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Namjoon sat proudly to the left of his father in the throne room, his eyes narrowing as he observed the stranger receiving praise and gratitude from the court. The man had arrived unexpectedly, and now he was the center of attention, something that irked the crown prince.

According to the witnesses, as the traders were returning from their journey and crossing the kingdom's borders, they were ambushed by a group of rogue alphas and betas. The attackers had targeted the traders and the innocent people nearby, intent on robbing them. Though many of the kingdom’s subjects had bravely tried to defend themselves and repel the rogues, they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers.

The situation had turned dire, with the defenders beaten into a pulp, and many were on the brink of death—if not for the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and saved them. Namjoon’s father was full of praise, expressing his deep gratitude to the stranger for protecting their people.

Hearing his father go on and on, thanking the stranger, gnawed at Namjoon’s pride. But what irritated him the most was when his father invited the stranger to stay at the palace as a token of gratitude for his heroic actions.

Bullshit,” Namjoon thought, his jaw clenching in silent disdain. An unknown street rat being offered the opportunity to live among royals? What a joke. The stranger standing a few meters away looked anything but ordinary. There was something intimidating about him, not just in his presence but in the way he was dressed, like he didn’t belong among them, yet commanded attention all the same.

Even though the stranger wasn’t particularly tall, his strong build more than made up for his lack of height. He stood there, exuding a quiet strength that seemed to demand respect, despite his seemingly modest appearance.

He was dressed in a traditional male hanbok, which included a Gat—a black hat that rested on his head, with a black cloth covering the lower half of his face. His attire consisted of a white Jeogori (upper shirt) layered with a Baeja (traditional vest), and over it, he wore a blue Durumagi (overcoat) paired with baji (pants). By his clothing, he appeared to be a traveler, yet there was something about his presence that hinted at more.

Namjoon couldn’t deny his curiosity about the stranger who had suddenly become a hero in front of his father, the king, and the court. How could someone of such small stature, dressed in a traditional hanbok, possibly defeat nearly twenty bandits? Despite his solid build, it seemed improbable that a man like him could take down so many opponents.

Namjoon’s gaze narrowed slightly as he watched his father. The way his father’s lips curled into a smile, something he rarely showed, was enough to make Namjoon’s mood sour. It wasn’t just the smile—it was the way the stranger seemed to command such special attention. The situation irked him more than he’d like to admit, stirring up a mix of jealousy and irritation.

Why? Because his father had never smiled at him or offered praise—never. Namjoon knew he had never achieved anything significant in his father’s eyes, never once earning his father’s pride in all his long life. Throughout his life, Namjoon had existed in the shadow of his elder brother. That shadow remained constant; even when Namjoon passed his yearly exams, all his father did was compare him to his brother. After the unfortunate and tragic death of his brother on the battlefield, his father’s demeanor grew even colder and more distant, further deepening Namjoon’s sense of inadequacy and longing for approval.

Namjoon shook his head, trying to dismiss his thoughts. He excused himself and took his leave, eager to find some rest. All he wanted was to sleep and, first thing in the morning, figure out how to kick the bastard out.

~~~~~~×~~~~~~

Morning passed, giving way to the afternoon. On a brief break before his next lesson, Namjoon thought a stroll through the royal garden might be a refreshing escape after being scolded by the old hag. The path to the garden was short; just a turn down the corridor to his left revealed a breathtaking view. The garden was lush with a variety of flowers, and a pond glistened like a mirror under the sun’s direct light.

Namjoon was about to descend the stairs and head towards the bench beneath his favorite tree when he suddenly halted and concealed himself behind a pillar. The presence of the stranger caught his attention. The stranger’s neutral pheromones made it difficult for Namjoon to determine their exact sub-gender, but he assumed the person was a beta. At the moment, the stranger’s back was turned, and he was dressed in a simple hanbok. Notably, the gat and the black cloth that usually covered his face were absent.

His shoulder-length hair swayed gently with the breeze, and his exposed skin had a pale flush tinged with red. When the stranger turned around, Namjoon was left breathless.

The stranger, whom Namjoon had initially judged as unattractive, was in fact strikingly beautiful. It seemed he had misjudged both the stranger’s appearance and sub-gender. The man looked no older than 21 and, in truth, appeared more like a beautiful young boy. His face was angelic, with full, plush lips that only added to his allure.

Namjoon smirked, licking his lips as he emerged from his hiding spot and began striding towards the boy. Perhaps the boy’s presence wouldn’t be so unpleasant after all.

Namjoon stood before the stranger, towering and imposing, casting a shadow over the seated figure. He leaned in close, his smirk widening as he spoke. "At first, I considered disposing of you," he said, his voice low and sultry. "But now that I’ve seen your enchanting beauty, I think otherwise." He inched even closer, his lips near the stranger's ear, and whispered, "I’d like to fuck you and make you my concubine, keeping you confined." Lust dripped from every word that escaped through his lips.

"Such vulgar words are unbefitting of one so noble as you, my prince," the stranger said, rising with composed grace. "However, if you are intent on claiming this traveler, I have no objection. Yet, before anything can transpire, you must first defeat me in a duel to earn the right to claim me, your grace." His eyes gleamed with anticipation and excitement, revealing no trace of fear but a clear challenge.

With that said, Namjoon led the way to the training ground specially designed for royalty. The area was equipped with an array of weapons and featured an arena for martial training and duels. It was the ideal setting for Namjoon to claim the omega without unnecessary complications.

"Shall we commence, your grace?" the stranger inquired, adopting a fighting stance. There was no trace of fear in his posture; rather, he exuded confidence.Yes," Namjoon replied with a confident smirk. He was certain of his victory and intended to channel all of the omega’s fierceness into his own advantage, determined to beat it out of him if necessary.

As the fight began, Namjoon charged with determination, but the stranger's power quickly became apparent. Within a minute, it was clear that the stranger was not just skilled but exceptionally strong.

The stranger moved with effortless precision, his strength evident in every motion. Namjoon’s attacks were easily avoided or neutralized. The stranger seized Namjoon with a powerful grip, his movements fluid and controlled.

Namjoon struggled, but the stranger’s strength was overwhelming. With a decisive maneuver, the stranger brought Namjoon to the ground and held him there with ease. Standing over him, the stranger exuded a calm confidence, showing that Namjoon had been thoroughly outmatched from the very beginning.

Unhand me now, you bastard!" Namjoon shouted, his teeth clenched in anger. But suddenly, fear struck him, and he felt uneasy.

They were in a position that made him uncomfortable—lying on the ground with his back exposed and his neck easily reachable. A shiver ran down his spine as he smelled the stranger’s strong, masculine pheromones for the first time. Despite his anger, he found himself instinctively submitting, exposing his neck like an omega in heat. The situation was deeply unsettling for him.

"You're mine," the stranger's words reverberated in Namjoon's ears. As he spoke, Namjoon felt a sharp, penetrating bite at the sensitive junction of his shoulder and neck. The alpha’s powerful grip tightened, and he let out a deep, resonant growl of dominance, marking Namjoon with an undeniable claim.

Namjoon experienced a wave of agonizing pain as the mating bond settled, an experience he thought impossible. His scream echoed through the training ground.

The alpha released his bite and tenderly licked the fresh mating mark, soothing the wound. As Namjoon’s resistance faltered and he went limp in his arms, the alpha scooped him up in a princess carry. With a firm yet gentle grip, he carried Namjoon to the throne room.

Throughout the walk, Namjoon continued to whimper and groan in pain, his body appearing to undergo a transformation. Each step was accompanied by labored breaths and distressed sounds, underscoring the intense struggle he was enduring.

When the stranger entered the throne room, his bare face was instantly recognized by everyone present. They all bowed in respect, including the king himself.

"Long live the emperor!" the chant echoed through the throne room as everyone paid their respects. The stranger, now recognized as the emperor, raised his hand to silence the crowd.

He then declared before the king that he would take the crown prince for himself and would make him his queen consort. Gasps and murmurs filled the room in response. The king, however, had no choice but to accept the emperor’s decision.

In that moment, Namjoon's nightmare began.

_____to be continued__________________

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Namjoon lay writhing in pain as his body underwent the harrowing transformation from alpha to omega. His skin was feverish, and though his screams were silent, they echoed in his mind, trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape. He could feel his body shifting, accommodating new organs that had no place in the alpha he once was. The pain was unbearable, searing through him with every breath. Each wave of agony forced his body to twist and turn, his hands clawing desperately at the bed sheets, seeking some form of relief that would never come.

After three days of enduring searing, unbearable pain, Namjoon's body had finally settled. The relentless heat that had tormented him had faded away, and the agonizing pain that had clawed at his skin was now a distant memory.

His temperature had returned to normal, but his skin was clammy and drenched in sweat. He felt uncomfortably dirty and distinctly different. Driven by curiosity, he checked the lower part of his body. As an alpha, he had been well-endowed, but now he found that it had diminished in size. The familiar sack was gone, replaced by the puffy lips of a maiden's flower. The realization hit him with horror—he had become an omega.

His world seemed to blur, and in the next moment, everything went black.

When he woke up, he found himself clean and dressed in a feminine robe. It was a delicate pink color, made of smooth silk, and barely covered his body due to its sheer fabric.

“So, you’ve finally decided to awaken,” came a commanding voice. Namjoon turned his head and saw the stranger who had irrevocably altered his life. Anger and humiliation surged within him.

“What do you want, you bastard? I know you did this intentionally. You knew from the start you would win, but you still manipulated my pride,” Namjoon spat each word with venomous hatred.

“You have quite a sharp tongue,” the dominant alpha said coldly. “Don’t provoke me further, or you won’t like the consequences,” he warned.

Namjoon reluctantly closed his mouth, his eyes narrowing into a fierce, dragon-like glare. If looks could kill, the dominant alpha would have been struck dead on the spot.

“You have only today to bid farewell to your family,” the dominant alpha said with authority. “Do as you please, but know that by tomorrow, you will be my wife and the queen consort.”

“I do not consent to this, and you will not have my approval,” Namjoon declared, his voice edged with anger. “Who do you think you are? I have no desire to marry you.”

“Your consent and desires are of no concern to me, Prince Namjoon,” the alpha said coldly. “You will do as I command, and you will come to understand who I am very soon.” With that, the alpha left Namjoon to his grief.

Later, Namjoon tried to argue with his father, the king, but was met with indifference. His father instructed him to prepare for the wedding and informed him that he would be leaving the palace the following day. His mother attempted to console him, but in his fury and humiliation, Namjoon fled to his room. He seethed with anger and disgrace, struggling to comprehend how his own father could force him into marriage with a man who had reduced him to nothing more than a childbearing vessel.

The following day, Namjoon was dressed in a traditional wedding hanbok specially designed for royal females. The attire only heightened his sense of disgrace and humiliation. He was escorted to the venue of the wedding, where he was seated beside the beast who was to become his husband.

At the ceremony, the high priest recited the prayers as Namjoon and the alpha took their oaths. Each word that left Namjoon’s lips was spoken with palpable hatred. Finally, a red string was bound around their pinky fingers, and they drank the blessed wine. With this, the wedding was officially completed.

Namjoon saw the look of betrayal in his parents' eyes as he bid them farewell. Despite his anger and hatred, he could not hold back his tears. He embraced his mother, sobbing like a child, his eyes pleading for her to rescue him. But there was nothing she could do.

He then boarded a royal carriage, surrounded by an unfamiliar army. He knew these soldiers were not from his kingdom. As the dominant alpha approached, the soldiers bowed before him, chanting, "Long live the Heavenly Emperor." Namjoon gasped upon hearing this.

Namjoon realized he was in a dire situation, completely trapped and with no way out. He closed the curtains of the carriage and let sleep overtake him.

