#hp’s writing 🪲

[hyukalyptus]

just some sugardaddy!kai thoughts lol. mdni.

cw. reader wears lingerie, kai makes her not wear underwear once, kai calls reader “baby”, consent is sexy, he’s a ~business man~, kai fires an employee for not too big a reason, gamer!reader a little bit, not too much smut tbh, mostly just buying stuff for reader and being a lil protective lol.

sugardaddy!kai who buys his baby new lingerie for every single date, which is every single weekend. go try on your present for daddy, hm? and he makes you wear it underneath the dress he bought you earlier in the week.

sugardaddy!kai who when no new lingerie this week, daddy? what do you want me to wear? but he just hm…how about you don’t wear anything underneath your dress tonight, baby?

sugardaddy!kai who sends extra presents and takeout when he can’t make a date because an important business meeting came up </3 but he definitely expects pictures from you to make up for it.

sugardaddy!kai who asks you to come over to his house for once and when you walk in, he’s simply sitting on his couch, tie loose, a few top buttons of his shirt undone, bags under his eyes and mmhhh…come sit on daddy’s lap, hm?

sugardaddy!kai who picks you up from ur cute lil bakery job in his fancy sports car, windows so tinted that no one can see who he is, but they know you’re taken.

sugardaddy!kai who takes consent so seriously :( what does my baby want, hm? does she just wanna be my cute pillow princess? but no, daddy…i want it a little r-rougher tonight. that got his attention. but still keeps checking in…does that feel good? yeah? who’s making you feel good?

sugardaddy!kai who brings you to the office holiday party in that sexy red dress he bought you. and of course one of his employees hits on you, nothing too bad but, don’t worry, baby, i’ll fire him tomorrow, okay?

sugardaddy!kai who takes a half day on your birthday to absolutely spoil you. coffee and sweets while ur getting your toes done while he’s sitting behind the nail tech with all your shopping bags, angrily answering that email even though he told them he’d be unavailable.

sugardaddy!kai who surprises you with the most outlandish gifts. you—almost offhandedly—mention how you wish you had a better pc for gaming and one day, you come home with your gaming corner decked out with a fancy height adjustable desk, an expensive ergonomic gaming chair, and your dream pc set up. of course with a note on top of a new set of headphones still in the box, one of those with the cat ears…you’ll look cute in these -daddy <3

sugardaddy!kai who sends you links to your favorite shops with texts like pick out five things. and sometimes maybe you try to pick something out to give to him, but he picks up on it immediately and buys you a sixth gift to make up for it.

[huckleberrykai]

also should’ve said this when i reblogged that obsessive yj thing, but him writing his name on ur ass is an IDEA!! 😮‍💨

I KINDA WANNA WRITE MORE W IT HONESTLY I JUST.. he's so possessive and i hc him as an ass man anyway so it's just. yeah

[queenofthequillandink]

hiiiiii :) 🍓 🦴 🔪 🪲 and the most important question 🌸

Hi darling. <3

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I think my first fics were cowritten with/written for my best friend in high school? We were both really into HP at the time and had a joint fanfic.net account that I no longer remember the password for.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

All of them, all the time. I am sucking information from every piece of media (including other fanfic) I see like a fucking Dyson. Cool writing style? Interesting vocal cadence? Themes and Motifs? Yoink, bitch, that's mine.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I have such a tough time remembering these. Probably the most insane I went was trying to nail down a concrete map with locations for Gotham City. I end up researching about medicinal plants a lot for old timey settings. I also accidentally research a lot of stuff that directs me to the national suicide hotline. 🙃

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

The last thing I had open was my In Space with Markiplier chatfic, so enjoy that. XD

Engineer Boy does anyone else hear weird rustling in the crew quarters?

locked n loaded i swear if one more person in this colony tries to tell me something's haunted, i’m gonna start blasting.

Engineer Boy not like a ghsot weird rustling like an animal

Engineer Boy can animals even GET jn the crew wuarters???

pop er in reverse a ghost animal could

locked n loaded captain, i request permission to mutiny.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I do not. 😭😭 My partner and I don't really have the spoons to consistently care for an animal, so we are being regrettably responsible in our decision making.

[curiositydooropened]

Hi lovely 💛 You know I can't help but ask more than onnee!

🍓🦴🪲

- @superblysubpar 💛

Taylor!!! Let me kiss you, too. 💋

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

Honestly, I think I was 10 and browsing HP and LotR websites, and I just wanted to go to Hogwarts so bad, or I wanted to be an elf like Legolas (jokes on me, I am the most Hobbit-coded) and so I just wrote soooo much self-insert. And have been doing so for 20 years.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

All of it? I think everything I've ever consumed has inspired me in some way. I'm a big movie-watcher, and I think I gain most inspiration from directors I admire. Steven Spielberg, Guillermo del Toro, Peter Jackson, etc.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Ahhhhhhh okay, below the cut. 75 words.

You weren’t surprised at his strength. He’d offered you a helping hand with more than one injury in the field. You’d seen him pull women and children from burning buildings. That one time he hauled a sheepdog from the river, both man and beast soaking wet and panting, dog tossed around his broad shoulders.  “Better?” His gruff voice fanned your forehead, deliciously warm.  You hummed, reaching aching cold hands out to warm against his chest. 

[hyukalyptus]

are you alone? — idol!hueningkai x fem!reader | established relationship. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. phone sex (?), joi (f. and m. receiveing), switch!kai x switch!reader, chubby!reader, tummy love as usual, masturbation, nipple play, cunnilingus is discussed but doesn't actually happen, reader licks her own juices <3, older!reader kinda, pet names (baby, babe, good boy), balls, kai sends reader a nude, established relationship, lemme know if i missed anything!

wc. 1.6k

notes. reposted from my old acct! i have a bunch of longer fics in the works so i thought i’d repost something from my other account in the meantime. i wrote this awhile ago and didn’t edit it a lot so it’s not my finest work, but oh well. smut under cut !

“How’s New York?” You ask Kai over the phone. The time difference is so drastic between the two of you that the only option for phone calls was during your lunchtime while he was getting ready for bed.

“It’s good, but I miss you,” he said. You were totally fine until he said that. When he says he misses you, everything in you aches. You need a hug, a kiss, an orgasm, and a cuddle. More than anything. And he can sense it all—and he misses you just as much. “You okay?”

You sigh and say, “Yeah…just wish I could be there with you.” He agrees—having you there would be perfect. And you can’t help you couldn’t get off work. How many people could take six weeks off work to go on a world tour with their boyfriend? “What are you doing right now?”

“Getting ready to take a shower.” He chuckles just a bit before adding, “Naked.”

You cackle and say, “I know you take showers naked, babe.”

“I know. I just wanted to remind you.”

“I bet you look really sexy.”

“Wanna see?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He poses for a cute mirror selfie that’s not too revealing, just shirtless, his sexy smirk, hair messy, and the top of his pelvis just barely exposed leaving everything to the imagination. He’s so cute. “Oh, wow. I was right.” Remaining silent, you wish you could be there with him…hugging and kissing, cuddling in the shower as he rubs a loofah all over you. He’d jiggle you and kiss your tummy…a lot. “I woke up thinking about you this morning,” you admit.

“Yeah? What about me?”

“About you touching me…” You hum, the ache for him growing stronger with each syllable.

“Really?” You can hear the water turn on over the phone, his voice echoey off the bathroom walls. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “I’m at my apartment. Why?”

He hesitates, trying to put into words exactly what he wants to do with you. “No reason,” he says, a hint of a giggle in his voice. “I was just thinking about what I’d do if you were here with me.”

“What would you do?”

“Oh god…” he takes a deep breath. “You know I love your tits. I’d just bury my face in your tits and kiss all over them.” You groan, resisting the urge to slip your fingers into your lounge shorts—resorting to squeezing your tit gently, imagining it was him. “You love it when I lick your nipples,” he says matter-of-factly and you hum in agreement. “Touch your nipples for me right now.” After pulling your bra off from under your shirt, you lick two fingers, rubbing circles over yourself. Your head falls back against the couch cushion, gently sighing, all your muscles relaxing.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. It almost makes you feel silly how much of an affect those three words have on you. “Tell me what else I do that you like.”

“Oh,” you start. “I love you tongue on my clit. God…” you groan. “I so wish you were here to eat me out right now. I really need some love from you.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, hoping you didn’t ruin the moment. “I just meant you always feel so fucking good.” Your hips involuntarily grind against nothing. “It'll be well worth the wait when you get back.” Your thighs press together, trying to find some form of friction.

“I know it will. I miss you too you know…” he says, his breath heavy.

“I know,” you chuckle. You take a minute to switch to headphones so you have both hands free.

“Start moving your hand down to your pussy, but don’t touch yourself yet.” He takes a deep breath. “And tell me about it.”

“I’m dragging my fingertips across the front of my hips,” you whisper, stomach jerking at the tickle. “They're on the inside of my thighs. I can feel myself getting wet for you,” you say, moving closer and closer to your center. “Can you tell me what you would do if you were here with me?”

“Yes, baby,” he sighs, a smile evident in his voice. “Are you on the couch?” You hum. “Well, I’d come over and get on my knees, kissing all over your belly.” That’s one of your favorite things he does to you. And he absolutely adores your tummy. Loves it when you giggle from the tickle of his lips, making your belly jiggle against his lips. “Baby, do what I say but with your fingers. Do exactly what I say. Do you understand?” He asks, his voice getting sharper.

“Yes, I understand,” you giggle.

“I’d get on my knees and kiss your belly, spreading your legs, dragging my fingers all over the inside of your thighs,” he says. “And I’d pull your shorts down, pressing my hand over the outside of your panties.” You do the same. “And I’d move them to the side really slowly, looking up at you writhing, begging me to touch you.”

Groaning in anticipation, you hear him snicker, satisfied knowing he’s teasing you, even from this far away. “And I’d slide one finger inside you, feeling how wet you are.”

“I’m so fucking wet for you,” you say. Pumping your finger in and out of your pussy, some built-up tension is relieved.

“I know you are,” he says. “And then I’d slide another finger inside you, making you grind your hips against my fingers,” he says, as if he’s telling your body exactly how to move—and it’s obeying. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“No,” you whine, clenching your jaw, using everything in you not to touch your clit.

“Not yet, baby,” he chuckles. “I’d gather your wetness on my thumb and rub your nipple, and you’d moan for me.” You do what he says, moaning loudly.

“Please, Kai…”

“Did you do what I said? Did you rub your nipple with yourself?” You hum. “Good. Then, I’d lick your nipples, cleaning you up.” You lick your fingers, wiping your nipple clean, tasting yourself on your fingers.

“I’d kiss around your clit, hearing you whine and beg for me.” He takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. You’re not sure if he’s touching himself, but you hope not so you can give him instructions in return later.

“Baby, please let me touch my clit. Please…” He hesitates as you keep begging.

“And then I’d flick my tongue over your clit.” You finally make contact with your fingers, moaning out loud. “That’s it, baby.” It’s those three words again.

“God, you feel so good,” you say, head dropping back to the couch cushion again.

“And I’d look up at you between your legs and you’d be rubbing your nipple.” You look down, half-expecting him to be there, only to be met with emptiness.

“Fuck, baby—” you gasp. “I love it when you talk to me like this.”

“Your legs would start to shake around my head,” he says. The knot in your stomach tightens—his voice along with your fingers feels amazing.

“I’m so close, babe,” you say, close to being out of breath.

“Don’t stop,” he insists. “Do whatever you want to yourself.” You don’t change anything. This is already too good. “Cum so good for me, baby,” he says and you push yourself over the edge, moaning loudly through gritted teeth. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that,” he praises you as you work yourself through your orgasm—legs shaking, hips flinching, breasts heaving.

After coming down from your high and catching your breath, you say, “That was fun.”

“It was…” he sighs, finishing it off with a bit of a whimper.

“Aw, I’m sorry, babe,” you say. “You need me to help you out?” He hums so, so cutely. “You’re still in the shower?” He hums again. “You haven’t touched yourself yet, have you?”

“No, I wasn’t told to.”

“That’s my good boy,” you giggle. “You’re so good for me.” You take a second, trying to think of what you’re gonna do with him. You can’t get the image of him in the shower out of your head—water rushing over his body, cock painfully hard, pushing his bottom lip out for you—all while attempting to avoid the water from splashing his phone. “How about you start squeezing your balls first?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Sorry,” you blink, getting in the mindset of that role. “Squeeze yourself for me, baby. But don’t you dare touch your dick yet. Tell me how it feels.”

“Wish it was your hand…”

“I do too, baby,” you sigh. “Use your thumb to rub the precum around your tip for me. I know you’re already leaking,” you say and he chuckles, letting you know you were right. That action makes him absolutely whine. “Feel good?” He stutters, finally mumbling out a yes. You’re giddy as hell. It’s so fucking cute getting him like this. “Do you wanna squeeze your cock, baby?”

“So bad…” he stutters, sending shivers down his spine.

“Get some soap in your hand and go ahead,” you giggle. “Squeeze your cock for me, yeah?” He hums, following your instructions. His mouth dropping open, he moans so fucking loud. And you’re not surprised, he’s waited quite some time to touch himself. “How’s it feel?”

“Wish it was your mouth…”

“Aw, miss you too, baby.” You smile. “But tell me how good it feels.”

“Feels so good.” His hand pumps himself and he honestly doesn’t think he’ll last very long. “Won’t last…” he can’t even get past mumbling half sentences.

“That’s okay. Go a little faster for me.” And he does just that. “Just want you to feel good, baby.” Following your instruction, he makes this heavenly noise and you know he's cumming. And you can’t help but imagine his cum spurting all over his hand, his mouth barely open, eyes squeezed shut. “That’s a good boy. Cum so, so good. So good for me.”

[hyukalyptus]

something nice — sub!fem!reader x dom!yeonjun x servicetop!kai

cw. reader is in an established (open) relationship with yeonjun, cucking? (kai eats reader's pussy while yj watches lol), cunnilingus ofc, nipple play, orgasm denial, edging, pet names (baby, jjun), begging, mention of "punishment" but nothing's ever done, yeonjun and kai talk about reader and what they're gonna do to her (without her understanding—everything is consensual in the beginning, but read note below), let me know if there's anything else. notes. IMPORTANT: ok so the tea with this one. the idea here is that the reader doesn't speak korean well and kai and yj are speaking korean to kinda talk about the reader and what they're gonna do to her so she doesn't understand. nothing aggressive, just describing what to do to her body so she's kinda surprised? SO!! anything in italics is in korean. thats important!! also idk how i feel about this???? smut under cut. wc. 1.5K

“Did she give you a reason or did she just break up with you?” You’re eavesdropping on Yeonjun and Kai—not that they’re being very secretive. They’re talking about a woman Kai’s been seeing while you play video games and attempt to translate in your head, but you're not being too successful, catching a few words here and there. 

“She did say one thing,” Kai says hesitantly. “But it’s kinda embarrassing.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” he starts, scooting closer to Yeonjun to awkwardly whisper something to him, twiddling his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Yeonjun chuckles. “That’s…man, if you get really good at that, you could date anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” You finally pause your game, curiosity getting the best of you. Looking up, Kai looks like you caught him stealing cookies from a cookie jar while Yeonjun tries to hold back a chuckle. The three of you exchange looks until Yeonjun rolls his eyes to bluntly say—

“Eating women out.”

“Yeonjun—!” Kai says, shoving his arm.

“What?” He chuckles, returning the shove. “I eat her out all the time. She knows what it is. She knows you eat pussy too.”

“But that’s why that woman broke up with you?” You ask. “Because you…you're bad at eating pussy?” He blushes, averting his attention to the floor while he clasps his hands together, nodding shyly.

“Be honest, babe—am I good at eating you out?”

Looking between the two of them, you sit up and say, “Yeah, you’re probably the best I’ve had, but we’re super compatible, you know? We’re, like, super in love. That makes a big difference sometimes.”

Holding back a cocky smile, he asks, “But, objectively, I’m pretty good, right?” You shrug and nod—really, he probably is the best you’ve ever had, but that’s another story. 

“What makes it good?” Kai asks.

Humming, you think before saying, “First, he doesn’t go straight for it.” Turning red and ears getting warm, you gush and— “Oh god, Kai, don’t look at me when I tell you this.”

“Ah, this is ridiculous,” Yeonjun exasperates. “Do you just wanna practice on her?” You both whip your heads in his direction. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he says to you. “Just thought it might be helpful.” 

Oh, how did you end up here? Laying in Yeonjun's bed, clenching your thighs together out of nervousness. “Remember, this is kinda specific to her. Pay attention to what whoever you’re with wants.” Kai nods, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“She already said this—” Yeonjun says. “I don’t go straight for it. I kiss her first, then make my way down there.”

“You want him to kiss me?”

He shrugs and says, “If you’re alright with that.”

“If you are,” you say, looking Kai in the eyes. Both of them can’t help but notice the confidence you seem to be exuding, especially compared to Kai. Trembling fingers reaching for your cheek, he looks at you for permission one final time. Finally leaning in, his lips press to yours. 

You’d forgotten what it was like to have a first kiss with someone. Kai’s kisses are different from Yeonjun’s. Kai’s are much more cautious, more careful—not necessarily shy, but careful. It quickly turns hot and heavy. But you remember Yeonjun is watching you, suddenly overtaken with bashfulness, you break the kiss to glance over at him. 

Him and that sinister smile. 

Turning back to Kai, you crash into his lips again, humming into his mouth and smirking to rub how much you're enjoying this in Yeonjun's face.  

“Touch her,” Yeonjun says. “Kinda slowly, but then a little more intense.” Kai does as he’s told, his hand dragging up your hip to squeeze your tits. “Under her shirt.” 

His hand on the outside of your bra feels new and exciting. Reaching around your back to unhook it, you break the kiss to take your shirt off, pulling at the hem of his. 

“Slow down for a second,” Yeonjun chuckles and Kai listens, placing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “Lick her nipples.” Swirling his tongue around your nipple, you gasp, reaching for his hair. “Pay attention to which one she likes better.”

Kai tests both, slyly licking between the two. After testing the waters, he picks correctly. You chuckle thinking about Yeonjun sitting on a chair across the room, smirking in approval. You could look for yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. 

“Keep licking her until her hips roll.” This is a bit crazy, isn’t it? The guy you love telling another man how to fuck you the way you like. “Not yet.” Yeonjun switches to Korean, making you roll your eyes. If you didn’t have the energy to translate in your head earlier, you definitely can’t focus enough to translate now.

Lips trailing down your body, he tugs at your shorts, but keeps your cute pink panties on. Yeonjun talks him through every move—to lick his thumb and rub your nipple, to press his nose to the outside of your panties, to skate his lips across your inner thighs. 

Your hips roll uncontrollably, practically begging him to taste you. 

“Kai—” You whisper, your body instantly burning at the sound of the both of them chuckling. Pulling your panties down and off your legs, he throws them to Yeonjun who happily wads them up to sniff them and smell how delicious you are. 

Licking his thumb again, he keeps rubbing circles over your nipple as he finally licks your clit, your back arching as soon as he touches it. 

“Fuck—” You say breathlessly, looking down at him as his eyes sparkle up at you, your head dropping to your pillow with a thud. “Who the fuck is this bitch that says you’re bad at this?” He shakes his head, digging deeper into your pussy. 

Smiling cockily, you look over at Yeonjun, trying to control his breathing. He can’t help it—the two of you are just too hot together. He's never been able to enjoy this kind of view before. Seeing how every part of your body reacts to being touched—it's an incredible view.

“Please tell me he’s allowed to make me cum, baby,” You beg.

“Of course,” he chuckles smugly. “If he can.” Kai’s eating you out like he’s absolutely starving. And it’s true—he can’t help it. You taste too fucking good. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as you start squeaking, throwing your head back. 

“Okay, that sound means she’s gonna cum soon. Try to bring her as close to the edge as possible and then stop.” 

“Fuck, Kai,” you breathe. “Right there—yes.” You can’t believe how good he is at this, especially given the reason you're under his tongue right now. He’s supposed to be bad at this, right? 

You’re so fucking close and he can feel it. “Don’t stop—” he brings you right there. And then he does it. He stops. “Agh, fuck you,” you groan. Looking down at him, his smirking at you, eyes flashing between you and Yeonjun. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before getting back to your pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit. 

“Take it away from her for a bit. Lick her nipples again.” He does just that. You’re aching, bucking your hips over and over, desperately trying to relieve some kind of tension. But his tongue does feel amazing on your tits. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it hard. He groans, his mouth dropping open like you just unlocked a new kink of his. 

Now he can’t take it anymore. Hips jutting forward, you feel the roughness of his sweatpants drag against your center, relieving some of that tension. You gasp, resorting to begging him to get back to licking you. 

“No, don’t,” Yeonjun says sternly. 

“But I want to,” Kai whines back, looking at your pussy hungrily, sticking the tip of his tongue out, giving his best begging eyes. But Yeonjun just shakes his head, satisfied with watching you uncontrollably rolling your hips up toward Kai’s mouth. Kai compromises, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs to yank you closer to him and presses his lips to the skin right around your clit, teasing you even more. 

“Babe—” you breathe, begging Yeonjun with your eyes to let him continue licking you. 

“I know, baby, I know…” he responds, his voice low and rough. He finally lets him lick you again. But he doesn’t show much mercy. He repeats the same tactic over and over—having him bring you right to the edge, even to the point of tears, then he stops right in his tracks.

"I'm gonna tell you to stop, but I want you to keep going, okay?" Kai nods, agreeing to his instructions. Bringing you to the edge again, you're begging for mercy, begging to cum. "Don't let her cum, Kai," he says, making tears form in your eyes. "Stop—"

And he does.

"I told you to let her cum that time."

"Sorry," he smiles up at him, licking his lips. "It's so fun to see her beg like that though." Tilting his head toward you, he says, "Look at her...she's got tears in her eyes. Isn't that the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen?"

"It's okay, baby," he says, fingers flowing through your hair while Kai's mouth finds your clit again. You're moaning, gasping for air, swearing, screaming, anything to try to find a release. "Not yet. Don't let her fucking cum, Kai." You don't think you can handle this much longer. Edging is nice, yes, but this? This is bordering torture.

"Please, please, please, Jjun..." you trail off. "Just please let me cum. I can't take it anymore."

"I know you can take it, baby. Fucking taking it so well..."

It's building again. That knot in your stomach that gets tighter and tighter with every second. That white hot fire in the pit of your stomach waiting to explode.

"Don't stop, Kai," you blurt. "I'm gonna cum—" Slamming your palm over your mouth—you shouldn't have said that. He's gonna make you regret saying that.

"Don't let her cum," he orders.

But his grip gets tighter. His tongue licks furiouser. His face digs deeper. You're so fucking close. Closer than you've ever been tonight.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kai..." your orgasms crashes over you like a bolt of lightning. "Yes, fuck yes, that feels so fucking good." You feel like you're having an out of body experience. It's one of the best fucking orgasms of your life. "Don't stop, right there." You chest heaves with heavy breaths.

Coming down from one of the best orgasms of your life, your vision clears up and all you keep thinking is how much Yeonjun's gonna make you pay for this. You came without his permission—what's he gonna do now? Everything flashes across your mind: not letting you cum for a week, spanking you until your ass had his hand print on it, tying you up for hours, you're not sure.

But he doesn't do any of that. His hand caresses your cheek as he smiles down at you, "Did that feel good, baby?"

Confused, you nod, "Mhmm." You're still nervous, looking around at everyone's reactions. Kai's smirking while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bad at eating pussy my ass," you say, shoving his shoulder with your foot.

"Ah, I knew you a had a little crush on him...I've seen how you look at him." Your face turns beet red. He's noticed that? Oh god... "I just wanted to do something nice for my baby."

[hyukalyptus]

or else what? —hueningkai x fem!reader | enemies to enemies with benefits(?). NSFW/MDNI!

cw. mean dom!kai, reader and kai are mean to each other, feat. soob and yj and their partners for a very short amount of time (not in smut part tho), camping, reader is a type A boss bitch kinda person, mentions of rain, kissing, hair pulling, mean names (slut, stupid, dumb, loser), pet names (baby), sex, light restraining, ruined orgasms, biting, nipple play, some dacryphilia, maybe a lil bit of publicness? (theyre at a campsite but implied no one else can hear anything), creampie, reader is embarrassed that she did stuff w kai and tells him, reader has a dog, reader is good at video games, chubby!reader implied, lmk if i missed anything! notes. im usually not one for mean stuff, im way more of a softie, so i tried something new but im quite nervous about it. oh! and this is based off a thought i posted the other week. lmk what ya think ;) smut under cut. wc. 4.1K

“Why are you being nice to him?” You snap at your dog who is currently greeting your friends at your front door. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, of course, but they have taken a particular liking for Kai. Apparently, you’re the only person in the world that hates him. Kai that is. The constant laughing, the sickeningly sweet optimism, and his sheer humility—it all screams fake to you.

You hate every little thing about him and he hates you right back. The way you disagree with everything he says just because, how you’re always pointing out when he’s wrong, how you seem to be depressingly pessimistic. You put up with each other for the sake of your friends—not everyone in every friend group has to get along, right? 

“Nice to see you too.”

“Someone separate them please?” Soobin asks. “I can’t deal with another argument right now.” He rubs his temple out of caution.

Everyone’s over for a game night—Soobin, his partner, River, as well as Yeonjun, and your best friend, Sage, who has been in an on-again-off-again relationship with him since they met. Right now, they’re off, but definitely still friendly. 

“How about some Smash Bros?”

“No,” you say to Kai. “Mario Kart.” 

“River and I have been talking about playing Smash Bros all day.”

“Not my problem.”

“How about we take a vote?” He suggests. You reluctantly agree, watching as you’re the only one that raises your hand to play Mario Kart before you glare at Sage, guilting them into voting for it too. Regardless of their vote, though, it’s still four against two. Kai sticks out his tongue at you just to rub it in your face. God, you hate it when he wins. 

“Maybe you should stop pouting,” Sage says, nudging your shoulder. “Beat him in the next round. You know you’re better than anyone here.” You take the opportunity to easily—and quickly—beat Kai in a one-on-one match. Now it’s his turn to pout while he grabs a snack. 

Luckily, everyone makes it through the night without any blood or tears shed but when the group’s annual camping trip comes up, the cold weather mixed with the prolonged close proximity to people leads to a grumpy Kai arguing with an even grumpier you. 

The reason behind the initial argument is long forgotten—you’re seemingly arguing over anything and everything from you stopping too often to take pictures to him taking sips from your water bottle, which he insists was an accident. Everyone’s keeping you two as far apart from each other as possible, with him leading the pack and you bringing up the rear. 

“It looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” River points out. “We should probably set up camp.” Everyone agrees, setting sights for the campsite. 

