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mononijikayu · 9 days

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a day in a life — ryomen sukuna.

You set Yuji down, and he immediately takes your hand in his tiny one, his other hand reaching out to grab Sukuna's sleeve, tugging at him. "Uncle Sukuna, come on!" Sukuna grunts, letting Yuji pull him along, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant affection. “Alright, alright, brat….I’m coming.” he says, trying to sound grumpy but failing spectacularly. You smile at the sight of them together and take Sukuna's other hand. "Looks like we're both in for an adventure, aren’t you?" you whisper.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, protectiveness, crying, hugging, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of getting lost, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, menction of amnesia, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 6.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again) so this is a special treat for yall!!! this is the aftermath of amnesia and reader and sukuna got back together. this is maybe a year or so to them getting back together. yuji loves his auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a lovely time writing it because this is what we deserved from gege!!! i love you all!!! thank you for your continued love <3

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── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

IT WAS YOUR DAY OFF. And that was something you and Sukuna had agreed about in the early dawn of your relationship together. You wanted to get to know this man you fell in love with, and many years had passed since you both even got together after your amnesia. One of those days was today. With no work obligations today and Sukuna taking a break from managing his gym, the two of you had indulged in a much-needed cozy day.

A lot of things would change. So, Ryomen Sukuna stepped up to the plate and took some time off to just have days to cherish your time together.

Everything had been blissfully quiet, a rarity for both you and Sukuna. Like always on these days, you’d spent the morning wrapped in a warm blanket together, watching a movie you both had half-paid attention to, more engrossed in each other’s company than the plot unfolding on screen.

Ryomen Sukuna had his arm draped around your shoulders, his fingers lazily drawing patterns against your skin. Your boyfriend doesn’t sleep that much, but when he’s in his lazy days with you — he makes an effort to rest. You worry a lot for him, after all. And he doesn’t want to add more to those worries. Begrudgingly he does it, but it makes you happy.

He expected to spend the day with you like this all day. And Sukuna was happy with that. He likes having time with you like this, just embracing each other’s warmth and talking over the bad television shows and ordering in if you don’t feel like getting up and making a meal together.

Life was great. This was his day in a life. Sukuna had dreamed of it for years since you parted. And now that you’re together again, it just all fell into place. Nothing could be better than this. And he adores it.

But then Sukuna's phone rang, and you watched as his expression shifted from contentment to annoyance. He sighed, glancing at the caller ID — his twin brother, Itadori Jin. You looked at him curiously as he sighed.

Reluctantly, Sukuna answered, his voice gruff. "What’s up?"

You could only hear Jin’s voice faintly on the other end, speaking quickly. Sukuna’s face darkened as Jin explained the situation — some emergency at work that demanded his immediate attention.

Because of this, Kaori, Jin's wife, would have to go and pick up their eldest son Choso alone for vacation. They didn’t wanna agitate with a long drive, since Yuji is still a little boy. And with no one else to watch over their young son, Itadori Jin was left with only one option.

Ryomen Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. You could almost hear his internal mantra: ‘Don’t say it, don’t say it…’

But Jin, with his usual charm and desperation, finally got to the point. “Look, can you just babysit Yuji for a couple of days until we’re back? We don’t have anyone else.”

Sukuna opened his mouth, ready to protest, but before he could even get a word out, you grinned and cut in. "Oh, we'd love to! Right, Sukuna?"

Sukuna shot you a glare that was more pout than anything else. He looked betrayed, as if you had just handed him the world’s most inconvenient challenge. You couldn't help but bit your lip, trying to stop your laughter. He's always like this when it comes to his nephew. He likes to pretend that he doesn't like him and yet, he does. A lot.

For a moment, you think he was almost like a kitten who found his owner’s antics unpleasant. You felt the tension in his arm, the muscles flexing in silent rebellion. He’d been so ready to complain, to give a flat ‘no’ but your enthusiasm left him no room to argue.

Jin laughed on the other end. “Great! Thank you, sister in law! We’ll drop him off in an hour.”

As the call ended, Sukuna tossed his phone onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as if he’d just endured a great ordeal. “Really?” he muttered, a sulky undertone in his voice. "You had to say yes?"

You laughed softly and nudged him with your elbow. "Oh, come on, baby. It'll be fun! Besides, Yuji is adorable. Don't you think so?"

Sukuna opened one eye, giving you a side-eyed glance. "He’s a menace, that brat." he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A little gremlin in disguise."

You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. "And I think you secretly like him." you teased.

He snorted, though his arm tightened around you instinctively. "Yeah, well, I like my peace and quiet more. ‘specially since I get my fill of you."

You blushed at his words. For a moment, you could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong, and you knew he would complain, sulk, and groan about this for the next hour.

But you also knew, without a doubt, that he’d be the one sneaking Yuji cookies before dinner, making silly faces just to hear him giggle, and pretending to be indifferent even as he kept a protective eye on the kid. After all, he loved his little nephew. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Fine." Sukuna grumbled finally, his voice resigned but affectionate. "But don’t blame me if he decides to climb the walls or something.”