~~~~×~~~~

It took four days to reach the emperor’s kingdom. Namjoon had only heard stories about the place, never having been there himself. If one word could describe it, it would be "breathtaking." The palace was magnificent, adorned with golden carvings and statues.

The moment Namjoon set foot in the palace, he was greeted by a line of servants. The emperor signaled for four of them to lead him to the emperor’s bedchamber. The room was grand, furnished with high-quality furniture crafted from gold, silver, and exquisite wood.

Reluctantly, Namjoon was escorted to the chamber's private bathroom, where he was thoroughly washed and cleaned. Scented oils and lotions were applied to his body, and he was dressed in a sheer white robe with intricate gold embroidery, made from luxurious silk that left nothing to the imagination.

As night fell, the room was bathed in moonlight. Though the candles were lit, the moon’s glow remained the dominant light. Namjoon awaited his fate with a heavy heart, fear consuming him. The only thought that occupied his mind was the idea of killing the emperor and escaping the palace. The mere thought of the emperor's touch filled him with waves of disgust.

The sound of the door opening rang in his ears. In a defensive reflex, Namjoon clutched the comforter tightly to his chest and crawled back to the headrest of the bed. His body, now fragile after the transformation, was no match for the emperor's strength. All he could do was cower and shoot daggers at the dominant alpha with his eyes.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you lowlife!” Namjoon spat with revulsion, but his words did nothing to halt the advancing alpha. “Stop! I— I demand you stop right there!” he stammered, growing increasingly desperate as he realized the alpha had no intention of heeding his pleas.

The emperor climbed into the bed and moved closer to the omega, pulling Namjoon’s wrist and drawing him against his chest. He held him captive in his embrace. Despite Namjoon’s struggles, the emperor firmly gripped his face, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “You are mine,” he said, his voice cold and authoritative. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, you were destined to be mine.” He gazed into Namjoon’s eyes and continued, “Tonight, I will ravish you and take pleasure in your body. I will claim your womb again and again, filling you with my essence until your hole will overflow.” There was an undeniable command in his tone that brooked no opposition.

With those words, the emperor seized Namjoon’s lips in a rough, punishing kiss, leaving them throbbing with pain. He then forced Namjoon onto his back, hovering over him with an unmistakable dominance. Namjoon’s hands were pinned above his head as the alpha pressed harsh, possessive kisses from his jawline down to his delicate, swan-like neck. The alpha covered Namjoon’s neck with a trail of hickies and bruises, red and blue. Namjoon moaned in pain, but to the dominant alpha, each sound was like a melody.

His robe was ripped open, his chest and privates were bare before the emperor, he tried to close his legs but they were pried opened with the emperor's strong thighs.The emperor ripped open Namjoon’s robe, leaving his chest and private parts exposed. He attempted to close his legs, but the emperor’s strong thighs forced them apart. His nipples were assaulted—licked, sucked, and bitten—while his chest was roughly grabbed and squeezed.

All Namjoon could do was moan in pain and thrash helplessly. He tried to resist, but he was no match for the dominant alpha. His tears flowed uncontrollably as he bit his lips until they bled.

The alpha's finger breached Namjoon’s maiden hole roughly, causing him to groan in pain at the intrusion. One finger was quickly followed by a second and then a third, all pumping in and out, making a lewd squelching sound.

Namjoon lay there helplessly as the emperor positioned himself at his entrance. When he felt the immense intrusion, he closed his eyes and arched his back, a heart-wrenching scream escaping his lips. He clutched the bed sheets as though his life depended on it. “It hurts, please, please, please stop, I beg you,” Namjoon pleaded, his voice broken and desperate.

The alpha disregarded Namjoon’s pleas and surrendered to the pleasure the omega's body provided. He began thrusting without allowing Namjoon any time to adjust, pounding into him with the ferocity of a wild beast.

He kissed Namjoon savagely, his thrusts growing more relentless. As he continued to pound into him, he seized one of Namjoon’s nipples, drawing it into his mouth and suckling it with a fervent intensity. The alpha reveled in the fullness of Namjoon’s chest, pleased to find that his omega's chest was larger in size from that of the average male omegas.

He played with the omega's clit, pinching and rubbing it teasingly, driving Namjoon to the brink of climax. As he felt his own release approaching, he increased his pace, thrusting with unrestrained intensity. His knot began to swell, filling Namjoon’s hole completely as he climaxed, releasing his seed in thick, hot bursts inside him.

He adjusted their position, making them lie on their sides, and continued to thrust shallowly inside Namjoon. His kisses were relentless as he nuzzled and explored the omega’s body. He gripped Namjoon’s buttocks, savoring their soft, plump texture under his hands. Namjoon lay there, panting heavily, his eyes half-closed in a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. The alpha looked into his eyes with a predatory gaze and captured his lips once more, kissing him with a fierce, brutal passion.

As soon as his knot began to deflate, the alpha resumed his merciless assault without hesitation. He thrust back into Namjoon with a savage intensity, his movements forceful and unrelenting. Each thrust was driven by primal need, pushing deeper into the omega with every powerful movement.

The alpha’s hands gripped Namjoon’s hips firmly, pulling him back onto his length as he pounded relentlessly. His cock slid in and out of Namjoon’s stretched hole, each stroke filling him with a hot, throbbing pressure. He made sure to drive his seed deep inside, feeling it pool and churn within the omega as he continued to thrust.

Throughout the night, the alpha’s rhythm was brutal and unyielding. He made no effort to ease the omega's suffering, instead focusing on the pleasure of his own release. The sounds of their bodies meeting, the slickness of their union, and Namjoon’s cries of pain filled the room. The alpha ignored every plea and whimper, lost in the dominating act of filling Namjoon over and over.

With every powerful thrust, he ensured that his seed was deeply embedded, using his forceful rhythm to make sure that it stayed within. Namjoon’s body was subjected to a continuous cycle of pleasure and pain, his exhaustion evident as the alpha continued his unrelenting pace, showing no sign of stopping.

_____to be continued ___________________________

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It was Namjoon's first morning in the Imperial Palace of Dalnim, a kingdom known for its beauty and grandeur. As the morning sun shone through the balcony, Namjoon groaned in pain, feeling sore all over. He hissed as he noticed the emperor's seed still leaking from his abused body. The warmth of the sun did little to comfort him as the painful memories of the previous night came rushing back, filling him with a mix of anger, shame, and helplessness.

He was once a prince of honor, a warrior, and a scholar, but now he felt like nothing more than the emperor's whore. Hugging his body tightly, Namjoon cried, his eyes tinted with red, feeling utterly broken. He was just barely 18, still a child who had always craved his father's approval but had never received the love and warmth he longed for. Even his mother had always seen him as a disappointment.