“What do you think about this spot over here, Sage?” You ask but are immediately answered with the guiltiest look from them, eyes glancing between you and Yeonjun. “Don’t tell me.” You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. “You’re back together?” You ask quietly.

“Please don’t be mad,” they say. “It’s going really well this time.” 

“I didn’t bring another tent.” 

“Kai’s tent is huge,” Sage says, loud enough for Kai to hear, as if they’re making a suggestion to him. “Can she stay with you?” 

“I thought Yeonjun was sleeping in my tent.” 

“I was gonna stay in Sage’s,” Yeonjun responds, with an attempted wink. Everyone looks between each other, dodging each other’s eyes, no one wanting to give in. Everyone’s desperate to stay with their partners but you and Kai are desperate to not spend a single second alone together. Soobin and River won’t budge. Sage’s pleading eyes looking at you added to the pleading eyes Yeonjun sends Kai, you look at each other before he finally agrees—

“Fine,” Kai says, dropping the poles to the ground. “You gotta finish setting it up though. I’m gonna go get some water and refill the cooler with ice,” he says, leaving you with an impossible task. There’s a reason you didn’t bring your own tent.

Struggling with the tent for at least thirty minutes, it’s even less put together than when Kai turned the task over to you. The two couples have snuggled into their tents for the night and the drizzle is quickly turning into a downpour. Soaked, cold, and annoyed, Kai’s making his way back to you, anger etched all over his face when he doesn’t have a dry tent to walk into. 

“Do you not know how to put a tent up?”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“I could’ve set up three tents by now,” he says, but doesn’t have time to be much madder—he’s gotta get a roof over his own head. Without speaking, he takes over completely, getting it up in about ten minutes. It would’ve been quicker if he didn’t have to work in the rain. 

Settling in, you try to dry the parts of the interior that got wet from the rain, but it doesn’t help much. He peels off his now-soaked shirt and searches for a dry one. 

“Ah, that was my last t-shirt.”

“I’m sorry. I tried—”

“I don’t care,” he stops you, holding his hand up.

Falling silent, you change the subject, “What took you so long anyway?”

“I was talking to someone at the ice machine for a while,” he says matter-of-factly, holding up his laptop. “Wanna watch a movie before bed?” 

“No.” You lay your head on the stupid camping pillow hoping for some rest. But your plan is disrupted by the blaring trumpets of a movie intro. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Watching a movie.” 

“Turn it off.” 

“I didn’t ask for permission to watch it,” he points out. “I asked if you wanted to join me.”

“Isn’t it gonna bother the other campers?”

“Doubt they can hear it.”

Frustrated, you roll over and cover your ears. You thought you could sleep through anything, especially with the rain pouring outside, but you were wrong. Eventually, you give up, throwing your pillow down and slamming his laptop shut.

“What are you doing? You asshole—” he snaps, glaring at you. 

“Me? You’re the ass for not letting me sleep,” you fire back, narrowing your eyes. 

“I wasn’t supposed to have you in here anyway,” he mutters. 

“I’m not an asshole,” you say defensively.

“Yes, you are,” he spits. “You always have to have it your way.”

“I’m not having this argument with you,” you say, turning away and trying to block out his escalating anger. You pull the thin camping blanket over your head, desperate for some peace.

He huffs, clearly frustrated, but you ignore it. The sound of rain tapping against the tent becomes your only solace. Minutes pass in silence, each second stretching longer than the last. You can feel his restless energy beside you, the tension almost palpable.

“I can't believe you. You're so annoying,” he says. 

You simply lay there, trying to block out the muttering under his breath. The stickiness of the damp sleeping bags and the cold camping pillow are ridiculously uncomfortable.

Remembering the clean, dry blankets you have stored in the trunk of your car for emergencies and you get up to grab them silently, ignoring his insults. Returning with them, his eyes light up and he asks, “Where did you get those?”

“My car,” you answer nonchalantly, setting up your new bed. You try to salvage what you can of the sleeping bag to have some kind of barrier between the damp tent floor and your blanket, but it’s not perfect. Eventually settling on the makeshift bed, you can feel Kai staring at you through your closed eyelids. “Can I help you?” You ask without opening them.

“Aren’t you gonna share those with me?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re the one that got our other blankets and the tent all wet.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t bring back-up.”

He exasperates, clearly done with you and all your…what does he call it? Selfish nonsense? “I can’t believe I have to share a tent with you. And you get it all wet in here and won’t even share the dry blankets with me?” 

“You think I'm happy about this either?" Your arms flail before you go on one of your famous rants. “I don’t even like camping but I come along with Sage because they’re my best friend and I was looking forward to spending time alone with them to talk but because they decided to start fucking Yeonjun again I have to sleep in a tent with you, which you make me put together even though I don’t know how to put it together so its disgusting in here and you expect me to share my blankets with you? You’re never nice to me why the fuck would I share them with you? You’re always making me look like a bitch in front of everyone when I know you’re just—”

Kai suddenly yanks you by your elbow and says, “Would you please just shut up?” 

Seeing him this mad…you don’t know if he’s ever looked like this. Red in the face, eyebrows furrowed, not to mention he’s still shirtless since all his clothes are soaked. You look over his body—you’ve never seen him before—and you realize just how muscular he is. Broad-shouldered, defined pecs and ripples in his arms, particularly the one gripping you so harshly. 

You smirk at him before saying, “Make me." Looking over your face, he doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it's anger or frustration or the ambiance from the sound of rain against the tent and the small camping lamp, but he can’t help it. 

Crashing his lips into yours, you’re taken by surprise. You feel the power his plush lips give off, but only for a second before you push him off. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t–I don’t know, I, uh…” He stutters, trying to find something—anything—to say, but no luck. Looking at each other, something clicks like we need to have each other now. 

You pull him to you by cupping his cheeks and crashing your lips into his quickly, eagerly, desperately. Hands in his hair, his on your hips, he squeezes your chubby thighs, wanting more, but—

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s happening? You and I are making out?” He asks, shock etched across his face as his eyebrows furrow. 

“Well, not anymore.” You look at him confused. “Did you forget you’re the one that kissed me first?”

“That was just so you’d shut up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want me. I see you staring at my tits all the time.” You smirk at him and his eyes shift, admitting guilt. Realization hits you. “...Is that why you’re such an ass to me? Because you’re sexually frustrated whenever you’re around me? Do you…like me?”

“No,” he says defensively. “I hate you actually. You’re so annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “But the most annoying part about you is how much I wanna fuck you.” Your eyes widen, but a smile slowly spreads across his face before he asks, “Is that why you’re such an ass to me?” Leaning in closer, he examines your face, looking for any sign of weakness. “It is, isn’t it?” You shake your head. “Say it.” 

“Kai.”

“I wanna hear you say you want me.”

The quickest, most disingenuous, “I want you,” comes out of your mouth. Did you really just say that? It’s not like you haven’t noticed how handsome he’d gotten recently, but it’s also not like you’ve ever thought about doing anything. Before tonight, the thought of him even touching you made your skin crawl. But right now, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more. Reaching for him, you add, “Now shut up and fuck me.” 

Still shirtless from when he peeled off the wet fabric a few minutes ago, he tugs at the hem of your tank top. Slipping it off you, his eyebrows raise at your bare chest—full and needing to be squeezed, which he does immediately. Your nipples perky and hard from arousal and the cool air are simply begging to be sucked. His warm, welcoming and wet lips wrapped around one elicit a sound from you that you hope is covered by the rain outside. 

The others would never let you live it down if they heard you two fucking. 

Mouths all over—his on your nipples and your collarbone, yours on his mouth and his shoulders—it’s a whirlwind of kisses and pure lust. 

“I hate you,” you murmur, adding a nice hair tug for good measure. 

“I hate you too,” he responds. “So much.” The tent, damp from the rain and hot breath warms you up, skin slick with a sheen of sweat. Sleeping bags and blankets ruffle underneath your bodies as you rush to undress each other fully. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he says against your ear. “Don’t even know how to put up a tent. Need my help for everything?”

“You’ve never been any help to me,” you respond. “Plus, we wouldn’t have gotten rained on so much if you didn’t get lost leading everyone. Need your phone for everything? Can’t even handle one short hike? Good for nothing,” you spit. “Except…you’re kind of a good kisser.”

“Wish I could say the same about you.”

“Don’t lie,” you smirk. “I’m an incredible kisser.” He may roll his eyes but he heads straight back for more. “But you’re taking too long. Hurry up,” you say between kisses. Grazing his hand down your hip, he slides two fingers between your pussy lips and—

“You’re that wet for me and I’ve barely even touched you? Desperate slut.” You grab his cock, making him jerk forward, his mouth dropping open.

“You’re already that hard and I’ve barely even touched you? Horny loser.” Without warning, he lines himself up at your entrance and shoves his cock inside you, forcing a yelp from your throat.

Covering your mouth, he leans down, gracing his lips over your earlobe before whispering, “You never shut the fuck up, do you?” And he’s relentless. Fucking you fast and hard, whispering mean, dirty shit in your ear, shivers rolling down your spine at every syllable. “You don’t deserve to feel this good.”

“And you think you deserve this pussy?” You fire right back. Although, he does seem to be winning with the sheer amount of moaning coming from your mouth compared to his controlled sounds and expert movements. You try your best to compose yourself before saying, “A dumb fuck like you doesn’t deserve to even touch my skin.”

“Is that why you gasp when I pinch your nipples?” He asks. You narrow your eyes at him. But he definitely proves himself right. Rolling your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, basking in the chills it gives you, clearly sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You reach to touch his broad chest but he stops you. “Nuh-uh. Hands to yourself,” he says, gripping your wrists harshly and pinning them to the ground. 

Suddenly, you’ve never wanted to touch someone more in your life. The way his skin glistens, muscles looking so strong, a bead of sweat drips between his pecs and you swear you clit twitches. Honestly, you’re in shock. What do you usually do with your hands? Since when has he been like this? An absolute slut? A mean slut at that. But you love it. 

Your hands stay at your side after he moves to squeeze your body again but you can’t help but reach up—you’re desperate to touch him. He halts, lifting his fingers off your tits. 

“Every time you try to touch me without permission, I’ll stop touching you,” he says. You surrender, putting your hands under your back. “Good girl.”

Fuck. That felt nice too. Being degraded is one thing, but getting rewarded for following directions? That’s delicious. Heat rushes to your ears. 

“Please—”

“Ah,” he places his pointer finger over your lips. “I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” You make a show of keeping your mouth closed. “You learn so fast, hm?” You smile—a genuine giddy smile. “So cute,” he whispers, placing a thumb on your clit, circling it gently. 

But when a weak little, “Fuck,” slips out of your mouth, he stops.

“Did I say you could speak?” You shake your head. Running a thumb across the apple of your cheek, he gives you a look somewhere between my pathetic little slut and you’re being such a good girl for me. 

Keeping your mouth shut, your body is in complete bliss, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure his cock and hands are giving you. You’re positively drunk on his cock, letting him do whatever he wants to you—touch you here, lick and bite you there, kiss on this, suck on that—not only to be his good little slut, but because it feels fucking incredible. He knows what he’s doing, you’ll give him that. 

Then you feel it, your orgasm is slowly approaching, every move he makes pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And he knows it. The little whimpers you make, trying to hold back. The twitches your clit makes. The pulses of your pussy. 

“Aw,” he starts condescendingly. “Is my good little slut gonna come for me?” You nod rapidly, being sure to keep your mouth shut and movements under control. The last thing you want right now is a punishment. Or maybe it’s the thing you want most? The lines are too blurred to tell. “Say it.”

You can barely mumble it, but you manage to croak out, “You’re gonna make me come, Kai.”

“Good girl.” He doesn’t change a single thing. It creeps closer and closer until you can feel your body start to tip over. And then he does something…expected? Surprising? Honestly, you’re not so sure anymore. He stops, your orgasm so close to crashing over you, ruined by this son of a bitch. 

Tears form in your eyes. Was he really doing this to you? This annoying, stupid fucking jerk you’ve hated for years making you cry over his cock? 

“That’s for being such a goddamn nuisance since the day I met you.” 

What do you do now? Be a jerk to him? Overpower him and pin him down? Sit there like a hole needing to be fucked? You decide to go for the last option, hoping he’ll make you come as fast as he can. Although, truthfully, you feel like one swipe across your clit would make you finish you at this point. 

“Tell me you don’t deserve me.” You keep your mouth shut. Gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, you stare at his eyes. He chuckles like he’s proud of you before he says, “You may speak.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” He squeezes harder, almost like he’s saying that’s not enough. “I don’t deserve to feel this good. I don’t deserve your cock. I don’t deserve…anything.” 

“Good girl.” He loosens his grip around your throat. He’s done with his fun now. The ache in both of your bodies is getting unbearable and he’s determined to make you come first. Which he supposes he already did, despite ruining it for you. But he’s gotta get you back to that place before he gets there first.

Returning to the hard and fast pace of fucking you like he was a few minutes ago, his cock slams in and out and out of your pussy, ripples running down your thighs, ass, tits, everywhere. He stares in awe of your perfect tits bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts. 

Your mouth opens and closes like you want to say something, but if you speak without permission, he may stop. You decide to take a chance anyway. 

“Kai…” you squeak out through the rough movements. He responds with a sweet yet sinister smile that says you may speak. “You are gonna let me come, right?”

His eyebrows furrow, face full of pity. He asks, “You think I should?”

“You better or I’ll…” You trail off.

“You’ll what?” He stops moving, therefore earning a pathetic whine from you, trying to protest without words. “What are you gonna do to me?”

Now what’s a good punishment for him? Clearly, he’s used to being the one punishing his sexual partners—you wonder how his other subs have dealt with him being a jerk. You don’t want to overpower him like you thought you did. There’s something about being pinned down like this, letting him do whatever he wants, not having to move an inch. You’re such a powerful woman everywhere else—the type A personality type, which you admit can get overwhelmingly exhausting. 

Letting someone take full control over you like this—it’s relaxing. You wonder how much he’s enjoying himself but you notice the way his eyes flutter when you simply tighten your pussy around his cock, how he hasn’t stopped touching you since you finally let him, hell, he kissed you first. Of course he’s enjoying this. And bingo—you’ve got just enough control to get what you want. 

“I’ll never let you fuck me like this again.” 

Narrowing his eyes at you, it's like he knows that you caught him in the act of something. Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “We can’t let that happen, now can we?”

Somehow, the energy shifts to be even more desperate. Taking out years and years of frustration from hating each other while simultaneously wanting to have sex. Fucking as fast as your bodies will let you, the tent fills with the absolutely obscene noises coming from your mouths. The only reason you aren’t holding back is because the rain beating against the plastic tent and the occasional thunder thankfully covers most of it. 

When one of his thumbs finds your clit, you feel like you’re floating. The air falls out of your lungs, pleasure taking over your body as you relax into your orgasm. You’re drunk, high on his cock and the only thing you’re seeing are stars and that stupid smirk plastered across his face. It rips through your body like lightning, shooting out your toes and fingertips. 

“Talk to me,” he says breathlessly in your ear. But you can’t. You can only manage strangled noises to let him know you’re having an incredible orgasm. 

Coming down from your high, though, you finally say, “Fuck, that felt so good.” 

“Tell me how good.”

“You made me feel so…so fucking good, Kai,” you say, shaking your head, unsure of what else to tell him. Call it post-nut clarity, but why the hell were you having sex with him again? Honestly, who cares? He’s actually pretty hot and he’s damn good at this too. What happens after this? Enemies with benefits? Never mention it again? You make a note to come back to this with him later. But right now, you need to get to the matter at hand. “Why don’t you tell me how good I feel?”

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he says. “Your pussy might be the only thing I like about you.” He chuckles, his mouth dropping open, undeniably close to his own orgasm. “Well, maybe your pussy and your tits.” Burying his face between them, he bites down on the plush, groaning against your skin. 

“I need you to come inside me, Kai. Please.” 

“Keep talking to me like that.”

And you do. Giving him praise, touching him in all the right places, putting on a show for him. With a few final thrusts, he groans, whispering something you don’t catch, but you feel it. Him coming inside you with a sexy groan, covering your chest in the sloppiest of kisses and bites. 

Catching his breath, he whispers breathlessly, “Damn. That was good.” Sliding out of you, an awkwardness catches up with the two of you. You push yourself up on your elbows, attempting to gather your thoughts. His eyes are still dark with desire as he looks at you with a satisfied smirk. 

“Listen,” you say, covering your chest with your blanket. “This can’t happen again.” His smile drops.

“What?”

“The fact that we did that,” you gesture between the two of you, “never leaves this tent, you hear me?” Cocking his head to the side, he nods awkwardly. “No one can find out about this. God, I’d be so embarrassed. Let’s just…get some sleep.” 

Did you forget about what he said?

Or I’ll never let you fuck my like this again. Using that as a threat if he didn’t let you come meant you wanted to do it again, no? Slowly putting on his boxers again, he agrees, turning away from you to try and get some sleep but, all of a sudden, there’s too much on his mind. 

[hyukalyptus]

yes, please — soobin x fem!reader | est. relationship. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. idol!soobin, nonidol!reader, chubby!reader, jiggle, talks of his abs, reader wears lip gloss, tiddylover!soob, slight exhibitionism, kissing, pet names (baby, love, good boy), some choking, mouth covering (with a hand), dacryphilia, cunnilingus, fingering, licking, soobin tastes sweaty and reader likes it, unprotected sex (pls don't do this), soft dom!soob, nipple play, spanking, creampie, lmk if there are more. notes. smut under cut. wc. 3.2K

“Can you stop?” you ask Soobin sitting on the couch across from you in a small dressing room. Still catching his breath and wiping sweat off his forehead from the concert, he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

“Stop what?” He asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Stop being so pretty.” You bite your lip. “You’re driving me crazy.” 

Flashing you a knowing smirk, he asks, “Am I?” He leans forward on the couch, his hand sliding up your thigh feels like someone poured oil on your body and lit a match. The squeeze he gives it is especially too much, making tingles run throughout your whole body. Meeting his gaze, your faces are inches apart from each other while you noticeably glance down at his lips. Those perfectly pillowy and pink and heart-shaped lips that always beg to be bitten and kissed. 

“Well, you were when you were wearing that pink sparkly, velvety thing, but now…hm,” you lean back, crossing your arms. “I’m not so sure this is doing it for me,” you say, looking over his post-concert black t-shirt and shorts—which, let’s be honest—is doing it for you. He doesn’t wear shorts often, but when he does, your tummy does backflips. 

“You know you love this outfit,” he smirks, rolling your chair closer to him. It takes everything in you to keep from wrapping your legs around his hips right then and there, but you're not giving in yet. Well, not fully. You can’t stop your fingertips from gracing his thigh. “I know you love my thighs.”

That jerk.

His eyes roaming your face, he lingers on your lips, but still. You’re not giving in. Shrugging, you nonchalantly lean back against the chair, crossing your legs. 

“Fine,” he chuckles. “If you really don’t like my outfit, then,” he shrugs, unlocking his phone again. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you." Crossing one leg over his other knee, his shorts ride up, exposing his thigh. Deliberately moving his t-shirt to the side, he exposes his collarbone, making your breath hitch.

He thinks he’s so slick.

“I know what you’re doing,” You roll your eyes. “It’s not gonna work.”

Refusing to look at you, he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe.” His voice is sweet as honey despite his obviously evil intentions. Maybe not evil per se, but certainly not sweet-as-honey intentions. 

“Hm.” You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes floating across his broad shoulders and collarbone. You practically salivate thinking about the saltiness of his skin after shows. The muscles in his arms are more defined from performing and his veiny hands are screaming at you. You just want them around your neck. 

As you stare at his hands, his fingers stop tapping the screen of his phone. He peeks at you through the hair that fell in front of his face, but his eyes quickly shift to his phone screen when he notices you looking. Resting back against the couch, he takes a deep breath, scrolling through his phone again.

“It’s kinda hot in here, huh?” You ask smugly, lifting your sweatshirt off, the thinness of your tank top barely covering your bare chest and hard nipples. Stretching your arms above your head, you push your chest out, catching his eyebrows raise, but he’s not giving in either. 

No matter how tempting your full, bouncy, and jiggly your tits are. No matter how absolutely squeezable they look. No matter how much he wants to feel your hard nipple against his tongue. 

He’s not giving in. 

Walking to your tote bag in the corner of the room, you bend so your ass faces him, your jeans hugging your curvy hips perfectly. You search for your lip gloss before gliding it over your lips, completely ignoring how obviously he’s ogling at you. 

Damn, those lips would look so pretty wrapped around his cock, hm?

Looking over your shoulder, he changes his attention again, acting like he wasn’t staring at you.

“You okay, babe?” you ask. He presses his lips together, exasperating. He looks so cute when he’s flustered. All blushy and smiley and dimpley. 

Striding over to him, you rake your fingers through his hair, tracing his jawline, swiping a thumb across his perfect bottom lip. His mouth stays open by itself as you say, “You seem kinda…feverish.” His breath is heavy again, his eyes looking up and down your body, tracing every bump and curve.

He whispers your name.

“Yes, babe?” Bending over, your shirt hangs off your chest, giving him easy access to look at your bare tits being deliberately pressed together by your upper arms. 

He swallows hard, looking up at you through his eyelashes and stutters, “You, uh, you dropped your phone.” God, he loves your tits. Always have. Always will. They fill his big hands beautifully. They taste delicious. They bounce gorgeously when he fucks you in missionary. 

“Ah, thank you, baby,” you smirk, picking it up, showing off your ass again. He slides down the couch again, blowing air out of his nostrils. While he reaches for a water bottle on the coffee table, you plop back down in your chair. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he says, inching closer to you, clearly puckering his lips. He knows how much you love them. He even goes so far as resting an arm above your head, pulling his shirt up to show off his toned stomach. Geez, he really is being obvious today. 

“I just wanted to say,” you start as he attempts to slyly move his shirt up, exposing more and more skin. “I can see what you’re doing.” Pulling his shirt down with an eye roll, you continue, “Anyway, as I was saying.” He stretches, rubbing his tummy— “Are you trying to seduce me with your tummy?”

“You’re the one that loves my tummy,” he says, holding his hands up.

“It is really cute,” you giggle, your cheeks turning rosy. 

“Cute?” He asks, fake offended. 

“Sorry, sorry. It is really sexy,” you correct yourself, tracing a finger over his muscles. “So you are trying to seduce me?” You smirk. Opening his mouth to say something, nothing comes out and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Well, you were trying to seduce me with your booty.”

“You were doing it first with your—” you say, pulling your tank top to the side to expose your collarbone.

“And what about your oh, Soobin, it’s so hot in here,” he mimics your accent, stretching his arms above his head, pushing his chest out. Then he pretends to put lip gloss on with an imaginary applicator. “You look kinda feverish,” he says, making kissy noises.

“You’re the one who threw your thighs at me!” You giggle. “You know you have dancer’s legs.”

“Well, you threw your boobs at me,” he says. “You know you have…boobs.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did not throw my boobs at you.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, your gaze lingering, eyeing each other up and down. “Do you wanna have sex or not?” He looks at you innocently, his eyebrows barely raised.

“Yes, please.”

“Then get over here, boo,” you giggle, holding your arms out to him. He stands from the couch, swiftly locking the door. Striding closer to you, he lifts you into his arms, running a thumb over the apple of your cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

Those perfect lips you’ll never get enough of. They’re soft and smooth and mold perfectly to yours. They were made for you. 

Holding you tighter, he slowly turns both of you, pushing your back against the door roughly, a gasp leaving your lips. His hand snakes into your hair, pulling your head to the side to trail his lips down your neck. Pushing your shirt up desperately, your chest is exposed, his mouth immediately finding your nipple. 

Crouching lower, he kisses your belly, a warm, fuzzy feeling flourishing inside while his lips linger at the top of your jeans. Unbuttoning them, his nails dig into the squishy part of your hips, dipping his fingertips into your waistband. Pulling your jeans off your legs, he throws them behind him.

“Aw,” he chuckles and you look at him questioningly. “These are cute,” he says, running his thumb over your lilac panties covered in tiny blue butterflies, complete with a little bow on the front. Your cheeks turn bright red.

“Soobin—” you exhale. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he smiles,  glancing up at you from between your legs, kissing you on the outside of your panties, your hands pulling on his hair. “They’re really cute.”

“Please, babe…” you whisper.

“You’re begging now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You have to be quiet.”

After pulling your panties down, he flicks his tongue over your clit while you rush to cover your mouth to muddle your moans, your eyes squeezing shut. Sliding a finger inside you, he chuckles at your desperate attempts to stay quiet. 

Fuck, he gives such good head. And he knows it too. He knows how much this drives people crazy. How good he can make someone feel with just his mouth. 

Licking his finger clean, he reaches up to squeeze your tit, forcing a grown out of you. Someone walks right outside the door, and you panic, glancing around the room. Hands suddenly restless, his tongue never stops flicking your clit, drawing you right back in. 

Trying to control your movements and noise, your back arches and little whimpers sneak past your lips. You can’t help it. He’s way too fucking good at this. 

There’s a knock on the door. You gasp quietly, covering your mouth again and look down at him. He holds a finger up to his pouty smile slicked with your wetness and  he shushes you, your heart racing. They knock again, but his tongue returns to your clit, making the challenge of staying quiet impossible.

“Soobin?” The person outside says, jiggling the door handle, your breath shallow at the thought of them walking in on you. He ignores them, squeezing the widest part of your hips, increasing the pressure of his tongue.

Pulling his hair to force him to look at you, you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head toward the door. Standing, he whispers, “It’s fine. Just stay quiet, okay?” Pressing his lips to the sensitive skin right below your ear, his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine.

It takes everything in you to admit this, but you whisper, “I think you should go.” Your chest heaves, but he just shakes his head, covering your shoulder in sloppy kisses, relief running through your veins. 

It’s his decision at this point.

“At least fuck me against that wall,” you point your head in the direction of the wall across you. “I think it’ll be obvious from the outside if you fuck me against this door.” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Lifting you into his arms by your fingertips, he presses you against the wall opposite of you, massaging your tits. Attacking you with his lips, your chest warms and your shoulders relax at his touch. He pulls away from you, tugging at your bottom lip, making you giggle with him, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts. 

He pulls his shorts down to his thighs, gliding his hard cock over your pussy. Your arms instinctively snap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

“Call me crazy,” you sigh, looking into his heavy eyes, glancing down at his swollen lips. “But you always taste so good after shows,” you whisper, dragging your tongue across his collarbone, his chest shaking with his chuckle. Tongue covered in his sweat, salty and mineraly, and absolutely delicious. 

