#I love how most everyone is dressed for adventure

[stephenfairbrook]

Oh, hey, I know these folks. XD

Thank you so much again for this! It came out beautifully and everyone’s personalities really shine through.

Charity commission done for my buddy's free company. It was a pleasure rendering all these cuties!

[gembreaker]

can't wait to get back in the mood to start playing again so that i can hopefully get to shb sooner rather than later and start making frankenstein parallels with kihceh & the exarch

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, oral (p receiving), messy, black!fem intended BUT it can be anybody, pudgy!reader, thick!reader, chubby!reader, put that pussy to sleep, pet names: love, baby, I did edit it, but in case of any errors, ignore it :)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | this was originally intended for Red hood but it could honestly be anybody you have in mind. I hope everyone is doing well. Stay safe, remember to drink lots of water and eat. Like, comment and reblog. Enjoy lovebugs!! 🦠🩷

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

"Mm, you taste so good, love." Laid up underneath him in your white babydoll. Dressed in lingerie, and wrapped in lace and mesh like a present on Christmas day─ it revealed the most sacred parts of your voluptuous physique. Exposed to his body heat, he warms you up like a fireplace as his hands adventure towards your hips. Bracing yourself to the contact of his mouth, it sends shivers down your spine when you feel his tongue lick long stripes up your center. You whined lowly, clinging to the stuffed animal that was on your bed. You bury your face into the plush teddy to muffle your moans. For the sake of those who are sleep, you didn't want to disturb anyone's slumber with your raunchy sounds─ your boyfriend didn't really give a damn but he proceeded to eat you out sloppily anyways.

Careless that he was making a mess, your juices dripped on the side of his face─ enjoying the very meal he missed out on for almost a week. He was relentless, hungry and quenching of thirst, for a taste of you. Popping, smacking sounds filled the room as he latched his mouth to your lower lips. The vibrations sending a tickle to your clit. His hands gripped around the fat of your ass to press you further down. You squealed in surprise. Shooting up in your kneeling position, you looked down at your boyfriend slithering his tongue between your folds. You nearly clenched your legs closed at the weird sensation of his tongue entering your leaking hole and instead of running away from him, you practically sat yourself on his (your) heavenly throne.

"Mmph, baby." He grunts in approval, eyes nearly going cross eyed at how your chunky thighs veiled his head. Loving how you were suffocating him with the very thing he would kill for. It was warm and tight, sticky, lewd and soft. The wetness of your arousal soaked around your inner thighs as he devoured your sweet center. You gripped at the sheets, clenched your eyes shut as you started to rock back and forth. Your breathing grows heavy as you begin to ride his mouth at a moderate speed. Heart eyes rolling and head lulling back, your lips part at the wave of fulfillment overwhelming you.

"Oh, baby, m'gon cum." You moaned, voice quivering a little. He hums in acknowledgement, tapping your thigh for you to quicken your pace. He starts to make out with your cunt, sucking and flicking at your clit till your movement was still. There was a silence that had fallen over the room. Your chest rises and falls once your upper body has met the mattress with a tired huff. Moaning softly, his tongue licks up the mess he had made, your juices dripping along his chin, he sucks you off the rest of the way. Giving your pussy one last kiss, he moves from under you. Turning to grab the towel that was on the floor, he glances over you about to wipe your thighs when he hears soft grunting sounds escape from your lips. He chuckles, realizing he put your ass into a deep slumber.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[lunarsilver]

What are their kinks?

18+, minors do not interact

A tarot reading regarding your (sexual) partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

Pictures are from Perfect Blue.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2

3 ~ 4

PILE 1

The Hanged Man R - Knight of Wands - Five of Swords - Back of the Deck: Ten of Cups R

What popped in my mind when looking at the Hanged Man in reverse is that your person may like light bondage and/or pleasant to the touch fabrics. Some sensual undergarments, maybe. Moreover, the character on the card in this position brings a person having an orgasm to my mind, with their head thrown back and the general body position, which makes me think your person may like to look at their partner when they climax. I also feel like they may like to be in control; they don’t enjoy “hanging down”, doing nothing, being passive. When it comes to Knight of Wands, the meaning is pretty clear. They love experimenting. They most likely have high libido and treat sex like an adventure. Next, when I looked at Five of Wands, it came to my mind they can be into people crying, like when someone cries a little from overstimulation, for example (the card shows an eye, and it looks like a teardrop runs from it). They may also be into SM or makeup sex, as the card is often about disagreement, conflicts, winning at all costs, or defeat. For some, they may be even into CNC, though this obviously is a pretty specific kink. Lastly, there is a bottle of vodka on the Ten of Cups card (in this position of the card it is turned upside down, as if something was about to be poured from it), so they can like going at it while drunk. The card may suggest your person finds non-traditional relationships appealing. For some, the card is about how this person is into these different things I mentioned but doesn’t really act on it. As a last note, I think that for quite a lot of you, this is ONS or FWB. There’s also a chance your person can be kinda self-centered when it comes to sex. That won’t be the case for everyone, obviously, but I’m writing it down. Overall, this person looks like someone who likes having fun with sex and experimenting, and most likely is rather dominant.

PILE 2

The Devil R - The Empress - Knave of Wands - Back of the Deck: The Magician

So many Major Arcana, as well as many female/feminine-presenting characters. It makes me think that, first, they fantasize about this wonderful, life-changing sex, and second, they either are very into femininity or like to lean into it themselves. I also feel like I have a lot of queer people here, especially sapphics. And if they aren’t a woman, your person still either presents feminine (and they do so out of their own choice, as a form of expression) or they wish they could. Cross-dressing may be a kink of some here, I think. There is at least one guy here (bonus points if cis and straight) who would love to be called a princess or a babygirl lol. I don’t know, I get pretty light, positive, maybe even a little playful vibes from this pile. Like, there are some himbos here, or people who hope for something good, and there’s something pure about the way they see the world. But okay, let’s stay on topic! This person of yours for sure wants to release limiting beliefs and rules, they want to experiment with sex and have fun, the Devil in reverse says it all. The Empress is all about feeling powerful in one’s femininity, and it’s either about them wanting to feel like a princess or queen or about having a partner like this. Your person is a Knave of Wands, looking with a smile into the future, free-spirited and having so many ideas they aren’t sure where to start. The Magician at the back says they manifest all this and are ready to try the whole new world that opens up to them. For most of you, this person isn’t really experienced, or maybe they were always vanilla until recently. Your person here isn’t as dirty as some other piles, they’re most likely still in the phase of finding out what exactly they like, but oh, they’ll have fun with it.

PILE 3

The Fool - The Lovers R - Queen of Pentacles R - Back of the Deck: Nine of Wands

The Fool in this deck is so flamboyant that I instantly thought “Someone’s into twinks” lol. The Fool in the card winks, looks as if he were sending a kiss to the viewer, and dances confidently, proud of his body. The Fool is the card of new beginnings, of having the power of freedom to experience the world. The Lovers in reverse look to me like people hugging and cuddling while lying on the ground, on grass. Actually, all the cards show some place outside (aside from one card, which has a one-color background), and especially with the way The Lovers look here for me, I think your person may like the idea of outdoor sex. Moreover, because the card is reversed, your person may fantasize about having many suitors and having the ability to choose - or to not choose at all. The card also suggests imbalance, so your person can be into sexual power dynamics where one person is stronger than the other - so some BDSM dynamics, or some other role play. Moving on, we have the reversed Queen of Pentacles. The card presents a woman with long, glorious hair in bold but sensual attire. Actually, with the way The Fool and Queen of Pentacles look in this deck, I believe your person may find it hot when someone has revealing clothing or some nice undergarments. I think it’s sexy for them when not everything is visible or visible well, they find it tempting and alluring. With the reversed Queen of Pentacles, I think they are into independent people who know their value. Nine of Wands suggest they want to do it long. They also want something to be left after the experience: either just fatigue, or bite marks, or bruises, or red traces (think slapping someone’s ass, either with a hand or a toy, like a paddle). And now that I think about it, for quite many of you this is about a (sexual) relationship they would like. The reversed Lovers in the center describes the power-dynamic, and The Fool and the reversed Queen of Pentacles show what kind of lovers we talk about. There’s this Queen of Pentacles who has seen some shit, and despite that, or maybe especially because of that, they find something very alluring about the Fool being an enthusiastic, confident novice. The character of Queen of Pentacles actually looks older than The Fool. Your person may like age-gaps, or like to call someone/be called “mommy” (other variants of the name, based on the gender of people involved, are also possible, of course, “mommy” simply is the strongest here). Think about which description you fit more (either in life or just in bed) - The Fool or the reversed Queen of Pentacles. Your person is the other one.

PILE 4

The World - Nine of Swords - Four of Cups - Back of the Deck: King of Wands

The World is pretty straightforward here - they fantasize about this perfect sex, which is an almost spiritual experience; one that brings the feeling of completion, of being happy. For some reason I also think about this kind of sex where you extend the experience, having long, calm pleasure (like a person with vulva sitting on the dick of another person and just squeezing and relaxing their muscles, maybe sometimes moving a few times, just to keep it hard - that’s just an example, of course). Tantric sex. Next, with these Nine of Swords, I think your person likes the idea of someone dreaming about them or not being able to sleep because they think about them (maybe because they’re touching while thinking about your person), they find it hot. Your person may really love the idea of someone finding them so attractive, they get anxious or shy about it. The image also shows handcuffs, so maybe your person is into that. This card in the deck I used for the reading looks happier and more peaceful than its most traditional imagery, and when I look at it, I’m thinking about some romantic gestures like giving flowers. Color-wise, this card and The World both are pink and purple, and have this peaceful vibe about them. It kinda looks like the person portrayed in Nine of Swords dreams about this fantastic sex life, but they’re just lying alone in their bed. On the back we have King of Wands, which represents a passionate lover, and a good one at that. Not just good. Exceptional. For some of you, this is who your person aspires to be, but I think that for more of you, your person fantasizes about someone like this. Your person gives me the vibe of someone who dreams big; they’re into these romantic, maybe a little obsessive scenarios. Of course, it is still just a scenario they like to think about, it doesn’t mean they want to actually be with someone obsessive. Overall, I think that for most of you, this person is more on the submissive side, and they like all these classic scenarios from romance/romantasy/smut books or fics. Another thing for most of you which I see, is that your person probably doesn't have a lot of experience, but they definitely think about sex and romance, and hope for a chance to experience them.