"He may have broken me, turned me into something I never was, but he will never own me or my soul," Namjoon vowed to himself, his voice filled with quiet determination. He promised never to back down, to fight until the end. He would take his revenge and shatter the emperor's pride, no matter what it took.

~~~~~•~~~~~

The maids dressed Namjoon in an exquisite silver-grey hanbok, meticulously adorned with sparkling jewelry, enhancing his regal beauty. His reflection in the mirror was stunning, but Namjoon felt none of the pride he once had. Today was going to be a long day. He was to be introduced to the emperor's imperial harem, and already, whispers filled the room about what awaited him.

The maids recounted stories of the harem, a place full of elegant beauties plucked from the most powerful kingdoms, each more graceful and alluring than the last. However, behind the glamour was a dangerous battlefield, where concubines schemed for the emperor's favor, willing to do anything—poisoning, betrayal, or worse—to rise in rank.

Among them, one name stood out: Taemin, the son of Minister Han, an omega of extraordinary beauty and wisdom. Taemin was the emperor's most favored concubine, his knowledge and charm unmatched. Ruthless and ambitious, Taemin had once been considered the prime candidate to become the empress before Namjoon came into the picture. Now, with Namjoon in line for the title, he was sure to face Taemin’s cruelty and jealousy head-on.

Namjoon could feel the weight of what was coming. What luck he had—caught in the web of royal politics and competition, trapped in a world where he didn't wanted to be.

Namjoon was led into the private dining room, seated to the right of the center. As he waited, the announcement of the emperor’s arrival echoed through the room.

When the emperor entered, Namjoon’s eyes were fixed on him, filled with hatred. His sharp gaze didn’t go unnoticed, but the emperor seemed completely unfazed as he calmly made his way to his seat.

The emperor sat gracefully at the center, right next to Namjoon, his demeanor calm and collected. It was as though nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t violated Namjoon the night before. His composure was unnerving, the casual way he carried himself only fueling Namjoon’s inner rage. Though Namjoon appeared calm, the anger inside him was clear. Despite everything, he silently vowed that the emperor would never truly break him.

"Eat," the emperor commanded, his authoritative tone cutting through the room. Yet, even that commanding voice did nothing to sway Namjoon. He sat stiffly, ignoring the food in front of him, his eyes fixed on the table, defiant and unmoving.

When Namjoon refused to obey, the emperor’s anger flared. Jimin grabbed Namjoon’s cheeks roughly, forcing him to meet his gaze. His golden-red eyes glinted with fury, demanding complete submission. Namjoon struggled to pull away, but Jimin's grip was unyielding, his fingers digging painfully into Namjoon's skin. As if to further assert his dominance, Jimin snaked his other arm around Namjoon's waist, pulling him harshly against his chest, leaving Namjoon trapped and powerless in the emperor's firm hold.

"Hurts... let me go, ahh, please," Namjoon whimpered in pain, his voice trembling as the alpha refused to release him. Crystal-like tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, and his face turned red from the pressure. The emperor drew their faces closer, his hot breath brushing against Namjoon's skin, sending chills down his spine. Namjoon desperately tried to wriggle out of Jimin's iron grip, but it was futile. The alpha shifted his hand from Namjoon's cheeks to the nape of his neck, holding him firmly. Their faces were now unbearably close, and Namjoon’s breathing quickened in fear. Glancing around, he noticed the servants with their heads bowed and eyes closed, making it painfully clear that no one would come to his aid.

In a blink, Namjoon’s lips were seized in a brutal kiss. He shook his head, struggling and trying to punch the emperor, but every time he resisted, Jimin's grip tightened painfully around him. The emperor shamelessly explored Namjoon's body with his hands, yanking at the ties of his hanbok and tearing away the fabric in his path. "This is your punishment," Jimin growled into his ear before trailing harsh kisses down Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon whimpered in pain as he was forcefully laid onto the dining table, his body trembling beneath the emperor’s weight. Without any preparation, Jimin speared into him, and Namjoon’s agonized moans echoed through the room as he was mounted, helpless and defiled.

The alpha thrust into Namjoon with relentless force, his breath heavy and hot against Namjoon's ear. For Jimin, the tightness and warmth of Namjoon’s body were like paradise. His hands roamed greedily, grabbing and squeezing Namjoon's plump breasts with painful intensity. “If you won’t give me pleasure willingly,” Jimin snarled, “then you will only receive pain.” His harsh words echoed as he continued to dominate Namjoon with brutal fervor.

"Learn to obey me," Jimin said, his voice cold and commanding, "and you will be rewarded with unimaginable riches and blissful pleasure. Continue to defy me, and you will come to know true pain and misery." As he spoke, Jimin continued to thrust relentlessly into Namjoon’s already battered body.

"No... no, uhhhh... I-I will not bow down to you," Namjoon stammered, his voice faltering with each thrust. "You will never own me, unghhhh." His defiant words were abruptly silenced when the emperor sealed his lips with a forceful kiss, overpowering him and cutting off any further resistance

Namjoon could see the extent of his humiliation, being raped in front of the servants. All he could do was cry and emit helpless moans as the emperor, with a cruel smirk, took his body. His chest arched in response to the painful pulling and sucking of his nipples. His chest, already abused and marked with red bruises and hickies, bore the harshness of the emperor’s touch.

Every time the emperor's mouth roamed over Namjoon's chest, the sensation was laced with revulsion. The Alpha suckled at his nipple with an almost insatiable hunger, as though trying to draw something from it. When he found nothing, he bit down sharply, leaving behind marks of pain. He treated the other nipple with the same cruel, relentless focus, alternating between rough sucking and biting.

Namjoon could not bear the overwhelming pain and humiliation. As the emperor continued his relentless assault, his vision darkened, and he lost consciousness, collapsing into Jimin's arms.

Seeing his mate unmoving, Jimin increased his thrusts, feeling Namjoon’s sweet hole gripping him tightly even in sleep. He pushed himself to the brink, filling Namjoon with his seed. Once spent, he composed himself, fastening his robes. Gently, he carried Namjoon in a princess carry to his chamber and laid him down with care. Observing his new consort as he slept, Jimin smirked with satisfaction. He called for a maid, instructing her to provide nourishing food for Namjoon upon his awakening.

_____to be continued ________________

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"How dare that insolent whore refuse to greet me, even after two days of his arrival," Taemin fumed silently, his nails digging into the armrest of his chaise. As the head concubine, it was a sacred custom for all newcomers to pay their respects to him, a tradition as old as the empire itself.

The fact that the emperor had taken Namjoon under his wings did not grant him the right to flout protocol. Taemin’s eyes narrowed, his pride wounded by the blatant disrespect. Such insolence would not go unanswered.

Taemin’s patience, as delicate as a thread of spider silk, finally snapped. With a curt flick of his wrist, he dismissed his attendants, the atmosphere in the chamber growing noticeably colder. His voice, sharp and commanding, reverberated through the ornate hall as he addressed his steward.

“Make preparations for my visit to the new consort’s palace,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Taemin had always believed he would be the one to bear the weight of the crown and share it with his beloved emperor. For years, he envisioned himself as the perfect consort, the one who would cement his place by gifting the emperor a rightful heir.

But as time passed, his womb failed to blossom with the emperor’s seed. Each passing year chipped away at his pride, leaving it in ruins. The final blow came when His Majesty announced his decision to embark on a journey to seek his destined mate—someone who could fulfill the role Taemin could not, someone who could bear his seed and provide the empire with an heir.

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a wound to his pride that festered with envy and despair.

The moment Taemin heard the news that His Majesty, the emperor, had returned to the kingdom not alone but with a new bride, a wave of burning jealousy consumed him. Unable to contain his tumultuous emotions, he made his way to the palace that the emperor had designated for the new consort.

However, his path was blocked by the guards stationed outside the bedchamber. Their stoic expressions and unyielding stance left no room for negotiation.

Taemin's frustration deepened as he stood there, fists clenched tightly at his sides. The muffled pleasure-filled growl of the emperor’s voice, resonating from within the chamber, struck him like a dagger. His knuckles ground together as the raw envy and humiliation coursing through him ignited a fierce, unrelenting fire in his chest.

Even in this life and the next hundred, the emperor was his—his to love, his to serve, his to claim. How could a lowly whore dare to usurp his place, to occupy the position meant only for him? The very thought was an insult to his pride, a dagger to his heart.

In that moment, Taemin swore a silent, unyielding oath. He would make the royal consort’s life a living hell, stripping away every ounce of dignity and happiness. He would ensure they cried rivers of blood, their very existence a testament to his vengeance.

_______________________________________

It was yet another morning where Namjoon awoke, his body bruised and sore, as if a chariot had run over him. The pain lingered in every muscle, a constant reminder of the torment he had endured at the hands of the emperor. The maids moved around him with practiced efficiency, their hands gentle as they helped him into the bath.

Every inch of his skin seemed to burn, as if Jimin's touch had left an indelible mark, turning him into something that no longer resembled the proud prince he once was. The maids worked quickly, massaging scented oils and creams into his skin, their soft hands coaxing some relief from the ache. Yet, no matter how much they tried to soothe him, it felt as though his body would never be the same.

Once they finished, they helped him dress in his hanbok. The fabric was white and gold, delicate and regal, fitting him like a second skin. As Namjoon stood before the mirror, the reflection that stared back at him seemed like someone else—a goddess draped in elegance, but one whose spirit had been shattered.

He studied his reflection, the golden thread that embroidered the hem of the hanbok catching the light, reminding him of the life he had lost. The beautiful, delicate fabric did little to conceal the internal scars. He could no longer escape the reality of his situation.

"How did I end up here?" he whispered under his breath, his fingers tracing the edge of the mirror. But the question hung in the air, unanswered, as the maids continued their quiet work around him.

He sat in a chair outside after he got dressed, the crisp morning air brushing against his skin. The maids had prepared his breakfast under the shade of a nearby tree, and the aroma of fresh food drifted toward him. The morning sun's rays gently touched his face, warming him with their golden embrace.

He looked up, and for a brief moment, he shone like a morning star, bathed in the soft, golden light. The warmth soothed his skin, easing the lingering ache from the previous night. His wet hair, still damp from his bath, began to dry under the sun's tender rays, as though nature itself sought to heal him.

In that moment, Namjoon allowed himself to bask in the fleeting serenity, though deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last.

His moment of peace was abruptly shattered when a steward’s voice rang out, announcing the arrival of the royal concubine, Taemin. Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the tranquility fading as his gaze met that of the concubine.

Taemin stood before him, his sharp, calculating eyes fixed on Namjoon with an unsettling intensity. There was no warmth, no politeness in his gaze—only the cold gleam of someone who had already decided Namjoon’s worth. The air seemed to grow heavier as Taemin's presence commanded the space, making Namjoon feel like a mere object to be appraised.

"Your Majesty," Taemin spoke, his voice smooth and almost mocking, yet laced with a hidden tension."It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

Namjoon stood slowly, forcing a calm expression despite the turmoil inside. "The honor is mine, High Consort."

But as Taemin's eyes trailed over him with a subtle yet unmistakable judgment, Namjoon couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting would not go as peacefully as he had hoped.

Taemin smiled, his gaze never leaving Namjoon’s as he spoke with an almost playful tone. "High Consort? I am not entitled to such honors, Your Majesty. I am only but a royal concubine."

Taemin’s words dripped with an air of false modesty, but his eyes betrayed a deeper arrogance—one that spoke of his position and power. He stepped closer, his every movement deliberate, yet his tone remained laced with politeness, even as the tension in the air thickened.

Namjoon could feel the weight of the gaze upon him, his heart pounding in his chest. Taemin was a man of power, and his words were always carefully chosen to convey both respect and dominance.