Holding your leg in his arm, he uses his other hand to cover your whimpers as he slides inside you, not giving you the usual opportunity to adjust to the feeling of him. You simply feel too good right now. But of course—

“Feel okay?” He asks under his breath, always ensuring you’re having as good of a time as he is. He still refuses to move his hand, only looking for that gentle nod you give him. But he can’t resist kissing you.

Moving his hand from your mouth to your cheek to pull your face closer, he presses his lips to yours again, kissing your furiously, moaning against your lips.

Pulling on his hair, you whisper, “If I’m not allowed to moan, you’re not allowed to either.”

“Fine,” He chuckles. “No moaning.” Thrusting into you deeper, he circles your clit with his thumb, making your head reel. You gasp, biting your lip to keep the no moaning deal you just made. Pressing his forehead to yours, your shared breath on each other’s lips, his thumb moves to circle your nipple, the teensiest, tinsiest moan leaving your mouth.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shushes you again and you roll your eyes, your hand snaking into his hair, gently tugging at it. As soon as he’s gotten used to not moaning, you pull his hair hard. Gritting his teeth, he hisses, making you giggle.

That would usually draw out an embarrassingly pathetic, utterly sexy moan from him, but— “Aw, you’re being a good boy and controlling yourself tonight, hm?”

His smile drops, his eyes turning dark as he pulls out of you to turn you around. Quickly pushing your chest against the wall, he thrusts inside you again.

“Fuck—” you start, but he shushes you harshly. Looking over your shoulder, he eyes your body up and down, thinking about something, but you just don’t know what. Pulling out of you as quickly as he pushed inside you, he turns you back around and lifts your leg to slide back into you.

“I need to see your face when you come,” he says.

There’s an edge to his smile. Your leg that’s still on the ground shakes from holding yourself up for too long, your head is spinning, your chest is on the verge of exploding.

Then he wraps his fingers around your throat, pressing your neck with your fingertips gently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The pleasure is too overwhelming. How deep he is, his hand on your neck, your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. All of that paired with the fact you’re not allowed to make any noise is killing you. The corners of your eyes start to burn.

A few tears stream down your face and he slows his movements, loosening the grip on your neck, looking over your face, noticing the sparkle of pleasure in your eyes, the satisfied smile on your lips. He whispers in your ear, “Do I feel that good, baby?” You nod, pressing your hand to the outside of the one around your neck, silently telling him to tighten his grip.

He picks up speed again, kissing your tears away.

“So good,” you say, managing to keep it at a whisper as your eyes squeeze shut.

Reaching a spot deep inside you, you grit your teeth, your head falling back against the wall, pulling his hair harder than you ever have to let him know how close you are. Lifting your shirt frantically, his tongue finds your nipple while you rub your clit in circles, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

The fire in your stomach builds faster and faster, sparks flickering all the way to your toes. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his, touching your foreheads together.

Your walls clench tighter around him while he covers your mouth with his palm, his deep, dark eyes meeting yours to tell you to come.

He finally pushes you over the edge, coming hard around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Muscles tense and aching as he fucks you through your orgasm, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your entire body. 

Catching your breath, he moves his hand to let you smirk at him, his eyebrows furrowed, still focused on chasing his own high.

Burying his face in your neck, he kisses you over and over again, steadying your breath, a low groan coming from his throat. Lifting up to look at you, he says, “You feel—” But before he can finish his sentence, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“You gotta be quiet, baby…” you giggle as he drops his forehead to your shoulder.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling out of you, bending you over the armrest of the couch and you shake your ass for him. He gives you a loud spank and you turn around to narrow your eyes at him gritting his teeth and eyes widening. “Oops.”

Pressing your lower back, he pushes himself inside you, legs shaking underneath him. He reaches the speed you know he likes, gripping a handful of your hair, holding back his moans. The grip he has on your ass tells you he’s close. 

Whispering little encouragements as he chases his high, his hips stutter against your ass. With a few final thrusts, he says your name, twitching and bucking his hips as he finishes inside you. The tight grip he has on your flesh releases as he comes down from high high. 

Slowly sliding out of you, he lifts you so your back presses his chest, kissing your shoulder.

Turning around and resting on the armrest, you pull him closer as his chest heaves, catching his breath. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath gracing your lips before he gently pecks them, warmth bubbling in your stomach, rushing to fill your body. 

Swaying side to side, he kisses your forehead. His eyebrows furrow, pressing his lips together, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs before he asks, “You okay?” 

“Of course,” you answer, pecking his lips. “Why?”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Because it felt so good. I thought you knew that?”

“I thought so,” he nods. “I was just making sure. It did kinda scare me.” He pouts.

“Aw,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Thank you for choking me, babe,” you say sweetly, trying to lighten this slight awkwardness. He’s still a bit unsure about you crying, but he knows it’s one of your things. It does turn him on knowing his cock brings tears to your eyes, but it can still be a shock sometimes. 

“Thanks for pulling on my hair,” he says, turning to pick up your panties and jeans. When he hands them to you, there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes you feel like the only person in the world that matters. You love that he can do that. That he can make you crumble underneath him to the point of tears, then look at you and tell you he loves you without saying a damn word.

After getting dressed, he’s gathering his things, singing songs under his breath. You hug him from behind, your arms wrapped around his waist. 

“You were so sexy tonight, babe,” you say, laying your cheek against his back.

“I know,” he says proudly, wrapping his hand around your forearm. He turns around, looking down at you with the cutest, sexiest eyes. “Thanks for coming everywhere with us. It has been so much fun having you at all our shows.”

“Ah, really?” you giggle. “I was worried I was kinda getting in the way.”

“What? No, of course not,” he says. “You’d never be in the way.”

[hyukalyptus]

like, never ever? — beomgyu x fem!reader | besties to lovers. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. bestfriend!dom!beomgyu, virgin!afab!reader, bondage, corruption, spanking, cunnilingus (f. receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms pls!), pet/nick names (baby, sir), nipple play, slight dacryphilia. notes. resposted from my old acct, originally a request, did not re-read too carefully., smut under cut! wc. ~800

beomgyu never thought about you like that before. he knew you were attractive—he's not blind—he just never thought about you in a sexual way. but when you admit it's not that i've never been with someone...i've never even had an orgasm, his brain short circuits.

you've...never? like never, ever? you shake your head and he can't help but chuckle, a cocky smile appearing on his face.

why didn't you tell me? it just didn't cross your mind, but he reminds you i could help you out, you know. his strong hand creeps up your thigh as you feel an ache in your center.

it wasn't just wanting to help out a friend with him. sure, that's a perk—you get to have ur first orgasm and i get to absolutely ruin you. and he's salivating just thinking about touching you, tasting you, pleasing you in a way you've never felt before.

it doesn't take much convincing to get you to lay down on the bed, baby. his eyes fixed on your body as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and loosens his tie. usually, i'd tie you up with this, but since it's your first...but before he can say anything else, or did you want me to use it? you nod shyly, seeing him like this...all disheveled and broad...is definitely doing something to you.

you look so pretty, so pretty all tied up from me on your tummy, hands tied behind your back, ass up. his eyes rake over your body and fuck, i can't believe no one's had you like this. your pussy clenches around nothing as he situates himself underneath you. he seems to forget this all new for you. you gasp and what are you doing?

chuckling, his hands soothe your hips before it's okay, just sit on my face. you squirm and whine, but soon met with a harsh smack on your ass and that wasn't a suggestion. sit on my face.

hesitantly, you lower down to his face and he licks your clit harshly. keeling over in pleasure, you can't hold myself up, sir. can you help?

that snarky chuckle comes out again, sir? you're so polite for your first time. sucking on your clit, he spanks you again roughly, electricity shooting throughout your body. since you asked so nicely, he holds you by the hips, sucking on your sensitive clit. but soon enough, i think i'm cumming, sir, you gasp out and nod rapidly, legs trembling around his face, the knot in ur stomach tightening until you just can't take it anymore. everything feels like it's on fire. tingles are all over your body as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of pleasure washes over you.

maybe you blacked out there for a minute, you don't know, but he's already ramming his cock inside you from behind and how does my cock feel in that tight, little pussy, huh, baby? you can't form coherent sentences. your ass jiggles with his ruts and spanks and you just wanna be thrown around, sir. please. please throw me around?

his hand meets your backside again before he quickly unties his tie, flips you over effortlessly and ties your hands above your head. legs spread wide, he fucks into you again as you yelp out in pleasure.

you never thought this is how good this felt. you knew it'd be nice, but this? this is so much better than you ever thought possible.

you're trembling, squeaking, shaking, gasping for air—who's making you feel good, hm baby? who made you feel so fucking good for this first time? you nod and whimper and you, sir. he presses your legs up to access your ass again to give it a good spank.

who? say my fucking name, baby. you're still struggling with keeping up with everything. he yanks you up, slamming his cock inside you deeper, which you didn't think was possible. say my name, he grunts with each thrust. you try your best, you really do, but poor baby, can't even say my name. do i need to stop? shaking your head no, please no—please don't stop, beomgyu. he smiles and that's it, baby.

practically crying his name out, you can hardly keep yourself composed before he licks his thumb to rub your nipple. that's when the tears start streaming down your face, close to your second orgasm. ever. a few more thrusts and flicks of your nipple until i'm cumming again, beomgyu. he smiles and follows soon after you, squirting his hot cum inside your tight cunt. and, you must admit, it's so warm and nice. like the best fucking hug you've ever had in your life.

collapsing next to you, you catch your breath and look at each other shyly, both of your juices dripping down further and further before all he can say is that was just...so good. wow.

[hyukalyptus]

the willow tree — prince!yeonjun x servant!oc (mira)

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, chubby!reader (rarely self conscious), exes to ???, unsupportive parents, dual POV, classism, mira is described as chubby and has long wavy hair, mira often wears dresses/thongs/etc, smut, sir kink, sneakin around, pet names (darling, babe, baby, love, my girl), lots of cunnilingus/bjs/handjobs, more specific content warnings before each chapter, NSFW/MDNI!!! notes. this has taken me forever!! i know i've been talking about this for so long and i really hope you love it. the poll said to post everything at once, but i put chapter headers so you wouldn't lose your place since its so goddamn long. anyway, enjoy!! wc. 26K im so sry

cw. yeonjun is a bit of a jerk in a flashback, classism, yj is an environmental activist and if u are a climate change denier, feel free to block <3, mira (oc) is described as chubby, yeonjun sneaks into mira's room (but not in a pervy way).

YEONJUN'S POV

Open your heart to the adventure ahead. I glare back at the cheesy quote slapped across the page-a-day calendar resting on my desk Mother gifted me last Christmas. The phrases usually amount to nothing more than fortune cookie wisdom or elementary classroom poster encouragements, and today's offering is no exception.

It’s plastered in meetings and to-dos I have today. One meeting is with a new landscape architect for the garden, another with Gemma about the upcoming quarterly dinner, and another with our ambassador about an upcoming international environmental meeting I’m attending later this year. 

Philanthropy has always been a forte of mine. No matter the cause, I can persuade the richest of the rich to contribute to the cause, I host grand fundraising events, and love speaking for what I care about. My pursuits have evolved over time, ranging from childhood health to advocating for mental wellness and combating food scarcity. 

It’s been difficult to choose what I cared about most, but I simply can’t commit all of my focus to every cause, no matter how hard I try. Within the last few years, my focus has been the environment—an urgent matter demanding action, even if I’m not a major contributor to the problem. Nonetheless, I certainly have influence over large corporations that do, not to mention my political influence. I've also cultivated a deep appreciation for the arts, advocating for universal access. Last year, I facilitated the donation of $125,000 worth of instruments to local public schools.

Outside of work, I like learning new instruments and artforms—right now, pottery and piano—and reading. And I love to travel. I always fly commercial—never private. 

“Honey, be in the common room in fifteen minutes,” Mother—the Queen—says at my door. She glows as her deep ruby chiffon dress flows with her movements, exuding royal, elegance, and authority. She finishes putting in her gold earring before adding, “We have a new hire.” 

Ah, the customary introduction of new staff. I finish watering the peace lily on my window bench before heading down the hallway.

Our castle is opulent yet sophisticated and contemporary. I genuinely love the peacock-green walls, the gold trim, the myriad of photos on the walls—memories of the Queen presenting awards, snapshots from my trips, simple portraits. Despite the grandeur of it all, it’s home.

The common room is large and well-lit thanks to the floor to ceiling windows. Lots of comfortable seating scatters the floor for when guests are over. A large Morisot painting hangs on the wall opposite the windows—brushstrokes full of energy and splashes of rich greens and blues. But it’s the simplicity I love about it. It’s why I bought it. 

“Good morning, Your Majesties,” Gemma states as she enters the room, fifteen staff people following behind her. Everyone does their obligatory bows and curtsies, something I never particularly liked. But I understand the purpose behind it. 

The staff stand in a straight line facing us, Gemma being the stiffest of all—she commands the room, adores perfection, and keeps everything in order. She isn’t my personal favorite staff person, but I don’t know what we’d do without her. 

They’re all wearing their boring uniforms—half are in drab grey frocks with white aprons and the other half are in drab grey suits. I’d rather they wear whatever they want.

Formal introductions like these aren’t to my taste. I like getting to know the staff on our own terms. Organically. But this is important to Gemma. It’s a sort of initiation, a welcome into the family. So I let her do what she needs to do, but I’m busy reminding myself of my to-do list.

Email Princess Everly about the upcoming benefitReschedule interview with Philanthropy DailyOutline Climate Week keynote speech

“As you know,” Gemma startles me out of my thoughts. “We’ve welcomed a new person to our team. I want everyone to give her a warm welcome.” Walking to the end of the line, she introduces her, “This is Mira.” 

Mira smiles softly with a curtsy that I’m assuming she learned to do in the kitchen moments earlier. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am,” she says, tilting her head toward Mother. “And you too, Sir.”

“Nice to—oh.” My mouth hangs open. What am I supposed to say again? Oh right, “Um…it’s nice to meet you too,” I finally murmur. That was embarrassing. 

Everything flashes across the movie screen in my mind—memories with her. The girl I fell in love with when I was a stupid teenager. The girl who stole my first kiss. The girl that was so sweet to me and treated me like any other kid because that’s all I was—a kid.

But she wasn’t just a girl to me. She was the first—only—person I was in love with. The girl I snuck out of the castle at night to go stargazing with. The girl I told all my secrets to. The girl I never thought I’d see again. How could I have forgotten her? 

Do you remember me?

Perhaps that’s all I was to her, though—a boy. Another insignificant teenage romance. Then again…how could she forget? We’d talk for hours about spending our lives together. She’d even picked out her favorite room in the castle that we’d move into together when the time came. It’s now the music room, complete with a piano among other instruments. 

We’d sit under her favorite willow tree in the garden eating red bean buns she’d brought back from the next town over when she’d visit her cousins. 

Have you forgotten? To be fair, It has been six…seven years. Wow. 

The room soon clears, except for Mira and myself. She paces around and smooths her skirt.

“Oh!” Mira gasps. “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone had left,” she says with an awkward curtsy. Simply shaking my head, I stay put. “...Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?”

“Nope…uh, no,” I start, fiddling with the edge of one of the couches before finally speaking up again. “Where are you from?” I’m testing the waters. Trying to see if she remembers me without coming straight out and asking. Honestly, I do this with all our staff: ask where they’re from, get to know them a bit. I don’t like having robots I know nothing about doing everything for me. 

“I’m originally from the next town over.”

Hm. Am I wrong? Maybe she simply looks a lot like my Mira. And has the same name. And the same gorgeous brown eyes. Perhaps I shouldn’t refer to her as my Mira anymore. 

“I’ve lived here since I was a kid though,” she adds. Ah, okay. That seems like something I should’ve known. Nodding, I open my mouth to say something else, but Mother calls me from a distance.

“Yep.” I stand up straight as a pin, turning to exit the room. “Be right there.” 

-

Rummaging through my drawers, I finally find it. The necklace I’d bought Mira all those years ago—a delicate circle pendant with an “M” stamped in the middle hanging from a delicate gold chain. She wore it everyday for six months. I can’t remember how I ended up with it, though. 

So, she’s real. At least that’s true. What should I do with it? I pace up and down the hallways clutching it, brainstorming about what to do with it. Perhaps I should simply walk up to her and ask her about it. Should I wrap it for her and give it to her as a present? Should I give it to Gemma to return to her?

“Oh, Gemma, I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for almost bumping into her. 

“Not a problem, sir.” She curtsies and begins to walk away, but—

“Gemma?” She turns, holding her hands behind her back, awaiting my instruction. “Can you tell me where the new hire stays? I want to make sure I’ve got everyone’s rooms in order in my head.”

“Mira?” I nod. “She lives in room number six, sir.”

“Thank you.” I smile, but she simply waits. Ah— “Dismissed.” 

As I nonchalantly make my way to the staff wing, I keep an eye out for anyone who might be watching. Not that anyone would question me, but I don’t like people in my business. I eventually find her room in the same hallway as everyone else’s—a basic wooden door painted white with a brass “6” nailed to it—I hesitate before knocking softly. No response. I try again, slightly louder. Still nothing. On the third attempt, I test the door handle and find it unlocked. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m just gonna get in, put the necklace somewhere, then get out. I won’t bother any of her stuff. 

But her room is so sweet. Plain and organized since she just moved in. A single photograph of her and her parents with who I’m assuming is her grandmother rests on the dresser. The bed’s made neatly. There’s a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. 

Ah, the bedside table drawer. That should be a good spot, but I find things that are way too personal in there and decide against it, respecting her privacy despite the fact that I’m breaking and entering. 

Hm…where to put it? Sock drawer? The windowsill catches my eye—a perfect blend of visibility and subtlety. I approach it, careful not to disturb anything, and hang the necklace on the window latch. It’s hiding in plain sight but still easy to find and doesn’t show that I rummaged through her drawers, which is a plus.

Now, we wait. 

-

A week passes. Radio silence. I haven’t gone back to her room to see if it's still hanging on her window, but I haven’t seen it around her neck either. Perhaps she threw it away and I should give up. 

Trudging through my bedroom door, I loosen my tie and toss my phone and wallet onto my bed. I attempt to rub the tiredness out of my eyes, but I’m exhausted. Thankfully, my dinner is already waiting for me on my dresser under a cloche. 

Next to my plate is a glass of ice water dripping in condensation along with a napkin and a set of cutlery. And resting right next to my fork is Mira’s necklace. The sight of it sends a jolt through my system. I knew she came into my room somewhat regularly—all the staff do—but thinking about her in my room makes me tingle. 

I sink onto the edge of my bed with a sigh as the chain slips through my fingers. When I first gave it to her seven years ago, her eyes lit up and her smile made everything feel right. I knew we were supposed to be together. That all seems so distant now.

Why didn’t she simply get rid of it? 

Maybe she hasn’t given up entirely and neither should I. 

It goes back and forth between us for a few weeks. After I found it on my dresser, I slipped it into her apron pocket. Then I found it between the pages of my notebook. The day after I wrapped it around the sugar bowl’s lid handle, it appeared wrapped around the handlebar of my bike. 

We never spoke a word of it. 

Every time I found it, it made me smile, but I knew this couldn't continue forever. I need to see her, to talk to her, to find out what was really going on. Does she want to talk to me? Does she hate me? Does she even remember me?

The next morning, I slip a note under her door. 

Meet me under the willow tree at 8. - Y

Every minute of the day feels like an eternity as I wait for evening to arrive. Doubt gnaws at me, but the thought of seeing and speaking to Mira keeps me sane. 

The evening air is cool and crisp. The sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep blue. Waiting under the willow tree, I think about the many times Mira and I have sat under here and talked for hours, watching the stars as the branches swayed in the wind. We’d talk about our days, places we wanted to visit together, how I wanted to tell everyone about us but she was too hesitant. 

Minutes start to feel like hours as I wait, the silence around me amplifying my racing thoughts. What if she never comes? What if she didn’t get the note? What if she’s avoiding me? Does she hate me?

Finally, soft footsteps approach and I turn to see Mira, her silhouette framed by the dim garden lights. She walks slowly, like she’s dragging it out as long as possible. As she comes up to me, her eyes search mine. My heart races, there’s a lump in my throat. 

"Mira," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. She curtsies. “You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s my job, Sir,” she says flatly. Rocking back on my heels, I press my lips together. 

"I thought I’d return this straight to you,” I say, holding up the necklace. “It seems like it keeps getting lost.” I chuckle nervously, trying to break the tension.

“Thanks,” she replies flatly as she accepts the necklace. Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. I thought I’d memorized every detail about her, but seeing her now under the lamppost, it’s like I’m rediscovering her all over again. She’s beautifully chubby and always has been. Her long, dark brunette hair has a tint of red that makes it look like cinnamon. The wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants paired with an old pair of flip flops tells me she either forgot about our meeting and got dressed in a hurry or wants to get this over with. Or perhaps both. 

“What can I help you with, Sir?” Awkward silence. 

“Mira,” I whisper, her name a fragile plea on my lips. She stares at the ground, avoiding my eyes. What was she expecting? For me to never bring us up? Of course I’d talk to her about it. “Mira Ashenrose, right?” She hums quietly. “I realized I never asked your last name since you started working here.” 

The silence between us is thick with tension. Memories flood my mind and I hope the same is happening to her. The last time we were here, we laid with each other for hours, so long that the sun started rising. She fit so perfectly in my arms. 

“I can’t forget you, Mira,” I say, stepping closer. “Why are you avoiding…us?” The space between us is charged as electricity swirls around us. “Remember us? All those nights we went stargazing? Our picnics? Those daisy chains you made me? You can’t tell me you don’t—”

“Of course I remember,” she interrupts, tears glistening in her eyes. My heart aches at the sight. “I remember everything, Yeonjun.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I remember falling asleep under this willow tree with you. I remember dancing with you. I remember kissing you before sneaking back into my house. I remember everything, okay?” Her voice trembles. “But that doesn’t mean I want to.” 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?”

She looks utterly heartbroken. “Don’t do this to me, Yeonjun. Stop being cruel.”

Her words punch me in the gut and everything comes rushing back. The reason we ended. I’d asked her to our annual ball—our first public appearance together. The Queen would find out. My royal friends would find out. The whole country would find out. She was a wreck for weeks leading up to it, but I reassured her every chance I got that it would be okay. 

She was—and still is—smart, incredibly beautiful, but most of all, I loved her. Why should anyone care if she wasn’t a royal as long as I was in love with her? That should’ve been enough. 

"Yeonjun, darling," my mother's voice sliced through the delicate hum of the ballroom. "I'd like you to meet Princess Penelope. She's your esteemed companion for the evening." Always so professional. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a strained greeting to Penelope before turning to face my mother.  "May I have a word with you in private?"

Graciously excusing herself, she left me to confront my mother amidst the grandeur of the ballroom. "Why would you do this? I told you I didn’t want to be set up.”

"I understand, Yeonjun," my mother replied with a tight-lipped smile. "But it's time you started considering your future—"

"My future?" I scoffed. "I'm eighteen."

"Exactly," she countered, her tone firm. "You need to think about a suitable partner. Someone who embodies the qualities of a Queen—dignity, wisdom, influence. And most importantly: royal,” she pointed a finger at me. “I won’t be around forever, darling.”

“Do they really need to be royal?”

My mother's smile widened, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I swallowed what I really needed to say. There’s no way I’d win an argument anyway. With a resigned nod, I returned to Princess Penelope, the weight of my mother's expectations—and I suppose my entire country’s—heavy on my shoulders. So heavy I’d forgotten—

“Mira,” I said under my breath. There she was, staring at me in disbelief as I danced with Princess Penelope. Ignoring the questioning from Penelope, I abandoned her mid-step and made a beeline for Mira, my heart pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency. "Mira, wait!" I called out, desperation lacing my voice as I chased after her out of the ballroom and into the moonlit courtyard.

"Why, Yeonjun?" Mira's voice cracked as she finally turned to face me, tears staining her cheeks. "Why would you do this?"

"I had no choice," I confessed, my mother’s expectations running circles in my mind. “My mother made me.” 

"You could've told me," Mira interjected, her voice trembling.

"When?" I demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I only found out thirty minutes ago—"

"You could've texted me.”

"I can't risk—"

"What, people finding out about us?" Mira's voice rose with each word, her anguish palpable in the cool night air. “Are you ever going to tell The Queen about us?” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, my eyes twist shut. “Well?” 

Looking at her—possibly for the last time—she looked absolutely beautiful. Her gown was perfect. Soft lavender satin that caught the light as it cascaded down the skirt, a glimmer of fuschia reflecting in the light. I wanted nothing but to hug her, to feel the satin on my fingertips. The sweetheart neckline was gorgeous on her, accentuating her frame perfectly. The M necklace rested around her neck. Her hair was absolutely perfect—she’d been trying out styles for weeks and the final choice was supposed to be a surprise.

“Answer me, Yeonjun.”

I couldn’t do that anymore. Mother meant what she said to me earlier that night: they must be royal. “Just go home,” I said, turning to leave her there alone. Breaking her heart was the best thing to do in the moment. If I could never truly be with her, breaking it off right then and there was the easiest thing for both of us. 

“What? Why—”

“What do you expect, Mira? You’re not royalty. You’re nothing,” I said. “Now go home.”

Too stunned to speak, I stare at her in disbelief. How could I have been so evil to her? What was I thinking? Why did I forget that? Must’ve blocked it from my memory. And now that I’m older, I’d never let some stupid outdated rule like that stand in our way. 

“I’m so—”

“Save it,” she says flatly. “I should’ve thrown away the necklace the first time I found it.” Straightening her posture, she wipes the final tear rolling down her cheek, shaking her head to rid of the emotions. “Let’s pretend this whole thing never happened, yeah?” 

Fine. If someone did that to me, if someone told me I was nothing after telling them they were in love with me for six months, I’d probably feel the same way, if I’m honest. 

As I accept my fate, I turn to walk away, but halt in my footsteps. “No,” I start. “I don’t want to forget this—that we ever happened.” She stays standing there, arms crossed, trying to control her breathing. But I hover over her, waiting for a response. “Please. I miss—”

“Don’t.” She snaps, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about starting that bullshit with me…Sir.”

“I told you, Mother set me up with her.”

“I don’t care about that. You told me I was nothing.” Speechless again, I can’t move. “You never even tried to contact me again and you expect me to give you a second chance?”

“That was seven years ago.”

“So?”

“I’m…we’re both so different. I used to be a stupid teenager. I would never— Please—”

“Please, what? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t—” Honestly, I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, but I don’t know if that’s possible at this point. I hadn’t felt lonely until she showed up, drowning in my endless to do lists, barely ever hanging out with anyone that wasn’t on my staff or another royal. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe think about that first.”

cw. eating food. 