[ciciyup]

Yandere! Apollo X fem! Human reader headcanons.

cw: Little nsfw, obsession, possessiveness, dark themes, cheating? (I don't know how I should categorize it, but it's not a direct hoax), angst, kidnapping, forced marriage.

🏹 a/n: This is the first yandere! What do I do, I hope I did well. I was feeling quite inspired so I think a little story formed as well.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

Apollo has never been one to worry, he is the epitome of beauty, no other God in the pantheon was as beautiful as he was. Being surrounded by women and men who are not only there beside him, but also queue for his attention, is something Apollo enjoys, attention and all eyes on him was something he loved.

He doesn't need to lower himself and have less, he must have all the best, that includes the most beautiful people, which was not a problem. Nymphs, goddesses and even mortals, rained down on him in droves, although the latter could not matter less to him.

Sometimes, among the millions of mortals that inhabited the earth, Apollo chose those who could stand out the most and had a unique beauty to take them with him. Sure they had always been adventures, he had fun with them, but that was all.

On one of his many trips around the earth he found you. He saw you picking oranges from a large tree, carefully storing them in your basket that was almost full. You were... Perfect. Your hair moved in time with the pleasant breeze of the day, your eyes were brighter than the stars, your smile could heal sore eyes, your voice was like hearing the singing of angels. You were so beautiful.

He didn't care much about you at first if he had to admit it. You seemed very common, very normal, just another mortal woman, however, something made him go to you. He didn't need to do much, just introduce himself and talk nonsense. You were nothing but nice and kind, you offered to help him find his way if he was lost, you asked him if he was hungry and offered him an orange.

He just looked for silly excuses to make more time and get to know you better, he lamented when you told him that your family was waiting for you and you couldn't stay. He watched your form as you left his vision until you were lost, your beautiful floral dress disappearing into the crowd and being replaced by sad shades of colors from people walking on their own path.

What made you so special? Was it the way you were so kind and modest with everyone else? Was it the way you saw things? Apollo, not having enough, kept seeing you regularly on different occasions, strangely always appearing out of nowhere when you were alone in some places or doing your own tasks. At first, it didn't seem strange to you, you thought it was just a coincidence, which made Apollo take advantage of your naivety even more.

Apollo thought you would fall at his feet as soon as he saw you, he wouldn't even need three days to leave you enchanted, but then it happens and he hits reality. He discovers that you are not interested in him in the slightest, at least not in the way he wants. You don't even worship the gods, you're not interested in them, you don't bring offerings or pray to them like other mortals. You don't lose yourself in him, you don't beg for attention, you don't adore him, you just see him as if he were just another man and that made Apollo's blood boil.

So when Apollo proposes to you and to go with him, you politely decline, feeling flattered, but refusing because you don't love him and you don't feel the same way. Apollo's face contorts, his brow furrows quickly and he tries to hide his inner side as best he can. His ego felt hurt, was he rejected by a mere mortal?

You move on with your life, Apollo seemed to have taken it well and wasn't upset, that's what you believed after he left. When you think everything is fine, he arrives silently to take what is his, what belonged to him from the beginning. No more games, there would be no more facades of the just and understanding God, he lets the true face of the coin come to light, then you don't have time to react.

He takes you, sees you walking towards your house and surprises you there. Your basket falls with a thud and the fruit falls scattered all over the floor, but no one else was there anymore.

Upon arriving at his kingdom, Apollo introduces you to it as your new home, showing you all the places keeping you close, holding your wrist so you wouldn't run away, even though there was nowhere to run, you were too far from earth and you wouldn't be coming back, he would make sure of that.

You resist for a long time, you don't want to talk to him or look at him or kiss him or touch him, you don't want his presence. Apollo doesn't want to be mean to you, he really doesn't, but your impertinence pissed him off, and when you didn't learn things there were consequences.

He pushes you into a room after you refused to sleep with him in what would be your shared room, the room was cold and almost empty, it had a mirror and a small couch, it didn't seem to be very frequented by anyone, since you could even see cracks in the walls. He dared to leave you there for almost four days, without seeing you even once, without leaving you food or water or any other basic resources, and when he decided to see you, believing that you had learned your lesson, he found you on the floor of the room almost dying.

You were pale, your lips dry, you could barely move, your stomach hurt from the lack of food and your throat was crying out for some water.

As he carried you to his shared room and laid you there, as he watched you eat the food voraciously and drink more than six glasses of water, as he watched you rest covered by the finest and warmest blankets on his bed, yes, now you would learn that things would be his way, you had no say in any decision, you would only focus on him.

And even after you became his beloved, faithful and devoted wife with the finest jewelry and the most beautiful dresses, he would remain the same, not even for you would he change. As you sat on a rock in front of the beautiful landscape of the place thinking about everything he had taken from you, Apollo was no less than a meter away from you in the hot springs with the nymphs at his side, each one laughing and talking to him, hugging and tracing his chest with their thumbs at the slightest opportunity. He relaxed with each one, every now and then, ignoring your presence, ignoring your pain.

Still, he refused to let you go. He didn’t care about silly nymphs, they were just for hanging out and feeling adored, if he didn’t have you he had nothing. He wanted you by his side, in the hot springs, on another throne next to him, in meetings with other gods, he wanted you.

It was only a matter of time, he would fuck you so hard you would carry his child and then he would finally have you with no chance of escape. He would take you every night in his marital bed and fill your belly until it was full and swollen, he would bury himself deep inside you to fill you again and again with his seed and he would claim you. You were his. You were from the first moment he saw you.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

🏹 a/n: I didn't think I would like it so much but in the end I really liked the result. I wrote it in less than two hours, although it is revised I am sorry if there are any errors. I was thinking of doing more yandere! For other characters, I like the theme. I have ideas for the next one so wait for it (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

—cici🏹

[theemporium]

[4.1k] when a last minute team meeting takes them to amsterdam, lando decides to take the opportunity to see what his teammate is like under the influence. (smut)

part two to this blurb that spiralled into landoscar smut somehow

.

It happened in Amsterdam. 

With a new sponsor on the rise and the team desperate to lock down the deal before the new season started, Lando and Oscar were asked to fly out to the Netherlands a few weeks before the car launch. It put a small damper on both men’s winter break plans, the last few days of freedom they had before they dived into work mode for the new season—but ultimately, neither boy complained. 

Oscar had felt bad for having to cancel your plans, knowing how excited you were about planning a few days for the two of you to spend some time alone together—away from the world, away from everyone. In all honesty, it was what he was looking forward to the most. He knew Formula One was different, that he would be busier than he ever had been in his life, but it never prepared him to be away from you for so long. 

So yeah, he was pretty fucking bummed about having to cut the trip out of his plans but he invited you with him to Amsterdam in hopes the two of you could make the best out of a bad situation. 

After all, Zak had only wanted them for a day or two, to just sit in meetings and play up some charm and confidence to give the sponsor the last push they needed to sign the deal with McLaren.

And, by some luck you swore was from a higher power, the deal had been negotiated and signed after a very long, tedious meeting. 

But Oscar didn’t complain, he couldn’t complain when it meant that he would have more time alone with you in a country he never really had the chance to explore beyond the race tracks and most famous sites.

It just seemed like Lando had a similar idea.

“I got the perfect place to check out,” Lando insisted as they walked out of the busy office building they had been stuck in for the last few hours. “Martin recommended it, said it was insane and a necessity to check out when we were in the city.”

Oscar tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, but the boy’s words had him intrigued. “And he’s never taken you before?” 

“Said it was best to visit in the off-season,” Lando replied, and the smile spread across his face did little to reassure Oscar’s suspicions about the mysterious place. “Bring your girl too! She will love it, Oscar. You both will.”

He raised his brows. “And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Be a little adventurous, Piastri,” his teammate teased, lightly nudging his shoulder as they headed towards their team-appointed cars. “Dress nice. We leave at eight.”

“I haven’t even agreed to anything,” Oscar pointed out, but the Brit didn’t seem all too bothered as he waved his teammate off before climbing into his car. 

Truthfully, it shouldn’t have surprised Oscar that you were up for the night out. Lando’s mysterious words intrigued you as much as they intrigued him, and you both trusted Lando enough that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to drag you somewhere dodgy. Hopefully. 

So, Oscar tried to push away the voice in the back of his head that said he should have asked more questions. He was a Formula One driver, he was used to control, he was used to always being the one in charge of his own fate. It felt weird to leave everything in the hands of Lando, even if he trusted his teammate more than he did with most people in his life. 

“Relax,” you murmured to him as you stepped between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders as he waited for Lando to message he was waiting downstairs. “It’s one night.”

“I know, I’m excited,” Oscar answered honestly as his hands rested on the back of your thighs, trying not to think about the pretty, little dress you had slipped on for the night. He could have sworn he had never seen it before. A part of him was tempted to cancel the whole night and stay in to truly appreciate the dress. “It’s just the idea of Lando being in charge of everything…”

“Hm, you say that as though you don’t worship the ground he walks on,” you teased, smiling in amusement at the way his cheeks burned pink.

“I do not!” Oscar grumbled, but he was smiling back. “Okay, I do a little. But it’s Lando…he’s my first teammate in Formula One. He is just—”

“I know,” you murmured with a smile, leaning down to peck his lips. “And he cares about you. So relax and trust the fact that he was excited to check this place out with you.” 

The place in question—the one that Martin insisted Lando needed to check out—turned out to be something straight out of a Bond movie. 

Oscar hadn’t even managed to catch the name when Lando had muttered it to their driver, a giddy smile on his face as he turned back to look at you and Osacr in the back seat. He was excited, buzzing in his seat as he rambled off about random topics could barely even keep up with as he watched the city pass by in a blink through the window. 

It was an exclusive club, not very well-known but a local treasure to those who knew of it. One of those places in movies where you knocked on a steel door and grumbled out a password. The kind of places that you expected to feel dodgy and cautious and like you were making the biggest mistake for stepping into the establishment. One of those places that two high-profile athletes should definitely never be caught in. 

But Lando just turned to him, that stupidly huge grin on his face as he threw an arm over his shoulder and dragged him inside. 