Taemin stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he regarded Namjoon. "I must admit, Your Majesty," he began, his voice smooth like honey, "I always imagined the emperor’s new consort would be... more formidable. How disappointing."

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Taemin leaned in slightly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "But then again," he continued, "I suppose one can only expect so much from a former prince turned omega."

Namjoon stiffened, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Tell me, Your Majesty," Taemin purred, his tone playful yet laced with venom, "how does it feel to be so... powerless? To be nothing more than a pretty face for the emperor’s amusement?"

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he forced himself to remain silent, knowing that responding to Taemin's provocations would only give the concubine more fuel.

Taemin chuckled softly, as if savoring the moment. "Such fire in your eyes. How lovely. But remember, even the most beautiful of flames can be easily snuffed out."

Taemin’s words continued to sting like daggers, each sentence sharper than the last. He circled around Namjoon, his every movement calculated, a sly smile never leaving his lips.

"Such a quiet one, aren't you, Your Majesty?" Taemin remarked, his voice dripping with mockery. "I was expecting at least a little fire from the new consort, but I suppose you're just a delicate flower, after all."

Namjoon’s grip tightened on the armrest of his chair, but he remained still, his eyes betraying nothing. He had learned long ago that responding to Taemin only made things worse. So, he sat there, silently enduring the verbal jabs.

Taemin smirked as he watched Namjoon’s restrained reaction. "How fitting," he continued, "a prince who once had everything, now reduced to nothing more than a pet. A pretty one, at least."

The insults continued to fly, each one designed to provoke, to tear at the remnants of Namjoon’s pride. But still, Namjoon said nothing. His silence only seemed to please Taemin more.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Taemin deemed it time to leave. "I’ve had my fill of this amusing little chat, Your Majesty," he said, his voice now dripping with feigned sweetness. "But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to speak again."

With a final, lingering glance, Taemin turned and swept out of the room, leaving Namjoon sitting in the silence that followed. The weight of his words still hung in the air, but Namjoon did not react—he simply let them settle, like dust, in the corners of his mind.

Namjoon tolerated Taemin’s relentless taunts, though every fiber of his being screamed to retaliate. He knew better than to provoke the concubine, not out of fear, but out of sheer pragmatism. He had learned early on how deeply Taemin was favored by the emperor, how crucial his place was in Jimin’s court. To give Taemin a reason to escalate things would only bring unwanted attention, and Namjoon didn’t need the emperor intervening.

Jimin’s wrath was a force he’d already experienced once, and the thought of it sent a chill down his spine. The emperor would surely not take kindly to any challenge to his most favored concubine, and Namjoon wasn’t ready to face that wrath. Not yet.

So, he swallowed his pride, gritting his teeth as Taemin continued his verbal onslaught, knowing every insult would be one he would have to bear in silence. For now, the price of avoiding the emperor’s wrath was a quiet endurance.

The thought of escape lingered in Namjoon’s mind like a flickering flame, a spark of hope amidst the suffocating darkness. Soon, he would find a way to break free, to reclaim the freedom that had once been his by right. Until that day came, however, he had no choice but to wait.

He had to bide his time, watch, and plan. The walls of the palace, though seemingly impenetrable, were not invincible. He knew that there had to be a way out—a crack, a weakness, something he could exploit. He would find it, no matter how long it took.

But for now, he sat in silence, enduring the cruel games of those around him. He would wait—patiently, silently—and when the time was right, he would escape.

______to be continued ________________

Chapter Text

________enjoy_________________________

Jimin had never known the warmth of a father's love. Born to an unfavorable concubine, he was small, delicate in appearance, and for most of his life, seen as an omega by the kingdom’s eyes. His father, the emperor, rejected him outright, turning his back on the son who would never fulfill the image of a strong heir. In a royal family built on power, Jimin had been nothing but a mistake—an invisible, unwanted child.

From the moment he could walk, Jimin was bullied. His siblings, royal by blood but cruel by nature, tormented him at every turn. None more so than Minhon, the crown prince, who reveled in his ability to humiliate Jimin without fear of reprisal. Their cruelty was unchecked. Their words were daggers, their actions the weight of the throne that loomed over Jimin’s every breath. But Jimin, with every insult and mockery, only grew stronger.

He did not care what subgender he would become. He did not care for the labels that society placed upon him. His sole focus was survival—and revenge.

While the palace buzzed with whispers of his weakness, Jimin silently trained, honing his body, his mind, and his will. He was determined that the day would come when he would no longer be a speck of dust beneath his siblings' boots.

That day arrived when he presented as a prime alpha, a rare phenomenon that struck terror into those who witnessed it. His command was immediate, suffocating—his very presence commanding obedience. The empire quivered beneath the weight of his power.

The day he presented was the last day his father lived. With a cold, calculated strike, Jimin murdered the emperor. No mercy, no hesitation. His father’s life was snuffed out as easily as a flame in the wind. And the royal council—those who had once seen him as nothing more than a nuisance—bowed before him, begging for their lives.

Jimin did not spare them.

One by one, he wiped out every obstacle in his path, including the cousins who had once laughed at his expense. The council, now reduced to trembling figures, learned firsthand what it meant to stand before a true ruler. The city’s cries were drowned out by his orders. His command was final.

And just like that, Jimin was the emperor—unopposed, untouchable.

Years had passed since Jimin claimed the throne, but the scars of his ascent lingered, etched into every corner of the palace. The grand halls, once filled with whispers of intrigue, now trembled beneath the weight of his rule. No one dared to challenge him—no one except those who were foolish enough to cross his path.

Jimin sat in his lavish throne room, his gaze cold and calculating as he surveyed the room. His court, a mix of sycophants and fearful nobles, stood in silence. Each of them knew their place, each of them understood the cost of disobedience. The air was thick with tension, and Jimin relished in it.

The council had gathered for an urgent meeting, their voices low but anxious. News had spread like wildfire: barbarians were closing in on the kingdom’s borders, threatening to disrupt the fragile peace Jimin had fought so hard to maintain.

"Your Majesty," a councilor spoke, breaking the silence. "The barbarians have crossed into the northern territory. Their numbers grow with each passing day. We must prepare for a possible invasion."

Jimin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he listened. The threat of foreign invaders was nothing new, but the timing was troublesome. His grip on the kingdom had yet to solidify completely, and any external threat could shake the fragile balance of power.

"We’ve reinforced the border defenses, but we don’t know their full strength," another councilor added. "Should we mobilize the army?"

"Not yet," Jimin responded, his voice low but firm. "We cannot waste resources on speculation. Watch their movements. If they make a move, we strike first. Prepare the defenses, but do not engage unless necessary."

The council murmured in agreement, sensing the weight of Jimin’s authority. The emperor was always decisive, and his commands were always carried out without question.

"As for the internal matters," Jimin continued, his eyes flicking to another councilor, "how are we managing the unrest in the southern provinces?"

The councilor, nervous under Jimin’s gaze, stammered. "The unrest is growing, Your Majesty. The people are displeased with the tax hikes and the conscription laws. There have been small revolts, but they’re not enough to threaten our power."

Jimin’s expression darkened, but he said nothing for a moment. The southern provinces had always been difficult to control, but they would bend to him in time. They all would.

"Ensure that the revolts are crushed quickly," he ordered. "If the people cannot be cowed with fear, we will show them what true power is."

The council bowed their heads, acknowledging his command. Jimin’s cold, calculating demeanor brooked no resistance. No one questioned him. No one dared.

As the council’s discussions continued, Jimin’s mind wandered, his focus shifting from the external matters of the kingdom to something much more personal. Namjoon.

The moment he laid eyes on the once-proud prince, something inside him had stirred. It wasn’t just the pride of conquest—it was deeper, primal. His inner alpha, the beast that only reared its head when blood was involved, had roared in response to Namjoon’s presence. The urge to claim him, to dominate him, had surged like wildfire.

Jimin leaned back in his throne, the cool stone beneath him offering little comfort as his thoughts turned dark. The memory of Namjoon’s body pressed against his, the heat of the prince’s skin still vivid in his mind, consumed him. The way Namjoon’s lips, swollen and bruised from their encounter, glistened in the dim light of the chamber—everything about him was a temptation Jimin couldn’t resist.

His eyes closed for a brief moment, and Jimin’s lips parted, tasting the memory of that kiss. Namjoon’s body, so soft, so responsive, was a playground for Jimin’s desires. The way his nipples had hardened, flushed with desire, made it impossible for Jimin to ignore. And when his fingers had slipped between Namjoon’s thighs, the prince’s sweet hole gripping him in a way that made him feel invincible—Jimin licked his lips at the thought.

It was all-consuming. The hunger inside him only deepened, and he knew that Namjoon would be his, no matter how long it took.

The prince’s resistance only made the desire more intense. Jimin wanted to see him broken—completely and utterly his.

He shook the thoughts from his head as the council’s voices grew louder around him. There would be time for more of Namjoon later. But for now, Jimin would keep his obsession buried deep, hidden behind the façade of the emperor he had become.

As the meeting came to an end, Jimin stood from his throne, the sound of his movement causing the council to fall silent. He turned his gaze toward the kingdom, a world of power and fear that he had carved for himself.

And it would stay that way—for as long as he commanded.

_______________________________________

Namjoon sat in a chair in the royal library, his eyes glued to the ancient scriptures in front of him. The history of the kingdom and the stories of the emperors who had once ruled were fascinating, and it gave him a strange sense of connection to the land that now belonged to Jimin. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t deny that this place—this kingdom—had a powerful hold over him, especially now that he was married to its cruel ruler.

He lifted another scroll and unrolled it carefully. This one spoke of the ancient infrastructure of the palace, the secret passageways, the hidden chambers beneath the marble floors. Namjoon’s heart raced as he read, his mind working furiously. There had to be something—something hidden away that could help him escape this nightmare, something that could give him a chance to break free from Jimin’s suffocating grip.

Every word on the page seemed to hold a clue, but nothing was clear enough. His frustration simmered beneath the surface. He couldn’t let this be all he had—his knowledge of the kingdom and its secrets could be the key to his freedom. He had to keep looking, keep digging, no matter how long it took.

Unbeknownst to Namjoon, a few maids in the corner of the library watched him from afar, their eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and awe. The whispers in the palace had already begun to circulate—word had gotten out about the once-proud alpha who had been reduced to an omega. The emperor’s favorite prize, now reduced to a beautiful, delicate flower.

But what they saw in Namjoon wasn’t fragility. He held an aura that demanded respect, a presence that made the air itself feel thick with authority. His height alone made him stand out, towering over the average omega in the palace. Despite being turned into a flower for the emperor, there was still something in Namjoon’s eyes that spoke of a power that hadn’t yet been extinguished.

The maids exchanged whispers, wondering how long it would take before their cruel emperor grew tired of this beautiful omega. After all, nothing could break Jimin’s dominance. But deep down, the maids couldn’t deny that Namjoon was unlike anyone they had ever seen. Even in his current state, he was a force to be reckoned with.

The whispers among the maids halted abruptly as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, each step growing louder as the emperor’s presence drew closer. The royal steward had already announced his arrival, but there was no mistaking the weight of Jimin’s steps—the very air seemed to thrum with power as he approached.

Namjoon’s pulse quickened, and without thinking, he set the scrolls down quickly and began placing them back in their designated spots, his movements deliberate yet swift. He couldn’t let his guard down, not now. He had to be careful, especially when Jimin was near. The emperor’s gaze felt like a constant weight on his shoulders, and the last thing Namjoon wanted was to show any sign of weakness.