MIRA'S POV

On my days off, I hide away in a gazebo in a quiet part of the garden and sketch. It’s a nice place to escape to, away from everyone while staying close to home. Home. It’s still hard to believe this castle is my home, even if I am just a servant. 

The gazebo sits against a stone wall on one side—one of those that looks so old you wonder how it's still standing, withered with moss growing between the stones, vines going up and around it. The bench theoretically offers lots of seating, but most of it is covered in pots, plants, and gardening supplies. It’s more storage than an intended place to rest. 

My spot was bare when I found it and it gives me a full view of the grounds. To the right, our village is on full display—colorful, quaint, and inviting. To the left, a thick forest stands tall, leaves rustling with the wind.

Someone’s foot crunches the gravel as they walk toward me and my little corner, but I don’t react. As long as I stay relatively still and quiet, no one bothers me. I continue my sketch of those cute squirrels running around together under the willow tree I’ve always loved. Although it’s left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth recently. 

But the presence of a person looms behind me. Can’t I have one quiet day to myself? Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. They’ll leave eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. 

“...Mira?” A familiar voice says, slow and undeniably warm. 

“Oh.” I stand up straight, giving my obligatory curtsy Gemma has ingrained in me since day one. 

“I told you not to do that,” Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun—says. He’s dressed casually today, cute even. But don’t you dare tell anyone I said that. A simple maroon cashmere sweater that fits perfectly with his dark wash jeans that barely gather at his ankles, exposing his black vans. A short necklace of black beads sits around his neck. One of those outfits you’d see him wearing in a magazine with a caption like, ‘Royals – they’re just like us!’ 

“And I told you, it’s my job,” I say, returning to my seat, continuing my drawing. 

“Not right now though,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s your day off, right?”

“You have my schedule memorized?” 

“No,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his shiny, black hair that I can practically feel on my fingertips. “Why else would you be hiding in my corner?”

“I figured you followed me—your corner?” 

“I wasn’t following you,” he says, walking closer before rocking back on his heels as he stops. “I read here sometimes.” He holds up a book. “You thought this spot just happened to be clear on its own?” I hum, scooting over and patting the bench next me. “You’re really okay with me here? I don’t want to bother you,” he says, as genuine as one can sound. But I’m still surprised. Sure, he’s not the demanding type, but I don’t know if I’d act the same if I were royalty. 

“To be fair, I was here first,” I say smugly. Although, he is still my boss. It doesn’t matter that we know each other from that past. I add a quick, “...Sir.” for good measure. “Go ahead and sit.”

“Don’t you hate me?” He asks and I chuckle, but when I look up, I see he’s serious. 

“No, I don’t hate you,” I say. “I’ve moved on, Yeonjun.”

Shrugging, he sits near me, opening his book. I tried to get a peek at the title, but I never got the chance without being too obvious. As he sits next to me, I must admit his presence adds a peaceful comfort to what would typically be a relatively silent, if not boring, morning. There’s even a sort of completeness. Birds seem to be chirping more harmoniously. The clouds have disappeared. Oh, what am I saying? That’s ridiculous. That’s a coincidence, Mira. 

“You still draw?” He perks up, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Of course,” I answer immediately. 

“What are you working on?” Straightening on the bench, I riffle through some papers quickly, trying to hide any potentially embarrassing sketches I don’t want him to see. 

“Just sketches.”

He nods, curiosity etched on his face. “Can I see?” 

“Uh,” I clear my throat. “Sure,” I say, sitting one of my feet on the ground, turning toward him. Our knees brush each other for a moment, but I quickly move it out of his way. Smiling, he examines my drawing of my favorite willow tree I finished yesterday before bed. My cheeks flush as I remember why it was on my mind while drawing, but I hope he doesn’t draw that conclusion. 

“Ah, you’ve gotten so much better.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I chuckle. 

“I just mean,” he looks at me, eyebrows raised in defense. “I can tell you’ve been working on it, I dunno. How else would I say that?”

“That’s fine,” I say. Awkwardness fills the air as I shift my weight around. 

“I’ve been doing pottery, you know.”

I do know. But I’m not supposed to be listening in on their conversations at dinner. I can’t help I’m nosy. I simply ask, “Really?” Humming, he pulls out his phone. 

“This one just came out of the kiln.” He hands me his phone—I wonder what world secrets are on Prince Yeonjun’s phone—to show me a beautifully hand thrown vase. The body is smooth and cylindrical with a slightly tapered neck that gracefully flares out at the top. White glaze covers the surface, contrasting with the thick organic strokes of black glaze. Small, oval handles are attached on both sides. “I just learned how to do handles.” 

“Oh my gosh, Yeonjun…” My breath is taken away. I had no idea he was such an incredible artist. It looks like it was plucked straight out of a museum. “It’s gorgeous.” He always was one to do things perfectly—an all-or-nothing kinda guy. 

“Thanks,” he smiles, pressing his lips together. 

“Show off,” I say, lightly nudging his arm with my elbow.  

An hour or so passes and I’ve switched sitting positions several times, eventually landing on a classic leaned-back-against-the-wall position with my feet up on the bench so I can use my knees and thighs as a desk. He’s barely moved an inch though, sitting happily with his back pressed against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, reading. 

I barely notice my toes absent-mindedly tucking themselves under his thigh like I used to do when we were—

“Oh!” A servant that I haven’t learned the name of yet stumbles in on us, carrying a tray full of food. “I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay,” Yeonjun says, but I’m doing everything I can to hide my face. This can’t get back to the other servants. They’re all such gossips, which I guiltily love, but that doesn’t mean I want them gossiping about me. “Come on over, Natalie.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her about your spot, Sir,” Natalie says nervously.

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay,” he offers a gentle smile, reaching out for the tray, dismissing her after she curtsies, scurrying off quickly. “Don’t worry,” Yeonjun says to me. “She keeps all my secrets—she’s the only one that knows I come out here. She won’t say anything about,” he trails off, gesturing his hand between us.

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Alright,” he sighs. “You hungry?”

“No.” My stomach growls at the worst possible moment. 

“I kinda feel like you are.” I ignore him, focusing on my drawing. “I asked her to bring another meal. You can have it if you want.” 

Peeking over my sketchbook, the tray is fully decked out in sandwiches that look absolutely delicious; sides of mac and cheese and fruits, complete with two glasses of water and a little flower.

“I suppose I’m pretty hungry.” My stomach growls again at the sight of it. “Oh, ignore that; she’s been fussy all day.” I scooch closer to him hesitantly accepting the offer. 

“Mira,” Yeonjun starts. I hum, reaching for a pineapple slice. “Why are all the staff afraid of me?”

“Huh?” I look up at him.

“You saw how nervous Natalie was just thinking I might be mad at her.”

“I think you forget you’re a literal prince,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Are you scared of me?”

Hm. That’s an interesting question. No, of course I’m not scared of you. Why would I be? But perhaps the real answer is Yes, but in the way that everyone makes fun of when people say it out loud. Honestly, I am afraid. Afraid of falling for him again. Getting my heart broken again. We’ve barely talked since I started working here, but I know how convincing he can be. If I’m not careful, he’ll have me wrapped around his finger by next week. 

And let’s not forget he told me I was nothing. That kind of thing doesn’t simply go away. 

I wonder if he’s ever said something like that to one of the servants. Does he think all non-royalty are nothing? No, he wouldn’t be like that anymore. But how would I really know?

Shrugging, I finally say, “No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

I roll my eyes, “I don’t know, Jjun—” I catch myself as that dumb nickname comes out of my stupid fucking mouth. What’s wrong with me? He looks at me with wide eyes. “Uh, Yeonjun…Sir.” Let’s just pretend like nothing happened. “You said some hurtful stuff to me. Have you said anything like that to one of them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You could ask a servant if they’re scared of you.”

“I just did,” he points out. Right. I’m…a servant. I keep forgetting that bit when we’re alone. When we’re alone, it's like we’re friends. It’s casual and comfortable. See? What did I tell you? A few hours of silence followed by a few minutes of talking and I’m right back to where I was seven years ago. Stop being so pathetic. 

“Ah.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I chuckle. “You’re right. But maybe ask a servant that seems like they’re scared of you. They’re probably scared of Gemma more than anything.”

As we wrap up our lunch, his phone buzzes—a calendar reminder probably. 

"I have to get going," he announces, moving efficiently to gather the remnants of our meal onto the tray. But as he stands to leave, an inexplicable urge pulls at me, begging him to stay. Please don’t do this, Mira. Don’t be stupid. 

With a gentle smile, he suggests, "I'll talk to you later?" It's then that I realize I’ve been staring at him in silence for the past who knows how long. "Oh, you have a leaf in your hair." I attempt to remove it myself, but without a mirror, it’s proving to be difficult. "Here," he offers, leaning down. My mind screams at me to resist, but his closeness sends a rush of warmth through my body. With gentle precision, he plucks the leaf away, discarding it casually.

Yet, instead of stepping away, he stays close. I pretend not to notice the magnetic pull between us. Stop it. Admit it. You want him to stay. Straightening my posture, we’re almost leaning into each other, like we’re about to—no. Our gazes dart between each other's lips, ghosts of his touch haunting my senses. Does he still taste the same?

The cool breeze snaps me back to reality. What were you thinking? "Thanks," I mumble, retreating to reestablish a distinct boundary.

"No worries," he replies. The fading sound of his footsteps on gravel leaves me facepalming.

How can I be this close to him without seeing him? Without falling for him again? There’s only one thing to do. 

Avoid him at all costs.

cw. sexual tension, suggestive.  

MIRA'S POV

“Didn’t you finish Mother’s painting in two weeks?” Prince Yeonjun asks, leaning against the doorframe to the sunroom. It’s become my makeshift painting studio. Once the Queen found out I sometimes do art, she thought it’d be a good idea to commission me for new portraits to replace the old ones in the Great Hall. I like painting and I need the money so I of course said yes. 

“Mm-hmm,” I nod, finishing up the final touches on the pattern of his royal cloak. “I’ve been busier recently,” I lie. In the painting, he sits with an arm resting atop a piano against a backdrop of rich velvet curtains like the ones in the living room. The intricate details of his uniform are perfect if I do say so myself. His face, though, is a grey blob with a basic sketch. I work off photographs for the most part, but for faces, I like them sitting right in front of me to get every detail.

But him sitting a foot away from me while I carefully analyze every detail of his face for hours does not sound like a good idea right now. Even if it does sound appealing. 

“You almost ready for me?” 

I should get it over with, but my hands are tired and I have a lot of tasks for my actual job to do before the end of the day.

“Tomorrow,” I say, walking my paintbrushes to the sink. “Does that work for you?” He’s quiet, so I look over my shoulder to make sure he heard me. Pushing himself off the doorframe, he shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Y-yeah,” he says. “That should work.”

“Okay.” I wipe my paintbrushes with a towel. “Meet here after lunch?” Smiling gently, he nods. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to my real job. See you tomorrow,” I say with a curtsy. 

Tomorrow comes way too fast. I brush my teeth, floss, use mouthwash, and chew some gum to get rid of any trace of my lunch. Dragging my feet down the hallway, I can’t get there slow enough. 

“Ah, Mira,” he says with a smile that warms me from the inside out. I respond with a simple hello, but I’m already burning up as I gather my brushes and paints while he watches me in silence. I realize I’d forgotten to curtsy, but I decide to omit it this time considering he hates it so much. 

“The Queen sat on this stool when I painted her,” I say, moving the stool into place. “You might need to adjust the height.” While he does that, I mix a base for his skin. Starting by mixing the primary colors to get a deep brown, I add a good amount of white to lighten it up then a good amount of yellow and a touch of red for warmth. “Sit still,” I giggle, holding my palette knife next to his cheek. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing while I add more brown to darken it a bit. Clasping my hands together, I say, “Alright, I’ll be painting for at least two hours, so do anything else you need to do.” 

“I’m good.” 

Shrugging, I adjust my easel so he’s in my sightline but not too close.

Two minutes into painting, he asks, “So how’s your day been?”

“Good. You?” 

“Good,” he responds. I truly don’t mind silence between us two, but I must admit this silence is deafening. “Do you work in silence or can you talk?”

I giggle and say, “I can talk. Or you can play music if you want.” 

“How about both?” I nod. “Alexa, play classical music to focus,” he pauses, waiting for it to respond and start playing. “Tell me what you’re working on.”

“Well,” I start, swishing my brush into some clean water. “I’d already had a basic sketch of your face, but I made some skin tones first. A base, a highlight, and a shadow,” I say, showing him my palette. “Then I’ll go in and fine tune everything.” 

Time passes by—I’ve honestly always liked simply existing near him. We used to do this all the time back when we were dating. Sit near each other and just be. Quietly. Like the other day in the garden when I was drawing and he was reading. It’s peaceful. I can focus. 

It smells like that day in here—soil and paint. Whoever keeps up with these plants is great at their job. They’re gorgeous even in the winter.

“Now I’m working on your eyes,” I say matter-of-factly. Part of me starts with his eyes to get it over with and avoid them as soon as I can, but the other part counts myself lucky that I have reason to stare at them for the next thirty minutes or so. I mix a deep, cool brown and dip my pinkie into it to hold it up next to his eye. “I’m, um,” I glance down. “I’m gonna touch your face.” My pinkie rests on the apple of his cheek so I can get as close as I can to his eye without touching it. “Open your eyes.” 

Damn. Those eyes are like mirrors reflecting my deepest emotions. The world around us fades. I almost drop my palette. Glimpses of our history, our laughter, tears, and dreams we’ve shared together swirl around in them. They take my breath away. 

Realizing we’re staring at each other, I snap out of it, jerking my hand away from him and dive into painting them instead of gazing into them. 

“First try?” I hum in question. “You got the color of my eyes right on the first try?” My ears warm up.

“Well, you know…” I say, my head hanging low. “They’re the same as the Queen’s.” Lie. The Queen’s are much warmer. Hues of deep mahogany and amber; they’re vibrant with hints of gold and copper that catch the light. They glow in the sun. His, on the other hand, are intensely dark. Deep and rich like shadowy moonlight. You could get lost in them like a maze at night. They’re like reading a book by candlelight. They’re gorgeous. 

“Why do I need to be here again?” He asks and I look jokingly offended. “I mean, you worked off photos up until now.”

“So I can get the details of your face I might otherwise miss,” I say, closely examining his face. “Like this freckle,” I say, poking the freckle on his right cheek with the end of my paintbrush that I would never miss in a million years. It’s one of my favorites. “Or this little birthmark.” He’s got the slightest purple splotch on his cheek that again, I’d never miss. 

“You’re painting those?”

“Of course,” I say. “They’re part of you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him grazing his fingertips over his cheek, smiling to himself. “Move closer.” Examining his features even closer, I’m a few inches from his face. I, again, realize I’m staring at his face and my heartbeat quickens. I snap back and say, “Um…sorry.”

“You’re okay.”

But this keeps happening. I keep getting close to him, our hearts beating together as our breath gets sharp. And fuck, I miss him. I can’t help but think about if I were doing this for fun, not as a staff person. I used to draw him all the time. 

And now, here he is, grown up, mature, tall, and utterly handsome as I’m forced to paint a larger-than-life portrait of the guy I used to love and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. I was such a stupid eighteen-year-old. 

He doesn’t stop staring at me. Not when I add details to his nose. Not when I clean my brush. Not when I observe my painting from a distance. I catch his glare. 

“Can you stop staring at me like that?” I ask, a smile teasing my lips. 

“Like what?”

“Like…” I cock my head to the side. 

“Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?” Ah, fuck you. The warmth that rushes through my body is overwhelming and I swear my knees are ready to buckle. My hands tremble as I fight the urge to drop everything. “I don’t think I can stop that, Mira,” he adds softly. 

“You can’t say shit like that to me, Yeonjun,” I manage to say, my smile stubbornly betraying my attempt to stay cool. I keep my eyes on the brush, pretending I’m not seconds away from screaming. 

“Why not?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“Because…” I finally look over at him, incredibly close to me, eyes flitting all over my face, indiscreetly hovering on my lips. Admittedly, my eyes do the same: land on his lips and suddenly the only thing I’m thinking about is kissing him. “Because…” I repeat, trying to get me to do literally anything but kiss him in this moment, but we both know that’s the only thing either of us want. Each other. To be together. 

I try to remember what his lips feel like. Strong and passionate. At least they used to be. 

How have they changed now that he’s older and has most likely gone through a few serious partners and several hook-ups? Are they softer and more loving now that he’s not a dumb ego-ridden eighteen-year-old? Are they even stronger now that he’s found himself and has solidified his position as a Prince? I wonder. No. Don’t do this. Oh, but why not? 

In one ear, the wise and cautious version of me begs me to refrain from kissing him. Don’t do this, Mira. Remember how heartbroken you were. Mixing romance with your boss is a terrible idea. 

The more rebellious, lust-ridden version of me counters, Look how much hotter he’s gotten. Just make out with him. The Queen is your boss, not him. You could always make out with him, maybe even fuck him, and pretend like nothing happened. 

Wise Mira gasps, That’s mean! 

Right, Lustful Mira says. But he was mean to her. 

Listen to me, Wise Mira chirps up. Don’t kiss him at all. 

Lustful Mira chimes in again, But Mira…look how absolutely delicious his lips look. You want him. He clearly wants you. Don’t you wanna—

“Because I said so.”

He chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

cw. brief mentions of alcohol, cunnilingus, fingering, mira briefly feels self conscious about her body and pubic hair, mira lies to a stranger, begging, yj sneaks into a room she's in, sir kink. 

MIRA'S POV

"What are you wearing friday?" Hyomin casually asks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she effortlessly dusts the coffee table while I clean the windows—the newbie’s job. 

"Aren't we supposed to wear our uniforms?"

"Oh no, darling! The quarterly dinners are the sacred day we break free from the uniform chains—as long as it’s formal." Hyomin is one of few servants I genuinely like. Most of the others are constantly trying to play the game to move up the ladder—none of them really want to be friends. 

The ones that aren’t too busy playing the game are too on edge, following each rule to the letter. 

Yeonjun—Prince Yeonjun, I correct myself for the millionth time—unexpectedly knocks on the door. I, Hyomin, and Natalie perform our obligatory curtsies, even though I know he hates it. If we don’t though, Gemma fusses at us, which he also knows, so he plays along.

"Excuse me," he says, clearing his throat. "Could I trouble someone for a refill on my coffee?"

Natalie, always willing to volunteer, seizes the opportunity and responds quickly. "Certainly, Sir." She breezes by the coffee table to scoop up the metal coffee pot resting on it, returning to the Prince to pour him a fresh mug. 

Our eyes catch each other, a small yet obnoxiously noticeable smile appears on both our faces. Hyomin nudges my arm and mumbles, "And you've gotta wear something extra special for him, right?" What? My eyes widen, shock and annoyance evident in my expression. Shooting a piercing glare at her, I’m rendered momentarily speechless. Hyomin persists, her voice low, "Oh, don't act all innocent. I've seen how you two look at each other.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A mischievous smile plays on her lips, "It's adorable, really. The blushing, the hair-tucking when he says hello, the clumsy encounters,” she says, tilting her head toward him. “Look how red his ears are.” I must admit, they are pretty pink. “We all talk about it, you know.”

“Did Natalie say something?”

“No,” she says confused, but her look soon turns suspicious. “Why would she?” Damn it. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? I avoid eye contact, hoping she’ll give up, but I doubt she ever will. “Mira, why would Natalie say something?”

“No idea.” 

She hums knowingly. "Yeah, right. You two are so obviously dating, it’s ridiculous,” she says, folding the decorative blanket that hangs on the back of the couch while he leaves the room. “We're all waiting for the announcement."

“We are not dating.”

Persistent as ever, Hyomin challenges again, "Look me in the eye right now and swear you haven’t at least kissed him."

I stand tall, smoothing the skirt of my uniform, then take a deep breath and lock eyes with her. “I swear I haven’t kissed him.”

Hyomin narrows her gaze, searching for any crack in my expression. My stomach churns, and before I can stop it, the words spill out in an unfiltered confession.

“…in seven years.”

Damn it. How did she get that out of me?

“What?”

“Shh—!”

“But wh-what do you mean?” She giggles, eager to hear what I’m assuming is the best gossip in years. Although, with royals, there has to have been something juicier than a teenage romance, right?

Motioning for secrecy, I say, “Promise you won’t say anything to the other servants. Please.” Hyomin nods, an expression that practically screams, Spill it. “We knew each other when we were teenagers. We dated then, okay? We broke up seven years ago. I’ve barely spoken to him since.” 

“Oh. My. God. Oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”

“Calm down.” I hold my hands up. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? It’s a huge deal,” she exclaims. “Y’all are totally still into each other.” 

“I mean, he’s cute,” I say. “But that ship has sailed.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” I nod. “We’re just too different.”

“I dunno, I think—”

“Nope.”

“I just mean—”

“Drop it, Hyomin. It will never happen.” My words carry a finality to the discussion.

“Fine,” she concedes, folding her dust rag to place on the table. “The question still stands—what are you wearing Friday?”

Shrugging, I shake my head, “I don’t have anything formal.”

“A perfect excuse for a shopping trip—let’s go into town tomorrow,” she suggests. “I’ll get someone to cover for us for the lunch service.” 

-

“Ah, look at you!” Hyomin cheers. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

“I can’t remember the last time I got this dressed up.” Actually, I do. That night. The night he broke my heart. But I’m not thinking about that right now. In fact, I won’t be thinking about Yeonjun at all tonight. 

Walking down the stairs into the royal hall, the silk of my dress rustles gently as it shimmers in the light. It’s a gorgeous deep viridian that cascades to the floor, creating an ethereal effect with every move I make. The bodice is fitted perfectly, with boning that snatches my waist and makes my tits look amazing. The off-the-shoulder straps elegantly drape across my arms. To complete the look, I’m wearing gold dangle earrings and my hair is styled in loose waves that cascade down one of my shoulders. Around my neck is a delicate circle pendant with a moon stamped into it. 

It’s simply beautiful in here. I’d helped set it up this morning, but seeing the guests dressed up, hearing the musicians playing, the grandeur of it all—it takes my breath away. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation with an occasional loud laugh. 

One couple glides along the dancefloor in each other’s arms, both of their dresses flowing gracefully across the dancefloor. A group of young people wearing crowns and tiaras clink their glasses near the champagne tower. Someone else checks their jacket at the front door. 

Deep emerald velvet curtains drape along the walls, adding even more drama. Every detail of the Hall has been meticulously curated to evoke a sense of luxury. 

“Excuse me,” someone says as they brush my shoulder. “Oh.” It’s Yeon—Prince Yeonjun. “Hello.” I nod to him before my obligatory curtsy. Not even trying to hide the fact that he looks me up and down, he makes my cheeks burn. “You look…” He clears his throat. “Um, really pretty.” Well, there goes me not thinking about him at all tonight. How could I put him out of my mind when he looks like this? Positively sexy as hell in his prince uniform. So regal, rich, and powerful. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I say. I catch Hyomin out of the corner of my eye looking stiff as a board with her mouth hanging open. 

Extending his arm out, he asks me, “Care to dance?”

God, I’d fucking love to. How did he do this to me so quickly? We have one nice conversation, maybe a few glances in the hallway and suddenly he’s making my heart race like he did when we were dating. “I don’t think it would look very good for either of us if you were dancing with one of your servants.” Is that even true? I don’t know. 

He nods, pressing his lips together. “I’ll see you later then?”

“When?” I ask as he raises an eyebrow. I hope I didn’t sound too desperate. “I just mean, I don’t know why we would see each other.”

“Right,” he says. “Well, have a good evening.” He nods gently at me and then to Hyomin before walking away. 

Turning to Hyomin, she looks at me with a wide smile and knowing glare. She’s such a smug bitch. “Oh my god,” she gasps under her breath, drawing the edge of her wine glass to her lips. “Look at Prince Sipho over there.” Tilting her head to the side, she adds, “He may be even dreamier than Yeonjun.”

I scoff in my head, but I’d never tell anyone that. Instead, I murmur, “Where?”

“Right over there,” she smirks, tipping her head toward a literal tall, dark, and handsome man. Commanding the room with his height, he undeniably catches my gaze—not an eye contact that stops time in its tracks, but one where we can’t take our eyes off each other. 

Prince Sipho pushes his way through the crowd toward me, but I can’t help but wonder where Yeonjun is. Actually, why do I care at all? Shaking the thought out of my mind, I welcome this new prince’s hand reaching for my own as he delicately touches my knuckles with the poutiest part of his lips. I suppose he’s too much of a gentleman to fully press them to my skin. 

“May I have this dance?” He asks, looking up at me through his eye lashes. So formal. Quickly glancing at Hyomin, she gives me an eager nod. I guess the servants will have something to gossip about later. At least that’ll replace the conversations about me and Yeonjun. 

“Yes, you may,” I say, returning the formality. We do all the obligatory dancing things—hand on my waist, mine around his neck, holding each other’s free hands. Slowly stepping with the classy romantic music of the string quintet, he admittedly looks stunning in his formal wear—baby blue with gold trim. The baby blue brings out the radiant sapphire undertones of his deep brown skin, the gold showcasing the warmth of his amber irises. 

“So,” he starts, his voice deep and rumbling. “Who am I dancing with?” 

Without any hesitation, I lie, “Charlotte.”

“Well, Charlotte,” he says. “You’re on Prince Yeonjun’s staff?” I blink up at him with confusion etched on my face. How did he— “The rose?” He asks, tilting his head toward my chest where a delicate ivory rose is pinned to my dress to differentiate us from the guests in case someone needs something from us. 

“Ah,” I giggle. “Yes. Yes, I am.” Where is he anyway? No. I’m not dancing with Prince Sipho to make Yeonjun jealous—I’m dancing with him because he’s hot, seems sweet, and seems to think I’m hot too. Why would he be watching anyway? This is his party. He’s probably busy schmoozing with some high-stakes donors or some other royals. 

Prince Sipho’s hand glides down to the spot right above my ass—he’s really testing the boundaries, huh? I love it. But guilt twinges my heart. Half of me hopes he isn’t watching this and the other half hopes he is. I don’t know which is worse. 

A loud crash brings the room to a halt and I try to locate where the accident is, but Hyomin waves me over. “Damn it,” I murmur. “I’ve gotta go…clean that up. Excuse me.”

After rushing to clean up the broken glass, I return the broom to the closet that’s three times the size of my bedroom. I take my time putting it back—a break from the hustle and bustle of the party is very much needed right now. The click of the deadbolt jolts my heart. 

A million things run through my mind. A creep is in here with me. Hyomin locked it from the outside and forgot about me and now I’m locked in until someone remembers to come get me. How long am I gonna be in here? Is someone in here with me?

“Hello.”