“Relax, Piastri, nobody is gonna care who you are in here!”

And honestly, the thought shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was to him.

But despite the many warnings he received about stepping up as a Formula One driver, Oscar never really wrapped his head around how famous he was. He had his fair share of internet spotlight on him throughout his career, he was used to being recognised every once in a while. But being a Formula One driver—a McLaren one, nonetheless—was a whole new level.

People stopped him in the streets and asked for photos. His face was blasted on huge posters in airports and cities he hadn’t visited before. Every aspect of his life was constantly under a microscope now. He had fans and followers all around the world, not just from his home country. He had a level of fame he couldn’t even conceptualise. 

He had a level of fame he wasn’t even sure he wanted. 

His whole life he just wanted to drive. He just wanted to get behind the wheel and achieve the dream he had been chasing after since he was a young boy. He just wanted to do what he loved, what he had been passionate about since before he could even remember. 

It just came in a package deal with having more attention that he preferred, so the very idea of stepping foot into this exclusive club and nobody caring he was Oscar Piastri? Yeah, that sounded really fucking good.

Your arm wrapped around his biceps as you followed the Brit deeper into the club. It was dark—darker than a usual club—with red-tinted lights surrounding the place, adding a soft hue that was just enough to see a few steps ahead of you. The music thumped through the building, like the bass lived in the walls as it sounded throughout the place. 

There was no bar. And the dance floor wasn’t really a dance floor. It felt like a stage, placed right in the middle of the room for people to ogle and observe. The whole place was surrounded in these dimly lit booths, large enough that they almost felt like a room. 

The whole place was fucking weird and nothing like he expected. 

And maybe that was what thrilled Oscar about the whole situation. 

“Where do we order our drinks?” He had asked as they made their way to the far left corner, the furthest place from the door. The surrounding booths were empty but Lando still chose the one right in the corner as he flopped down onto the large cushioned sofas. 

He watched as you and Oscar took the seat across from him as he grinned. 

Oscar raised his brows. 

“We are in fucking Amsterdam,” Lando snorted, something glinting in his eyes that even the dim, red lights seemed to pick up. “You don’t come here to get shit-faced drunk, Oscar.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You brought us to your dodgy club to get stoned?”

“Best in the city, baby,” Lando said, the smile on his face widening as he leaned back against the cushions, comfortable and settled with his legs spread a little wider than he usually would. “A little birdie told me Oscar was the kind of man you wanted to smoke with.”

Oscar raised his brows. “You sound surprised by that.”

“Let’s just say there aren’t many sides to you that I don’t think I’ve already seen,” Lando answered with a simple shrug before he raised his hand, catching the attention of a waitress Oscar didn’t even notice was walking by.

And maybe it was immoral. Or sneaky. Or whatever you wanted to call it. 

Maybe it wasn’t the most truthful way to experience it but Lando Norris was a fucking curious man and the opportunity fell right into the palm of his hand. Because Logan Sargeant’s words had been ringing in his head like a loop since that night in the club, his eyes being opened to a whole new side of his younger teammate and he wanted to see more. 

He wanted to know who Oscar Piastri was under all the layers he seemed to put up when he was sober.

And with the team dragging them to Amsterdam and Martin having told him about this club with the assurance that it suddenly wouldn’t be plastered over the front page in the morning that they were indulging in recreational drugs before the season started…well, Lando couldn’t just ignore it, could he?

It wasn’t noticeable at first and, for a brief moment, Lando wondered if the American was just pulling his leg about the whole situation. He wondered if Logan had just seen his shock to clingy, touchy Oscar when he was drunk and needy and thought it would be hilarious to just add fuel to the fire that night for his own amusement. 

Because one joint in and Oscar seemed like he had hours ago in the meeting room, dressed in a fancy suit and looking slightly out of his comfort zone. 

But time passed and the edges of his own brain began to feel fuzzy, and Lando started noticing it. He noticed the way Oscar seemed to squirm in his seat, the way his eyes lingered on your mouth as you took a drag from the joint. He noticed the way Oscar’s arm had dropped from around your shoulder to his hand firmly being placed on the bare skin of your thigh instead. He watched as Oscar pressed his body close to yours until there wasn’t an inch of your side that wasn’t touching his.

And then, Oscar was leaning in, his lips skimming past your ear and instantly dropping to your neck like he didn’t even care Lando was there.

Lando couldn’t even bring himself to feel all that guilty as he watched the display, something deep in his gut twisting in desire.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the boy’s lips latched onto your neck, a small sigh leaving your lips as he began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His hand squeezed your thigh, gripping onto it like it was a lifeline as he continued to kiss lower and lower until his lips were brushing against the fabric of your dress. 

“Oscar,” you murmured as you raised your hand, fingers threaded through his hair but the boy didn’t stop as he nosed the edge of your dress, his lips dangerously close to your cleavage. 

“Want you,” the Aussie murmured, something like a whine sounding from the back of his throat as he nipped the fabric with his teeth. “Please.” 

“Baby,” you choked out a noise, your eyes snapping open like you finally seemed to remember Lando was there. You felt breathless as your eyes met his, the dim light making it difficult to read the expression on his face but you could have sworn you saw something quite like desire in his gaze. “Lando is—”

“Not complaining,” the Brit finished for you, his voice a little rougher and even he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoking or the sight in front of him. 

Oscar blinked as he lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little red. He looked at you before he shifted his eyes to Lando, his gaze dragging over his teammate. He should have removed himself from you, should have pulled his hand away and slid away—but he remained exactly where he was. 

“Don’t be shy, Oscar,” Lando murmured, and something in the Aussie’s chest sparked. “You wanna touch your girl, then who am I to stop you from making her feel good.”

“You gonna watch?” Oscar asked. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Lando retorted. 

“No.”

Lando’s smirk slowly widened. “Yeah? You two gonna put on a little show for me?”

Oscar blinked before he turned to look at you. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like there were flames coursing through his veins and burning him alight and he never wanted to stop. But as he looked at you, eyes glossy or not, one word from you and he would stop this whole thing, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

You were his first priority. You were always his first priority.

“You wanna, baby?” He murmured, just low enough for it to only be heard by the two of you. 

“I think,” you swallowed thickly as your eyes traced over your boyfriend’s face, as the bubbling desire and strong urge to clench your legs together washed over you with the heat of Lando’s gaze on you. “It would be the polite thing to do.” 

Oscar tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Show him how good you make me feel,” you murmured as his grip on your thigh tightened in response. 

And when you couldn’t resist anymore, your eyes snapped over to where Lando was sitting. There was something thrilling about the sight, something your fuzzy brain couldn’t begin to comprehend but your body sure as hell did. There was something about him sitting across from you both, legs spread and eyes focused on the two of you as he watched in silent appreciation. 

It felt dirty. It felt wrong. It felt like the last thing the three of you should be doing in a random club in Amsterdam. And yet, none of you wanted to stop. 

Lando watched in delight the way a choked gasp left your lips as Oscar tugged the neckline of your dress down, as his lips attached to the newly exposed skin. Your hand moved back to thread through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled your dress down until your tits were exposed. 

He watched as Oscar let out a groan at the sight, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He watched as your head fell back, your boyfriend’s name a breathy moan past your lips as he continued to nuzzle himself between your tits. 

“Would’ve never taken you as a tits man, Oscar.” Lando’s voice was rough and low, something that shouldn’t have made the whole situation hotter but it did. “Can’t blame you though, can I? Your girl has such pretty tits, would be a crime to ignore them.”

A whine sounded from the back of Oscar’s throat. 

Lando’s eyes fell from your flushed face to the hand on your thigh. He watched as Oscar continued to push the hem of your dress further up until he got impatient and allowed his hand to slip beneath the skirt. He watched as Oscar groaned something incoherent against your skin, as you shifted your hips enough for him to pull your panties down your legs with a speed that was almost impressive. 

He hardly had time to blink before he felt the soft thump against his leg, as he looked down to see your panties balled up and now resting on his lap after Oscar had thrown them. 

Lando let out a dark chuckle, his head falling back. “You little shit.” 

But Oscar didn’t pay him any attention. Oscar didn’t pay attention to anything but you and the feeling of you beneath his lips and touch. His brain was fuzzy, his thoughts were muddled and all he knew was that he really, really fucking wanted to taste you. 

Yet, you didn’t seem to share Oscar’s one-track mind.

“Not fair that we’re the only ones who get to have fun,” you murmured, your eyes watching him closely as Lando eyed the pair of panties, seeming to contemplate so many racing thoughts in his head before he reached for them. “Maybe I want a show too.”

Lando’s eyes found yours in the dark. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” it was a little high-pitched as Oscar’s thumb pressed against your clit. “Yeah. Please.”

He let out a groan. “Still so fucking polite when he is all over you.”

You weren’t even sure where the spark of confidence came from—maybe from the way he was watching you and Oscar so eagerly—but your mouth opened before you could stop yourself. “Jealous?” 

“Maybe.”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers tugging on Oscar’s hair as you watched Lando’s hand drop to the obvious bulge in his pants. “Of who?”

His smirk widened. “Both.” 

“Shit,” you whispered, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaving your lips as you tore your eyes away from the older driver before your whole body burned up.

“Look what a good boy he is,” Lando commented, watching as Oscar littered soft kisses all over your chest and collarbone as his fingers pressed small circles against your clit. “Barely even touched you and he’s humping the sofa.”

Oscar’s cheeks burned hot.

“Bet he’s obedient,” Lando continued as the sound of a zipper echoed through the booth, as the rustling made it clear to both of you what he was doing. “Such a good listener, aren’t you, Oscar? Just wanna make everyone happy, hm? A team player.” 

Oscar finally lifted his head, his eyes glossed over like he was drunk off lust and desire alone.

“You gonna listen to me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Gonna do what I say?”

He nodded again, his eyes locked on the way Lando palmed himself over his boxers with one hand as he held your panties in the other.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Get between her legs, baby, I know you’ve been dying for a taste of her probably since she put on that lil’ number.”

And Lando was right. He was obedient. It was almost like his body was moving under a spell as he shifted, as he slid off the couch and settled on his knees on the carpeted floor instead. It should have felt wrong to have his back to Lando, but instead the idea that the boy’s eyes were locked on him whilst he touched himself (even if Oscar couldn’t see) thrilled him more than it should have.