As he placed the last scroll back into its rightful place, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A presence—strong, commanding, and all too familiar—loomed just behind him. His instincts screamed that Jimin was close, but he didn’t turn to face him. Instead, Namjoon kept his eyes trained on the shelves in front of him, every muscle in his body tense and coiled.

He could feel the emperor’s gaze like a physical touch on the back of his neck. It was both suffocating and electrifying. The heat of Jimin’s presence radiated from behind him, and Namjoon swallowed hard, fighting the urge to shiver.

Before Namjoon could react, he felt Jimin’s hand grip his waist with a strength that left no room for escape. In one swift motion, the emperor spun him around to face him, his hold unyielding and suffocating. Namjoon was pressed flush against Jimin’s chest, his breath trapped in the tightness of the embrace. He could feel Jimin’s heart beating steadily, the sound somehow louder than his own.

Namjoon struggled, wriggling in an attempt to free himself, but it was useless. Jimin held him firmly, his iron grip refusing to loosen. The tension between them thickened with every passing second, and Namjoon’s pulse surged, a mix of anger and frustration swirling inside him.

Namjoon’s heart pounded in his chest, but he didn’t let the fear or frustration control him. He glared at Jimin, refusing to be broken. But in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered that this power imbalance was something he couldn’t fight—not yet, anyway. Still, he couldn’t just accept it.

Jimin’s fingers dug into the collar of Namjoon’s hanbok, the fabric stretching as he pulled it down just enough to expose the delicate curve of his neck. Without warning, Jimin leaned in close, his nose hovering near Namjoon’s scent gland. He inhaled deeply, drawing the rich, intoxicating aroma into his lungs. The scent was sweet—overwhelmingly so—and it made something inside Jimin stir, a primal urge he couldn’t suppress.

Namjoon’s entire body tensed, a jolt of revulsion and frustration rushing through him. He tried to push Jimin away, his hands pressing against the emperor’s chest, but it was useless. Jimin only tightened his grip, his hold on Namjoon unbreakable.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine as he felt the wet warmth of Jimin’s tongue trace along his exposed skin, moving from the scent gland down toward his jaw. The contact sent a wave of discomfort and confusion through him—he wanted to push Jimin away, to scream, but his body betrayed him in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend. His skin burned where the emperor’s tongue had touched, and he hated it. Hated that he couldn’t control his reactions, hated that Jimin was claiming him in such a primal, possessive way.

But there was nothing he could do. He was caught in Jimin’s web, every instinct screaming at him to fight, yet his body remained trapped in this cruel dance of dominance.

Not knowing when he was laid on the study table, spread open and impaled by the alpha, he couldn't help but moan in both pain and pleasure.

Namjoon tried to inch away, his body trembling in defiance, but with every movement, the emperor only pressed harder, thrusting deeper. The more he struggled, the more he was consumed by the weight of Jimin’s presence, his every attempt to escape only tightening the alpha’s hold on him. It was hopeless. He was trapped, unable to break free from the emperor’s relentless control.

"The alpha growled, each thrust relentless as he claimed Namjoon, never giving him even a moment to breathe. 'You are mine,' Jimin grunted, his control slipping. 'Mine from head to toe.' He couldn't hold back, the primal urge taking over him. 'You were destined for me. The moment you challenged me, you sealed your fate. Your body—your very being—calls to me, and I will have it as I please, omega. You will not defy me.'

Namjoon whimpered at the words, tears falling from his eyes like pearls, a silent testament to his torment. His body was marked, licked, and claimed by the alpha, and he could do nothing but endure it."

Jimin ripped the hanbok from Namjoon’s chest, his hands moving with urgency as he leaned in, pressing his lips to the sensitive, raspberry-hued nipples of his omega. He suckled with an almost desperate hunger, a need to taste the sweet milk of his omega, though he knew it wouldn’t be possible unless Namjoon carried his child. Frustration simmered in him as he pulled away, his gaze intense, fixated on the body before him, he bit the nipples roughly in frustration making the omega cry in pain.

He shifted his focus to the other nipple, his tongue tracing it with possessive intent, as if marking his claim. He nipped gently, then sucked with a pressure that left no doubt—he was in control. Every movement was deliberate, each action a reminder that Namjoon belonged to him, as he continued to assert his dominance over the omega, pounding inside his hole with smooth and swift movements with utter delight, each movement declaring a clear display of control and desire.

Jimin panted near the omega's ear, his breath warm and steady. He nibbled gently on the delicate lobe before his lips moved to Namjoon’s, swollen and inviting. He captured them roughly, dominating the kiss as if to steal every breath from him, kissing him into oblivion with a fervor that left no room for resistance.

Namjoon lay there, his body trembling beneath the weight of Jimin’s control. It no longer felt like his own; every inch of him was consumed by the emperor’s touch. The familiar sense of helplessness crept in, and no matter how much he resisted in his mind, he felt powerless, forced to submit in silence, like a mere shadow of who he once was.

Jimin’s teeth sank into Namjoon’s shoulder, and as he felt his knot begin to form, he became relentless, driven by a need for release that consumed him. Namjoon whimpered, his body trembling as the knot stretched him beyond his limits, forcing him to accommodate Jimin’s overwhelming presence. His breath hitched, tears spilling from his eyes as the pain mingled with a deep sense of helplessness. He lay there, silently weeping, unable to escape the physical and emotional weight of the situation.

Jimin, feeling the omega’s resistance, stroked Namjoon’s face gently, the tenderness of the gesture mocking in its cruelty. He kissed him once more, a kiss that was possessive, leaving no room for refusal. Then, with a firm grip, he lifted Namjoon into his embrace, the omega’s legs wrapped around his waist, the knot still binding them together, an undeniable mark of control.

As he carried Namjoon back to the royal chamber, the palace maids and eunuchs kept their eyes cast down. No one dared to meet his gaze, fully aware of the power and dominance that Jimin held over everyone within the palace walls.

_________to be continued _____________

Chapter Text

__________enjoy__________________________________

They all saw how the emperor took the unconscious Namjoon to his royal chamber.

They heard everything.

The muffled screams. The deep, commanding growls. The sharp gasps of resistance. The scandalous moans forced from trembling lips. The desperate cries that faded into muffled whimpers. And when the heavy doors of the library finally opened, they all saw him—

The prince, the former alpha, limp and unconscious in the emperor’s arms.

His body draped over Jimin’s chest, held tightly, possessively.

Not a single soul dared to lift their heads as the emperor walked past. But behind closed doors, away from the watchful eyes of the palace, the whispers started.

In the dim glow of the servants’ quarters, a group of maids gathered, their voices hushed yet eager.

“Did you hear it?” one of them asked breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from the memory.

“Hear it?” another scoffed. “Who didn’t hear it? The entire palace knows what happened in the library.”

The youngest of them, barely past her sixteenth year, leaned in. “They say His Majesty growled every time the prince struggled.”

A shiver ran through them—not of fear, but anticipation.

“The emperor was possessive,” one of the older maids said, her voice laced with intrigue. “I have never seen him like that before.”

“Not even with Consort Taemin?”

A chorus of scoffs filled the room.

“Consort Taemin?” someone sneered. “That leech? Who even cares about him?”

“He thinks he’s important, but the emperor barely even tolerates him.”

Another maid rolled her eyes. “He only holds onto that title because His Majesty hasn’t bothered to throw him out yet.”

“Not for long,” someone whispered. “Now that Prince Namjoon is here…”

They all fell silent for a moment, exchanging knowing glances.

Namjoon was different.

The emperor had never paraded anyone through the halls like that before. Never claimed someone so openly. And unlike Taemin, who clawed for attention like a desperate parasite, Namjoon commanded it effortlessly.

“He was an alpha,” one of the older maids said, lowering her voice. “A prince destined for a throne.”

“And now?”

“Now, he’s an omega,” someone whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

“But he still walks like an alpha,” the youngest maid said, eyes wide with something like admiration. “Even when he was in the library earlier, reading… did you see how the other omegas looked at him? They were in awe.”

“He’s breathtaking,” another admitted, begrudgingly. “More beautiful than any consort.”

“More beautiful than that scheming rat Taemin,” someone scoffed.

The room filled with quiet laughter.

“He won’t last long,” one of the elder maids muttered. “The emperor detests the weak. And Taemin? He’s nothing but weak.”

The youngest maid hesitated before asking, “But… do you think Prince Namjoon will submit?”

Silence.

And then, the eldest maid finally spoke, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“I think,” she murmured, “His Majesty has broken an alpha… but in doing so, he may have unleashed something even greater.”

The room fell into a hush, a rare moment of stillness among the chattering maids.

A few exchanged uneasy glances before one of them finally spoke the question lingering in all their minds.

“But… how did it happen?”

“How did what happen?”

“The prince—” she hesitated, lowering her voice as if afraid the very walls might hear. “How did His Majesty turn him into an omega?”

A ripple of discomfort spread through the group.

“It shouldn't be possible,” one of the older maids whispered. “An alpha is an alpha. They are born that way. No potion, no magic, no curse can change their nature.”

“And yet…” another muttered, eyes flickering with something between awe and unease.

“And yet, our emperor did it,” someone finished, voice barely above a breath.

A younger maid shuddered. “Do you think it was painful?”

“Of course, it must've been,” an older maid snapped. “Did you see him eight days ago? I heard he was unconscious for two days. His body must have been ripped apart and rebuilt.”

One of the maids rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. “That kind of power… it’s unnatural.”

“It’s terrifying,” another admitted.

Their hushed murmurs grew more intense, a mix of awe, curiosity, and anticipation.

“The emperor was possessive of him,” one of the younger maids whispered. “Did you see the way he held the omega?”

Another scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s no surprise. His Majesty has always been ruthless about what belongs to him.”

“But Namjoon wasn’t an omega,” another voice interjected, hushed yet filled with disbelief. “He was an alpha—a prince, a future king! How did this happen?”

Silence fell between them. That was the true mystery, the question no one dared to ask aloud. Alphas did not just turn into omegas. It was unheard of, unnatural. Impossible.

“Nothing is impossible for our emperor,” a senior maid finally murmured, lowering her voice further. “His Majesty is a prime alpha—the only one in existence. He was born with the power to rule all, to bend even the strongest of wills. He can command any subgender, break them if he wishes.”

The maids shuddered. A power so rare, so absolute, it defied nature itself.

“If he could do this to an alpha prince…” one started hesitantly, glancing around nervously. “What does it mean for the rest of us?”

A tense silence followed. Then, another maid whispered, “And what of the royal consort?”

That drew sharp interest.

“Consort Taemin?” one scoffed. “That snake? No one cares for him.”

“But he’s been the emperor’s favorite for years—”

“Was,” someone corrected. “The emperor has never looked at anyone the way he looked at Namjoon last night.”

“Then… do you think he will replace him?”

The question lingered in the air, thick with excitement and speculation. The idea of Taemin being cast aside was almost satisfying.

Just as the gossip grew more feverish, a sharp clap echoed through the hall.

“Enough of your nonsense!”

The maids gasped, spinning around to see a royal eunuch standing at the entrance, his sharp eyes narrowing at them.

“The emperor’s palace is no place for idle tongues,” he scolded, stepping forward with calculated grace. “If you have time to gossip, I suggest you use it to scrub the palace floors.”

A tense silence followed.

“Or shall I inform the head steward that you are in need of additional work?” His tone was smooth, but the threat was clear.

The maids instantly scrambled, bowing their heads before rushing off to their duties. But even as they worked, their minds raced with lingering thoughts.

The emperor had done the impossible. He had taken an alpha prince, a future king, and turned him into his omega.

If even an alpha could be broken… then no one was untouchable.

_________________________________________________

Jimin caressed the sweet, plump cheeks of the sleeping omega—the one he had taken several times more during the night. Seeing Namjoon writhe beneath him, overwhelmed by pleasure, surrendering to the fate Jimin carved for him—it was nothing short of a blessing.

His lingering hand trailed down, from the flushed cheeks to the slender neck, brushing over his supple chest before resting on the flat plane of his abdomen. He exhaled slowly, feeling the warmth beneath his palm.

