balls. The only thing you could do was watch from afar, and it killed you.
That’s why you two stuck to rough sex. Rough sex was a way for you two to let out all your pent up frustration of not being able to openly love each other. It was like coming up for air after drowning.
“Gonna fuck me now, or what?” You asked, trying to break free of your moment of vulnerability and to keep yourself from crying.
Namjoon was taken aback by your sudden question, as if he forgot that’s what you two planned on doing in the first place. “Yeah… yeah I’m gonna fuck you.”
Namjoon’s left hand left the small of your back and grabbed his shaft, lining it up with your opening. His right hand grabbed onto your hip so tight you knew you’d have bruises in the morning.
He knew you were wet enough to take him all at once, no preparation needed. He ran his tip back and forth against your slit. He could feel your juices already starting to soak his cock.
Finally, you lowered yourself onto him, impaling yourself. A moan fell from your lips as your ass met his thighs. He felt so much thicker inside your pussy than he did in your mouth.
“Look at my cock going deep inside your tight pussy,” Namjoon’s whined. “God, you’re so fucking tight for me, Princess.”
You let yourself adjust to the fullness. Then, you slowly pulled yourself off of him till just the tip was left, and then you sunk back down onto him, fast.
Namjoon’s left hand grabbed onto your hips as well, and he sighed with unbelievable pleasure. You continued the action, your skin slapping against his.
Vulgar shouts, moans of ecstasy and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
You moved your hips in circular motions while you took all of him in, all the way to the base.
“Keep doing that,” he chanted. He moaned your name like a mantra. His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, cupping your cheeks and squeezing them.
You continued to bounce on him, roughly, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly. “Fuck, Namjoon! Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me right there!” You screamed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were breathing so hard from all the movement.
Namjoon removed one of his hands from your ass and used it to remove the collar from around your neck before replacing it with his large hand. You relished in the pressure on your throat. You wanted him to choke you more, just a little bit harder, until tears sprung to your eyes. But you knew he couldn’t do that. Again, he was still a soft, caring prince inside.
A light sheen of sweat covered your body. You continued rotating your hips, but stopped bouncing. So, Namjoon took charge and pulled out of you before slamming back into you with full force. His hip bones dug into you with every thrust.
Your head fell back and lolled from side to side. “D-don’t stop!”
“You like that, Princess?” Namjoon latched his mouth into your shoulder and sucked harshly.
“Yes! Fuck, I love you. I’m gonna come, Namjoon!” You yelled, squeezing your legs around his waist. You were so close, that aching at the pit of your stomach grew stronger with every stroke.
Namjoon audibly groaned when you said that. You’ve never told him you loved him before. It was something you said in the heat of the moment, even though you meant every word. Over time it wasn’t just about the sex, it was literally everything else. You didn’t know if he loved you or if he was purely in it for the sex, but you didn’t care. You were in love with everything about this man, no matter what.
“You’re so hot, moaning my name and tightening around me.” Namjoon’s hot breath was all over you. He reached his hand down between you and rubbed circles over your clit, and that threw you over the edge. You choked out a strangled sob.
With a couple more strokes, you came undone and came all over Namjoon’s thick cock. “That’s right, come all over my cock like the slut you are.”
He continued to fuck into you, riding out your orgasm as wave after wave of pleasure surged through you.
Even after you were done and coming down from your high, Namjoon never stopped his assaults on your clit. You winced at the overstimulation but welcomed it because you knew he hadn’t come yet. You moaned as you felt the familiar pulsation of Namjoon’s cock, letting you know he was about to come. His cock thickened, stretching you further, before, finally, his hot cum shot inside of you, painting your walls.
His hip movements slowed before stopping altogether. Your bare chest laid against his clothed one, and you could hear his rapid heartbeat in his chest. He was still inside of you as you both sat there, regaining your breath. Suddenly, he slipped his limp dick out of you, and your pussy clenched around air, feeling so empty.
You unwrapped your legs from around his waist and sat in between his legs, your ear still pressed against his chest. He slid his arms out of his fur robe and wrapped it around your body. You were still hot from the intense sex, but you smiled at the gesture.
“I love you, too,” he whispered, but not loud enough for you to hear.
The next day you noticed more people in the palace than usual. Unfamiliar men and women in outfits similar to yours roamed the spacious halls.
You found one of your friends, a fellow maid, in the palace kitchen making the king’s daily lunch. You asked her about the sudden increase in people in the palace.
“You didn’t hear?” She asked, not looking up from peeling a potato.
“Hear what?” You inquired. You grabbed one of the potatoes sitting on the counter and decided to help her with her duties.
“The prince was officially engaged to a neighboring princess yesterday.”
You stopped peeling the potato and looked up at your friend. There’s no what that could be true. Namjoon would have told you if he was engaged… wouldn’t he?
“Apparently she’s supposed to be moving into the palace today, and she’s bringing her personal maids and butlers with her. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about this?” Your friend sighed.
Your heart sunk. You dropped the potato you held and didn’t even budge when it rolled off the counter onto the floor.
“Hey!” Your friend shouted. “I’m gonna be the one responsible for that you know.” She grabbed the knife out of your hand, frustrated. “Well, I mean I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. That snooty princess demanded most of us be let go. I’m gonna be jobless soon anyway.”
Tears welled up in your eyes. Everything felt like it was caving in on you—your hands went numb. The only thing you could feel was your heart climbing up your throat.
Engaged. He’s engaged.
“Are you okay?” Your friend asked when she noticed the tears. “Why are you crying? You’re one of the best maids here; I’m sure they’re gonna keep you.”
You didn’t know what was worse. Staying here and watching the man you love marry someone else or leaving and never seeing him again.
You thought back to yesterday. His hands running over your body, his eyes devouring you, that intimate moment you shared. He had so many opportunities to tell you, so why didn’t he?
And then you realized—he did.
He told you through the only way he could: sex.
The rough sex you loved so much wasn’t coming up for air after drowning. It was taking in all the air he could before going under. It was memorizing each one of your moans and curves. It was break up sex.
With break up sex, all the feelings and the history, the stolen glances and sweet kisses—everything—it’s just there. It’s what makes breakup sex so amazing and yet so sad.
With breakup sex, you know it’s the last time you’ll ever hold each other so close, so you never want it to end, never want to let go.
Namjoon knew it was the last time, but you didn’t, so you let go of your prince.
You remembered how you told him you loved him, and how he didn’t say it back.