His hands palmed your thighs before he slowly spread your legs, as he pushed the fabric of your dress until it pooled at your hips and exposed you. A whimper left Oscar’s lips as he tugged you closer to the edge, as one hand pushed your thigh back whilst the other guided your leg over his shoulder. 

He looked up at you, his cock twitching in his pants at the silent plea in your eyes for him to do something, to give you what you wanted just as bad as him. And his eyes never left your as he leaned down, tongue pressed against your soaked cunt as he licked upwards in one thick, broad stroke. 

“Fuck!” 

Lando couldn’t help himself as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, as he squeezed the length of himself before pulling his cock free of any restraints. 

Lando couldn’t help himself as the hand fisting your panties wrapped around his cock, as he let the lacy fabric run against his sensitive tip and resisted the urge to buck his hips. 

Lando couldn’t fucking help himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes locked on the way you panted and moaned and grasped the cushions around you as Oscar worked between your legs. 

A part of him wanted to get up, to close the distance between him and you both. He wanted to walk over, he wanted to thread his fingers through Oscar’s hair like you had done before and guide him. He wanted to watch the boy lick and kiss and suck your needy cunt until his face was dripping. He wanted to whisper just what a good fucking boy Oscar really was as he made you come, as Lando watched you come. 

But the other part of him liked this—this twisted sense of power. He liked the fact he could sit back and watch, like it really was a show you two were putting on for him. He liked the idea that this went beyond something any of you understood, the way the two of you were so eager and pliant and obedient for him. 

He liked that he could sit back, your wet panties fisted around his cock as he watched the two of you moan and squirm and desperately try and look pretty for him. 

And you did. You both looked so, so pretty for him. 

And you sounded so pretty too when you moaned out his name instead of your boyfriend’s. The way your back arched off the couch, your face scrunched up in pleasure as Oscar held your hips down. The way Lando could hear the way his teammate was groaning against your pussy, see the way his hips shifted like he desperately needed some friction against his aching cock. 

It was the prettiest fucking sight Lando had ever seen. 

“That’s it, baby,” Lando groaned. “Come for Oscar, let him taste you, yeah?” 

You nodded dumbly, far too lost in your own pleasure to even understand what he was saying. 

“Bet you’re so fucking hard,” Lando continued, his eyes locked on the way the muscles in his back shifted through his shirt. “Bet you could come just from hearing her moan, huh?” 

The whine Oscar let out told Lando everything he needed to know. 

“That’s it,” Lando groaned, his fist tightening around his cock as he felt his stomach clench as he neared the edge, as he neared his own orgasm. “Gotta finish the show f’me, hm? Gonna be good for me, yeah?” 

You chanted out Oscar’s name as you finally came, shaking and squirming as he held your body against the cushions and continued to suck on your sensitive clit. And when you couldn’t take any more, you lightly pushed his head away to see his expression: flushed cheeks, hooded eyes and glossy lips that you wanted to kiss so bad. But a shifting movement caught your eyes, your gaze moving down to look at the dark patch spread across the front of his boxers. 

“Just tasted so good,” Oscar murmured, not even ashamed or embarrassed at the mess he made. 

And then your eyes shifted to look at the boy across the room. 

He leaned back against the cushions, his chest moving up and down with soft pants. His trousers were pushed down to pool mid-thigh, his boxers just above them and his cock was still fisted in his hand, covered by your panties and his own come. It shouldn’t have been so attractive. 

“I think I prefer this Oscar much better than drunk Oscar,” Lando eventually commented, something quite like a smug grin on his face as he looked between you both. 

There was a tension in the room, one that none of your fuzzy brains could really grasp onto just yet. But it was there and it was overwhelming and suffocating and you each had half the mind to hope this night never ended. 

You didn’t know what would happen after tonight, but you knew until then, the hidden club in the depths of Amsterdam would keep your secret—the secret that maybe all three of you wanted something more than a night fuelled by lust and weed. 

.

[sc0rpi0suntaurusm00n]

Astro Observations

Venus Sign Obs Edition💫

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for 1k 🥹🫶🫶 here is an appreciation post 💖

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Aries Venus - these people are always doing it how they mean it or just active personality or they can have really strong values but open to new experiences. These natives are very open about how they feel about their relationships, they have a lot of passion for relations and friends, but it comes with a lot of issues being that they could have friends not reciprocate or people they love might not like them back in their younger years causing them to have low self worth. These natives have a big heart though! Aries is very big hearted but sometimes they don't act like it because they can be tough on those they care about but always to help them become better and they never mean true harm even when they try to be rude it usually just ends up funny or sassy to me (Aries mars too) 😭🤍

Taurus Venus - ooo LUV ❤ I am so biased lol as a Taurus moon because you guys are always super safe for me, like even the toxic ones can be super lovable ugh 😭 besides the toxic ones... The females are so kind and have some strong values/morals. Taurus Venus wants stable relationship with give and take and they want to have their partner to themselves and can become very jealous easily but don't like to admit it and they can be so shmexy about it like "I wanna leave a bite mark so everyone knows you are mine" ugh as scorpio Venus I eat that shiz up 😭💫💫

Gemini Venus - most likely to be besties before lovers, totally the most positive and funny in the room and so smart about random things. It's so much fun to hang out with these natives and they have a great sense of who they are and will take nothing less in relationships than what they deserve. They can have a lot of problems in the dating aspect because they are more comfortable with friends rather than being intimate and giving themselves fully to someone. Geminis and Gemini venuses can be quite open with their friends and people around them but with their loved ones closest to them it can be kind of hard for me to understand them because they can be a bit detached but it's for safety which I get and honestly I think they keep secrets just as good as ppl say Scorpios do, when they want to.

Cancer Venus - they get a lot of their values from their mothers. They have a lot of kind energy but sometimes they can be covert narcissists if aspecting asteroid narcissus or in the 12th house, because 12th house can make one have a hard time with boundaries in life. Cancer Venus is very kindhearted and want to care for their friends. However, they often seem great in the beginning but soon emotions become the forefront of the relationship often I see these placements being very sensitive people in close relationships and for me I just don't like that, sometimes it makes me feel like I have to walk on eggshells and I cannot speak my mind, but that is not Always the case for everyone and every cancer Venus if they have other good placements like earth placements to balance out emotions and grounded logic they can be very kindhearted and loyal and stable. In bed cancer Venus would want to get closer to the person and to create a nurturing environment definitely a cuddle buddy, the men might very comforting to their partner and protective which is just so heartwarming. Types to get turned on by cuddling literally. I love Cancer Venus peeps not super enjoyed as friends tho (8th house synastry😭) still tho ~🩵🩵🩵

Leo Venus - they are class clown guys or the baddie girlies, and they always have a pretty good sized friend group. Not necessarily famous but they have a lot of light and this can show up as getting a lot of attention from people. They are so IT ppl 💅 Always on trends and know how to dress UP 💃 these natives have a lot of passion for exploring and learning, always ready to go on an adventure with friends or family. They have a lot of fancy styles and elegance they dress to impress lol. (They also imo would be very good at dress to impress😭) Leo Venus in relationships want to be treated Right and nothing lessbut they have had low self esteem at some point in they're younger years but they grow into themselves later in life. Leo Venus in bed is passionate and looking to have fun, want to be praised or the opposite 🫣. . . Such loyal friends and family members, the types to give random gifts because they have a lot of nice things and might want to get rid of them and just gift to family and friends, really lovely souls and fun to be around.

Virgo Venus - most I have known were either really short or really tall no in between... They usually wear glasses if Venus/mercury is afflicted. Virgo Venus are very caring and they are very much the type to treat you as a patient whom they care about the health of same with 6th house Venus. Very concerned about the health of their loved ones and they want to take good care of them. Virgo Venus men in bed is always careful of your safety and wants to make sure you are comfortable and wants to know what you like/dislike and does so in a very attractive way. They are also very smart and/or smart looking people like dark academia aesthetic clothing. 🤍🫰also - of in good house - love for animals and care for them a lot

Libra Venus - these natives I have not seen in a good light and I have only met few, but I know that there are some lovely Libras out there somewhere - the ones I have known enjoy gossiping, mental stimulation, and often have a lot of conventional beauty. These people in some cases may be the type to run from arguments when less mature... In relationships they are really kind and compliment their loved ones a lot. Often they have pretty good skincare routines or they know a lot about make-up things, from my experience.

Scorpio Venus - these natives are super strong & powerful physically and/or emotionally. These natives in relationships are very loyal and passionate, might have issues with obsession in relationships and tend to like bad boys who are mysterious and this is usually what causes they're pain arc, and they end up staying by themselves especially if in the 12th house, so that they can rebuild and be more independent and learn about who they are. Scorpio Venus in bed are very maddening 🙈and intense, they may want connection and closeness with their partner sooner in the relationship rather than later. Scorpio Venus with friends are really loyal and sometimes may hold onto relationships a bit longer than necessary because they are comfortable even if it may be toxic... 👀

Sagittarius Venus - These natives are really fun, charismatic, and can often be jokesters. They do oftentimes like to party and have a wanderlust that cannot be beat. I see say men especially get a lot of flack for things like being flighty and having commitment issues and basically portray them as flirts and f boys which is so far from how I usually see it. From what I have seen, they are very outgoing and like to be friends with many, sometimes they are also the opposite too though, finding it hard to talk to ppl much, and sticking more to themselves... Either way, say venusians do in many cases think pretty highly of themselves though in my experience. Honestly they are, in my humble opinion, pretty fun and cool ppl. ❤️‍🔥

Capricorn Venus - often pretty serious but still fun and loyal ppl. They have a lot of sass sometimes in females and are girl bosses or they hold more traditional beliefs as males. The females I know are super strong and beautiful. As friends, they are giving with their time and energy with the relationships that they really care about. These natives are very hardworking or the opposite if afflicted. I don't know much about these natives because I know very few but I can say that they can be clingy when young, alao they often try to act mature sooner in turn some end up in relationships at a younger age, from what I have seen (male and female.)