You smiled, planting a soft kiss on his jaw. "Deal."

Sukuna’s sigh was heavy, dramatic, but there was no mistaking the way he leaned into your touch, accepting his fate with a grumpy fondness that only made you love him more.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day one

IN NO TIME, YOU WERE ALREADY PARKING. You watched as your boyfriend carefully looked at the space as he parks with precision. You liked being in the Itadori household. Somehow, you just felt the warmth of bing alive here. They treated you like family even when you and Sukuna haven't even married. And today was no different.

When you and Sukuna arrive at Jin and Kaori’s house, you could just feel how the sun shines brightly as you pull up to the driveway. Itadori Yuji is already waiting outside, a tiny bundle of energy with his little red backpack on, his face lighting up the moment he sees you. You barely have time to get out of the car before Yuji bolts over, throwing himself at you with an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocks you back.

“Auntie!” he squeals, wrapping his small arms around your legs.

Your heart melts instantly. "Hey, Yuji!" you greet him, scooping him up effortlessly and spinning him around in a playful circle. "I’ve missed you, little guy!"

Yuji giggles, clutching onto you tighter, his face buried in your shoulder. Over your shoulder, you see Sukuna standing by the car, arms crossed, his mouth set in a grumpy line. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the simmering annoyance rolling off him in waves.

You shoot him a playful smile. "Look, baby!" you tease. "He's already so attached!"

Sukuna rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice in his expression. “Yeah, yeah.” he grumbles, though his lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Don't spoil him too much.”

You grin and bounce Yuji in your arms, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "How could I not? He's too cute. So precious too!”

Yuji beams up at you, clearly enjoying the attention. "Auntie, can we go to the playground?" he asks excitedly, his eyes wide and hopeful.

You look at him, amused. "Of course, we can, buddy! What do you want to do at the playground?"

Yuji's face lights up even more, if that was possible. "I wanna see my best friends! Nobara and Megumi! They’ll be there like usual!" he declares with all the seriousness a toddler can muster.

Sukuna lets out a low groan from behind you. “Great.” he mutters sarcastically. “Not only do we have to babysit the brat, but now we’re running a daycare service.”

You glance over at him with a laugh. "Come on, it'll be fun! Besides, it'll be nice to meet his little friends."

Sukuna sighs dramatically, but you catch the way his gaze softens just a fraction when he looks at Yuji. You know he would never admit it, but he has a soft spot for his nephew, even if he won’t say it out loud.

You set Yuji down, and he immediately takes your hand in his tiny one, his other hand reaching out to grab Sukuna's sleeve, tugging at him. "Uncle Sukuna, come on!"

Sukuna grunts, letting Yuji pull him along, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant affection. “Alright, alright, brat….I’m coming.” he says, trying to sound grumpy but failing spectacularly.

You smile at the sight of them together and take Sukuna's other hand. "Looks like we're both in for an adventure, aren’t you?" you whisper.

Sukuna shoots you a look, but the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly. "Yeah, sure. An adventure." he mutters, but you see the way his grip tightens around your hand.

Yuji swings between you two, his laughter bright and infectious as you make your way to the playground, where a day full of play, giggles, and unexpected joy awaits. You can’t help but think that he’s the purest thing in life.

The neighborhood playground is a colorful blur of swings, slides, and a few scattered benches where parents and caregivers chat while keeping an eye on their kids. You could pick up the sound of laughter filling the air from afar, and Yuji’s excitement is palpable as he practically vibrates with energy between you and Sukuna. He seems to love this place.

“Where are they?” Yuji asks, his head swiveling in every direction with tenderness, searching for his friends. “Where’s Nobara? Where’s Megumi?”

You crouch down to his level, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon, Yuji. Do you want to try the swings while we wait?”

Yuji nods eagerly. “Yes! Push me, Auntie!” He drags you over to the swings, his little legs moving as fast as they can. Sukuna trails behind, hands shoved into his pockets, doing his best to appear indifferent. But you catch him watching Yuji with a faint smile on his face when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You carefully lift Yuji into the swing, securing him before giving him a gentle push. Soon enough, his little fits of laughter fills the air, bright and pure, as he kicks his legs back and forth, asking for “Higher, higher!”

Sukuna leans against the swing set's metal frame, observing the scene with a mix of amusement and begrudging fondness. "Careful, babe." he warns, though his tone lacks any real bite. "Don't launch him into orbit."

You laugh softly. "Come on, he's having fun!" You give Yuji another push, his giggles ringing out as he soars through the air. "See, Sukuna? This is what a good day looks like."

Sukuna grunts, but there’s no hiding the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Sure, sure. I’ll take your word for it.”

Just then, a small voice calls out from behind you, full of excitement. “Yuji!”

You turn to see a little girl with a red bow in her hair running over, a boy with dark, serious eyes following at a more measured pace. Yuji’s face lights up even brighter. “Nobara! Megumi!” he shouts, waving his arms enthusiastically.