Soon, there will be a child growing inside. His child.

A slow smirk curled Jimin’s lips as he pressed his hand down slightly, possessively. It was only a matter of time. Namjoon’s body was now made to carry his heirs, to serve as the mother of the imperial bloodline.

The omega stirred faintly, eyelashes fluttering, but his exhaustion kept him from fully waking. Jimin had thoroughly worn him out.

The emperor’s gaze darkened as he admired the marks he left—bruises on Namjoon’s collarbone, the faint indentations of his teeth on his shoulder. Proof of ownership.

No one could challenge his claim.

Leaning down, Jimin pressed a kiss to the soft skin just below Namjoon’s navel, whispering against it,

"Rest well, my queen. Your duty has only begun."

Jimin reluctantly pulled himself away from the warmth of the bed, his gaze lingering on the sleeping omega. The sight was utterly intoxicating—Namjoon, exhausted and thoroughly claimed, his bare skin adorned with love bites and bruises that marked him as Jimin’s.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. How he wished he could stay, take his time, taste the omega once more—submerge himself in the pleasure that Namjoon’s body so willingly provided him. But duty called, and even the most ruthless emperor could not afford to ignore his responsibilities.

The moment he sat up, the royal maids, trained to serve him in all matters, immediately moved forward. Delicate hands dressed him in layers of rich silk and embroidered robes, fastening golden clasps and adjusting his attire with practiced precision. They knew better than to chatter or disturb him—the air around him was heavy with silent authority, and his mind was elsewhere.

As they smoothed the final layer of his imperial robes, Jimin cast one last glance at Namjoon. His omega. His queen.

"Watch over him," he ordered coldly, and the head maid bowed deeply, understanding the weight of his command.

Adjusting his golden belt, Jimin turned on his heels and left the chamber.

For now.

But he would return to him soon enough.

____to be continued _____________________________

Chapter Text

_____enjoy__________________________________________

A heavy silence loomed over the grand hall, thick with tension as the emperor’s ministers continued their reports. The scent of burning incense did little to mask the suffocating weight of duty that clung to the air.

Jimin exhaled slowly, his patience thinning with every passing second. His sharp gaze flickered across the room, watching as his advisors nervously exchanged glances, hesitating to speak in his presence. They feared him—as they should.

"Your Majesty," one of the ministers spoke, his voice careful, measured. "The northern borders remain unsettled. The barbarians have refused to retreat despite our previous warnings. There are reports of small villages being raided."

Jimin let out a quiet hum, unimpressed. "And?"

The minister hesitated before continuing, "The people are anxious, Your Majesty. They fear another war."

Jimin's fingers tapped against the throne’s armrest, his expression unreadable. War was inevitable. The northern barbarians were like starving wolves—desperate, wild, and foolish enough to challenge his empire. If he wished, he could wipe them out with a single command. Yet, he had no desire to waste his time on such trivial matters.

"This matter has already been assigned to General Jeon," Jimin finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm. "Do not bore me with details that do not require my intervention."

The court fell into silence. No one dared to question his decision.

His eyes flickered toward the far side of the room, where General Jeon Jungkook stood, his posture relaxed but eyes alert. Jungkook had always been efficient, ruthless when needed, and dangerously skilled in warfare. If anyone could bring the barbarians to their knees, it was him.

Jungkook bowed slightly. "I have already sent my men to the borders. If they refuse to back down, I will handle it accordingly, Your Majesty."

Jimin smirked. "Good."

Another minister stepped forward, cautiously shifting through his scrolls. "There is also the matter of the upcoming banquet. Many nobles are arriving in the capital, eager to witness the announcement regarding the royal consort."

The hall grew even quieter. Everyone knew who they were referring to.

Namjoon.

Jimin’s expression darkened, though there was a hint of satisfaction beneath it. He could still recall the way the omega had writhed beneath him the night before, his once-defiant spirit now mixed with reluctant submission. His omega. His possession. His queen.

"They will see what I allow them to see," Jimin said, his voice sharp. "Namjoon will attend as my consort. Make the necessary preparations."

He could sense the unspoken whispers, the uncertainty that filled the court. They would not dare say it aloud, but he knew what they thought—How could an alpha prince become an omega? How did the emperor achieve the impossible?

Jimin leaned back into his throne, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Because he was not like them.

He was a prime alpha. Born with power beyond imagination, his very existence defied nature. He commanded fate itself.

And soon, the whole empire would witness the proof of his power, seated beside him—his once-proud, untamed Namjoon, now bound to him in every way possible.

A slow smirk curled on Jimin’s lips.

Let them watch. Let them marvel. Let them see what happens when they defy their emperor.

___________________________________________________

A faint breeze drifted in from the open windows, carrying the scent of morning dew and the distant fragrance of blooming plum blossoms. The golden silk sheets pooled around Namjoon's bare waist as he stirred awake, his body aching from the previous night's ordeal. His vision was hazy at first, but as his senses sharpened, the weight of reality settled upon him like an iron shackle.

He was still here. Still in the emperor’s bed.

His fingers clenched the sheets as if trying to grasp onto the remnants of his past self. The once-mighty alpha prince, destined to rule his kingdom, was now nothing more than a claimed omega—a possession of the cruel emperor.

"How did it come to this?" he thought bitterly.

As he attempted to sit up, a dull ache coursed through his limbs, a painful reminder of how Jimin had taken him throughout the night, over and over, until exhaustion stole his consciousness. His face burned with humiliation. No matter how much he willed himself to forget, the sensation of being overpowered, of being completely at the mercy of another, lingered in his mind.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts aside. He had no time for weakness.

Namjoon's gaze darted around the emperor’s lavish chamber, taking in every detail. The towering bookshelves, the ornate gold carvings, the delicate incense burning in the corner—it was a prison disguised as luxury. But even in a cage, there were always cracks, always ways to escape.

He recalled the scriptures he had read in the library before Jimin took him—scrolls detailing the palace’s architecture, its hidden corridors, its ancient tunnels long forgotten by most. His mind began piecing together a plan. He needed to be patient. He needed to be smart.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. The doors to the chamber creaked open, and a group of palace maids entered, their gazes lowered in respect.

“Your Highness,” one of them murmured, her voice trembling slightly, “His Majesty has ordered us to prepare you for tonight’s banquet.”

A banquet?

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. So this was it. The emperor would finally present him before the court, displaying him like a prized possession. The nobles would whisper, the concubines would sneer, and Taemin—Jimin’s official consort—would seethe in jealousy.

This was not just a banquet. It was a spectacle. A declaration.

But Namjoon refused to be paraded around like a helpless concubine. If they expected to see a broken omega, they would be sorely mistaken.

He straightened his posture, his chin lifting ever so slightly as he met the maids' gazes. "Very well," he said coolly. "Prepare me."

Even if he was trapped, even if he was under Jimin’s rule—he would not cower. He would not yield.

____________________________________________________

The Banquet Hall
--------------------------

The grand banquet hall shimmered under the glow of a thousand lanterns, golden light bouncing off the delicate silk drapes and polished marble floors. Nobles, ministers, and high-ranking officials filled the room, their hushed whispers blending with the soft melody of traditional instruments.

Yet, as the grand doors slowly creaked open, all conversations ceased.

A collective gasp swept through the hall as Prince Namjoon—no, the Emperor’s consort—entered the room.

Draped in a breathtaking hanbok of gold and silver-grey, embroidered with intricate patterns of dragons and phoenixes, Namjoon looked nothing less than celestial. The soft candlelight kissed his smooth, porcelain skin, accentuating the slight rosy tint on his petal-like lips and apple cheeks. The golden sash around his waist shimmered, cinching his form with quiet elegance. His long, dark lashes framed his piercing eyes, ones that held both defiance and grace.

He was an enigma—an omega who walked with the presence of a king.

And the entire court couldn’t take their eyes off him.

Amid the stunned silence, quiet murmurs finally broke out.

"Is that truly Prince Namjoon?"

"Impossible… he carries himself like an alpha still."

"He was turned into an omega, yet he still commands attention."

"How could such a thing happen?"

Namjoon ignored the whispers, ignored the stares. He had expected this reaction. Let them watch. Let them whisper. He would not shrink beneath their gazes.

But not everyone in the room was merely watching.

Across the hall, Taemin seethed. His delicate fingers tightened around his golden goblet, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into the fine metal.

"That should have been me."

For years, Taemin had suffered Jimin’s coldness, endured being overlooked, all in hopes that one day, he would be acknowledged. And now, after years of waiting, years of silent devotion—this wretched omega had stolen everything from him.

No.

Taemin would not sit by and watch his place be taken.

A slow, venomous smile curled on his lips as his mind swirled with dark thoughts. He would get rid of Namjoon.

One way or another.

At the Emperor’s Table
-----------------------------------

Jimin, seated at the center of the banquet, felt his breath hitch for just a second.

He had expected Namjoon to hesitate, to walk in with reluctance. He had expected defiance, resistance—but not this.

The omega walked obediently toward him, steps measured, elegant. The way his hanbok flowed like liquid gold with each movement was utterly hypnotizing. His rosy lips, swollen from the previous night, parted slightly as he exhaled. His delicate features were flushed, whether from the lingering heat of their time together or from the watchful eyes of the court, Jimin did not know.

But he had never seen anything so breathtaking.

For the first time in a long while, the emperor found himself momentarily speechless.

"This omega… is mine."

But just as his thoughts settled, Namjoon reached the table and did something no one expected.

Instead of sitting beside Jimin in the seat prepared for him, he lifted the hem of his sleeve gracefully—

—and sat one seat away.

The hall froze.

A sharp wave of tension crackled through the air. The nobles gawked in horror. The court held its breath. Even Taemin’s fury paused in shock.

Because Namjoon had just disrespected the emperor.

Openly. Boldly.

The message was clear.

“I may be here, but I am not yours.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened around his goblet, his knuckles going white. His jaw clenched, lips pressing into a thin line as a dangerous glint flickered in his dark eyes.

Defiance.

He had thought Namjoon was beginning to learn his place, beginning to understand that he belonged to him. But this…

This was a challenge.

Silence stretched unbearably.

Then, Jimin finally spoke, his voice calm but dripping with warning.

"Namjoon."

The omega turned his head slightly, meeting Jimin’s gaze with a cool expression. "Your Majesty."

Jimin’s lips twitched. There was no submission in that voice. No fear.

He leaned forward slightly, his deep voice carrying across the silent hall. "Come here."

Namjoon did not move.

Instead, he reached for the delicate porcelain cup in front of him, pouring himself a drink with unbothered ease. He lifted the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip before finally answering—

"I am already seated, Your Majesty."

A sharp gasp echoed from the nobles.

Taemin’s lips parted in disbelief.

The emperor’s dark eyes burned.

Jimin let out a quiet chuckle, low and humorless. "My omega," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper but heavy with dominance. "Do not test me."

Namjoon set his cup down gently. "I would never dare, Your Majesty."

A lie. A blatant, mocking lie.

Jimin could feel his temper rising, but beneath that anger, something else stirred—something almost amused.

His little omega was still fighting.

Good.

It would make his inevitable submission all the more satisfying.

Jimin exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax. Now was not the time.

But later…

Later, he would remind Namjoon exactly who he belonged to.

For now, he simply leaned back into his throne, expression unreadable, voice smooth as silk.

"Enjoy the banquet, my dear consort. It will be a night to remember."

And with that, the feast began—amidst whispers, stolen glances, and the unspoken war between an emperor and his reluctant omega.

____to be continued ______________________________

Chapter Text