Aquarius Venus - oh boy these natives are very different but they also are quite familiar to me, they have a need for a lot of mental stimulation and often they have like 2 really close ppl who they don't ghost but they often ghost ppl randomly and then come back like a few months later. Aqua Venus love to be sociable and have a lot of connections same with Venus 11th house, they are super fun and often come from a religious background but change their beliefs as they get older and have strong morals and values. They get really clingy with the ppl they love sometimes when younger and they can have rejection which causes them to be more detached and they end up being a bit flighty from one group to another, but overall when mature they are very interesting and smart ppl.

Pisces Venus - they're really kind and have a lot of love to give to the world, and are very artsy and have the ability to be very intelligent emotionally. Often Pisces Venus ppl are the kind of lover to paint for you or draw for you as a gift and love to just be freely very creative with their partners. Pisces Venus truly need to be protected they are very kind souls as long as they are kept away from the harmful things of the world in their homes. If they are not kept safe they may go down a bad path and those kinds of Pisces end up having insatiable loneliness which creates a perfect mentality for addiction. Pisces are amazing friends who can give great advice and they may often be the type to be friends with ppl who might hurt them or who they attempt to fix, or those who encourage their vices. Pisces ppl are super wise... and they love deeply when they fall for someone.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

『 Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment if I missed anything ~~ 💓🤍💓 ~~ 』

© 2024 sc0rpi0suntaurusm00n

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi I can't see if requests are open but if they are can i have the third years plus Riddle and Jamil with a reader like Ms Frizzle? like they are very cheerful and school oriented and always willing to demonstrate something for a classmate whos struggling, and going on cool field trip like adventures. like Adeuce struggling with botany? here boys a trip to the botanic garden to study up close is in order. Epel whining about makeup? MC thinks it would help if he saw the whole process, and suddenly theyre making their own face creams for fun. they make mini terreriums with Jade to grow mushrooms and observe the growing process. you get the point. (its also a hc of mine that ms Fizzle sewed all her dresses herself, because just, theyre too cool and specific to be from a store. however you want to put that in)

Frizzle Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Yes having a classmate and lover like that would be fun but imagine a teacher. Like when the mirror brought you and Crowley just assumed you were a student, you bring a finger to his lips and laugh. “School? Honey, I haven’t been on the other side of the desk in a good while!” And suddenly you’re the newest wacky teacher on his payroll. Of course the students can’t help but adore your spunky take on science. But the ones most effected are the staff you end up educating on the art of falling in love obsessively: 

Divus Crewel

“This pack of rowdy pups hardly know the first thing about chemistry!”

“Then let’s teach them my Dear Divus! Seat belts everyone!”

“You’re insatiable.”

He absolutely loves you

He just wishes you wouldn’t reward the misbehaving pups so easily 

The way their eyes sparkle when you teach and how no one sleeps

He’s jealous

Not because they listen to you

But because they all get to admire you so openly 

He’s got a reputation to keep 

He can’t be kissing the tips of your shoes in front of everyone

So he’ll settle for letting you teach in your unorthodox way

Dire Crowley

“Actually (Y/n), I was hoping you could do these filings for me! I have this uh thing I have to–”

“Now that’s not right. A man who should be filing isn’t too good at lying!”

“What I’m not–Look if you could just–”

“I have a glorious idea! Let’s explore the molecules of a stack of papers!”

“Nooo!”

At first he hates how you drag him into adventures especially when he tries to shirk his duties onto you

But it soon evolves to him begging to be included on the adventures you take the students on

And by then it’s not just an excuse to skip work

He’s desperately trying to spend some private time with you

But leave it to the pesky roadbumps students who blackmail and threaten him if he gets too close to you

“W-w-w-ait please! I-I’m the adult!”

He’ll have to resort doing something more drastic to get you alone

[81folklore]

heaven - PIASTRI - part 5

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: australian adventures of yn and oscar

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: IM BACK WRITING MY FAVORITE ANGELS!!! ive been feeling slightly more motivated so i thought id just continue a story instead of creating a new one (at least whilst im in this slump) i do hope you enjoy!!

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 7,191 others

oh australia how ive missed you and your gifts 💫

view comments

user3 whats the best gift australia has given you??

yourusername oscar!!! liked by oscarpiastri

user3 SHUT THE FUCK UP WHATTTT?!?!??

user62 i feel SICK THEYRE SO??

oscarpiastri oh my goddd

oscarpiastri 😍😍

user4 you cannot separate oscar from that emoji

yourusername not even i can😕😕

oscarpiastri you can pry it from my cold dead hands

user81 that dog is so stinking cute

user22 yess but that dress is GORGEOUS

user5 right shes sooooooo pretty liked by oscarpiastri

user88 australia is the one whos lucky!! liked by oscarpiastri

user67 like they are being blessed with the yn ln

yourfriend3 you are oh so lovely liked by oscarpiastri

yourfriend3 i take it back stop your boyf from liking my comments abt you

yourusername he loves me🥰🥰

oscarpiastri i do!! its true!!

oscarpiastri 📍location home

liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 52,281 others

my favorite lady in my favorite place

view comments

user18 SHE IS HIS FAVORITE LADY OH MU GOD😭😭

user17 AND HIS FAVORITE PLACE IS HOME😭

user24 oh my god she is gorgeous liked by oscarpiastri

user84 i will never ever get tired of them

user28 i hope theyre in love forever and ever liked by oscarpiastri

user55 oscar liking this comment☹️☹️

yourusername my babyyyy

yourusername oh how ill always love you liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🩷🩷

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 8,729 others

the day you entered my world you changed my entire view on life and myself, you help me find love and happiness in things i never expected and showed me how to appreciate the smallest things in life.

sometimes i wonder if im being selfish, how can i be worthy of all the love and time youve given to me? surely there is someone more deserving, someone who needs everything youve showed me more? i think about what i must have done in a past life to be gifted with you and then i wonder if we are destined.

maybe i dont deserve you in this life, maybe i dont deserve you in a thousand other lifes. but i believe we are meant to be which means for every universe we dont find eachother, we find eachother in a hundred more

im so glad we found each other, i dont know if i deserve you but i promise i will cherish and appreciate you the way i have done for 6 years and the way i will continue to love you for as long as this universe allows and then i will love you even longer in another

six years used to feel like forever but now ill never have enough time, happy anniversary lovely

view comments

oscarpiastri you continue to help my heart keep beating

oscarpiastri i didnt think love was real until i found you

oscarpiastri we will find eachother in every universe i promise

oscarpiastri you are the prettiest and most lovely person i have ever met and you deserve everything and more

yourusername my good looking boyyyy🩵🩵

user29 i have no words i cant comprehend what im reading

user10 i feel so violently ill they are so sweet

user62 my parents everyone!!!

user53 is that an engagement ring?!

user33 wait pause

user5 theres no way right??

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 62,379 others

you’ve impacted my life in more ways than you will ever know and im so thankful that i get to love you for all eternity, you have such a beautiful soul and i can’t believe i get to hold it

happy six years and to a lifetime more

view comments

yourusername you are so so incredible

yourusername i dont know how many other ways i can say it but i love you

oscarpiastri i love you too

user66 they are sooooo

user7 oh my gooooood i am a puddle of tears

user56 you just dont get them like i do

user32 anyone else sad we didnt get a long caption like yns was beautiful

yourusername oscar said more than enough in his letter☺️

user43 OH MY GOD HE WROTE HER A LETTER😭😭😭😭

user3 six years.. six damn years and they are still so in love

user48 guys are they engaged or not😭

yourusername not!! we are still young and exploring ourselves and the world and we are still grow into better people. we didnt want to rush when we still have so many things to do but we will when we know we are ready🩷 liked by oscarpiastri

user65 i didnt know it was possible to love two random strangers so much☹️☹️

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,372 others

text on story reads: 🩷🩷🩷

oscarpiastri added to their story

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 105,482 others

text on story reads: sunshine ☀️☀️

twitter

[meo-eiru]

I kinda like the small yet big detail in the game, like I'm sure myself and some other people were expecting a wholesome dating sim that would also get quite spicy (FROM HOW WE KNOW MERU)

And we all just kinda got kicked in the butt, like Starling being too hot to be true yet so terrifying at the same time, but not the terrifying kind that we know, like Micah or Silas etc

More like the type that makes you forget that he still is more a siren than a merman, like he successfully managed to lure in the whole community with his hot ass😭😭and then we get backstabbed by him munching our fingers off as if they're some carrots, like as a simple lunch snack-💀💀

Or in the other ending where it's basically simply Mae dying and getting turned into a possession and probably just another body to fill up with tongues

From my interpretation, Starling doesn't really have that kind of romantic interest in Mae, but she kinda thought it could go into that direction, but then got stabbed in the back like that😭😭(probs everyone who played it, thought like Mae there too kinda💀so we all got the betrayal🙁)

And you guys did a really good job in simply catching us all off guard in most scenes, it's it's beautifully written and drawn, I love that game so much!!!

Spoilers for the game

Honestly maybe Sel would give a different answer but I do think Starling likes Maelyn. Due to his past and what he has now become his way of showing it is probably different, but for Starling I don't think Maelyn is just another body for storing tongues. If that was the case he wouldn't have went out of his way to clean her body up, find a wedding dress and "marry" her in his own makeshift way.

He probably didn't even view it as a betrayal. Because until the very end Starling was making sure the no longer breathing Maelyn could be comfortable in her pearl necklace.

For the writing style, probably Sel writing the story played a big part in this.

Sel and I have very similar tastes in a lot of things, on levels I myself can't believe sometimes. But we do have a different style at how we depict similar concepts.

I love presenting dark stories on a silver platter. Prettied up with the most delicious icings and shiniest sprinkles. I like my stories and characters to look beautiful. Enjoy them while thinking you're just having whimsy adventures only to realize you're done for once you truly look. Like Silas. It's easy to make fun of him, forget the things he is capable of doing as you're too busy enjoying his silliness. He feels safe, a gentle giant who loves and takes care of you.

But he's still a man who has forced himself on you not only physically but also mentally. Trapped and limited you beyond belief. No electricity, no internet, no contact with anyone other than him. Only talking to him, only feeling him, only knowing him, only consuming him. A beautiful and sweet man no human mind can handle for more than a few weeks.

But Sel, from what I've seen, is a bit different. She doesn't shy away from showing the darkness and scariness of the stories she makes. Before you even know it you'll be facing concepts you didn't think could be possible.

