Who's your king? | King!myg 18+

Who's your king?

''Who's your king?''

Your weight shifted between your feet as you stood in front of the man that owned every fibre of your being. It was just you and him, in his grand empty throne room, with the man himself comfortably seated on his throne.

''You.''

''Tsk,'' Yoongi clicked his tongue, the elbow resting on the armchair of his throne serving as leverage as he placed his chin on his palm. His feline-shaped eyes squinted slightly as his gaze pinned your feet to the wooden floor, ''Don't test me, princess... Try again.''

He knew you were quite the brat at times, and he loved it for the solemn reason of being able to put you back in your place. Which, in this case would be on your knees beneath him.

''Hm..'' You played dumb, pretending to ponder on what words he possibly wanted, ''Yoongi?'' you said his given name with a coy smile playing on your lips as you slowly rocked on your feet, hands clasped together in front of you.

Yoongi's lips tugged in a playful smirk, an expression on his face that had never failed to practically melt your brain, unable to focus on anything but the growing desire for him to discipline you.

This was a game that the two of you would play more frequently than not. He thrived on the bratty attitude only you dared to utilize in front of him. The two of you were close, ever since he'd found you when he was on a stroll through his village months ago, hiding his face beneath a straw hat. He often stopped by your herbal tea shop to catch a glimpse of you, and after the third time you finally recognized the man that kept coming back...

However, It wasn't until he'd stared up at you with his intense eyes, not to mention the prominent line of a scar that went from his eyebrow down to his cheek, that you realized just who it was. It was an immediate, mutual gravitation, you were his from that very moment, and he was yours.

The fact that he was the scarred king only proved just how much power this man had. He was rich, ruling the nation, and a flick of his wrist made an entire country bow so low that their foreheads scraped the ground to worship the shadow of his footsteps.

But out of all things, you were his most treasured possession.

''You know better than to address me by my first name.'' He stated with a deeper voice, a few octaves lower than normal. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, whether it be to annoy you, or to verbally break you down into a needy mess.

He picked up the sword idly resting by his side. It didn't make a single noise as he unsheathed it with one hand, using his other to beckon you closer.

You obliged, a few steps brought you to stand directly in front of him, looking down at his relaxed posture with anticipation. Even though you played with him often, you never knew what to expect from him.

There was no time to react when the sword suddenly cut through the air with a whistle, slicing the fabrics of your dress in the middle, causing it to fall to your sides and simply only hang on to your shoulders like a robe. He was skilled with the blade, and one wrong move would've without a doubt sliced your torso as well.

But you trusted him with your life.

You held onto the clothes falling off your shoulders, attempting to pull the fabrics back up to cover your breasts, but halted your movements once you heard his hum in disapproval. Glancing up at him, he wiggled a finger back and forth, his shit eating grin widening on his lips, ''Don't hide what's mine to look at.''

A small smile tugged at your lips, you could tell he was already adjusting himself in his seat from the mere anticipation of seeing your naked body. He's seen you countless times, but every single time he made you feel like it was the first time. Passion ignited in his eyes the very second you let the fabrics slowly slide down your shoulders until they pooled by your feet, leaving you in nothing but your panties.