____enjoy_______________________________________

The atmosphere was tense. Even the soothing music and graceful dancing couldn’t calm the storm brewing around the omega consort. Namjoon smirked, believing he had won the battle—right there in front of the entire court and the esteemed guests gathered for the banquet. He knew Jimin. He knew how fearsome the emperor could be. Tilting his head slightly, Namjoon risked a glance at the alpha seated at the center.

Jimin appeared calm, too calm—sipping his wine, chewing the delicacies laid before him with deliberate ease, his expression unreadable. That blank, emotionless face sent a ripple of unease through Namjoon’s spine. Something cold and heavy crawled over him like a shadow. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his palms turned clammy with dread.

Without another thought, Namjoon stood and bowed to the emperor, avoiding his gaze. “If Your Majesty permits, I shall take my leave,” he said, voice tight.

Jimin gave no response—only raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment.

Namjoon’s heart pounded as he turned and walked briskly through the center of the hall. All eyes followed him, but none dared speak. When the grand doors finally shut behind him, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and hurried toward his chambers.

Even after reaching the safety of his chambers, Namjoon didn’t feel at ease. A strange heaviness lingered in the air, crawling beneath his skin. The maids rushed in to assist the young consort, gently removing the elegant hanbok from his form and replacing it with a fine silk sleeping robe fit for the night. Each piece of jewelry was taken off with tender care, and his long, lustrous hair was delicately combed until it flowed like a silken waterfall down his back.

Namjoon sat silently before the mirror, eyes fixed on his reflection. His features had softened—his cheeks now bore a natural rosy tint, his lips had grown pinker and fuller. His chest had begun to fill out with modest breasts, and beneath his crotch, where once his pride had rested, was now a delicate, tender part—a maiden’s core.

His throat tightened. Every time he thought about it, shame flooded his body. It was a truth he couldn’t escape, a transformation he hadn't chosen. And yet, it was now a part of him—irrevocable, irreversible.

Namjoon took a loose strand of his hair between his fingers and closed his eyes, gently stroking it, seeking comfort in the familiar softness. Slowly, the tension began to melt from his body. His breathing steadied, and his muscles relaxed.

But the calm was short-lived.

Suddenly, a sharp tug yanked his head back by the hair, so vicious it sent a shock of pain through his scalp. Namjoon cried out, a loud, screeching scream ripping from his throat. Tears welled in his eyes as his entire body trembled, both from the pain and the overwhelming aura now engulfing the room—furious, commanding, and terrifyingly close behind him.

A low growl echoed near Namjoon’s ear, and he didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Did you think you could humiliate me in front of my court and walk away, omega?” Jimin's voice was calm—far too calm. That soft, velvety tone held more threat than a roar ever could.

Namjoon whimpered, eyes still locked on his reflection, watching the fury in Jimin’s eyes through the mirror. The emperor’s grip tightened in his hair, forcing Namjoon’s head back further until his exposed throat trembled beneath his harsh gaze.

“I gave you everything,” Jimin hissed, his free hand sliding down Namjoon’s silk-clad shoulder, possessive and cruel. “A place beside me. A title. My bed. My claim. And this,” his hand flattened over Namjoon’s lower belly, “this gift that now grows within you.”

Namjoon’s lips parted in a shaky breath. “Y-You said nothing when I bowed. I thought—”

“You thought?” Jimin sneered, pulling Namjoon to his feet with a cruel jerk. “That I wouldn’t punish my disobedient little consort? That I would let you mock me before foreign lords like some common street harlot?”

Namjoon winced, but he didn’t respond. He knew better than to answer, knew the punishment would be doubled if he dared talk back.

Jimin leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Namjoon’s ear. “Tonight, you will remember who owns you, omega. And the entire palace will remember not to look too long at what belongs to me.”

Jimin dragged Namjoon by the hair across the room, the silk of the sleeping robe fluttering around his legs like fallen petals. The maids had long since fled the chamber, sensing the storm that was coming.

He shoved the omega onto the bed, chest down, face pressing into the silk sheets that still carried the faint scent of last night. Namjoon let out a soft cry as his knees hit the edge of the mattress, hands clawing at the sheets as he felt the heavy presence of the emperor behind him.

"You forget your place far too often, Namjoon," Jimin growled, undoing the belt of his robe and tossing it aside. "I’ve tamed warriors and crushed kings beneath my boot—but you," he leaned forward, voice low and venomous, "you test my control in ways no one dares."

Namjoon trembled beneath him, his pride and defiance from earlier now a hollow memory. He bit his lip until it bled when he felt Jimin’s hand cup his heat possessively, squeezing and then delivering a sharp slap to his rear, marking the start of his punishment.

"You want their attention, hmm? You want them to look at you and whisper? Then let them hear you now. Let them hear how their emperor uses what is his."

Namjoon whimpered, the sting still hot on his skin, but he dared not move. Jimin's hand pressed down on his back, forcing him flat against the mattress as he lined himself up.

"And don’t think I’ll be gentle," Jimin murmured, voice cruelly tender. "Obedience will be beaten into that sweet body if I must do it every night."

Then he pushed in, fully, without warning.

Namjoon cried out, his hands gripping the sheets as his body struggled to take the sudden intrusion.

The alpha groaned as the omega’s slick, tight heat enveloped his length—warm and wet, the sensation made his mind spiral into a haze of primal need. He didn’t hesitate, setting a brutal pace, hips snapping forward with punishing thrusts as his mouth found the nape of Namjoon’s neck.

His tongue lazily traced over the faded mating mark, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he felt the omega tremble beneath him. And then, without warning, he sank his sharp canines into the mark—deep and possessive.

Namjoon let out a piercing scream, his hands clutching at anything to ground himself—pain and pleasure crashing into each other like a violent storm. Jimin growled lowly, savoring the way his omega writhed beneath him.

“You’ll never forget who you belong to,” he snarled against the wound, tasting the sweet, metallic tinge of blood as the mark reignited with burning intensity.

Namjoon's back was flush against Jimin's broad chest, the emperor’s powerful arms wrapped tightly around his waist, keeping him trapped—immovable and helpless. Each thrust sent shockwaves through his body, the slick heat between his thighs growing more unbearable with every cruel snap of Jimin’s hips.

The prime alpha growled low against Namjoon’s ear, his breath hot and dangerous. One hand gripped the omega’s breast, fingers digging into the tender flesh, squeezing and pulling at the rosy peak until Namjoon gasped and arched into his touch. The other hand slid down between his legs, seeking out the swollen nub already flushed red from overstimulation. Jimin pressed his thumb harshly against it, rubbing in sharp, cruel circles that made the omega tremble violently in his lap.

“You’re mine,” Jimin whispered against the shell of his ear, voice like a blade dipped in honey. “Say it.”

Namjoon bit his lip, refusing to give in. But Jimin’s hips slammed up into him again—deeper, rougher—drawing a helpless moan from his throat.

“You disrespected me, little omega,” he snarled. “And this is your punishment.”

He sunk his sharp canines into the bleeding mating mark, not to mark—but to remind. Namjoon screamed, the line between pleasure and pain completely blurred as his body shuddered violently in his alpha’s unrelenting grip.

Abruptly, Jimin flipped Namjoon over, pressing the omega’s entire body against the bed with a force that knocked the breath out of him. Now, Namjoon could see the furious alpha’s face clearly—his eyes blazing like a predator who had cornered his prey. Jimin hovered over him, caging his trembling form beneath his powerful frame, leaving no space between them.

Without pause, he thrust back into the omega’s slick heat, groaning at the familiar tight warmth that welcomed him again. Namjoon bit down hard on the pillow, his fingers clutching the silk sheets as the brutal pace resumed, merciless and unforgiving.

Jimin’s hand wandered wherever it pleased—brushing over the omega’s tear-streaked cheeks, trailing down the sharp line of his jaw, and finally resting on his chest. He cupped the soft mound of flesh possessively before dipping down to take one of the swollen nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making Namjoon cry out beneath him.

“You will never disobey me again,” he growled against the omega’s chest, voice low and seething. “You were made to be mine, and mine alone.”

“Say it,” Jimin demanded, voice rough. “Say who you belong to.”

Namjoon clenched his jaw, tears spilling, the defiant alpha in him flickering weakly against the omega’s surrender. Jimin gripped his throat—not to hurt, but to remind—and thrust harder.

“Say it, Namjoon.”

“You…” the omega sobbed. “I—I belong to you…”

Jimin groaned at the confession, kissing the tears off Namjoon’s cheeks , before biting down again against namjoon's scent gland to establish his possession, his obsession.

The punishment was unforgiving and consuming. But even in his anger, Jimin held Namjoon tightly, like something precious he would never let go.

By the time it ended, Namjoon was a trembling mess—spent, marked, claimed once again.

And Jimin… Jimin was still not done.

________to be continued ____________________________

Chapter Text

As the days passed, the warm season gave way to a biting cold. The trees, once vibrant, shed their luster and stood bare beneath thick blankets of snow. The entire royal household buzzed with frantic energy as servants hastened to prepare for the grand hunt, an event set to unfold within the sacred heart of the preserved imperial forest.

Despite the chill of winter, sweat clung to their brows—tired and sleepless, they swept the grounds, scrubbed the chambers, polished new utensils, and readied the palace for the arrival of the emperor’s esteemed guests, summoned solely for the hunt.

In the throne room, on a golden throne encrusted with precious stones and draped in a soft cushion, sat the sun of the kingdom—radiant and untouchable, shining brighter than anything else.

He wore a crimson garment inscribed with gold, intricately detailed and lined with regal precision. His posture was straight, his face expressionless, eyes devoid of emotion, and lips unmoving as he wrote the fate of hundreds with a single stroke.

The ink had not even dried before their destinies were sealed.

The minister rose from his place and stepped into the center of the throne room, where his voice would carry clearly to the emperor. Bowing deeply in a show of utmost respect, he spoke:

"Your Highness, the preparations for the royal hunt have reached their final stage. The sacred imperial forest has been cleared and readied, the tournament grounds are prepared for the grand event, and the chambers for Your Majesty’s esteemed guests have been arranged. Everything is proceeding smoothly." Jimin sat with lifeless eyes, nodded, and gestured for the minister to return to his place.

As the throne room buzzed with legal matters concerning the kingdom and the needs of its people, Jimin sat seemingly uninterested. Yet, every command he wrote was for their welfare. Only those who had committed unforgivable and offensive acts were punished—acts that could not be overlooked.

As the last of the hearings concluded, the entire court rose from their seats and bowed their heads in respect as the emperor departed.

Jimin walked through the palace corridors, making his way toward the royal garden. Evening had already fallen, and he had yet to see his wildflower. Every servant who crossed his path bowed their head in reverence as the emperor passed.

He paused near the serene pond—the one he favored most.

There, seated gracefully at the edge, was his grand consort, dressed in delicate finery that shimmered under the fading light.

Namjoon was the wildflower Jimin had plucked from the wild. His possession. His obsession.
His to keep. His to break.

_______________________________________

Namjoon sat at the edge of the pond, watching as the still water shimmered under the soft glow of the evening sun. It was beautiful—clear and calm, like a perfect mirror. But the reflection staring back at him wasn’t the man he once was.

He saw a beaten figure. A shadow of the alpha prince who once held the brilliance of the sun in his gaze. That light, once so fierce and untamed, had dimmed—snuffed out by chains no one could see.

He dipped his fingers into the water, letting the chill seep into his skin. The ripples distorted his reflection, as if even the pond couldn't bear to look at him for too long.

Namjoon let the silence stretch. It was comforting, in a way, wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon. He inhaled slowly, the scent of lotus blossoms and distant incense filling his lungs, grounding him in a place he had never chosen to belong to.

Namjoon's heartbeat suddenly quickened as he felt the overbearing presence of the alpha behind him. He didn’t need to turn around when he heard the approaching footsteps—the very air shifted when the alpha drew near, becoming thick, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

Without a word, the alpha stretched out his arms and wrapped them tightly around the omega’s body, pulling him into a possessive embrace. He buried his face in Namjoon’s neck, breathing in his scent like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

Namjoon wanted to struggle, but he knew it was futile. The alpha was overwhelmingly strong—stronger than even Namjoon had been in his former alpha self. How could a fragile omega like him possibly resist now?