“Oh,” I say, relieved. “Hello, Sir.” I curtsy, tilting my head toward Prince Yeonjun as he steps into the light. Why is he in here anyway? I’ve been trying so hard to avoid him since the garden when we almost—nevermind. But he’s weaseled his way into my life. Telling the Queen I paint so I’d paint those portraits of them—yeah, I saw right through that bullshit. Bumping into me earlier tonight. But there’s nowhere to run now. We’re utterly alone. 

That’s terrifying. 

He’s never looked at me like this. Dark pupils dilated with lust and desire. It makes my heart race and I stumble back, tripping over some old cardboard boxes, but I catch myself on the countertop. 

Walking toward me, he keeps his hands in his pockets, but manages to box me in, cornering me and standing tall over me, intimidating and somehow…safe. I know he’d never hurt me. Physically at least. But I also can’t wait to see what he does next. 

“So it’s okay for you to dance with Prince Sipho but not me?” His voice grumbles with the low hum of the music right outside the door. 

“I’m not one of his servants,” I say matter-of-factly. “Why do you care anyway?” I ask cheekily as he creeps closer and closer. So close I’m fully backed into this counter now, almost sitting on top of it. “What are you—” 

“Can I kiss you?”

“No,” I answer quickly. 

“Mira…” he sighs. “How can you expect me not to kiss you when you look like that?” That makes me feel things all throughout my body that I definitely shouldn’t be feeling for ex-boyfriends, especially an ex-boyfriend that’s also my boss. And the prince of my country. 

My mouth parts and I swear I tried my best not to lick my lips. “Don’t kiss my mouth,” I say. I told Hyomin I haven’t kissed him in seven years. At least that’ll still be true after whatever happens next. 

Reaching for my hand with his white-glove-clad one, he places a gentle yet devastatingly sensual kiss to the back of it, looking up at me through his eyelashes like Prince Sipho did moments ago. But he had nowhere near the effect Yeonjun has on me. I bet he can smell the nail polish from when Hyomin painted it on my nails a few hours ago. As his perfect pouty lips kiss my hand, I can’t help but wonder how those lips would feel in other places. 

“You look—” he stops for another kiss on my palm. “Absolutely—” then the pulse-point of my wrist. “Stunning.” Then inside my elbow. Making his way up higher, my breath hitches in the back of my throat. “As usual,” he adds. 

That fucker. 

He’s always been like this. Silky smooth then sugary sweet. It gives me whiplash. 

Eventually, his lips explore my collarbone. “You’re so warm.” I don’t know how I got up here, but I’m fully sitting on the counter now. His hands are all over me—brushing my upper arms, grazing the smooth satin of the dress that covers my thighs, digging into the folds of my hips. 

How did this happen? How did I go from dancing with one Prince—a perfectly nice and gentlemanly prince—to sharing this romantic…something with Prince Yeonjun? Something because it’s not a kiss, it’s not more than a kiss, but it’s certainly not less than a kiss. It’s…something. 

His palm brushes the side of my breast and he stops himself from pushing any further before he whispers in my ear, “Can I touch you?”

“I think you already are.”

Firmly squeezing my tit over my dress, I groan as my back arches. Oh my fucking god. Is this real?

Something in his body language switches at the sound of my groaning and he drops everything to get to his knees. He pushes the skirt of my dress up and past my thighs, looking up at me for permission.

Is he…? 

My pussy clenches around nothing at the sheer thought of those gorgeous plump lips around my clit. I let him explore further with his lips without any hesitation whatsoever. Then they’re inside my thighs, slowly moving closer where I desperately need him. Nerves fill my stomach. Flashbacks of other guys going to taste me and not liking what they find enter my mind. Is that gonna happen with him? Is he gonna be turned off by my hair? My stretch marks? The way my fat thighs cover his ears?

As much as my inner feminist hates those thoughts, there’s always that twinge of embarrassment that I still haven’t managed to work through. 

“Yeonjun…” I sigh. “You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” He asks. “Do you want me to?” Obviously. I nod. Pressing his lips to the outside of my panties, he breathes me in and I realize he’s never been this close to me. Ever. 

Sure, we’ve kissed, but we were teenagers, we had no idea what we were doing. It never got this far. Never got past the occasional makeout session on my picnic blanket under the willow tree. “You smell so good.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious. You smell delicious.” 

Lips delicate and careful, he takes his time. I never thought this is how it would be with him. I always thought of him as the kind of guy to get straight to it. At least that’s how I imagined it—him embracing me because he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed me right then and there. Whisking me off to his bedroom to undress me, never careful, never delicate. 

But I love it. Love taking a deep breath, letting my head lull back onto the wall behind me, my entire body relaxing. The feeling of a tongue flicking my clit for the first time in months, and the first time it’s his tongue. I card my hand through his hair, gripping some strands between my fingers. Mouth dropping open, I sigh, looking down at him, eyes closed, fully entranced by my taste. Thank fuck he knows exactly what he’s doing now. 

The softness of his white cotton gloves feels like heaven against the heat of my thighs, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want his bare hands on me. 

Like a mind-reader, he plucks his gloves off, one finger at a time, putting me under a spell as he goes. I stare at him as he loosens the glove by pulling on the pointer finger, then the middle, the ring, his pinky, then tugging it all the way off. It’s so sexy. I think I caught a small smirk, but it's just dark enough for it to be hidden. 

The tip of his finger teases my entrance and I can tell— “Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re so wet, darling.”

Don’t call me that. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud…I’m not even sure I’d mean it if I did. He finally pushes his finger all the way inside me, curling the tip of it to find just the right spot that makes me absolutely moan. He lets go of my skirt to grip my thighs, finally feeling him squeeze and touch me after all these years of wanting him. I beg myself not to stop him and make him touch me everywhere before continuing. 

My pointer fingers graces his and he intertwines his fingers with mine. Something this intimate only happens between lovers, right? Holding hands while fucking in the closet when there’s a party right outside the door? I can’t decide if this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done or if it’s the most romantic thing. 

Arguing with myself internally, a second finger breaches my entrance, filling me even more so than before. He’s incredible…almost skillful with his fingers. It’s sexy. And exciting. 

Expertly flicking his tongue, he finds the perfect spot with his fingertips, forcing me to buck my hips…fuck I’m so close already. How did he do this to me?

“Please…”

Everything comes to a halt. “Please what?”

“Fuck, Yeonjun, don’t do that to me.” 

“Don’t do what to you? Get you to talk to me?” I look down, defeated. How am I supposed to respond to that? Is that the only reason he’s doing this? Because I’ve been avoiding him and this was the only way he could think of to get me to talk to him? “Tell me what you want. What are you asking for?” Oh. It’s like that. Okay. 

“Please…” It’s already unbelievable that we’re doing this in a closet with a party going on outside. Prince Yeonjun is on his knees for me. And he’s making me beg? I can hardly take it. “Uh…” I stutter, trying to close my legs instinctively. He backs off, eyebrows furrowed. He’s worried about me. I didn’t mean it like that. “You’re not finished yet, are you?” I ask, pushing him back closer with my heel. 

“I’ll finish when you tell me what you want.”

Gracing my finger under his chin, I force him to look at me in the eye before saying, “Make me come. I need it so bad. Please.”  

Cocking his head to the side, he says, “I’ve always wanted to hear you beg for me.” 

My chest heaves as he dives back in for more, flicking his tongue the way I love, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” 

“You are delicious.” I’d love it if he could talk to me the way I—and hopefully he—likes. Dirty, up close and in my ear, but this’ll have to do for now. He can get to the real good stuff later. Will there be a later though? 

A white-hot feeling that someone hasn’t made me feel in quite some time quickly approaches. Deep in the pit of my stomach, it bubbles as my body tenses, breath shallow and quick. It builds and builds until all I want to hear him say is Come for me, darling. I know you’re so close. But I know he won’t. He has to stick to the matter at hand. 

With a sharp inhale, I moan and whimper, euphoria washing over me as my thighs tighten around his head. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this good. He’s incredibly talented—like I said, he’s an all or nothing kinda guy and I love that about him. 

“Fuck. Oh my god,” I gasp, my hips rolling needing more, more, more. Goddamn, I’m in trouble. “Holy shit.” I trail off, my breathing shallow. My eyes squeeze shut as my head drops back before my body starts flinching. “Thank you, Sir.”

My body goes slack as he slows down. Once I catch my breath, my eyes flutter open to see him looking at me with a cheeky smirk. He’s so fucking smug. 

“Sir?” 

Shit. That is just about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been correcting myself for weeks, reminding myself to call him Prince Yeonjun, Your Majesty, Sir. I know he hates when I call him that, even in normal scenarios. I can’t imagine how mad he is now that I’ve called him that while giving me an orgasm. Not just any orgasm, though. One of the best I’ve had in months. All while wearing our formal wear too. Fuck, he looks so sexy in his uniform. Especially with it slightly disheveled, hair messy, gloves off. 

“It must’ve slipped.”

He simply stands, darkness and lust still in his eyes as his hands grip my hips, squeezing harshly before moving them up further to my waist. His right hand trails up even higher, cupping my face to force my ear to line up with his lips. “Call me that again next time.” Next time? There’s gonna be a next time? “Got it?”

Speechless, I compose myself before whispering, “Yes, Sir.”  

cw. cunnilingus, mentions of previous bjs and hand jobs, mira is described as chubby/fat/curvy in a good way, hickeys, biting, masturbation.

YEONJUN'S POV

“Mira,” I say simply as she walks by me looking gorgeous as always. Since our little rendezvous in the butler’s closet last month, we’ve “seen” each other several times since, each meeting ending with at least one of us coming. Nothing beyond oral and hand stuff—we still haven’t kissed or seen each other fully naked yet—but even so, it’s been amazing. She’s so good at it all. The teasing, the touching, the talking, all of it. I don’t think I can pick a favorite moment.

Maybe when she asked me to give her hickeys on the inside of her thighs. Her whispering, Give me hickeys, please…wanna look down and imagine you’re there after you’re gone. Oof. Chills. 

Or maybe when she laid her back against my chest and I rubbed her clit so perfectly, she dug her nails into my forearm for dear life, so hard it broke skin. I had to wear long sleeves for three days. 

Perhaps her seeing my cock for the first time, eyes wide as she said Oh my god, Sir. You have a beautiful cock. No one’s ever called me beautiful before, let alone my dick. That made me giddier than I even thought possible. 

“Yeon—Sir,” she quickly corrects herself in case anyone’s listening. Glancing around, we’re the only ones nearby. “You look nice. New uniform jacket?” I nod. 

Tonight’s occasion is much less grand than our first night together. A simple gathering with a few royals. It was the high-stakes donors I was hoping to get some money from tonight, but they’re all donationed-out it seems. 

“You look…” I look over her, never subtle about ogling her. “Absolutely stunning. New dress?” She subtly tilts her head. I stuff my hands in my pockets. What’s the point of delaying it any more? “I need to taste you again.”

“Already? You ate me out yesterday.”

“What can I say?” I chuckle. “I’ve got a craving.” She takes a deep breath before nodding at me, not changing her facial expression. “Closet, five minutes?” 

The closet isn’t the only place we’ve had our meetings but it is definitely our most frequented spot. Honorable mentions include the library, the sunroom, and under the willow tree where she laid back against me. That was only once but it was magical. 

As she turns away, I can’t help but wonder what the rest of her looks like. She’s got what feels like the most perfect ass, but I still haven’t gotten a good look at it. And her tits…good lord what I’d give to bury my face between her bare tits. 

“Prince Yeonjun?”

“Ah, Prince Sipho,” I say, returning his bow. “Nice to see you again.” He holds his hands behind him and maintains his intimidating eye contact. “I hope you’re enjoying dinner.”

“Can I ask for a favor?” He asks, almost urgently. 

“Sure.”

“I saw you were talking to Charlotte,” he says. “I danced with her last month and I never got her phone number.” His expression softens. “I realize how awkward and potentially inappropriate this is considering she’s on your staff. Would you mind providing me with her phone number?”

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I don’t think I know a Charlotte.”

“You were just speaking with her,” he says matter-of-factly. “Right over there.” He tilts his head in the direction of…Mira? Happily prancing off in the direction of the closet. Our closet. Oh no. 

I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Someone was bound to be interested in her at some point. I just didn’t think my competition would be another handsome prince. What am I saying? Competition? Stop being such an ass.

“You can ask her yourself, you know.” 

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t think now’s a good time though,” I rush to say, stopping him in his tracks before he turns around. “She’s busy. I just sent her to do a task.”

“Then I suppose you should give me her number now, then?”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I finally speak up to say, “I’ll talk to her first. You know, make sure she’s comfortable with me giving out her phone number.”

“Of course.” He tilts his head and walks away. My mind races with questions. Did he sweep her off her feet? Have they slept together? Or worse: have they kissed? Why does he think her name is Charlotte? But I’ve gotta get back to the matter at hand.

“You’re already ready for me, hm?” I ask, seeing her proudly sitting on the countertop, waiting for me. She nods cutely, wiggling her feet back and forth. Locking the door, I take my gloves off one finger at a time before stuffing them in my pocket for safe keeping. Then I loosen my collar a bit, something I know she thinks is hot, so I always make a show out of it just for her. 

As I step closer, she grips the edge of the counter so tightly the veins on the back of her hand pop out. She crosses her ankles and looks down briefly but puts on a brave face to stare me in the eye. Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. 

“You smell so good.” I’ve noticed she’s started wearing a specific perfume for special occasions—the gala last month, dinners like these, she even wore it once when she shyly asked me to eat her out again on a random Tuesday. 

“Thank you, Sir.” Never taking my lips off her neck, I feel all over her, albeit over her dress, but she feels lovely. Dropping to my knees, I lift her skirt up to access her thighs with my lips, placing kisses everywhere. And there they are—those gorgeous hickeys I gave her last week. Still there. I swipe my thumb across one before biting her skin gently.

“Can I ask you something?” She hums as I move closer and closer to her center. Glancing up at her, her eyelids have fluttered shut and her hands are in my hair. “Do you know Prince Sipho?” Her hands stop.

“I know of him,” she says plainly. “Why?”

“No reason,” I say, nudging her thigh with my nose to encourage her to open wider. I add, “Said he danced with you and I guess he likes you.” I place a kiss on the outside of her thong right between her pussy lips. “Asked me for your phone number.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“...Oh.” She leans back, resting her hands behind her back for support. Is that a good oh or a bad oh?

“He thinks your name’s Charlotte though.” I chuckle. “What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” she says awkwardly while I dig my fingers into her thong, pulling it down her legs, still watching her body language carefully. “That’s weird.” 

“Mira.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but still welcomes my lips around her pussy. “I dunno—I wasn’t interested so I gave him a fake name. Doesn’t everyone do that?”

“Mm…I suppose,” I say, spreading her lips to flick my tongue against her clit. Fuck, she tastes amazing. Every fucking time. Her hand flies to my hair again, taking quick breaths. “Why wouldn’t you be interested in him?” 

“Can we not talk about Prince Sipho while you’re eating me out, please?”

“I was just curious.” 

Why wouldn’t she be interested, though? He’s definitely her type—tall, handsome, smart, royal. 

Images of them dancing together, arms wrapped around each other, his hand sliding further down her back make my vision red. 

Maybe she’s interested in someone else with those same qualities, perhaps even more devastatingly handsome than him. And hilarious, might I add. 

But thinking about her dancing with Sipho while thinking about me makes me giddy. When else does she think about me? When she’s eating breakfast? Doing her chores? Getting ready to go to bed? In the shower? When she touches herself? Oh. That sends shivers down my spine. 

“How often do you think about me, Mira?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when do you think about me?”

She takes a deep breath, letting her head fall back against the wall, the slightest smile flashing over her lips before she says, “When I’m horny.”

“So you think about me when you touch yourself?” 

Her fingers stop again and she looks up, eyes wide like I caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been. I’d never let her see it, but I’m giggling on the inside. She’s so cute. 

“Um,” she clears her throat. “I guess, yeah.” There’s a looming awkward silence while I keep licking her. She’s trying not to react to how good it feels. Trying not to give in. 

“Well, go on.”

“What?” Mira asks. 

“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me exactly what you think about.” She takes a deep breath to collect herself, like she’s trying to hold back her noises and movements. I don’t like that she feels the need to do that with me. If anything, I crave hearing and feeling them. “It’s okay, you can tell me anything.”

Her breath hitches, eyes flitting away before locking back to mine. "I think about you touching me," she admits quietly, but I can tell she’s gaining confidence. "The way you did the first time.” She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I think about your hands on my body," she continues. "The way you knew exactly where to touch me, how to make me feel..."

"How to make you feel what?" I prompt, my hands gently caressing her thighs, urging her to keep going while my mouth is nowhere near her pussy.

"How to make me feel good," she breathes out, her eyes closing as she loses herself in the memory and the feeling of my tongue on her clit. 

“Do you miss it? ” I ask, my breath hot against her skin. "Do you miss me when I’m gone and can’t make you feel good?”

She nods, her breath sharp and quick. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice trembling with desire. "I miss it so much." My hands continue to explore her body, relearning every curve and contour, desperate to rip this dress off her, but we haven’t crossed that boundary yet. 

"What else do you think about?" I ask, my voice a gentle command.

“The way you taste.”

"And how do I taste?" I ask, my lips ghosting over her skin, teasing her with the promise of more.

"Salty," she whispers, her voice hitching. I can’t tell if she means— “That’s a good thing.” I smile against her skin, relieved while my hands squeeze her thighs. “But I mostly think about your mouth. How good you are at this. Those hickeys you gave me have certainly come in handy.” 

“How so?” I slide two fingers inside her and her breath gets quicker. 

Groaning, she says, “Looking down at them turns me on so much.” She swipes her hand across them. “Thinking about us sneaking around like this. It makes me feel…dirty.” She giggles. “Is that cheesy?” I shake my head and start licking her clit again. “They need to stop assigning me tasks while you’re around.” I hum in question. “The other day they made me clean the studio while you were in your pottery lesson—why it couldn’t wait, I don’t know—but it was too much,” she says. “Watching you with your sleeves pushed up, your hands on the clay, oh my god, you were so hot. You had me hot and bothered all day long.”

I genuinely had no idea. She does a great job of hiding that. Little does she know, I was stealing glances of her that whole lesson—I don’t remember a single word my instructor said. The only thing I was looking at was her body, her curvy thighs, full breasts, squishy tummy, the greatest ass I’ve ever seen and I haven’t even seen it bare yet. “What did you do afterward?”

She hesitates, tensing up, holding back. “I don’t wanna say.”

I stop in my tracks. “Tell me.”

“No,” she whines. “Don’t make me.” Refusing to speak or look down at me, I pull away from her, looking at her like, I’m not gonna keep going until you tell me. With an insatiable eye roll, she finally speaks up, “I thought about you.” I look at her again like, That’s not enough and you know it. “Fine,” she says. Of course, if this truly bothered her, she knows our safe word. Tapping her fingers on the counter before bashfully looking away, she admits, “I thought about you while I touched myself.”

Satisfied, I give her a kitten lick on her clit, making her gasp. 

“I, uh…I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, at the hickeys you gave me.” I start licking more and more, rewarding her for talking. “I thought about what it would look like if someone walked in on us while you did this to me. Or what someone would think if they saw the hickeys you gave me.”

Her hips start to roll and I know I can’t speak anymore. Because that would mean taking my mouth off her pussy, which neither of us want. Instead, my grip on the fat of her thighs gets harsher and I stay steady with my mouth, knowing this is the exact speed and pressure she needs. 

“I thought about you ripping my dress off but then slowing down to take my thong and bra off,” she says. Well, that’s new. We’ve never mentioned anything further than this. Does she want something more than this? 

“About you pressing your bare chest against mine,” she adds breathlessly. “You licking my tits.” Her thoughts and words start speeding up, like she’s telling me not to stop no matter what. “You tapping my clit with your cock.” Oh my god. She wants to do things like that with me? Fuck. I can’t show how giddy that makes me, not right now at least. 

Her hands hold onto my hair for dear life. Her moans pitch up and increase speed, like a chant, getting louder and louder. “You fucking me from behind,” she says. “Fucking me so good I can hardly take it.” She’s so close. “Until—until…” She's panting, clearly right on the verge of reaching her orgasm. “I’m coming so good for you,” she whispers breathlessly. I can feel it when her thighs tremble, when her clit pulsates against my tongue, when her nails dig into my scalp. 

Catching her breath after she comes, she finishes off with a sweet, “Thank you, Sir.”

cw. more yeonjun environmental activist, suggestive, cheesy idk. 

MIRA'S POV

“I can’t believe you did this,” I spit at Yeonjun, messily packing my old beat up carry-on. He refolds one of my t-shirts and hands it to me. 

“I thought you’d be excited to go.” 

Scoffing, I put a fist on my hip and face him. “I’m going as your servant.” He rolls his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets. “All the other servants already think there’s something going on between us. Requesting me for your dumb business trip is gonna look suspicious.”

“Dumb?” He’s visibly offended. “This is an important business trip for me.”

“Still. They won’t shut up about this for months and you know it.”

“I thought you said there was nothing to talk about,” he says smugly, but I ignore him. “Look, I knew you wouldn’t act all servant-y the whole time, okay? Mother insists I take someone, but I’m a grown-up. I can do things on my own,” he says. “I knew you would be…normal, I don’t know. You wouldn’t curtsy, be on edge, or call me Sir.”

I stop in my tracks to look him in the eye and ask, “Except for when you want me to, right?” I hadn’t thought about what we might do at the hotel while we’re gone. Would he invite me to his room so he could taste me? Would he surprise me with a knock on my door? Would he text me to meet him somewhere else? I don’t know but I admit I’m excited to find out. 

The next morning, I hoist my suitcase into the trunk of the town car while the chauffeur, Eston, opens the door for me. I’m greeted with a sleepy “Morning,” from Yeonjun as he hands me a travel mug full of coffee that I didn’t ask for, but I’m definitely grateful for. 

“We’re taking the same car?”

“Of course,” he says. “Less cars on the road.”

Oh my god, he looks so cute with his sleepy eyes and messy hair. Although he flies commercial everywhere he goes, he wears every disguise possible: hat, face mask, hoodie with the hood up, you name it. We get to go through security privately though, which is nice. 

After our long flight, I want nothing more than to crash into a nice, warm bed—actually, any bed will do. It’s still light, but it’s evening and I’m ready to go to bed early. While he handles check-in, I scroll through my phone—international data plan paid for by the Queen, thank you very much. 

On the elevator, I ask , “Which floor am I on?” 

“Seven.” I nod, reaching for the seven button on the elevator, but it only goes up to six. There’s only one above it, which is labeled ‘Penthouse.’

Wait. “Did you only get one room?”

“Well…”

“Yeonjun!” I scream-whisper. “What is wrong with you? What did you think—”

He holds his hands up to clarify, “It has two rooms, okay? I wasn’t trying to…I dunno, make anything happen. It seemed easier.” 

The room is truly magnificent. Luxurious gold silk drapes frame the windows to let light flood the room. Sofas and armchairs surround a marble fireplace—cozy yet regal, just how Yeonjun likes it. An intricately carved coffee table sits in the middle of the room holding a vase of fresh flowers. There’s even a piano sitting in the corner. 

The view from the terrace takes my breath away. The gorgeous blues of Lake Geneva and the snow-capped alps are gorgeous. The air is crisp and clean and refreshes my lungs from the inside out. I lean on the railing, letting the cool breeze brush against my face as calmness washes over me.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Yeonjun asks as he stands beside me, his eyes scanning the horizon. 

“This is fucking incredible,” I say, my gaze never waiving from the beauty of the landscape. 

“I knew you’d like it,” he says. I glance over at him and he gives me a warm smile. 

“You’ve been here?”

“I’ve never stayed in this hotel, but I’ve been to Geneva, yes.” 

There’s a silence. Like we both know we want to do something, but we’re unsure of exactly what. Go in for a hug? No. Let him wrap his arm around me? No. Kiss him? Absolutely not. We can’t fall into that relationship space. The tension presses down on us, unspoken but palpable.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” he says, breaking the silence. “Did you wanna take a shower first or…?” 

“You can go ahead,” I say as I walk through the room, planning to unpack a bit first. Extending my suitcase’s handle, I ask, “Where’s the other room?” He grimaces, avoiding my gaze. “What?”

“Don’t be mad,” he starts, but I’m already visibly mad. “I must’ve looked at the website wrong.” I brace for the inevitable while he braces for my reaction. “This is it.”

“Seriously, Yeonjun? One bed?.” This is not gonna turn into a cheesy only-one-bed-left story. Nope. I won’t let it. “You better get me another room.”

“I already called and they’re out.” I’m fuming. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says. My face softens. I didn’t necessarily want that. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Yeonjun,” I say, guilt in my voice. 

“Mira, it’s fine. Really. It was my mistake, so I’ll take the couch.” 

“Okay,” I say. “I guess you can’t do stuff on your own, then, huh?”

-

The next morning, I wake up in this giant bed. Alone. The smell of coffee is already wafting through the air. Stretching under the covers, I sit up to see Yeonjun on the terrace, reading a newspaper. Not on his phone—a literal printed newspaper. I don't even know where he got it. 

An adorable little prince sitting there with his luxurious silk PJs, fuzzy slippers, messy hair, and the cutest pair of glasses anyone’s ever seen. Before joining him, I pull a hoodie over my tank top.

“Aren’t I supposed to get you your coffee?” I ask, admiring the view of the lake. 

“When you wake up on time, yes,” he says, not looking up from his paper while he pushes up his glasses. 

“I…I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself back into my professional persona. 

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckles, sitting his coffee on the coaster and looking at me. “I wasn’t trying to be bossy. You seemed like you needed sleep. And I can get my own coffee,” he says. “Besides, today is a day off. You can get me coffee tomorrow.” I nod. “Did you have plans today?”

“I dunno…maybe I’ll draw by the lake or something.” 

“I’m kayaking on the lake and having a picnic lunch if you want to join me,” he suggests. “You can bring your sketchbook.”

-

The lake shimmers like a bed of gems, crystal-clear waters reflecting the sunlight in brilliant shades of blue. As we paddle alongside each other, our rowing is rhythmic until we reach a small pebbled shore on the other side of the lake.

Yeonjun jumps out first, standing up in the water to pull his kayak to shore. He’s so charming with his crocs and shorts short enough to expose his muscular thighs. The t-shirt he’s got on is somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him wear, perfectly accentuating his pecs and clinging to his biceps. And the cutest lake hat sits on his head, making me absolutely giddy. 

Without having to ask, he pulls my kayak in so I don’t need to step in the water or pull it up myself. He offers his hand to me with a smile, my fingers lingering a bit too long after I stand to my feet. 