And not only that, she hides so much under every word she uses. Often times the things she places in front of you are not even the scariest parts. The more you read and the more you decipher they get deeper.

I'm frankly a big fan of the things she writes. They often leave me flabbergasted (and mortified, she knows what I mean) but they are also so so fun. So scary yet beautifully poetic.

I know she doesn't like being under the spotlight that much. But ever since I met her and saw her stories I wanted more people to get the chance to see and appreciate them the way they deserved. I think they are truly special, and they make me want to do my best to illustrate them in the perfect way possible.

Honestly I'm not sure if I'm good enough at it, but if it helps the stories reach more people I'm happy with it.

I don't know if she'll read this post so that's why I'm being sappy like this but I genuinely hope you guys like her stories like I do. And I hope both you and I can see more and more of it.

[calisources]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on these meme make references to royal balls, medieval ballrooms or regency, basically set during any period drama. You can change names, pronouns, titles and more as you see fit. Most of these were taken from different source materials found via google search. This meme makes references to masquerades, royal dances and partners.

Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.

Dance is the timeless interpretation of life.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Masks reveal. They don’t conceal. Masks reveal your cravings, your passion, your deepest most secret desires.

It was you. I know it was you.

Look at me, Kia! Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her.

And who shall you be once you don your grand disguise?

I don't like to hear you talk about yourself that way. Your scars do not define you, young lady. Your action do.

All the ladies must dress the same and the men have to find their partners. It’s a game of sorts. 

Even the smallfolk have their own version of the ball, at the steps of the castle.

Swoon, Dora. Every young woman deserves to swoon over the love of her life.

Dash it, Everton, how'd you know it was me?

A masquerade could have been a beautiful dance. 

 Oh, well. What's a royal ball? After all, I suppose it would be frightfully dull, and-and-and boring, and-and completely... Completely wonderful.

Each finds a partner, and upon the bell, we must change partner until we find the one we came to be. . .or the one we desire.

It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you.

If the princess is not too occupied, I would wish for a dance, perhaps?

The Queen and King have to open the ball but the King is gone. No mind, I shall be in his place.

Sometimes in life confusion tends to arise and only dialogue of dance seems to make sense.

If we want our men to dance, we have to inspire them. 

 But with something more, something bigger, something that will give them a reason to want to dance.

But when balls are held for pleasure, They're the balls that I like best.

Will you be my princess for the Ball?

Keeping pushing, Andrei, and you and I are going to play a game.

Nothing like a ball to cheer a nation, give the old lords wine and the young boys the opportunity to find a nice woman and everyone shows up.

Where are you taking me? The ball hasn’t ended.

Royals is like a beautiful, broken angel: hard to look at, but utterly impossible to turn away from.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

How many dances is one allowed before people begin to whisper?

You cannot behave like a brute. It is my duty to dance with every suitor. I am their princess.

I do not recognize you, my lord? Are you from these lands? 

It is bad luck to steal a princess.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

There is nothing quite like dancing in the moonlight. It sets your soul on fire and your heart aflutter.

The beauty of a ball is not just in its grandeur, but in the connections it sparks, the emotions it stirs, and the hopes it ignites.

Just keep your eyes on me. No one else here matters.

I shall keep dancing with you until you stop being stubborn and go speak with me. Or you rather have people whisper?

The princess looks beautiful tonight, does she not?

Father, please, you must dance as well. Your dull looks are making people bored.

You promised me a dance when you were better. Are you?

I've loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together and every time we've been apart.

I can feel people's eyes on me.

Every time I walk into a ballroom, I know they are comparing me to Daphne.

You both get to choose your passions and adventures, while my beloved is chosen by me. And now I must join them for a dance.

Are you planning on running away when the clock strikes midnight? 

If you do wish to go away, I know a spot, secluded enough.

You wish for me to go with you, alone, unchaperoned. I am a maiden, my lord. 

Aye, but I am no lord, sweet maiden. And these masks allow us some privacy.

This is my last chance to find a match on my own accord. If I don’t. The King will do it for me and I would rather not.

 I'm only a girl, not a princess.

Believe me - they're all looking at you.

 They're all looking at you.

You are requested and required to present yourself to your king.

 I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit But, if it does--will you take me as I am?

 It would be an insult to take you to the palace dressed in these old rags.

How charming, how perfectly charming.

When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for advantage.

Oh. Well, whose advantage would this marriage be of?

I hope you don't find our kingdom too confining.

I am. An apprentice monarch. Still learning my trade.

Our prince seems quite taken with her.

She went straight for him. You have to appreciate her efficiency.

Walk into the room knowing you are the best. Shoulders back, chin up. Their attitudes will totally change.

You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams.

The ball is about to come to an end, and you have yet not told me your name. 

I thought we agreed we would remain strangers.

I’m afraid my true identity would put you in danger. 

Have you ever been kissed by a stranger at the end of a ball? If not, let me be the first.

Put him on all the invitation lists, he's a divine dancer.

I’m afraid I’m more used to swordfight than ballroom.

You will ruin your pretty gown, princess. I would not wish to step on your toes.

 Silly, I am a great dancer, no one ever steps on my toes.

No. Let them dance. Interrupting would cause a scandal.

One of these men will be my husband one day. What a thought.

The art of husband seeking at it’s peak, during royal ball season. 

Maiden beware, a gentleman can become a beast when the bell strikes.

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt.5!!!

warnings: nada

content: loser!ellie x reader headcanons

authors note : ellie dug a hole into my skull and moved in

⁃ against bags for no reason. like her pockets are constantly full of things. random receipts, money, headphones, EVERYTHING. she takes her pants of and they jingle cuz they're filled with COINS.

⁃ knows how to do a back bridge and just HAS to let everyone know. you're watching tv and she's just on the floor like "look"

⁃ i feel like shes the type of person to just start fully eating an orange in the middle of class. like ur listening to the teacher talk and you're just hit by the most aggressive wave of CITRUS from behind you

⁃ constantly fighting the air... like she's just in the kitchen punching and kicking at NOTHING just because. she's always coming up to you and like take punching you and doing her own sound effects like “PWAH PWAH WAM WAPOW"

⁃ jar hoarder 😞😞 every time you buy anything that comes in a jar she's keeping it. literally won't let you throw them away!!! you guys don't even have cups anymore, its just jars and mugs.

⁃ speaking of mugs, ellie has just as many stupid mugs as she does stupid tshirts. absolutely has a lot of garfield mugs be she LOVES GARFEILD

- would buy a dry-erase board for your fridge and leave u little notes and drawings

⁃ "Every single time I see you, I become horny like a triceratops" with a little drawing of a triceratops"

⁃ breaks into incoherent ramblings when shes sleepy... like insane hypotheticals

"what if our bed just completely exploded right now"

⁃ whenever ur on facetime and it gets quiet she just breaks out into song. not even like good, trying singing but BAD SINGING.

⁃ she does that whenever it's quiet !!!

⁃ is listening to music CONSTANTLY. her headphones are actually attached to her ears like all DAY she's listening to something.

⁃ HATES THE BIG LIGHT (iykyk) she lives for low/ natural lighting definitely has so many lamps and led lights

⁃ can never sit normal.... like she is not beating the gay ppl sitting weird allegations she sits so ODD

⁃ will spend literal hours in the pool. doing flips, pretending to be a mermaid, 'making up' her own tricks, she lives for it & !!!

⁃ refuses to dress right for the weather. it'll be like 90° outside and shes in a whole hoodie and jeans.

⁃ has the WEIRDEST subway order. probably puts banana peppers on her shit 😭😭 she swears its the best thing ever

⁃ love's campy comedy movies, esp lesbian ones and horror movies (but im a cheerleader, bottoms, scary movie, etc) also def loves coming of age movies

⁃ has a letterbox account and makes extremely thought provoking reviews

literally her

⁃ always taking candids of you, and they're literally her favorite pictures

⁃ every time she sees two things next to eachother she's like "oh my god it's literally us!!"

⁃ one time she crashed her car and it literally fully flipped over and she just crawled out of the trunk and called you like "you would NOT believe what just happened to me."

- absolutely a waffles girl she needs the texture she likes the CRUNCH

⁃ but like she also loves bacon pancakes. like she's obsessed w adventure time and she makes bacon pancakes ALL THE TIME and she sings the song while she makes them

- eats trail mix like all day....she buys the giant jars and you make fun of her cuz she "likes eating nuts"

⁃ the most secret swifty ever. like she refuses to let it be known but she fully sobbed when she listened to folklore for the first time

⁃ obsessed w those baby sensory videos. like she will literally be entertained for hours

⁃ LOVES the lego movies, esp lego batman

⁃ the MOST honest shit talker ever like you'll be like "yeah she's just a really bad person" and she'd be like "she's also like disgustingly hideous...

⁃ her search history isn’t even weird or gross its just…random. like she’s definitely googled “how do cotton candy machines work” before

⁃ family guy enjoyer.....

⁃ her cf story is like insanely long n its filled w random memes she reposts and insane ramblings

taglist!!!! if ur name is crossed i can't tag u :((

@syrenada @dinaissoprettyoml, @kingofmylastkiss @as2rid @greencacty @melissabarrerass @bratydoll @lov3lylotus @forelliesposts @echostinn @f3r4Ifr0gg3r @r3wbeef @leatheredhearts @mousymaven @mina-281@princessguardian444 @calystas-morning-tea @horror-whoree @slutshies @bearieio @mag-mfm @bubs-world @paran0id0blivi0n @sawaagyapong @bbygrIshelbs @gayh0rr0r @p|9ys @ellieslilsIvvt @dollietes @elliesmellsbadd @ibloom4u @ddreabea @beestar120 @brunettedolls-blog @girlwonderchloe @elliesgflol @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @iloveeyousblog @fr3sh-tragedies @ilovaffles @certifedcrybunny @elleatethat @baldph0bic @clouded-whispers @4rt3m1ss @saggykneecaps @swtsuna @ellesslutt @minixmel @yuyans-stuff @owmoiralover @thecowardwrites @lunascerebro @elliestrwbrry @iwantsoda @teeveegirl @dinasmoon @urnewghostfriend @k3ym4ra @bratzboydoll @ungodlyvenus @lav3nd3rhaze @scokslvoer @iloveunrealpeople @realwinehouse @nehemiahlicious @onedeaddreamer @teawithnosugar @r4t1ku5 @villainousbear @mentallymarriedtonatasharomanoff @gay4tiddies @uraesthete @lil-elliesgf @neighborhood-houseplant @sagessensationalstuff

[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 :)

[rems-writing]

When the mountain meets a shy girl

》 Pairing: stripper!San x afab!reader

》 Trope: strangers to lovers

》 Wordcount: 4,062 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“Oh come on, Y/N! It’s literally one night!”