So he stayed still, enduring the way the alpha touched him—possessive, inappropriate—and breathed in his scent like it belonged to him. Namjoon didn’t need to look around to know the maids had likely scurried away the moment they caught sight of the emperor. No one dared interrupt him. No one ever did.

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through Namjoon’s abdomen. He didn’t want to anger the alpha—but he needed to breathe. Panic clawed at his chest as he clutched his stomach, his body instinctively beginning to struggle in the suffocating hold.

A painful moan escaped his plump lips as the world around him tilted and blurred. The ground no longer felt steady beneath him, and the pain was too much. Within seconds, darkness swallowed his vision, and he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

_______________________________________

The moment he felt the omega’s body go limp in his arms, a sharp breath escaped Jimin’s chest. Panic surged through him as he spun Namjoon around, cradling him gently as if he were something fragile and sacred. His eyes scanned the omega’s face—lashes damp, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His heart was still beating, and his chest rose and fell slowly, but something was clearly wrong.

Jimin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Call the royal physician! Now!”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted Namjoon into his arms and strode briskly toward the sleeping chamber. Every servant along the way moved aside, heads bowed low, sensing the storm in their emperor’s aura. Jimin’s grip tightened with each step, protective and possessive. The world blurred around him—only Namjoon mattered now. And for the first time in a long while, fear crept into the heart of the man who ruled without mercy.

The royal physician bowed deeply before the bed, his hands folded behind his back as he finished his examination. Jimin stood by the bedside, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched as he watched Namjoon’s unconscious form with a mixture of dread and fury.

“Well?” the emperor barked, unable to mask the strain in his voice. “Speak.”

The old physician straightened slowly, eyes cautious yet calm. “Your Majesty, there is no cause for alarm. His vitals are stable, and there is no sign of internal injury or illness.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did he faint?”

A pause. Then, carefully, the physician answered, “His Grace has entered his bleeding period—common among omegas just before they enter heat. It’s his body’s natural cycle adjusting. This is... expected.”

Silence stretched heavy in the chamber.

Jimin’s gaze flicked back to Namjoon’s sleeping face. The proud wildflower—now reduced to a trembling bloom of soft petals, swaying helplessly under nature’s will. His wildflower. His to own. His to break.

And now... his to breed.

A strange feeling twisted in Jimin’s chest, equal parts hunger and unease. Namjoon had once been an alpha—untouchable, radiant in power. And now? His body had betrayed him completely, surrendering to its new form.

He dismissed the physician with a flick of his hand. “Leave. Prepare the palace wing. No one is to disturb us without my command.”

The man bowed again and left silently.

Jimin sat beside the bed, eyes locked onto Namjoon’s pale face.

“So it begins,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from the omega’s forehead. “Your body is finally learning who you belong to.”

A lustful smirk curled on Jimin’s lips as he untied the sash of Namjoon’s robe, pulling the soft fabric apart with slow, deliberate grace. Most of it slipped away like silk through fingers—except for one stubborn piece that clung to Namjoon’s body, veiling the last shred of his modesty. Jimin didn’t bother removing it, not yet. Instead, he slipped his hand beneath the remaining cloth, letting his fingers trail along Namjoon’s thick thigh, then up, higher—until they reached his most delicate place.

When Jimin withdrew his fingers and looked down, his eyes gleamed.

Red.

Blood coated his fingertips—thick, fresh, unmistakably omega.

His omega was ready. The scent of his heat was beginning to bloom—sweet, thick, maddening. Oh, he couldn’t wait for the bleeding period to pass. Jimin’s jaw clenched with restraint as desire curled low in his gut. Soon, he would claim him fully—breed his omega until he was filled to the brim with his seed, until his belly swelled with the promise of life. A future heir. A legacy. The kingdom’s bloodline would thrive through Namjoon, radiant and royal, bound to him in every way that mattered.

He’d impregnate him again soon after he gave birth to their first child—then again, and again, until Namjoon couldn’t carry anymore. He’d keep Namjoon’s feet heavy and swollen, a constant reminder of his state. He’d nurse from his tender, milk-filled chest, savoring every drop before their child could. He’d keep his hole filled, stretched to the brink, red—and always wanting, always aching for his cock.

He’d never let the omega leave his bed-Namjoon was his, and his alone.

_______to be continued _______________

Chapter Text

____enjoy________________________________________

The sunlight slipped through the curtains, touching the omega’s warm cheeks and waking him gently. Namjoon slowly opened his eyes before sitting up suddenly. His hands went straight to his abdomen, feeling for pain. But instead of the sharp ache he expected, there was only a slight heaviness and a bit of discomfort low in his belly.

"Your Highness, you’re awake!" a maid said in a trembling yet happy tone. Namjoon, still lost in his thoughts, turned to look at where the maid stood. Before he could utter a single word, she took off running out of the chamber, her voice echoing through the corridors as she happily announced that their Empress had awakened. Moments later, the royal physician entered the room.

Namjoon had yet to adjust to his surroundings, and a haze of confusion clouded his mind. Seeing him so unsettled, the royal physician cleared his throat and spoke gently but with authority, “Your Grace, you fainted because your body is still adapting to that of an omega. This is a natural period—one during which an omega experiences bleeding. It is essential, a sign of your body’s fertility, and typically lasts for four to five days.”

Namjoon was startled by the information, and it was difficult for him to fully grasp. A wave of disgust washed over him as he became painfully aware of the sticky wetness between his legs, and he instinctively wished to hide from everyone. His hands clenched the sheets in frustration. He longed to choke the emperor for putting him through this, yet he knew he stood no chance against him.

“The pain… will it last for the entire period of my bleeding?” Namjoon asked the physician, his voice tight with concern. “Because it feels… heavy, as if something is pressing down.”

“Ah… yes, Your Highness,” the physician said with a gentle sigh. “Along with the bleeding, you may also experience symptoms such as back pain, an upset stomach, and mood swings. These are common in many omegas during this period.”

He paused briefly before continuing, his voice softening with reverence. “After this, Your Majesty, your heat will follow, as your body prepares for conception. The duration of your heat ensures the successful planting of the seed in the womb. May this kingdom soon be blessed with a worthy heir, Your Majesty.”

As the physician left, the maids entered, preparing a soothing bath for him. Namjoon winced as he stood, the pain in his back knocking the wind out of him. Seeing their empress in discomfort, the maids guided him gently to the bath.

Despite his unease, Namjoon slowly sank into the warm, scented water. “Umm,” he moaned softly, relief washing over him as the warmth eased his aching muscles. A maid carefully held his long, silky hair and began washing it with tender precision.

As time passed, he felt sleep creeping in, his eyelids growing heavy. Just as he was about to drift into a deep slumber, one of the maids announced the arrival of breakfast.

The maid helped Namjoon into a simple, comfortable hanbok, as he refused to wear anything heavy or lavish. Once dressed, he was led to the table to eat his breakfast. He sat uneasily, and just as he took his first bite, the eunuch’s voice echoed through the room, announcing the emperor’s arrival.

Namjoon’s mood soured as he saw the emperor enter. He gripped his chopsticks tightly as Jimin slithered his arms around his waist, his nose brushing possessively against Namjoon’s neck.

“As soon as I heard that you had awakened, I couldn’t resist coming to see you,” Jimin murmured, feeling Namjoon shiver under his touch. A small, commanding gesture from him sent the maids scurrying from the room, leaving them alone.

Seeing the omega refusing to eat, Jimin picked up a piece of the warm, roasted duck and fed it to him. Watching Namjoon eat what he offered, a deep, primal satisfaction—raw and animalistic—rose within the emperor.

“You did this to me,” Namjoon hissed through gritted teeth, seething with anger.

“What? Make you fertile, so you can carry my seed?” Jimin’s hand slid possessively over the omega’s abdomen, pressing firmly. “This body will take what I give you, and you will grow it, nurture it within you.”

He slipped his other hand beneath the thin fabric of Namjoon’s robe, cupping the soft mound with possessive insistence. “This will bear the milk for my offspring, and you will feed them… dutifully, without hesitation.”

Namjoon squirmed, but Jimin’s hold only tightened, claiming him more fully with every movement.

Namjoon could do nothing but endure whatever the alpha did to him. He wanted to cry, to scream, to push and kick—but he couldn’t. His inner omega had weakened him, reducing him to nothing more than a trembling, desperate creature in need of his alpha.

Namjoon felt the alpha loosen his robe, sliding it off his shoulders, and trail kisses from his jaw to his neck, marking him obsessively, leaving no part unclaimed.

Jimin trailed his tongue over Namjoon’s collarbone, tasting the sweet sweat of his omega. His hands desperately squeezed the globes of Namjoon’s ass—so plump he ached to bury his face between them and lick every inch, leaving nothing untouched.

“You know, you smell so intoxicating… I couldn’t keep my hands off you,” he murmured, pulling the omega onto his lap, chest to chest. Without hesitation, he hungrily sank his mouth onto Namjoon’s nipples, suckling with fierce intensity.

“Ahhhgh… ahhhh… n-no, please… it hurts,” Namjoon moaned as the alpha teased his tender nipples, pulling, licking, and playing with them relentlessly. Tears welled in his eyes; he wanted everything to stop.

Jimin shifted, tugging on Namjoon’s right breast while sealing his lips over the left nipple.

“Aghhhhhhh!” Namjoon’s moans echoed through the room like a haunting lullaby, only fueling the alpha’s pride and desire further.

Jimin pressed the omega against his achingly hard length, aching to bury himself deep inside and never let go. He shifted the edge of Namjoon’s hanbok, fully exposing the omega’s backside. Namjoon tried to pull away, but Jimin bit him into submission.

Slowly, he slid his hand toward the warmth between Namjoon’s thighs, feeling the wet, swollen lips under his fingers. He brushed them with a teasing stroke, but restraint failed him. With a firm press of his middle finger against Namjoon’s engorged clitty, he rubbed fiercely, eliciting uncontrollable moans from the omega.

Hurriedly, he freed himself from his pants, revealing his throbbing, purple member, already glistening with precum, desperate to bury itself inside the warm, dripping hole of his omega. Soon, he aligned himself with the inviting opening—sticky, warm, and bleeding for him. Without any preparation, he thrust in, driving through the omega’s tightness, making Namjoon scream in both pain and pleasure.

Namjoon felt pain, but beneath it stirred a strange, overwhelming sensation. He buried his face in the alpha’s neck, biting down in an attempt to stifle his screams. He felt himself completely claimed by the alpha, every thrust sending shivers through his body.

“Can you feel it? My dick moving inside you, owning you,” the alpha growled, biting at his mound and breaking Namjoon’s trance.

“Feel it, omega… deep, deep within you, as I ruin you for the world. No one can have you but me,” Jimin hissed, his voice thick with possession.

Namjoon didn’t realize when it happened, but his hips began moving in time with the alpha’s, riding every hard, fast thrust. The sensation was maddening—pain and pleasure colliding, so intense, so consuming… so damn good.

“Even though the damn physician strictly told me not to take you intimately,” Jimin growled, “you are mine. I can do anything I want with you and your body. It’s mine to ruin, to impale, and to remake.”

He bit Namjoon’s nipples so hard they might bleed, bouncing the omega on his lap with a possessive grip. The sight alone drove him wild. Jimin teased his clitty with relentless precision, feeling Namjoon unravel on his cock—so lewd, so intoxicating. Without hesitation, he quickened his pace, allowing no respite for the omega, taking full control of every gasp and moan.

The cock buried deep within Namjoon’s hole grew even harder, making the omega squeal in surprised delight. Soon, he felt the hot, pulsing release fill him completely, soothing his trembling body as he came once more around his alpha’s knot. He squirmed and purred, lost in blissful satisfaction.

Jimin teased his clit relentlessly, fingers dancing over the sensitive nub while the knot remained, filling him with warmth. He held Namjoon as if he were fragile glass, pressing him tightly against his chest. His other hand trailed to the omega’s ass, slipping a finger into the entrance and twirling it teasingly, savoring every shiver and gasp of the satisfied omega.

As the days passed, the alpha remained inseparable from the omega, always needing to scent him, feel his body pressed against his, and claim him relentlessly.

_______to be continued __________________________