While I set up the blanket on the pebbled shore, I ask, “What’s tomorrow’s meeting about?”

His eyes light up while he unpacks our picnic. "Tomorrow's meeting is with the Global Environment Facility," he begins, settling back against the kayak, pouring some juice into two glasses. "We're discussing several things, but we’ll be focusing on keeping our water clean.” He tilts his head toward the sparkling Lake Geneva in front of us, its pristine waters a reminder of the importance of this endeavor. "Access to clean water is a fundamental human right," he says passionately. “But there’s so much…crap in them. You know 26% of the world doesn’t have access to safe drinking water?” My eyes widen. “And so many beautiful oceans and rivers and lakes like this one keep getting trashed.” 

His dedication is contagious, and I find myself leaning in, captivated by his words. "It's more than policies and proposals," he continues. "It's about creating real, tangible changes that will protect our planet.” He smiles, a mix of determination and hope in his expression. "I mean, I dunno…it’s a big goal I guess,” he says, glancing down in embarrassment. 

“Seems like you’re actually doing something about it.”

“We’re at least trying to make change happen.”

Sitting on the blanket, I fest my legs out in front of me with my hands supporting me from behind. He hands me a glass while he sits criss-cross next to me. “You seem really passionate about it,” I say. 

“I am,” he nods.

A comfortable silence settles over us as we enjoy our meal. Afterward, he takes his book out of his backpack, reclining back to rest his head against the kayak. I take out my sketchbook and pencils, setting it up against my knees and thighs. 

I try to focus on capturing the serenity of the lake, but my eyes keep drifting to him. His presence is so comforting and I’m reminded of that every time we’re alone like this. Watching him, I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to rest my cheek against his chest. Warm. Strong. Safe. 

“Yeonjun?”

“Hm?” He looks up at me from under his hat, but I don’t know what to say. After a few seconds of silence, he sits up completely and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I stutter, returning to my drawing. 

An hour or so passes—I’ve made great progress on my drawing and it seems like he made a nice dent in his book, but the sun’s setting fast. 

“We should probably go soon,” he notes. “We shouldn’t kayak in the dark and it’ll probably take an hour to get back.”

-

“Everything okay?” Yeonjun asks, startling me on the terrace. I hum, avoiding looking at him. He looks too good after showers—hair damp and skin pink from the hot water—so I better not take a peek. I’ve clipped my wet hair up—it holds its waves better that way. 

“I’m finishing up this drawing I started at the lake. Adding some watercolor.” 

“Is that me?” He asks, pulling the other seat around to sit next to me. 

“Yeah,” I nod awkwardly. “I just drew what I saw.” I say, giving in and glancing at him while he smiles to himself as he examines the art. 

Seconds pass before he adds, “I had a lot of fun today.”

“Me too,” I say, my arms crossed. He’s so, so close to me. 

“Yeah?” I hum. “Since you showed me this,” he says, gesturing to the drawing. “I’ll show you this picture I took of you,” he says, reaching for his phone in his pocket. Leaning even closer to me, I feel his warmth. I must say I look pretty. My hair’s windswept, I have a nice pink in my cheeks, and I look genuinely happy looking out over the water. His fingers mindlessly touch mine while he looks at me. “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “You know, on the picnic.”

“No worries,” I say. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he says, not moving an inch. Oh my god, he looks so kissable right now. I can’t believe how long we’ve gone without kissing each other even once. I didn’t think we’d last one week after we started…whatever we’re doing. Hooking up? 

Regardless, I’m relieved. We should not be starting something right now. He’s my boss. My boss and my ex that broke my heart. 

But we’re leaning in closer and closer, like we’re about to—don’t you dare. I catch myself first. 

“You can, uh…you can sleep in the bed with me if you want,” I whisper. He shakes his head and starts to protest. “Really, it’s okay. Swear. It’s a huge bed.”

cw. brief mention of the death of a grandparent, yeonjun environmental activist, eating food.

YEONJUN'S POV

As I make my way toward the grand conference hall, the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. Today's meeting is a pivotal moment in my advocacy work and I need to be right on. I love this though. Speaking for what I believe in. Convincing people. And admittedly, sounding smart, which I am.

Glancing over my shoulder, Mira follows close behind me, which is what she’s meant to be doing. It still sends shivers down my spine. Our return to our professional roles after our idyllic kayaking excursion feels strange, but duty calls and we both have our parts to play. I square my shoulders and quicken my pace, the marble floors echoing under my feet. 

With a final glance back at Mira, she offers an encouraging smile and asks, “Ready?” I take a deep breath. “You’re gonna be great.” She opens the door and I step into the grandeur of the conference room. The air is charged with energy, a palpable sense of purpose radiating throughout the room. 

Taking my place at the head of the table, pride and excitement surges through me. This is it—the moment I’ve been preparing for, the chance to make a real difference.

-

Coming back home—hotel room—I’m exhausted but exhilarated. As I’m about to collapse onto the couch, a knock at the living room entryway wakes me up. 

“You hungry?” Mira asks, flipping through the room service menu. 

“Order whatever you like.”

“What would you like?”

“Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”

After she places the order on the phone, we chat about the meeting a bit, but it isn’t long before the conversation gets lighter. We laugh about our kayaking adventure yesterday, recalling the near-disaster when I almost tripped into the water face first. The room service arrives promptly, and we dig into our meal. 

"So, tell me," she says between bites of her spaghetti, "what got you interested in environmental advocacy in the first place?"

I lean back, chewing the bite of pizza in thought. "I guess it started when I was a kid. You remember how much I loved nature even back then.” She nods. “Whenever I got stressed, I’d go outside—you know, for a walk, camping, whatever, and one day, I looked around and only saw wealthy people and it was one of those moments where I realized how lucky I am,” I say, not breaking eye contact. “Access to nature is a fundamental human right. It’s already inaccessible to many and it’s only getting worse.”

She nods. “It's easy to take it for granted.”

“It was something I’d never thought about,” I chuckle. “I was a fucking prick back then.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, a little too easily. She’s not wrong though.

“As I got older, I started to see the impact of pollution and climate change. I knew I had to do something, even if it was just a small part."

We continue talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, discovering new facets of each other's personalities. It’s in these quiet moments I cherish that I get to see some real parts of her, like in the garden, when she painted my portrait, when we went kayaking. 

“What’s something you’re passionate about?” I ask. She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nah, come on, you gotta be passionate about something.” Shrugging, she shakes her head. “How about your art?”

Smiling to herself, she asks, “What about it?”

“Why are you an artist?”

She leans back, tracing patterns of the fabric on the couch with her finger. "This is cheesy but when I look around, I see colors, shapes, emotions. When I draw or paint or whatever, it's like I'm putting pieces together, creating something whole. It’s not about making something beautiful, but capturing a moment or a feeling, things I can’t say out loud,” she says, glancing around the room bashfully. “Or whatever.”

“Not or whatever. You need to give yourself more credit.”

She nods shyly, looking down with a grin. "I remember this painting I did. It was of an old barn, you know, out of town a bit. Everyone thought it was just a pretty picture of decay. But it was about resilience, how even in decay, there’s a story that refuses to be forgotten, even if it can’t speak for itself or if no one’s listening but me.” I nod. “That’s what I really love. Finding those moments that only a few people notice. It’s like saying, ‘Hey, I see you and I feel this too.’” That’s amazing. She’s never spoken so candidly like this with me before. “Like when you asked if I was gonna paint your freckle and your birthmark, like, of course I am! That’s a part of you and I see you, you know?”

I chuckle with her. “Do you have a favorite piece?”

She thinks for a moment. “Probably a painting I did of my grandmother’s hands. She was a seamstress, and her hands were always so busy, always creating. When she wasn’t sewing, she was sketching, measuring, creating patterns. It was my way of honoring her, capturing her essence. Her hands have so many stories to tell.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “She was the one person in my family I really wanted you to meet back then.”

“Invite her over for dinner some time,” I suggest. 

“She, uh,” She clears her throat. “She passed a couple years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” She waves her hand. “I would’ve loved to have met her.”

“It’s okay.” But her eyes are tearing up just a bit. She blinks them away and adds, “She meant so much to me, but I guess that’s…how things go.”

“Where’s that painting now?”

“It’s back home, like, my home home, not the castle.” 

“I’d love to see it.”

“I’ll find it the next time I go back home and bring it back with me.” As the conversation winds down, we sit in comfortable silence as the city lights cast a soft glow through the window. "I should probably let you get some rest," Mira says, breaking the silence.

I nod, feeling a pang of reluctance. "Yeah, we have another busy day tomorrow."

She stands up, but before she leaves, she turns to me, her expression gentle. "Goodnight, Yeonjun. And thank you for tonight. It was nice to just...talk."

"It was,” I reply. “Let's do it again sometime."

cw. cunnilingus, protected sex, mira’s body is described as squishy/chubby in a good way, mention of moles and vvv brief mention of armpits, toys, body worship, masturbation, pet names (darling, love, babe, baby).

YEONJUN'S POV

After another grueling meeting, I’ve ditched my tie and unbuttoned a few of my shirt buttons while Mira has completely changed into lounge clothes back at the hotel room. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense her watching me, leaning up against the wall. But I let it slide. I don’t think she realizes how often she does it. 

“How did today’s meeting go?” She asks. 

“You were there.”

“I know, but how did it go from your perspective?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events fresh in my mind. "It was intense," I start, a mix of relief and excitement in my voice. "We covered a lot of ground. Like I said, we talked about keeping waters clean.”

“Did you all come up with any new ideas?"

"Actually, yes," I say, a spark of enthusiasm igniting. "We talked about implementing advanced watershed management and enhancing wastewater treatment technologies. But what really stood out was the proposal for a global initiative to reduce industrial runoff. It's ambitious, but the potential impact is huge."

She nods, clearly intrigued. "Was everyone on board?"

"For the most part," I reply, recalling the lively debates. "There were a few moments of contention, especially when it came to funding, so I’ll be doing a lot of fundraising for awhile, but everyone agreed they seem like good ideas.”

Mira's smile is warm and encouraging. "I'm glad it went well.” Her words, simple yet heartfelt, warm me up. She finally pipes up again to add, “You looked hot up there.” 

I chuckle. “Yeah?” She nods. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she starts, walking closer to me. “How smart and passionate you are. That’s hot.” That is exactly what I was hoping she’d say. I kept catching myself stealing glances of her during the meetings. It was hard to tell if she was looking at me to look at me or because that’s technically her job. Even if it is her job, I can tell between her different looks—her checking in look, her secretly admiring me look, and her I need you and I need you now look, which might be my favorite.

The look she’s got on her face is starting to lean toward that last one, but she’s not quite there yet. I only observe, let her fall into that place if she wants to.

“Well, thank you,” I tilt my head in her direction before the piano behind her catches my attention. “You know, I’ve been taking piano lessons.” She hums. Sometimes I forget it's also her job to know everything about me—everything about my schedule and activities at least. “You still like classical music, right?” She nods gently, a slight smile constantly on her lips. 

I’m not the best at piano, so I start fumbling through Moonlight Sonata. Giggling through every wrong note, she brushes some hair away from my face. 

“Ah, I need the sheet music,” I say quietly. Wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs, I know she’s still staring at me with look number three: I need you and I need you now. All professionalism has gone out the window. The biker shorts she’s wearing outlines her stomach perfectly, her thighs barely bulge at the hem, and her tank top accentuates her breasts beautifully. She’s a stunner. 

I reach for her hand and drag my thumb across her knuckles. My hands rest against the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer so she steps between my legs, my hand moving to her backside, squeezing her so deliciously. Her hands rest on my shoulders as I bury my nose between her breasts, taking a deep breath. She always smells so goddamn amazing. 

“I need you,” she whispers as her fingertips drag across my scalp. 

“I know, darling.”

“No,” she chuckles. “I need more from you this time,” she says breathlessly. I stand up straight, looking down at her as she looks at me through her eyelashes. “I need you inside me. Please.” 

“Of course,” I say, diving straight for her lips, but she turns her head, so my lips crash into her cheek. 

“Did I say you could kiss me?” Picking her up, I let my face rest in her chest again as I carry her to the bed, praying I don’t trip over anything along the way. As I sit her down on the mattress, she says, “Kiss me everywhere but my mouth, okay? Everywhere.” 

I don’t wanna argue with the no kissing rule right now, so I simply nod, covering her neck with kisses while I tug her shorts off her legs. Holding her leg by her ankle, I press my lips to it, trailing it all the way up to her thigh while her hand slips under her thong. I’m looking over her body, closing my eyes for a few seconds at a time, but I can feel her eyes on me. 

“Everywhere, babe,” she reminds me. Babe? I decide not to mention it—don’t ruin the moment. I slowly lift her shirt, but she gets impatient and takes it off herself, throwing it somewhere before tugging at the hem of mine, hinting at me to ditch it. 

My lips land right above her bra, kissing and nipping the tops of her breasts. I literally can’t wait to see her completely, so I waste no time in snapping it off and taking a second to admire her. Then, I gently kiss her neck and feel her whole body with my hands. Warm, soft, welcoming, curvy, squishy, perfect. 

When I squeeze her tit for the first time, she moans, arching her back while I sloppily stamp her collarbone with my lips. I want nothing more than to lick her nipples—it’s all I’ve thought about for the last few days—but…I dunno. I’m nervous. 

“Jjun…please,” she starts. There’s that nickname. It made my heart sing when she accidentally called me that a couple months ago. It used to slip past her lips so easily when we were together all those years ago, but now she stays so formal. “Lick my nipples, please.” 

Tongue flicking her nipple, her eyes roll back as her body follows. As I kiss further down her body toward her tummy, she reaches for my hair and pulls, making both our breath quicken. She takes the liberty of taking off her own thong and I get rid of my pants. 

We’ve been desperate for this. Desperate to actually feel each other’s bodies. Not clothing-clad bodies, but bare, vulnerable, warm bodies that want each other. And I can’t get enough. I thought I could taste her forever, but now that I’ve gotten my hands on her, on her squishy, chubby body, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off her.

She starts to get impatient, but I’m not finished with her yet. Landing back on top of her, I say, “Lemme just…kiss on ya for a second, okay?”

“Not my—”

“Not your mouth, I know,” I say, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, trailing down her jaw and sneaking in to nuzzle her neck. Whispering into her ear, I tell her, “I love making you gasp like that.” She chuckles, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, but I grab them and put them over her head to continue kissing her everywhere, tasting each bit of her with the tip of my tongue before pressing my lips to her. Her collarbone, her shoulders, her underarms. Everywhere.

She’s got the cutest mole on her side of her breast I kiss three times before moving on. 

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips when I gently kiss under her breasts. I lick a stripe up her chest between them, making eye contact with her, followed by a harsh bite of one of them. Reaching for her arm, I kiss her palm, then gently suck on the tip of her pointer finger. 

“Remember when you painted that portrait of me?”

“How could I forget?”

“When you put this pinky on my face,” I say, sucking on the tip of it. “I thought I was gonna explode. Feeling you so close to me like that. You looked so pretty that day too. With the sun shining in through the window and the plants around you.” Okay, shut up dork, too many feelings. I squeeze her tits harshly, burying my face in them. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” 

Rubbing up and down her sides, she scrunches her shoulders, letting out a giggle. I kiss and bite her tummy—I’ve always loved her stomach, but especially so when she wears biker shorts. The way the fabric pulls, creating an outline of her tummy with rays of fabric going toward her hips. It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. And to finally see her bare tummy right here in front of me, there’s no way I’m not gonna cover it in kisses. 

“Why are you being all touchy?”

Why wouldn’t I be? Spreading her lips, she looks absolutely delicious. I lick her clit, earning one of the most gorgeous moans I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth. 

“I told you, Sir,” she says. “I want all of you this time.” 

“I know. I’m just tasting you, darling.” I glance up at her. “You thought I was gonna fuck you and not taste you first?” 

Grinding against my mouth, she can hardly take it before she starts begging. “Please, please, please, Yeonjun. I need your cock inside me. Please. I need it so bad.” 

“You’ve never had to beg like this before, hm?”

“Nope,” she says. “People usually do what I ask.” Standing, I leave her briefly for a condom that’s in my toiletries bag in the bathroom. When I come back, she asks, “Prepared, huh?” I nod awkwardly. “Wait, wait,” she stops me from rolling the condom down myself. “Let me see you.” I stand back, letting her look at me in awe before she reaches her hands out, rubbing all over my chest and stomach, kissing my hips, squeezing my balls and licking my nipple, making me gasp. 

Taking a deep breath, I admit, “I want to fuck you so bad, Mira.”

Sitting up on her knees, she reaches for my hand and places it on her breast before leaning into my ear to whisper, “Then fuck me, Sir.” Then, she takes the condom and rolls it down my cock, drawing out the process as long as she possibly can. “Your cock is so fucking beautiful,” she says. “I’m still not over it.”

She lays on her back and spreads her legs while I think of all the things I wanna do to her. I really wanna kiss her, but I can’t. She’s right. We shouldn’t. Resting between her legs, I rub my hands over her body again, taking my time contemplating, even if she protests, claiming I’m teasing her too much. But she teased me, so now I get to tease her. 

Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought we’d never get past oral in the closet. I line myself up with her entrance, bending to press my lips to her neck and whisper, “Are you sure?” 

“Yeonjun,” she says, placing a hand on my cheek to force me to look at her. “I’m sure. Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

As I push into her slowly, my whole world comes crumbling down around me. She is perfection. The way she wraps around me like a warm blanket, her eyes full of pleasure sparkling up at mine, the noises she’s making. Nothing else matters anymore but her. 

She breathes out like she’s relieved and says, “I’ve been waiting for this for seven years.” My head reels. Our arms wrap around each other as I find a slow and steady pace. Everything is her. She fits right in my arms as her nails claw at my back and her legs wrap around my waist to make sure I won't go anywhere, which I won’t. But I need to see the way her body moves. 

Sitting up, I stare down at her, pumping in and out, her tits bouncing with every move I make. Finding her clit with my thumb, the noise she makes in response is intoxicating. She arches her back, squeezing her own tit, which is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

“That’s my girl.” Can I call her that? I don’t care. I’m going to. 

She giggles and scratches my thigh, whispering, “You feel so good. Faster?” And I can’t help but comply, speeding up my thrusts but maintaining control. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up though. I want…need to go faster and she’s asking me to, but I also want to take things slow, be with her forever. “Faster, please,” she almost sounds like she’s in tears. 

I don’t go much faster, though. This has to be perfect. I can’t be too much. But—

“Hey, stop for a second,” she says genuinely and I oblige, slipping out of her to sit back on my knees. She sits up and reaches for my hands. “Come here,” she says, pulling me closer so our chests are grazing each other’s. “Are you okay?” I nod enthusiastically. “It seems like you’re holding back.” 

“I just…you feel so good and I don’t wanna get carried away. And I don’t know your, like, limits.”

“You can fuck me so hard—no, I want you to fuck me so hard. You don’t have to hold back, okay?” She reaches down and squeezes my cock, waiting for a reaction from me. “I’ve been waiting for this cock and I need you to fuck me and don’t stop until I’m begging you to.” She smiles. “Unless you ever wanna stop, of course.” I nod. “Did you wanna take it slow?”

Without giving my brain time to process, I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her up by her hips so she’s on her knees, ass up. I gather her hair in a makeshift ponytail before thrusting into her so hard it takes her breath away. She feels indescribable—a radiating ache overcomes me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go after this. 

My thrusts reach a speed finally fast enough for her as she’s whimpering on my cock, shuddering from the feeling of me buried deep inside her. The room fills with the sound of my thighs smacking her ass, making ripples roll down her cheeks. My hand tingles wanting to spank her, but that’s a bit much, no? But she said not to hold back.

I decide to indulge myself, spanking her harshly, my hand making a loud smack, earning an irresistible moan from her. She whispers, “Thank you.”

“Thank you, who?”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whimpers. I spank her again, rubbing it to soothe the sting. I’m fucking her so fast and hard that we’re both sweating, skin getting sticky and slick. Pushing on the small of her back to deepen her arch, I find an even deeper spot inside her. “Ohmygod—” Mira gasps. 

“You sound so sexy,” I groan. I don’t want her to hold back either. I want her to be as loud as she wants to be. No one else is on this floor anyway. Pulling her up by her shoulder, I reach in front of her to rub her clit, her head dropping back and onto my shoulder. 

Slipping out of her, she shudders and whines at the sudden loss but I turn her around so she’s on her back before I land on top of her again, pinning her hands above her head. Her knees fall open and I hook my hands under her thighs before thrusting back into her, earning an incredible eye roll from her. 

“Fuck, Yeonjun.”

“I know, darling,” I say lowly. I wonder if she actually likes it when I call her that. Should I call her something else? Baby? Babe? Love? 

The speed of my thrusts increases again, while I massage her tit. She grips her legs by the back of her knees, holding them wide open for me. “Look at you…being such a good girl for me, hm?” Using my body, I push her legs down gently, letting me in even deeper. Our faces are so close to each other, her lips are just begging to be kissed, but I resist. 

She takes a deep breath, her eyebrows stitch together and she looks up at me before saying with the most genuine sounding voice, “You’re so pretty.”

That makes me absolutely gush. My shoulders scrunch as I run my fingers through my hair before I bend to lick one of her nipples so slowly she can hardly stand it. Kissing up her chest, I whisper, “You’re fucking beautiful, Mira.” Her arms wrap around my neck to pull me closer. 

“Wait, Yeonjun,” she says. I stop in my tracks. “Can you, uh…” she asks, pushing me out of her before getting up off the bed. 

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Did I hurt you?”

She’s rummaging through her bag and replies, “No, Sir.” Returning, she hands me a small clit vibrator. Oh. “Can you, um…can you use that on me?”

“Whatever you wish, darling,” I say, watching her lay on her back again, spreading her legs open for me. I switch her toy on to the lowest setting. “Do you think about me when you use this to make yourself feel good?” Before she can answer, I place it onto her clit. 

Gasping and nodding, she says, “Yes, Sir.” Her fingers grip the sheets before she admits, “I think about you every time.” She sighs. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think about doing to me?”

“I think about licking all over you. About making you feel good,” I say. “About you screaming my name.”

“You like making me feel good?” 

I nod and we’re both desperate as ever now. Desperate to feel each other. To come together. I thrust back into her, quickly reaching a speed we both like, increasing the intensity of the toy along the way. Her mouth drops open as she furrows her eyebrows, her moans getting higher pitched and quicker. 

“Mira, I wanna see you cum.”

Dropping one of her legs, she wraps it around my waist, grabbing my forearm, clearly close to losing it. “Don’t stop, babe,” she whimpers. I shake my head. “Please, Yeonjun, don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, darling.”

I reach the deepest part of her, and she finally lets go—eyes rolling back, thighs trembling, clit shuddering under the toy. She’s fucking stunning when she cums. Her other leg falls to the bed while she moans out loud, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “Babe, fuck,” she says breathlessly, “You’re making me cum so hard.”

My thrusts get sloppier and I bury my free hand in her soft waves, groaning and whimpering in her ear as I cum inside her, collapsing on her shoulder. That was truly the best I’ve ever felt. 

Forehead glistening with sweat under the moonlight barely shining through the bedroom window, she looks fucking gorgeous. Her post-sex glow would make anyone swoon. My stomach swirls with emotions. I need her. But I just had her. But I need more. No, I need something else. 

“I wanna kiss you,” she says. Fuck, don’t do this to me. “Please?”

I think about it for a second—I really do. That’s what I want, no, that’s exactly what I need, but— “You told me not to.” 

Shaking her head, she admits, “I don’t care.” She looks absolutely kissable right now. I need to feel her lips on mine again. Passing by each other in the hallway and pretending not to be fucking has been miserable. Every time I see her, I refrain from running up and wrapping my arms around her to give her the best kiss she’s ever had. Not being able to do that has been bad enough, but not even kissing her when I’m literally still inside her? Now that’s torture. 

The way she looks at me too—up through her eyelashes, eyes glistening from pure pleasure, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen and utterly plump.

She hooks two fingers under my necklace to pull me closer, tilting her chin up toward me. Fuck, don’t do that. My heart races. “Please,” she says. “I need to kiss you.” 

No. Don’t. She’s the one that initiated the no kissing rule. And for good reason. We shouldn’t get involved right now. I let her tug me a few inches closer, but I dodge her lips and turn to my side to lean on the bed before clearing my throat.

“Let’s go take a shower, yeah?” I suggest. 

She sighs and says, “Okay.” Standing up silently, I watch her walk slowly to the bathroom, her body moving so beautifully, but I can tell she’s upset even from behind. I plop down on my back. Did I do the right thing? I want to kiss her more than anything but she’s told me over and over again not to. I didn’t want her to regret something because of the heat of the moment. I don’t want her to feel like I took advantage of her but I also don’t want her to feel like I don’t want her. 

The shower turns on, making me stand up. I catch her looking at herself in the mirror before she glances down. Without speaking, we both get in the huge shower that luckily has two shower heads. She wets her hair then smiles at me sweetly. 

“Can I at least have a hug?” She asks. I chuckle, opening my arms up to her. She wraps her arms around my waist. We wash the day off each other—stressful meetings, long walks to and from the conference center, the amazing sex we just had. The room is mostly silent with the occasional Can you hand me my soap? 

After drying off, we crawl back into the shared bed. I’m sitting up with my back against the headboard while I flick through the TV channels. Half laying down and half resting against the headboard, she keeps awkwardly moving closer to me, opening her mouth and breathing in like she wants to say something but never does.

I slouch a bit to get to her level before opening up my arm up to her and so she can lay her head on my chest. As she snuggles into me, I swear I could die happy right here. The air is calm and sweet and warm, her presence provides an overwhelming sense of comfort and I can’t help but graze my fingers up and down her arm until she falls asleep. 

As predicted, insomnia is my enemy tonight. Questions swirl around my mind. 

Should I have kissed her? What does she want after this? What’s she gonna be like tomorrow morning? How should I act tomorrow morning? After eating some almonds and a banana to try and induce sleep, I go for a walk around the hotel, trying to tire out my body and mind. Eventually, I lay back down thinking about what I really want between the two of us.

Normally, I’d squeeze my eyes shut to picture her lips and eyelashes, but the real Mira is lying right next to me. But I probably shouldn’t stare at her without her permission. With the warmth of thinking of her, there’s also a tug of uncertainty. What if she doesn’t feel the same way I do? What if she just wanted sex? I couldn’t really be mad at her for that, though. That’s what we both wanted at the beginning, even if there may have been some underlying feelings. That’s at least all we were expecting. 

Sighing, I turn away from her, thoughts tangling into each other, emotions pulling on the threads in every direction. I count my breaths, slow and steady, but each breath is full of her scent, making things worse, the adrenaline of unspoken feelings keeping me awake. 