“Guys, I don’t know -”

“Omg just ignore her and drag her along! We’re going to be late!”

This is how you found yourself on a Friday night. You got off work but instead of going straight home, your lovely coworkers pressured you into going out with them. They claimed that you needed to ‘live a little’ since you can’t ‘be a miserable hobbit’ your entire life. They say that like it’s a bad thing! If you want to stay home, you will stay home. If you want to go out, you will go out on your own free will. Alas, your coworkers didn’t understand. Or they did. They just didn’t care about your boundaries nor your personal preferences, especially the leader of the extroverts. 

Her name was Chelsea. 

You honestly didn’t know how she was able to get hired. She doesn’t know anything about the company you both work at, she slacks off most of the time, and almost always engages in the freshest office gossip. She speaks like she’s texting someone, has an annoying giggle whenever a man hits on her, and never follows the dress code. 

At least she takes responsibility for her fuck-ups and picks up the slack. And never throws you under the bus for anything. 

Other than that, she was dumb as a rock. 

You steered clear of her radar every day. You only talk to her, along with others, about work related things. The only time you don’t is when you give her the usual formal greetings. Other than that, you were never her concern. 

Until today. 

You honestly wished people would leave you alone. Why were they talking about you? You never did anything to them, didn’t snitch on them when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, and you were polite when you needed to be. So what’s with the sudden interest in you? 

You were 24, lived alone (aside from the many figurines you owned. They were your children), and only went out if it was required. Other than that, you preferred to stay home. You weren’t interested in dating nor sex (you’ve been there, done that way back in high school) so you tended to stay away from men since they honestly scared you.

A lot. 

If you wanted pleasure, you either took care of it yourself or you just left it alone. You didn't need anyone else to take care of it for you. But now back to the topic at hand. 

You were trying to figure out ways to excuse yourself from this outing. The last place you wanted to go was a damn strip club. You didn’t need half naked to almost fully naked men thrusting and grinding in your face. And you certainly weren’t about to waste your precious hard earned dollar bills on someone else. It’s not that you were selfish or greedy. 

You were simply frugal. 

And according to Chelsea and your coworkers, that’s ‘super hella lame’ of you to do. 

What were they? Newly oriented high school freshmen? 

Alas, you couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this ‘extraordinary adventure’ you were on. As you neared the entrance of the strip club, everyone had to go through an ID check. Some of them complained, but you didn’t mind. Rules are rules after all. When the bouncer landed on you, you felt intimidated by the sharpness of his wolf eyes. You shakily handed your ID to him and you were ready to be scrutinized by him. You were used to being mocked by bouncers whenever you went to clubs or high-end bars with your coworkers or your family members (i.e. cousins). Surprisingly, nothing came out of the bouncer’s mouth. Instead, he gave you back your ID and offered a warm and comforting smile that reached his eyes until they formed crescents. He then leaned in and whispered in your ear. 

“If you need to find a way out, have the bartender page me. I’m sorry you were dragged out here by those… uh… lovely ladies.”

His deep and husky voice sent a small shiver down your spine and you couldn’t help but be flattered with the offer he gave you. You nodded rapidly and thanked him quietly before following the rest of the girls inside. At least someone understood how you felt, even if they were a complete stranger. When you got inside, the host led you to your table. You wanted to sit at the far end of the booth so you could make your escape (you were not about to turn down the hot bouncer’s offer), but your request fell on deaf ears. Instead, you were smack in the middle of your group with Chelsea seated to your left and someone else on your right. As soon as you were settled in, a waiter approached you. He seemed young and you couldn’t help but find his round cheeks so adorable. 

“Hello. Welcome to Cyberpunk. My name is Jongho. I’ll be taking your orders tonight. What can I get started for you?” 

“IS IT STILL GOLDEN HOUR RIGHT NOW?!”

An overly excited coworker screeched right into Jongho’s ear and you felt yourself cringe for him. Apparently, Golden Hour is what they call happy hour here. Good to know. Jongho laughed awkwardly and nodded before presenting the menu for Golden Hour. That same coworker practically clawed it out of his hands and thanked him shamelessly by running her manicured hand down his chest. You couldn’t stand it and reached over to grab her wrist. 

“Leave the poor guy alone!”

Your angry hiss made your coworker shrink into herself but still had the audacity to roll her eyes at your sense of duty. As payback, she ordered drinks for everyone else but made sure to save the strongest drink for you. And she said this out loud. You sighed and sat back with your arms crossed while Jongho nodded and wrote the order down. Before he left, he looked at you with a grateful expression and mouthed something to you. You were confused at first, but then you looked in the direction of where the young waiter was nodding at and you saw the hot bouncer waving at you with his heavily ringed hand. 

Oh. 

Jongho was giving you the name of the hot bouncer that offered you an escape earlier. 

His name is Mingi. Got it. 

You made a mental note to remember that, along with the name of the bartender you needed to page Mingi for. 

His name is Wooyoung. Got it. 

After Jongho walked away to fulfill your order, you observed your surroundings while your coworkers were talking amongst themselves. It’s a shame that they didn’t talk to you, but you didn’t care. It was better this way. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drink after drink. Shot after shot. And the cycle repeats. Your coworkers were astonished with the way you could handle your liquor. Even that nasty cocktail that you received made you feel nothing. If anything, you were only about five percent tipsy. As the night progressed, a lot of strippers made their way towards your booth and did what they needed to do. You weren’t interested in any of them. At all. You just wanted this night to be over. While the girls were fawning over the tallest stripper giving them lap dances (his name is Yunho), you saw Chelsea approach you with an evil look in her eyes and a mischievious grin on her overly painted lips. Before you could even question her intentions, she dragged you out of the booth and into a private dance room. The last words from your coworkers left you mortified. 

“YAS, QUEEN! GET THAT DICK, SIS!”

This was not happening. You refused to believe it. Not only did they pay for you to experience a private dance with one of those greasy oiled up men, but they truly believed that you needed this. As Chelsea sat you down on the plush lavender couch, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. Although, you couldn’t tell since her fake lashes were too thick to comprehend anything. 

“We all chipped in for this dance. It could’ve been one of us, but we decided that you needed it the most. So like… don’t be yourself and weird him out, ok sweetie? Great! Have fun! Oh and provide us with juicy details once you’re done!”

She patted your head before exiting the room. You wanted to cry. You never asked for this. For any of this! You just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch reruns of your favorite k-dramas. But nope! You were here in a dimly lit room, anticipating who would come out. As the strange techno music played, you saw a figure approach the pole. Your eyes widened as you saw who it was. 

The Mountain. 

His seductive smile and the way he curled his fingers around the pole did nothing to quell your anxiety. You sat up straight and darted your eyes around towards every movement he pulled. Sure, you found him extremely fucking attractive, but you had to be honest with yourself. With the way you are and with the way you wanted nothing more than to escape, you wanted to shrink into the couch you were sitting on and just fade into non-existence. He noticed it at first but thought nothing of it. He believed that your shyness was just an act. Soon, you’ll pounce on him and beg for him to take you. That’s how it always was with women like you. However, he was in for a shocking awakening when he slid down the pole and tore away his shirt, leaving his muscular upper body bare. As he crawled towards you, he was getting closer to your legs, which you shut tightly. It didn’t last long before his strong hands grabbed your knees and forced them open. You shut your eyes when his nose touched the side of your right knee, almost nuzzling it in a way. He soon dragged it upwards before stopping just at the hem of your pencil skirt. He then stood up fully and looked down at you. 

This is where the hesitation began. 

He looked down at your rigid form and the way you screwed your eyes shut. His gut told him to stop, but he pushed through. He bent down and whispered huskily in your ear. The action had you open your eyes wide and look straight at him, which was a mistake since he was so close to your face.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on. Touch me.”

Not waiting for your response, he gingerly grabbed your wrist and made sure your palm was flat against his broad chest. He kept eye contact with you as he slowly slid your hand down to his abs. The pace was snail-like and you found yourself shaking. Your anxiety was at an all time high. When you felt your wrist stop at the hem of his jeans, your eyes widened even more. You retracted your hand and cradled it like he had broken it. You muttered so many apologies as you curled into yourself even more. 

Oh… he felt his heart break at the sight. 

A sigh left his lips as he turned around and walked away. You were panicking internally, thinking the worst. What if he had Mingi kick you out? What if he told the owner of this strip club to blacklist you? What if he snitched on you to your friends and sneered at the way you trembled before him? And not in a good way. The anxiety died down a bit when the lights came on and you saw him walk back to you. He knelt before you and had an unreadable expression on his face. He then stuck out his hand and spoke in an authoritative voice. 

“Let me see your ID.”

You immediately thought to yourself that he was simply following protocol. However, it didn’t help that his seemingly angry look unnerved you. You dug into your pocket and fished out your ID before slapping it into his waiting palm. He held it up to his face and narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the details of it. 

‘It doesn’t look fake right?’

‘It’s as real as it can get.’

‘You probably should’ve brought your passport just in case.’

‘Oh shit he’s looking back at you! Fuck!’

As he gave you back your ID, he helped you stand up. The look on his face melted into one of concern and compassion. He gingerly grabbed your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Can I hug you? I understand if you don’t want to be touched, but I can tell you need it.”

That’s all it took for you to break down in his arms. He shushed you gently and made sure his hold on you was tight enough to provide a sense of comfort for you. He walked the both of you towards the couch and held onto you until you decided to pull away. You looked up at him and sniffled. As much as he found that action to be utterly cute, he knew it wasn’t the time to address that. He gently wiped away your tears and put some distance in between you two. However, he still had his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t mind it of course. You were just glad someone empathized with you. 