Time stretches out and I look at my phone, the clock glaring back at me—4:37 AM. Another sigh escapes me, heavier this time. My meetings are done for the week, but I don’t like massive changes in my sleep schedule, even when I'm abroad. 

Pulling the covers over my head, I block out the world before quietly whispering her name, like it’s a confession I hope she may hear. I’m answered only by the faintest of snores that have been steady for hours. Finally, my thoughts blur, exhaustion pulling me into a restless sleep. But even in my dreams, she’s there, a shadow at the edge of consciousness.

-

“Hey,” I say groggily to Mira. “What happened to you?” Mira’s already dressed in her work clothes with her hair neatly tied back. The smell of the coffee she’s pouring wafts through the air and warms me up. I start to hug her from behind, but—

“I made coffee,” she replies, her tone professional and clipped. 

“Why’d you get out of bed?”

“To work. That’s why I’m here.” Her voice is detached and she finally turns to look at me. 

Searching her face for the warmth I’d seen last night, I say, “Yeah, but I thought after—”

“We shouldn’t have done that last night.”

“What?”

“Sex,” she says matter-of-factly. “We should not have had sex last night.”

“I know what you meant, but why not?” I ask, my heart pounding. “We’ve been practically having sex for months now.”

“Last night was different.” 

“So?”

Mira takes a deep breath before sitting the coffee pot back on the table. “Because, Yeonjun, I’m your servant and we used to date and now…”

“And now what? We pretend it didn’t happen?” Anger and frustration bubbles inside me. Whether I consciously knew it or not, I’d made my decision last night. I want to be with her for real and I’m willing to do whatever it takes, as long as she’ll have me. I was hoping she felt the same way, but she’s still not willing to admit the depth of our relationship out loud. “Mira, last night was…it was real. You can’t just ignore that.”

She looks away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart races faster with each step I take toward her. “It’s okay to have feelings.”

“No, it’s not,” she spits, twisting her head back to look at me. “I cannot do this again. We cannot do this again.” I start to interrupt. “I don’t wanna hear it, Yeonjun.”

“Mira, please—”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking. “We have to end this before it even starts.” Her words bring a finality to us before she walks out of the kitchenette and onto the balcony. I suppose that’s it then. 

The silence left in her wake is deafening. I slump into a chair, running my hands through my hair, the weight of every unspoken word heavy on my shoulders. The morning light filters through the window, casting long shadows across the room. It’s surreal. 

No. This is not how we end.

Following her out onto the balcony, she stands with her back to me, staring blankly at the lake. The same lake we kayaked on together a few days ago. I envy the serenity of the water. “Mira, you can’t just walk away,” I say softly, hoping to reach her through the wall she’s built around herself. 

She doesn’t turn, but her shoulders tense. “You said it yourself, Yeonjun. I’m nothing. We couldn’t even be together even if we wanted to.” 

“Is that what this is about? You’re still upset about something I said seven years ago?” She shakes her head. “Then what is it?” She keeps turning away from me. And ignoring me. “Talk to me. Please.” 

“There’s nothing left to say.”

cw. crying, kissing. 

MIRA'S POV

The rest of our trip to Switzerland was business as usual. I made sure of it. I woke up on time, got his coffee, did everything a servant does and in the manner a servant would do. No smiles. No anger. Just business. 

“What’s been up with you recently?” Hyomin shakes me out of my daydreaming—or daynightmaring, perhaps—replaying that morning with Yeonjun. How hurt he looked. How it felt to break my own heart. How it felt to break his heart. “You haven’t been acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, glancing over at Yeonjun sitting at the dining table without even realizing it at first. 

Narrowing her eyes, she asks, “Did something happen between you two?”

“No,” I say harshly. 

“You can’t be serious.” I shrug. “You went to Switzerland together for a week and nothing happened? Not even a kiss or a not-so-platonic hug?”

“I have work to do, Hyomin.” Shaking my head, I stomp away in the direction of my room. Slamming my door shut, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the tears from coming but it's no use. My phone buzzes but I already know who it is. 

Yeonjun 3:52 PM Are you ever gonna talk to me again?

It’s been four days since Switzerland but that’s the twelfth message since we got back. 

Can we talk? Can you meet me in our closet tonight? Just to talk, nothing else. I’d really like to talk to you. Please stop ignoring me. 

I have sent zero. I can’t bring myself to. Tossing my phone on my mattress, there’s a black dress bag and a note on my bed. 

For Saturday. –Y

Are you fucking kidding me? He’s buying me gifts now? What kind of relationship does he think we have? We make each other come a few times, have sex in Switzerland once and now he won’t stop texting me and buying me dresses? Fuck this. 

Me. 4:01 PM Closet. Now.

-

“Hello, darling,” Yeonjun says smugly as I slam the door shut. 

“What the fuck is this, Yeonjun?” I scream-whisper, shoving the dress bag into his chest as his face turns horrified. 

“A dress,” he says defensively, trying to not let the dress bag fall to the floor. 

“Don’t patronize me,” I spit. “You think you can buy me or something?” He shakes his head nervously. “Taking me to Switzerland, staying in a fancy hotel, buying me food, now you’re buying me an expensive dress?”

“I took you to Switzerland as a member of my staff,” he reminds me.

“If you think for one second that I’ll just come running back to you because of this—”

He grabs me by my forearm and gently yanks me close to him to stare down at me hungrily, like he wants to take me right then and there. I know this look very well by this point. 

“You’re cute when you’re mad at me.”

“Shut up.” I throw the dress down and attempt to turn away from him. “Leave me alone, Yeonjun.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firmly enough to prevent me from going anywhere. 

“Why are you so angry, really? Is it the gifts, or is it because you’re scared of what this means?” I glare at him, feeling the anger bubble up again. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I roll my eyes. He sighs, letting go of my arm but not stepping back. 

“I’m not trying to buy you, okay? I just...I like you. And I want to do things for you.”

I cross my arms, trying to maintain the obviousness of my anger but I can’t help I’m shocked. He likes me? Like that? I mean, I was hopeful but I never thought he’d ever say it out loud. Should I say it too? I almost think about it, but instead, I ask, “You think throwing money at me will make me like you more?”

“No,” he says softly, surprising me. “I just don’t know what to do, Mira,” he raises his voice. “You’re ignoring me and I want to show you I care about you.”

“I know you care about me, Yeonjun. I’m telling you to stop caring about me,” I say sternly. “It’s over.”

Over the next few days, he stops texting me, talking to me, I don’t even catch him glancing at me like I usually do several times a day. He must be avoiding me—or doing exactly what I asked him to do, I guess. Which pisses me off too. 

Saturday rolls around and we have yet another fancy dinner to host. The Queen pulled out all the stops for this one too—amazing food, open bar with fancy drinks, great music, even greater decorations. It’s gorgeous. I’d realized I should probably stop being such a bitch and make amends with him. As a gesture, I show up wearing the dress he gave me. 

“Prince Yeonjun?” I ask, watching his ears perk up as he turns around, a clear smile on his face at the sound of my voice. “Can I have a dance, please?” His face relaxes as he nods before he extends his hand to take me to the dancefloor. He performs his customary bow, followed by my curtsy. My tummy tingles a bit at the formality of it all. I feel like a princess. 

As my hand falls into his, nothing matters. Not our history. Not our future. Not his title. Not the lack of mine. I’m with him. We’re together. The soft music from the chamber orchestra is perfect accompaniment for us. 

I’d thought about the idea of us for so long. What we could be, what I want us to be, what I think he wants us to be. I don’t think it’ll ever work, but at least there’s tonight. There’s this dance. 

We sway together, hand in hand, my other hand on his shoulder while his rests around my waist. Eyes locked. His jacket catches the flicker of the chandelier while my gown flows down my waist and onto the floor gracefully. 

Expertly turning me, I can’t help but think back to the first night he broke my heart. Would he do that again? Pressing his hand firmer against my waist, I welcome it by pressing my body more securely against his.  The warmth between us grows stronger by the second. We’re falling in love again. Or maybe we already did. 

He towers over me, much like he did the night of our first kiss. Returning from a night where we’d once again snuck out to see each other, he walked me home. Standing on the front porch of my cottage, we refused to wish each other a good night. The moon was the only light source, but it was enough to see how handsome he was, even back then. 

“Yeonjun…” I whisper as he continues to lead us through a casual dance that lets us focus on a conversation. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me questioningly. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset about the dress. I felt…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I just felt so used, I dunno.” Horror crosses his face. 

“Mira…I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” I say. “But I felt like we could never be together, not really anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath and say, “Keeping secrets, never being able to tell everyone…we should probably stop…you know, what we’ve been doing.” I look up at him through my shaky eyes and he frowns but forces himself to nod. 

“If that’s what you want.”

“I just can’t,” I sniffle. “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m right here.” He presses his hands even firmer against my waist to prove it. 

“But where were you seven years ago? I’ve—” My eyes can’t hold my tears any longer, breaking free to run down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb, he lifts my face to meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you too.” Pressing my lips together, I blink a tear out of my eye and I shake my head in protest. “Mira…listen.” He never lets me go. “I am so sorry for what I said that night. If I could take it back, I would.” I smile. “You know that doesn’t matter to me. You mean so much to me,” he says genuinely. “That night in Switzerland meant so much to me.” Everything halts. Our eyes meet. “But if you want me to stop, I will. I’ll never bring us up again.” 

“Us?”

“You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.” The wind’s knocked out of me. My heart races as he inches closer and closer. So close I can see each individual eyelash. “Tell me to stop.” 

“No,” I say, welcoming his lips on top of mine. His lips meet mine softly, a whisper of a kiss that feels like a promise. It's gentle, tentative at first, like we’re both terrified to lose each other. But then, the years of longing we've kept hidden surge forward, and the kiss deepens.

The room around us fades away, the music, the murmurs of the crowd, the flickering candlelight—they all dissolve into a hazy backdrop. All that exists is us, bound together in this moment of rawness. His hands move from my waist to cradle my face, his touch tender yet insistent. My hands rest against his chest. 

His kiss is everything I've ever dreamed of—sweet yet passionate, comforting yet electrifying. It speaks of forgiveness and second chances. The saltiness of my tears mingle with the softness of his lips.

It's as if we're communicating without words. Each movement, each touch, each breath shared between us is a declaration of our feelings for each other. His arms encircle me, holding me close, and I feel safe, cherished, and utterly adored.

When we finally part, breathless and overwhelmed, our foreheads rest against each other, our eyes closed as we savor the moment. The world starts to come back into focus, but it's different now. Everyone’s eyes are on us. The room has come to a halt. Glancing around the room, there isn’t one person that hasn’t stopped what they’re doing to stare at us. Not us. Me. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Excuse me.” I scurry off quickly, leaving him there alone.

cw. unsupportive parents, classism, crying, love.

YEONJUN'S POV

Everyone watches as she runs off like it’s a movie. She’s picked up her skirt to avoid tripping, and her head hangs low as she searches for the nearest exit. I awkwardly look around the room, excusing myself with a few head bows.

Running through the castle hallway, I catch up to her right outside my bedroom door. Her forehead’s pressed against the doorframe, arms wrapped around her body while she waits for me. She’s waiting for me. That gives me hope. At least she’s not running from me anymore. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” I whisper, grazing my hand across her shoulder blade. “C’mere.” I pull her into my chest, wrapping one of my arms around her while I open the door with my free hand. I lead her to my bed where she sits awkwardly scrunched into a ball while I rush to flick on some lamps. Then, I sit next to her, my hand resting on her shoulder blade for comfort. 

“I can’t—” she can hardly speak through her tears. 

“It’s okay.”

“I can’t do this, Jjun, I can’t.” She’s shaking her head, tears running down her cheeks. “I really want to but I just…” She trails off. Before I can speak up, she adds, “Your mother—” 

My heart sinks. “My mother? Did she do something to you?” Pressing her lips together, she nods. “Take some deep breaths, love, and tell me what she did.” She does as I say, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, attempting to compose herself. 

“After,” she starts hiccuping and I encourage her to take more deep breaths by modeling the breathing technique she was using earlier. “After that night in Switzerland,” she begins, but it’s too difficult for her to speak. Pulling out her phone, she silently thumbs through her phone to her voice mail box. My mother’s voice, cold and stern, plays from the speaker. 

Mira Ashenrose, the audacious servant who dares aspire beyond her station, it has come to my attention that your eyes linger far too long on my son. Your actions are not only bold but also insolent, as you seem to have forgotten your place within my castle walls.

Let me be clear: the Prince's future is one of sovereignty and grandeur, a path predetermined by bloodline and duty. Any attempts to disrupt or divert his focus with your insignificant presence will be met with severe consequences.

You are a servant, a role you should embrace with humility and gratitude. Your duties do not include entertaining fantasies of a life beyond your given position, especially one involving a royal whom you are unworthy to even address directly.

Cease your imprudent behavior immediately. Should I find even the slightest hint of your infatuation resurfacing, you will discover that my patience is not to be tested. Your continued employment—and indeed, your very well-being—hangs by a thread of my tolerance, a thread that I am fully prepared to cut.

Do not mistake this warning for mere words. You will find that I am a queen of action. Refrain from crossing boundaries that were never meant for you, and remember your place. It is only in your compliance that you will find any semblance of mercy from me.

Consider this your only warning.

By this point, her crying has subsided to sniffles but I’m speechless. How could she have done this? “I woke up that night after we…were together. You were still next to me. I was just checking the time and I had that message waiting for me.” 

“Mira, I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

“I care,” she says. “I can’t be with someone whose mother thinks of me like this,” she says, gesturing to her phone. “And you used to think of me that way. What if you start thinking like that again? Or do you already think of me this way?”

“Of course not,” I say, grabbing her hands. “Look at me.” She puts on a brave face before looking me straight in the eye. “Do you wanna know what I think of you?” She hums. “Perfect. Beautiful. Kind. Caring. Talented.” Smiling to herself, she looks down at our hands. “That’s what I think of you.” She nods gently and I brush some hair back. “You should have told me.” She shakes her head. 

“I decided to quit anyway,” she sniffles. “I already put in my two weeks. That’s why I asked you to dance. I wasn’t gonna leave without dancing with you at least once.” She glances down at my lips. “Or kissing you at least once,” she giggles. 

“Or twice?”

She chuckles again, glancing down at the floor, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Sure.” I peck her lips gently. 

“Three times?” I ask, barely backing away from her. 

“How about you kiss me over and over until I tell you to stop?”

I don’t waste any more time playing silly games with her. I crash my lips into hers and we melt together, she groans against my lips and I deepen the kiss, my hand against her cheek. But she soon breaks it to ask, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me? You know, when I asked you to.”

“Because I thought if I did, you’d do exactly what you did the next morning,” I say. “I didn't wanna lose you.” 

Nodding, she runs her thumb across my knuckles. “What are we gonna do?” She asks. 

“About what?”

“Us.”

“There’s an us?”

“Ah, shut up,” she laughs, nudging my shoulder. “You know I’m yours whenever you’re ready.”

-

“Yeonjun, what is it? I’m very busy,” Mother says, not bothering to look up from the many papers that are shuffled across her desk. 

“Mother, we need to talk,” I say, my voice steady but firm.

Sliding her glasses off her nose, she drops them on the desk and turns in her chair to make eye contact. “You’re right,” she says and I look confused. “What are these policy proposals you wrote?” Why is she reading those? How did she even find them? “This Freshwater Sustainability Proposal,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s wr—”

“This is some of your worst writing. Half of it doesn’t even make sense,” she says, my stomach dropping. Those were drafts. “I mean, what is this part about ‘aquatic ecosystem revitalization through bioremediation techniques’? You think the council will understand that jargon? And this section on ‘community-based water stewardship programs’? It’s laughably naive. Who’s going to manage these programs? Volunteers?”

“That is a well-researched proposal meant to—”

“Well-researched?” She scoffs, flipping through the pages with a dismissive hand. “It’s idealistic drivel, Yeonjun. We need practical solutions, not fanciful ideas that belong in a classroom.”

“These ideas could make a real difference.”

She waves a hand, brushing off my words. “Idealism is pointless. We can’t gamble on untested theories.”

“Untested theories?” I can’t help but let a note of disbelief slip into my voice. “They’re proven methods many other countries have successfully implemented.”

“Our priority is status and stability.”

“What good is status and stability if our environment collapses?” I challenge.

She glares at me, her eyes cold before she lets out an evil chuckle. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

“Is that why you feel the need to control every aspect of my life?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I take a deep breath, preparing for the moment of truth. “When did you find out about Mira?”

The question hangs in the air, catching her completely off guard. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, but she quickly masks her surprise. “Who? Oh, that servant that quit last week? I did see you two kiss at the party.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mother,” I say, my voice hard. “I know you knew about us before that. That voicemail you left her? Where you threatened her, told her she was nothing but a servant, and to stay away from me.”

She recovers quickly, her expression turning cold. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“How dare you do such a thing?” I shoot back. “Mira is someone I care about and you had no right to interfere with our relationship,” I say.

“Relationship?” She rolls her eyes. “Your relationship is a shallow, pleasant distraction at best. She’s simply a way to blow off steam, to indulge in sexual frustrations.”

Ew. But okay. “It’s more than that, Mother. Mira means something to me.”

She sighs, a mix of impatience and disappointment in her voice. “Yeonjun, you’re too young to understand the complexities involved here. You have a duty to this kingdom, to your people. Mira is not part of that equation.”

“If you can’t find a way to accept the woman I love, then…I don’t know if there’s anything else for us to say to each other.”

“You’ve known her for three months, Yeonjun. You’re not in love.”

I shake my head. “We’ve known each other for seven years.”

“What?” She asks, shocked. “You’ve been seeing her behind my back for seven years?”

“No,” I say. “We used to date a while ago and then we…I dunno, started back up after she started working here.” 

“You think you love her,” she counters sharply. “But what you feel is temporary. It’s not sustainable. And you’re all for sustainability, right?” I roll my eyes. “I will not allow you to jeopardize your future and duty for a fleeting infatuation,” I say. “Your choices affect everyone,” she says, her tone unyielding. “Including the stability of this kingdom.”

“You’re trying to control me,” I accuse, feeling the weight of her authority pressing down on me.

“I’m trying to protect you. You must think beyond your own desires.”

Eventually, I say, “Mother, mind your business.” I storm off, headed in the direction of the garden to get some air. I don’t stop walking until I find myself sitting under the willow tree that Mira and I love so much. She’s always loved it here. 

Maybe Mira’s right—I don't know if it's such a great idea to be with someone whose mother thinks of them like mine does about her. Fuck, this is so unfair. Regardless, Mother’s getting what she wants. Us not together. 

Quiet footsteps approach me. Not now, please. I can’t argue with Mother anymore. 

“The woman you love, huh?”

“Mira,” I say, happiness evident in my voice. “Hi.” She smiles, holding her hands behind her back before she walks closer to me. “Um…” She sticks her hand out for me to grab and helps me to my feet. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear,” she says but I wouldn’t care if she were to be honest. “I was getting some water from the kitchen and overheard.” 

“Mira…” I say, an undeniable smile spreading across my face, my hands running down her arms, wrapping around her waist to bring her closer. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Why’s that?” She asks with a sweet smile. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to hear what she said about you.” She shakes her head. “I do by the way,” I say. “I love you.”

“Fucking finally,” she whispers before reaching her arms around my neck to pull me closer to her, crashing her lips into mine. They move over each other passionately. She tastes so fucking delicious. She feels so fucking warm. She smells so fucking good. “Oh, I love you too,” she giggles, breaking the kiss. “Sorry, I should’ve said it sooner.”

“I love you too too,” I say between kisses. “So much. You have no idea.” She looks so sweet. “I guess we should probably talk about—”

Shaking her head, she says, “Not yet. Let’s just—” She gives me another deep kiss. “We can think about that later, okay?” I nod and press my lips to hers again. 

Everything is so perfect. The way her laugh echoes in my ear like nothing could ever go wrong, the way her body slowly but sensually grinds against my own, the way we know we love each other and can finally say it out loud, even if we don’t know what the future holds for us. 

Breaking the kiss gently, she’s absolutely stunning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as gorgeous as her. I brush my thumb across her eyebrow and say matter-of-factly, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “So are you.”

The air shifts. We’re alone and we’re hyper aware of that fact. I doubt anyone could even hear us. Our eyelids get heavy as we lean into each other, our lips touching in a fiery kiss that leaves me needing more. Holding her cheek in my hand, it grows deeper and hotter until a tiny moan leaves her mouth. “Fuck,” she says under her breath. “You’re such a good kisser.”

“That’s all you, baby,” I say, sliding my hand down to squeeze her amazing ass. 

“Yeonjun,” she whines. “You can’t tell me you love me and then not immediately fuck me.” 

“I can’t even imagine doing such a thing,” I chuckle.

“You think…” she glances behind her. “Think we can sneak into your room together?”

“Absolutely.”

Walking back to the castle makes us all the more giddy. Hands touching each other playfully, giggling and flirting in hushed tones all the way back to my room where I lead her to my bed. 

Landing on top of her, she’s so pretty. Covering every inch of her bare skin with kisses, I can’t stop whispering compliments to her. Real compliments I’ve always wanted to say. 

You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky I get to love you. I love every inch of you and I’m gonna show how much I mean it. 

“Please, Jjun, I need you.”

“You know I need to taste you first, though, right?”

“Of course.” She lets me slip her sweatpants off her legs, the cool air making goosebumps prick her skin. Her maroon thong is so sexy. Desperately moving her thong to the side, I take a deep breath, wanting to take my time with her. Letting go of her thong, it snaps back into place, covering her back up. I press my lips to her tummy, peppering her with soft and slow kisses. 

“So perfect,” I whisper against her skin. And I mean it. Every time I say it. “I could worship your body for hours.” 

“We’ve got time, my love.” 

All I know is by the time I’m done covering her body in kisses, the sun has completely set and she’s illuminated only by the lamp on my bedside table. But I can absolutely still see how beautiful she is. I could see her beauty in the pitch black. 

“Yeonjun,” she starts, pulling me up to look her in the eyes. She brushes some of my hair back and says, “Whatever happens after this, I want you to know—” I start to protest. What does she mean? I know what’s gonna happen after this. We’re gonna find a way to be together. “I want you to know that I love you, okay?”

“Mira…I love you too.”

“Just know that…” she takes a deep breath. “I’m yours.”

I give her a long, lingering kiss and say, “And I’m yours.”  

@aduh0308 request a tag :)

[hyukalyptus]

sexting w txt hcs

oooohhh interesting....

cw. sexting, pet names, fem reader, everything is implied, nothing rly happens, sendng nudes/audios, cunnilingus, masturbation.

yeonjun - he's already rly flirty over text anyway, like thinkin of how good u tasted this morning... or miss your lips baby.... but then when y'all are far apart for a few days, especially if ur in different time zones, he'd have full blown, cumming in his hand sex w u over text. and omfg the nudes this man would send......he'd send them at the worst possible times, making u tingle while at ur desk job or while ur on the train. and honestly, could see him writing corny lil poems, confessing his love for u in response to seeing ur tits.

soob - i feel like he's pretty subtle, only happens every once in a while when its straight up sexting ykwim? BUT i can see him recording voice memos of him cumming in the shower and sending them to you with a miss u sm baby... and his little GIGGLES omfg. and i think he'd ask u for nudes a lot and always has the cutest reactions, like that's my girl....thank u my love

beomgyu - silly, fun sexting. like can i see ur bewbs babe pls? but his nudes would be amazing. the lighting, the framing, omg he's such a picky bitch about how his nudes would look. i could see him being the type to make u cum from just his texts while he's like getting his hair done. he's about to go on stage but ur in ur living room w ur hand in ur panties.

tae - oooohhh soo complimentary omfg. more so like,, making love you u over the phone ? like baby, u mean so much to me and i'm gonna prove it to you tonight. or i hope you know how beautiful you are. do i need to show you with my cock when i get home? or i feel so close to you when my arms are wrapped around u and ur wraped around my cock <3

hueningkai!! - ugh omfg, i feel like he'd be a little awkward with it at first, not rly sure what to say, but then get suuuper confident and sends u dirty shit all day long. some are artfully crafted like i crave exploring every inch of you until there’s nothing left but us, bare and breathless in the dark. and some are lewd and basic like, can't wait to fuck you, lovey dove <3

[hyukalyptus]

thinking about kai with an older!femme!fwb.

cw. older!femme!chubby!reader x inexperienced!kai, sex (protection not mentioned), clit play, nipple play, cock drunk, "mommy," friends with benefits with a hint of sugar mommy vibes, reader drives a car, reader twirls hair and blushes, "good boy," "i love you," kissing.

fucking you in missionary with his thumb on ur clit, tits bouncing. he feels so so so good inside you, you can hardly control urself, melting underneath him, drunk on his cock, eyes rolled back.

am i making you feel good mommy? hm? does my cock feel good?

nodding is all you can do, but it gets the point across. he chuckles under his breath, licking his thumb before moving to ur nipple, shivers rolling down ur spine at how delicious he feels.

fuck, mommy, you looked so sexy tonight. love it when you take me out to show everyone im yours.

this fwb situation has been getting a little grey. some may see you as more of a sugar mommy than a friend, but y'all preferred the other label. the benefits being sex ...and you took him out on dates every once in a while. friend dates you'd call them. but they were a bit extravagant to be just friend dates.

regardless, you'd never tie urself down to a monogamous relationship. ur too sexy, too busy for a boyfriend. someone like you would never fall in love...let alone fall for a younger guy that was so lost before you started fucking.

so why was he making you twirl ur hair when he'd hold the door open for you? why were you so giddy when he walked outside his apartment door when you picked him up? why do you feel like crying right now? it's just that the dick is so good, you tell yourself.

kiss me. you didn't kiss much, apart from foreplay. too romantic. but he loved it. he loved feeling your lips against his, so he was happy to oblige.

the knot in your stomach tightens more and more by the second. you gasp, breaking the kiss and he knows. knows how fucking close you are. that was one thing he'd gotten really good at. knowing just when ur about to come.

are you gonna come for me, mommy? have i been a good boy? making you feel so good?

fuck..yes, yes, kai, you've been such a good boy, you whisper. his thumb finds ur clit again and fuck youre in heaven. orgasm washing over you like a waterfall, your body trembles, fingers grip the bedsheets, back arching.

fuck, kai..ohmygod, fuck, head still thrown back and i love you, kai, fuck, i love you. god fucking dammit i love you.

coming down from your high, everything comes to a slow stop and you finally open ur eyes to see his bright ones staring back at you with a smile- you love me?

shit. did u say that out loud? you definitely didn't mean to. you didn't even mean to think it, let alone speak it, and while you're coming? that's the worst possible time.

huh?

you just said you love me.

fuck, do you love him. love him with everything in you. at least you think it's love. you don't know. you've never been in love before.

yeah.. you avoid eye contact and before either of you can say anything, his lips crash into yours and fuck, i love you too.

[hyukalyptus]

i'll be okay—yeonjun x fem!afab!reader. reader gets overstimulated and they have comfort sex lol. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. established relationship, afab!reader, chubby!reader implied, reader experiences sensory overload (but there is no specific disability mentioned), yeonjun has stubble ehehe, nipple play, cunnilingus, use of sex toys, unprotected sex (pls wear protection ppl), creampie , pet names (love, baby, jjuni), "i love you," reader wears a dress, lowkey lovemaking, kinda cheesy, i think that's it?  notes. so this is kinda supposed to be, like, as a result of sensory overload. i wrote this as a neurodivergent person who experiences sensory overload, but anyone can get overstimulated, so even if you aren't neurodivergent, you may relate to this! and remember- disability, overstimulation, and sensory overload are different experiences for everyone! no one experiences them the same, SO just keep in mind this is kinda as a result of my personal experience. thank u :3 smut under cut. wc. 1.8K

“I’m sorry we had to come home early,” you say, closing and locking your apartment’s front door. “It’s this fabric…” Tugging at the dress you’d picked out for tonight’s date, you shiver. You knew the fabric wasn’t your favorite, but the dress fit you so perfectly. It couldn’t be bad for one night, right? 

The combination of a stressful day at work, the cacophony of the bustling restaurant, the glaring city lights, and the dress' god awful fabric proved overwhelming. Sensory overload loomed over you from the moment you stepped into the restaurant, but you tried to push it aside, which is never a good idea.

You didn’t have to say anything. Yeonjun knew. He always knows. 

But you wanted to stay, to salvage the perfect date in the perfect dress. And oh how sexy did he look with his slightly grown-out beard, knowing how much you loved the look. Tonight was supposed to be special, and excitement radiated from both of you.

But some days are simply bad and this is one of them. 

“Don’t apologize, love,” Yeonjun says, draping his jacket across the dining table chair. “I couldn’t wait to get you out of that dress anyway.” You wanted to hug him, kiss him, do other things to him, but you couldn’t wait to get this fucking dress off. 

Exhaling a sigh of relief, the familiar comfort of your favorite t-shirt and shorts envelops you as you step out of the closet, finding him patiently waiting on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better—still a bit, you know,” you respond, shaking your hands. “But I’ll be okay.” 

“Need some water?” You nod, watching him walk calmly to the kitchen. How does he always stay so calm? Always your rock. “Here you go, love.” Quietly observing as you settle, he says, “You did look really pretty in that dress.” 

Sitting up, you cross your legs, give him a gentle smile, and say, “Thank you, baby.”

“Touch?” 

Humming, you nod. Warmth spreads through you as his hand gracefully glides from your arm down to squeeze your thigh. Leaning closer, his thumb traces the apple of your cheek before his lips meet yours. 

“You’re always pretty though.” 

The kiss deepens and he leans over, guiding you to lie down as your arms naturally wrap around his shoulders. In his embrace, you find solace and a sense of security, appreciating the constant reassurance he brings into your life.

Every subtle move he makes sends a ripple of response through your body—his hand slipping beneath your shirt to rest on your waist, the delicate texture of his fingertips, even the slightest pinches. It all made you jump. He gently squeezes your tit, making a smile tug at the corners of your lips before swiping a thumb across your nipple experimentally. 

“Sorry—“

You hum, like nuh-uh, you’re not done yet before pulling him back to you. Breaths heavy and deep, he whispers your name as if to ask if you’re okay. He’d never want to overwhelm you, but you want him. 

Trailing his lips down your neck, you say, “I’m still really sensitive, so I’ll have to…you know, take lots of breaks.”

“That’s okay, baby…” Lips brushing your own, the hotness of his breath against your lips grounds you in the moment, hyper aware of his body on yours. “You know I’ll always stop when you need me to.” Tugging at the hem of your shirt—he always lets you take off your own shirt when you’re extra sensitive—his hands rub your waist, giving you time to adjust to sudden exposure. This definitely isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, but each time feels exciting and new. 

Peppering your skin with the sweetest, most sensual kisses until—

Fuck.

Your breath catches in your throat at his tongue against your nipple. A stiffness takes over and as usual, he notices. 

“Feelin’ okay?” He feels good…really good. But you’re still anxious and you still need to look out for yourself to make sure you don’t get too overwhelmed. 

“Yes—” you gasp as your eyes squeeze shut, letting his lips explore your body. He can feel it. That you’re okay. That you want him. But he wants you to say it. 

“More?” 

“Please.” 

“I need you to say it, love.”

Ah, he’s always had such a thing for consent. And you have too. Knowing—saying out loud—how much one wants the other is delicious. 

You chuckle and say, “Ask me first.”

Feeling his smile against your chest, your jitters turn into butterflies. “Love,” he says, peppering your skin with kisses. “I want to…” he starts, skating his lips across your tummy. “God, there’s so much I wanna do to you.” 

Making his way down toward your hips, you can’t help but run your fingers through his hair. “Tell me.”

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he whispers. “Wanna give you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. I wanna taste your pussy. I wanna fuck you so slowly it makes you crazy.” Watching how he places the softest kisses everywhere, you’ll forever know how much he loves your body. “Is that okay?”

You hum, giving him the okay to move closer and closer to your pussy, he watches your every reaction. 

Flicking his tongue over your clit, you gasp. You feel it all—everything. His slippery tongue, the cotton bed sheets sticking to your damp back, the uncomfortable position your pillow is forcing you into, his fingernails digging into your thighs, the roughness of his five o’clock shadow against your thighs. Its—

“Stop,” you say, pushing yourself away from him, taking deep breaths. “Too much—sorry…”

“Never apologize, love.” While you’re calming yourself down, he asks, “What was it?”

“Your…um, your little stubble,” you say, chuckling. “Sorry, you look so cute, but…”

“It’s okay.” He smiles reassuringly. “I just won’t eat you out. You wanna use a toy?” Before you can even answer with your simple nod, he’s opening one of the bedside tables. “Which one?”

“Surprise me.” Smirking, he pulls out your favorite bullet vibrator— “Ah, that’s the one I was hoping you’d pick.” It’s a comforting one. You know exactly what to expect from it and there aren’t any surprises, which is just what you need right now.

“How did I know that? You wanna use it or do you want me to?”

“You.”

“Tell me if it's too much, okay?” He starts it off on its lowest setting, slowly easing it onto your clit. Waves of relaxation wash over you, giving you the chance to calm down. He can tell by your moans that you want— “More?” You nod, answering with a quick mhmm and he turns it up to your favorite speed, hitting just the right spot. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” you say breathlessly. Placing gentle kisses on your ribs, he’s getting you used to the feeling of him again. “Can you—” It’s like he read your mind. His tongue finds your nipple, going around it so deliciously. 

You start squirming, ready for more. 

“Jjuni…” you whine, back arching while you claw at his chest. “Need you. Please?” He doesn’t have to ask what position. You have a favorite for these nights. Simple, but effective—a nice kneeling missionary. You’re in a comfy position, he can see his cock going in and out of your perfect pussy, and he can touch your whole body with easy access to your clit. 

“Breathe for me, okay?” How did he know you were holding your breath? You force yourself to relax, his warm hands soothing you even more. He places a butterfly-soft kiss to your lips. “You’re so beautiful, babe.” 

“So are you,” you smile, watching him rub gentle circles on one hip while he slowly pushes himself inside you. “Yeonjun—”

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he says. “I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

Nodding, you grab a fistful of sheets at how simply incredible he feels. But—

“Wait, wait.”

“Too much?” Changing his pace, it feels— “How’s this?”

“Oh,” your chest heaves. “That feels good, yeah. Sorry,” you say nervously.

Truthfully, he didn’t mind this at all. He likes taking his time with you. The only thing he doesn’t like is that you feel like you’re burdening him with all the breaks and pauses. But he’s told you so many times, “You’re absolutely perfect, love.” 

You sigh and say, “I love you.” That wasn’t the first time you’d said that, not even that evening, but saying it during sex always turned him to putty. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.” Reaching for your vibrator again, he presses it to your clit, sending shocks through your body. And it feels…so good. But just for a moment. 

“Ah,” you sit up, pushing him out. “I need to take a break.” He nods, giving you space to take a few sips of the water he’d gotten you earlier. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles. “You wanna try being on top?”

“Nah, I like this position. If that’s okay?”

“Perfectly fine by me.” Spreading your legs again, he runs his hands over your waist, feeling you ground yourself again. “Ready?” 

Every step of the way, he’s so attentive to you and ensures you don’t get overwhelmed or more overstimulated than you already are. And he’s always been like this. Always. Even since the first time you slept together. Sleeping with someone you cared about for the first time was always overwhelming—so many things to think about—am I being too loud? Do I taste okay? Am I making them feel good? It was stressful. But he picked up on it immediately. 

He treated you perfectly. How you always wanted to be treated. He read you so well. 

Those questions inside your head turned into whispers from him—let me hear you, baby. God, you’re so fucking delicious. Fuck, you make me feel so good, love. 

“Jjuni, can you use my toy again?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “Feel good?” You nod again, edging close to your orgasm. As it builds, his whispers become more fervent. “You’re doing so good for me, love.” His voice is soothing, a constant reassurance that you’re in a safe and pleasurable space. Adding just the right amount of pressure to your clit with the perfect pace of his thrusts, your body finds itself in a whirlwind of pleasure and ecstasy as you reach your orgasm. 

The room fills with the subtle hum of the toy, the soft sounds of your moans, and his gentle breaths as he maintains his attentiveness. 

Coming down from your high, you catch your breath and say, “Please cum inside me. I wanna feel you. Please.” He nods, discarding the toy to the mattress, squeezing your tit, not only for himself, but he knows it comforts you. “Please.” 

His grunts get deeper, his thrusts get sloppier, and with a few final thrusts, he reaches his own climax, filling you with warmth and a deep feeling of connection between you. 

Placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he whispers, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

“You are too.” 

“I’m always here for you, okay?”

tags: @https-yeonjun | perm.taglist: open! send an inbox to be added !

[hyukalyptus]

a coincidence — rockstar!yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. rockstar!yeonjun x audiencemember!reader, chubby!reader implied, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, oral (m. receiving), sex (condoms mentioned <3), roleplaying(?), orgasm denial, lmk if there's more. notes. this is part of @napofamoon's growing pain rock band!au collaboration :D thank you @nightlyawnzz for being a beta reader :3 and thank you angie for that one line of dialogue (didn't know if you wanted to like not be tagged lol), not super well edited, smut under cut <3 wc. 2.8K

Who is that? Yeonjun’s seen hundreds—thousands—of pretty girls at his concerts. But no one’s ever truly made an impression. Every once in a while, there’d be one that barely stuck out from the crowd, but nothing ever stuck. After a while, the crowds started getting blurry. Has performing become a bit boring for him? Maybe. There wasn’t a spark anymore. No reason to perform. 

But you…you immediately caught his eye. A bright star in a sea of dull strangers—smiling, drinking, dancing to the music, having a blast. You looked fun, exciting, flirty. And he wanted—needed—to get to know you. But first, he needed to get your attention. 

He’s cool, casual with his bass; he’s a natural. The way he moves with the music, pouty lips singing under his breath along with the frontman, the stage lights sparkling in his eyes—it didn’t take much focus for him to nail every song. 

So he decided to have a bit of fun tonight. Moving a bit more, putting on a bit more of a show than usual, getting closer to the edge of the stage without being too obvious. All to get your attention. So why won’t you look at him? Just a bit closer and maybe…

Bingo. 

You’ve locked eyes and there’s that something he’s been looking for. Something he’s been looking for for a while. That spark. That reason to put on a bit of a show. 

And you could tell. You were just as into it as he was. 

Watching his every move—flirting without crossing a line, giving him seductive looks, dancing in his direction. It was fun. It was thrilling. That unspoken desire between two strangers—and one of them admires the other before they’ve even met? How scandalous, hm? The tension grew and grew until—

“Thank you everyone; good night!”

But…what do you do now? How could he find you later? Oh, why didn’t he slip the security guard his number to give to you? Where are you? No, no, no, don’t leave. 

There was nothing he could do; the lights were dim, the curtain was drawn, the crowd was spilling out the front door. You never left his mind, though. Not when he put his bass in its case, not when he zipped his hoodie up to leave, not when he plopped down on his hotel bed, never. 

Desperately trying to get you off his mind, he heads down to the hotel bar. Oh, how pathetic is this? A world-famous rock star sitting alone at a hotel’s bar sipping a whiskey feeling sorry for himself? Over what? Some girl? 

Please don’t sit there…he begs silently watching a strange figure take the seat in the bar stool next to him. Despite the need for alone time, he couldn’t help but glance over at the sound of your—

“Just a vodka soda, please.” 

Oh, shit. It’s you. What does he do? Why are his hands so sweaty? When did he turn into such a loser? Getting this worked up over a girl. He needs to get your attention again, but he doesn't want to come off too pushy. You’re here alone too and maybe you wanna keep it that way. 

Fuck it. 

He clears his throat, cooly-maybe-not-so-cooly saying, “I saw you in the audience.” Just as you planned. Well, sort of. You didn’t mean to run into him. Glancing across the room at the hotel you were staying in to see that hot bassist sitting alone at the bar was pure luck. 

But you need to keep it cool. Don’t be too…weird. Just a simple glance and gentle nod is enough. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, knowing your answer. He could see your desire just as much as you could see his, but you weren’t gonna give in just yet. You nod again, adding a quiet hum. “Are you from around here or…?” Should he move a bit closer? Sure. Should he brush your knee with his fingertips? Why not? Oh, they give you goosebumps. You don’t pull away or even flinch. You’re welcoming this. 

“No, I’m here on business. That’s why I’m, you know, at a hotel right now.”

“Right.” He pauses, like he has to think of the next thing to say, “I’m Yeonjun, by the way. But you already knew that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“No reason,” he snarks. “Just that you bought a ticket to my show.”

“As if,” you roll your eyes. “I was bored and the show was right down the street.” Lie. All of this was lies. Of course you were a fan. Both of you knew that. 

“So you got front-row seats from a scalper then?”

Now it’s time for some fun. Turning toward him, you introduce yourself, face inching closer and closer, his hand sneaking up higher on your thigh, your heartbeat getting faster with each millimeter. You maintain your confidence best you know how, but you must admit, he’s intimidating. Is it that way he unapologetically stares at your body? The way he’s flirting with a fan after a show? The way his lips look like they’d perfectly wrap around your—

“Do you always find fans to flirt with after the show?” 

“No. Never,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But you’re so…” he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your face, “gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the audience. Then boom, here you are at my hotel’s bar. Must be fate.”

“Or a coincidence.” 

Both resorting to a shrug, there’s tension in the air like you’ve never felt. It’s excruciating. He’s leaning closer to you, oh, what was he about to say?

“I saw you watching me,” he whispers right against your ear—close enough to feel his breath. Fuck, he’s good. This is gonna be fun. And you’re gonna be a brat. At least for a little. 

“I was watching all five of you,” you say, adding an annoying eye roll for good measure. 

“Nope,” he says, sitting back and smiling like he knows a secret of yours. Which he may. “Only me.” 

“So what if I was?” You narrow your eyes at him. You weren’t gonna break eye contact now. You can’t. But he doesn’t expect you to keep it. He expects you to cower and blush like everyone always does. But you don’t. And he likes that. “I’m waiting.”

“Makes me wonder what else you wanna watch me do is all.”

“Like what?” 

“I dunno,” he chuckles. “You tell me. You were the one that couldn’t stop staring at me.”

That jerk. That stupid fucking jerk. Looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you glance down at his lips—side note: jesus fucking christ they look delicious but that’s beside the point right now—and lean in as close as you can without touching him. Parting his own lips, he tilts his head just barely and closes his eyes. 

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You giggle. “You thought I was gonna kiss you?”

While you’re watching him retreat, defeated at his own game, he runs his fingers through his messy black hair. 

“So you think I’m cute?” 

Let’s give in now. “No.” You stand, taking a deep breath and walk behind him, sliding your hands down his chest, bending to meet his ear to whisper, “I think you’re fucking sexy.” 

Goosebumps—but this time, they’re on him. Has anyone ever done this to him before? Let’s take it one step further. You bite his ear lobe gently and he sighs, your name falling out of his lips breathlessly. 

“Hm?”

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers. 

Another step further. Sliding your hand up the back of his neck, you grip some of his hair, tugging it harshly, his eyes widening as he hisses. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Will you come upstairs with me? Please.”

Turning him around in his barstool, you stand between his legs, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

It was all a blur as he took you upstairs—heading straight for the elevator, pushing you against the wall to finally crash his lips into yours, hands roaming your body trying to decide what part of it to grab onto. The ding of the elevator snaps you out of it before stumbling down the hallway to his room. 

When he finally gets the door open and the door slams behind you, he’s gentler, like he wants to take his time with you. But you don’t. You drag him toward the bed and push him to the mattress to straddle his hips. Wrapping his hands around your waist, his hands slip under the skirt of your dress to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. 

Lifting off him, you lift your dress over your head as he eyes your pretty white lace lingerie while he smirks to himself. Fuck, he looks hot when he bites his lip like that. And, god, you need his shirt off. Tugging at it, you rock your hips back and forth to shimmy it off while he stays laying down. Hands on bodies, breath heavy, lips on each other’s…god, this was fun. 

He flips you to your back, pressing his lips to your chest, trailing kisses over your collarbone. Pushing your face to the side to access your neck, he covers it in sloppy, wet kisses. 

Since when was your bra so uncomfortable? And since when was it such a cock blocker? With that out of the way, his lips find your nipples, sucking harshly, but licking them to soothe the stings. Tugging at the waistband of his joggers, you can’t stop begging him to fuck you. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, mimicking your tone from earlier.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you gasp at the feeling of his finger gliding over your clit slowly—slower than anyone’s ever touched you before. But it’s amazing. “Will you please fuck me?” 

“Not yet,” he whispers. Standing to pull his pants and boxers down in one motion, he looks over your body. Oh, what was he gonna do with you and everything your body has to offer? Put you on your knees so he can cum all over your full tits? Fuck you from behind so he can see your ass jiggle? Fuck you in missionary so he can see your tits and tummy jiggle while he squeezes your thighs? There’s too many options to pick from.

But before he can make the decision, you crawl over to the foot of the bed, making a big show of it before reaching for his hips. Wrapping your hands around his hips to squeeze his ass, you pull him closer, kissing the tip of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. But you haven’t even tasted him yet. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you finally sink down on him completely. 

And fuck do you feel good. 

Fingers fumbling through your hair as he tries to steady himself, his head falls back to let out the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard from a man. He whispers your name. 

“What?” You look at him, your lips forming a pout while you wait for an answer. He responds with a simple eyebrow raise. “You said my name,” you say matter-of-factly. “What is it?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Hooking his hands behind your knees, he pulls to flip you on your back while you let out a yelp. He boxes you in with his elbows, dragging his teeth over one of your nipples while you grip his hair, back arching to meet his mouth. He covers you in kisses. You don’t think anyone’s ever kissed you this much. Nothing will ever be enough after this. 

As he makes his way down, your legs fall over his shoulders, showering your thick thighs with kisses. Using his mouth to put the smallest amount of pressure on your clit over your thong, he makes you whine and involuntarily grind against his chin, trying to relieve any tension. But he’s not giving in either. Backing away, he chuckles at you. That jerk. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

“Don’t do that to me,” you say. Eyes dark, he takes the waistband of your thong between his teeth, pulling them down slowly, letting them drag over your skin. Kneeling between your thighs, he keeps that spine-tingling eye contact as he rubs his tip over your center. That sends a jolt through your body, letting your brain finally catch up with your body. 

“Will you wear a condom?”

Nodding, he quickly rustles through his suitcase messily splayed across the floor. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he starts to roll it down himself, which is a glorious sight. And he can tell the effect it has on you. You smirk, glancing up at his eyes—eyes that are sparkling back at you. 

“Eyes on my cock, baby.”

Fine by you. Sliding it down so slowly, you’re entranced. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

One hand pressing on your hip, the other lining himself up with your pussy, he pushes himself inside you, your eyes rolling back and he groans in your ear. Short shallow breaths grace your skin as he thrusts fast and hard, just like you wanted. 

Bodies rocking together, he stares at your tits bouncing with his movements. Your nails start dragging down his back, but he quickly pulls out to turn you over, lifting you by your hips to bring you on all fours, your ass on full display. He spanks you, hard enough that your cheek will be pink tomorrow morning. 

Pressing on your lower back to deepen the arch, he thrusts into you again. With your face squished against the mattress, his hands dig into the fat of your hips to hold you in place. The fire in your stomach roars, legs trembling, muscles weak. He yanks you up by your hair—you were hoping he’d do that—to press your back to his chest, letting you feel how heavy he's breathing. 

“Don’t cum yet,” he says.

“Who said I was close?”

That evil laugh makes your eyes roll. “I can feel it.” Well, you can’t really argue with that. He was right. “Don’t.”

“You really like telling me what to do, huh?”

He snakes his hand in front of you to circle your clit, turning your whines to whimpers, desperately fighting the urge to let yourself go. What would happen if you did let yourself cum, though? It might be exciting to find out, hm? But being told what to do and when is just as exciting.

Grabbing his arm, your nails dig into his skin. He releases your hair, pushing you to the mattress roughly, face pressed against the mattress. Fists full of bed sheets, his hands spread across your ass, skin spilling through his fingers. 

It’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it together—the only thing letting you is knowing how good you must be making him feel if he’s making noises like that. 

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, his speed increasing. “Please.” The way he grunts tells you he’s close too, but he doesn’t plan on holding back. Pull my hair again, pull my hair again, pull my hair again, you keep thinking to yourself. And, oh, did you say that out loud? Because he pulls your hair again, finding an even deeper spot inside if you, the feeling spreading to your toes. 

“Please, Yeonjun—” you yelp. “Please let me cum.”

He groans again, your name falling out of his lips before adding, “Cum for me.”

Your loud whimpers are muffled by the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, the fire in your stomach roaring louder and louder until—

Fuck…

God, this is good. Your orgasm explodes inside you, fireworks going off in all directions, filling every nook and cranny of your body. Praising you through your orgasm, he encourages you to cum hard around him, reminding you of how good your pussy feels around his cock. 

Your body relaxes, but his doesn’t. He thrusts deeper inside of you, desperate to reach his own climax.

“Fuck—” he grunts, spanking you again. He loves seeing you jiggle like that. Reaching in front of you, he massages your tits, squeezing to get a firm grip. 

His breath hitches, his thrusts getting sloppy as he twitches inside you, groaning through his climax.

Collapsing on top of you, he catches his breath, chest rushing and falling against your back. Rolling off you to plop onto the mattress, he turns to look at your face while there’s a stillness in the air. 

“...so you’re a fan now?” 

“Haven’t I always been?”

Chuckling, his face turns to the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair, resting his arms above his head. As you make eye contact, both of you burst out laughing—

“I didn’t think you’d like the roleplaying thing as much as you did,” you giggle.

“Well, what can I say? It was hot,” he says. “Great idea, baby.” Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “I love bringing you on tour with us.”

“I love it too.”

[hyukalyptus]

can you rate txts pull out game? 🤭🤭

lmao fun!

cw. unprotected sex (use condoms y'all!), accidentally cumming inside reader, just silly thoughts really.

yj - i think he usually gets it right tbh, maybe the occasional oopsies, i can see him forgetting if he has a condom on and having an internal conflict while he cums inside u like oh shit, do i have one on ?? 😦 and no. no he doesn't. when he does tho, loves cumming on ur ass more than anywhere else (except inside u)

soob - ngl i think he's pretty consistent, which i feel like is gonna be an unpopular opinion. just loves creampies more than anything but doesn't want a kid like at all rn (ikik he's dad!coded but whatever idc) so he's mastered it. loves cumming on ur tits, so missionary is a fave.

beom - literally gets it wrong every time. never gets the timing right. always thinking he's got a bit more time left but never does. he just hopes he's lucky and nothing happens. the one time every few months he does get it right tho, its on ur ass.

tae - pretty good, similar to yj, but less anxious about it ig, like if it happens, it happens. i don't think he minds where he cums honestly, ass, tits, tummy, face, back, i dont think he gives a fuck, just loves painting you.

kai - 50/50, like pretty good. he generally tries, but he's not a pro but definitely doesn't fail every time tho. obviously loves cumming on ur tummy, maybe even smears it a bit just to slide his hand across ur stomach for a while.

[hyukalyptus]

aftercare w boyfriend!yeonjun <3

cw. established relationship, pet names (love), reader has tits, cuddling, drinking tea, cute aftercare pillow talk, mentions of an orgasm, biting and marking mentioned but not actively discussed, sex is talked about but there isn't a sex scene, mentions of sweat, yj consensually takes polaroids of reader's body, nsfw/mdni. notes. this is reposted from my old account! wc. ~350

boyfriend!yeonjun who waits for you on the bed with his flannel in hand so he can wrap it around you—you want me to put this back on?, barely giving you enough time to thread your arms through it before grabbing you to snuggle into your neck.

boyfriend!yeonjun who leaves the softest kisses to your shoulder while his fingertips grace your arm, dragging them up and down, making goosebumps pop up all over you.

boyfriend!yeonjun who snuck out to the kitchen while you were in the bathroom to turn the tea kettle on, soon returning with a nice calming green tea.

boyfriend!yeonjun who always reassures you—you were so good for me, you looked so fkn sexy when you came tonight love, that felt so good when you were squeezing around me~ and always makes sure you had a nice time too—was that good for you? did you like it when i bit you there? did you like that new position?

boyfriend!yeonjun who needs some attention for himself too~ can you run your fingers through my hair, love? humming while his eyes close because he loves your touch, no matter how small.

boyfriend!yeonjun who orders food for both of you—relaxing after an exhausting session with him, watching your favorite comfort show, eating ur comfort food, with ur comfort person.

boyfriend!yeonjun getting you a pillow with a fresh pillow case so you don't have to cuddle into one that's a bit damp from sweat </3

boyfriend!yeonjun rubbing his hands all over you to relieve any aches~ shoulders, hips, ass, thighs, tummy, tits.

boyfriend!yeonjun who wants to lay in bed with you all day the morning after—please, love, just stay with me? we can get groceries in a few hours. just wanna spend time with the love of my life is all.

boyfriend!yeonjun who thinks the marks and hickeys he's left on your body are gorgeous. kisses each of them so softly. takes polaroids of them so he can save them just for himself. god, you look so pretty like this~ lips trailing over your chest.