“I’m guessing this is just your personality. Your ID checks out and from what you’re wearing, you definitely are of age.”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if this is how you’re spending your night. I’m s-sure you weren’t expecting someone like me.”

“It’s ok. I think this is a good change of pace. If it helps, we can simply talk. I know you don’t want to be here and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok. And yeah… I would love to talk.”

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. I’m San.”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your light-hearted giggle made his heart soar and soon, he found himself in a deep conversation with you. You two talked about everything. From the basics down to you willingly explaining how your current personality came to be. And San listened tentatively. After talking some more, you checked the time. 

“Oh shit! My two hours are up! I’m sorry for holding you here longer than I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Really?”

San nodded and gave you an award winning smile. One that showcased his dimples and was similar to Mingi’s but brighter. After the both of you stood up, he gathered his things and stared at you affectionately. His gaze made you blush and you looked away. He gently grabbed your chin so he could look at you. 

“If you want, there’s a ramen place next door that’s open 24/7. Once this place closes up, we can chat some more. Or… I can take you home, either by calling an uber for you or driving you home myself. After what you told me, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with your coworkers.”

You swore you fell in love with him.

“Actually, I would love that. I sort of need something to absorb all the alcohol that’s in my body.”

“Great! In the meantime, go speak with Hongjoong. He’s the owner of this place. Explain your situation with him and he’ll let you stay in his office for the time being. I still have work to do.”

After accepting his offer, he walked you towards his boss’s office. A short man came out and he was immediately about to interrogate you when you held your hands up in defense. The last thing he needed was to file a case for harassment. As you explained yourself, his form grew less rigid and he looked towards San, who gave a nod of confirmation, indicating that you were speaking the truth. 

“Oh, darling… here. You can stay in my office. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll have Mingi fetch you once this is over.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Please. Call me Hongjoong.”

You nodded shyly and Hongjoong patted your head before walking out of his office so you could get comfortable. San looked at you one last time before leaving to continue his job. He didn’t want to leave you there alone, but he knew you needed space to breathe and gather your bearings. After all, you went through a lot. 

TIME SKIP

It had been some time since that horrible outing with your coworkers. Sure, you met some angels and your savior along the way, but the events leading up to that moment left you drained. After that night, you didn’t speak with Chelsea or any of your coworkers. Instead, you worked faster and more diligently than before so you could clock out early and go home immediately. You did not want to interact with any of them whatsoever. As soon as you reached home, you flopped on the couch. 

“Aww. You didn’t want to greet me? That makes me sad.”

“Shut up, San!”

San giggled at your sassy voice as he walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He lifted your head so you could lay on his lap. As he ran his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, you talked about how your day went. 

Did I mention that you two were roommates now?

Ever since you met San, he’s been a comforting presence in your life. You asked him to move in with you since you felt at ease with him. One thing led to another and the two of you were now a couple. It was awkward at first since you haven’t dated anyone in the longest, but San was patient with you. He took things at your own pace and made it less awkward. He still works at the strip club unfortunately, but he reassures you that he will always come back to you since you have his heart. 

“As I motherfucking should!”

That was always your response to him and he could never get tired of it. As the relationship progresses, you slowly find yourself coming out of your shell. You no longer feel overly shy whenever he walks around shirtless or whispers sensual words in your ear as he flirts with you. Instead, you play along and even tease him sometimes. That’s an effect only San can bring unto you. In addition, he taught you how to be more confident and stand up for yourself. 

His hard work paid off when you told him about how you told your boss about how you felt with your coworkers.

You came back into the office feeling nervous yet invigorated. You needed to put a stop to your coworkers peer pressuring you into going out. You also needed to stop caring about what they might say. As San has stated to you despite being only in tight jeans with dollar bills peeking out from the top, if you liked staying in, then stay in. You knocked on the CEO’s front door and heard her honeyed voice telling you to come in. When you entered, your eyes landed on your CEO boss, who was also your long time best friend. “Hey. What’s up, Y/N?” She smiled that beautiful smile and you felt relieved momentarily. “Um… we need to talk, Ms. Hwasa.” 

“I thought I told you to call me by my real name. After all, we have been friends for seven years.”

“Sorry, Hyejin.”

“It’s ok. Anyways, what did you need to talk about?”

It was now or never. 

Slowly but surely, you vented about everything. From your coworkers to Chelsea all the way to the main topic: disrespecting boundaries. You also explained how you were afraid of what she might say despite vowing to always have your back. Of course you didn’t doubt her words. You were simply afraid of her brushing you off like you were nothing more than another employee. When you finished speaking, Hwasa had her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you for telling me this. I honestly didn’t think they would be dumb enough to forget common sense. Set a meeting right now. I think I need to remind these women of how everything works around here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hwasa laughed slightly as you saluted before turning around and marching back to your cubicle. A couple of hours later, a lot of employees were in a meeting room, standing nervously as they watched their CEO pace back and forth whilst looking at them with an unreadable expression. You were in the middle of the crowd, pretending to be nervous, but in reality, you were playing it cool. 

“It seems to me that you guys keep forgetting about the one thing I wanted all of you to have.”

Oop - 

“Common courtesy.”

A lot of your coworkers were sweating nervously, including Chelsea. You felt bad for them a little bit since you know Hwasa to be strict. 

“Just because someone doesn’t like the things that you do after work doesn’t mean you have the right to change their dynamics. We are all different here. And yet, we still work well together. So please. The next time you want to take someone away from their comfort bubble, think twice before doing so. Either do nothing about it or do something about it the right way. Ask first! That’s always a requirement. If they say yes, then there you go. If they say no, then no means no! Do we have an understanding?”

Everyone nodded.

“In addition, I am putting a stop to the unnecessary gossip swimming around here. The people you gossip about? They have done nothing to you and they don’t do that to you. So why do it to them in the first place?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one dared to answer. 

“This meeting is adjourned. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Ms, Hwasa!”

Everyone scattered and scurried back to their places. Hwasa looked at you and smiled while you profusely thanked her. 

“You can go home now if you want. I know your boy toy misses you.”

“Girl, shut up!”

“And that’s what happened!”

“I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

San sat you up and hugged you tightly. You returned the hug happily and remained in his arms for a while before he pulled away. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood up from the couch. 

“This calls for a celebration. Time to give you that private dance you originally signed up for.”

Oh…

OH!

Before you could protest, San turned on the stereo system and played the track before standing in the middle of the living room to begin his routine.

‘SHIT! WHY THIS SONG?!’

‘THIS SONG IS A BOP THOUGH!’

‘YEAH BUT NOW LOOK AT THE SITUATION YOU’RE IN!’

‘JUST RELAX, BITCH! DAMN!’

You watched as San performed his routine perfectly. It catered to the song and you found yourself drooling as you leaned in to observe him more. San smirked at this as he jumped and did a diving move before crawling towards you. Your legs were open for him and he came in between them, nuzzling his nose into both of your inner thighs before slowly standing up. He gingerly grabbed your hand and took off his shirt before placing your palm on his broad chest. 

DID HE GET BIGGER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You watched your hand slowly trail down to his abs until your wrist stopped at the top of his sweats. It was then you noticed how low they hung on his hips. You looked back up to see him lean in closer, his eyes dark with lust and desire. His other hand cupped your cheek and he used his thumb to drag your bottom lip down slowly. 

“Can I have you for tonight, kitten?”

You were not about to pass up on the opportunity to ride that dick into the sunset. With a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth, he kissed you passionately before grabbing your waist and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

[justporo]

Do you have any headcanons on what Astarion and Tav's home would look like? :)

You bet, I do! But I put some more thought into it over the day so may I present you with:

Domestic headcanons about what Tav's and Astarion's home in Baldur's Gate would look like

After your adventures and some looting of certain castles you go to buy a small but luxurious townhouse in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate - probably criminally under its actual worth but you two are just so convincing, aren't you?

Dark wooden floors, high windows (with thick brocade curtains of course), wrought-iron balcony and fence - it's giving gothic and dark academia but in a homey and warm way

Soft lighting everywhere, lots of candles and candelabra, a fire place of course and oil lanterns that make every room feel warm and cozy

Astarion has impeccable taste and enjoys a bit of decadence (of course) and really finds joy in picking out furniture and decorations - he's going for noble, rich, palace-y, posh vibes, but tasteful

Also Tav would stop him from going overboard - she's not used to all the pompous stuff and cares more about the pracitcality of it all; also she's definitely the one who brings in some plants and greenery; also some nice stuff for Scratch because I'm sure Tav would insist on being the one to keep him

When Tav says she'd rather likes it simple tho... "Simple, love? Everyone can have simple, but not just anyone can have beautiful!" "So... you are not denying that beautiful means more complicated?" "No, but isn't that also why you chose me after all? Because I'm intricately complicated and incredibly beautiful?" Can't argue with that logic

Tav's also focused on making it cozy though and especially creating comfy little corners where they can just lounge together: like a little alcove to sit and read or look out the window or some pillows on the wood floor so you can sit in front of the fire place

There's a chaise-longue somewhere in the house - maybe in the incredibly over-sized dressing room, so Astarion can lay on it and watch Tav dress

DEFINITELY NO MIRRORS - no need to remind Astarion of that particular part of his condition; also why would he need it if you can tell him how beautiful he is everyday?

There's also a piano (as we have learnt before *wink*) and lots of books and trinkets and artworks - Astarion likes all stuff having to do with arts

It might be messy, at least at the beginning, you're both not used to having and holding onto stuff, also Astarion's desperately trying to find himself - that comes with creative chaos

Is there even a need to mention the bed is huge? And also has very much cliché dark red silk sheets? But it's probably the piece of furniture where you spend the most of your nights, not only for mingeling but just sitting and laying there, reading, drawing, talking, teasing each other

Also at some point you'd probably get a joint portrait but you don't want it to be too stiff and regal rather wanting it to show how much joy you give each other

The kitchen is to spoil Tav: when Astarion finds out you enjoy cooking and are pretty skilled at it he gets you all the best equipment he can find - even though you don't know how to use half of it - yet

Oof, I could maybe keep going some more... Thanks for the message, it was fun to think about this. (Also I know I might be swinging between medieval and more victorian vibes but hush, it's a fictional world where everything is possible) Also I knew I wouldn't yet do requests - but really that was just me putting something out there I already thought about. And I'll do some requests soon!