Nobara reaches you first, hands on her hips and a bright grin on her face. “Hey, Yuji! Hi!” She waves up at you, her bright grin was confident and charming. "Are you Yuji's auntie?"

You nod, charmed by her boldness. "I am! It's nice to meet you, Nobara. And you must be Megumi?" you say, looking over at the quiet boy who stands just a bit behind Nobara.

Megumi nods, his expression serious. “Hi.” he says quietly, his gaze shifting between you and Sukuna, assessing. He seemed like a weary kid, but you don’t blame him.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You two Yuji’s bodyguards or something?” he teases.

Nobara puffs out her chest, clearly taking it as an offense. “Huh?! No we’re not! We’re his best friends!” she declares proudly. Megumi gives a small nod as he hides that almost imperceptible smile at her confidence.

“Tch, brat—”

“That’s great!” You grinned at her. “Thank you for taking care of Yuji!”

Yuji hops off the swing, rushing over to grab his friends’ hands. “Let’s play!” he shouts, already pulling them toward the jungle gym.

You stand beside Sukuna, watching them run off with a fond smile. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

Sukuna grunts, though there’s no mistaking the soft expression on his face as he watches Yuji. “Yeah, yeah… maybe.” he mutters. “As long as nobody starts crying. Or falling and then crying.”

You laugh and nudge him playfully with your elbow. “Just admit it, you’re having a good time.”

He finally relents, sighing dramatically. “Fine, maybe it’s not that bad.” He turns his head slightly to look at you, a glint of affection in his eyes. “But only because you’re here.”

You feel a warm flutter in your chest at his words and lean closer, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “That’s the spirit, baby.” you tease softly.

As you both stand there, watching Yuji play with his friends, you feel a sense of contentment settle over you. It’s simple, this moment, but somehow perfect in its simplicity — surrounded by laughter, sun, and Sukuna’s reluctant but undeniable fondness for his nephew. And you were enjoying it all. Taking it all as it is. It was the perfect day.

Suddenly, Yuji runs back over, out of breath but beaming. “Auntie, Uncle! Can you come play too?” he asks, tugging at both of your hands with his small ones.

You glance at Sukuna, who looks momentarily caught off guard. But then, with a sigh and a half-smile, he bends down, ruffling Yuji's hair. “Alright, brat.” he says, his voice mock-gruff. “What do you want us to do?”

Yuji's eyes shine with excitement. "You can be the monsters, and we'll be the heroes!"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm a monster now?" he grumbles, but you can tell he's already warming up to the idea.

You laugh, taking Yuji’s hand. “Okay, monsters it is. But you better run fast, heroes!”

With that, Yuji squeals in delight, dragging his friends back to the jungle gym as you and Sukuna pretend to chase after them. Sukuna might act like he’s reluctant, but you catch the way he’s smiling, truly smiling, and your heart feels impossibly full.

For now, there’s no place else you’d rather be. And you meant it.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day two

THE EXHAUSTION FROM YESTERDAY DIDN’T PREVENT YUJI FROM WANTING TO ENJOY TODAY. When the next day dawns with bright and clear skies, you could only think that it was the perfect weather for a trip to the zoo. Itadori Yuji was up early, bouncing with excitement, and his enthusiasm quickly became infectious.

Even your boyfriend, who had initially grumbled about being dragged to a “smelly zoo” eventually caved in to his nephew Yuji’s pleas — especially after you flashed him a knowing smile and those eyes, reminding him how much this meant to his nephew. He couldn't deny you, no matter how much he tried. He grumbled loudly about it before finally saying yes. But you knew just as much that he was enjoying himself.

You haven’t been in a zoo in a very long time, that much you could be honest about. Sukuna doesn’t seem to care for it either growing up. But you think that this was going to be great for Yuji. He adored animals. Even just seeing them on the television makes him happy and curious. It was his first time going and seeing animals like this, up close. And you just know that it would be such a great time for him.

As soon as you arrive, Yuji is practically vibrating with energy. He tugs at your hand and points at the map, his little face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, Uncle, can we see the lions first? And then the penguins! Oh, and the monkeys too!” he babbles, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness.

You nod with a smile. “Of course, Yuji. We have all day to see everything!”

Sukuna shakes his head, hiding a grin. “Just try not to run off, brat.” he warns, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “We don’t want to be chasing after you like yesterday at the playground.”

Yuji beams up at him. “Okay, Uncle Sukuna! I’ll stay with you!”

You spend the morning moving from one exhibit to another, enjoying the wonder in Yuji’s eyes as he watches the animals with wide-eyed fascination. He claps excitedly at the lions, laughs at the playful monkeys, and insists on mimicking the penguins’ waddles, much to your amusement and Sukuna’s reluctant chuckles.

You take plenty of photos, capturing the joy on Yuji’s face and even getting a rare shot of Sukuna smiling genuinely, one arm slung casually around your shoulders as he watches Yuji with a fond, if exasperated, expression. You think that you’ll have fun looking through it and printing it out for the photo albums. You were sure Kaori and Jin would love to have some copies too.

By lunchtime, you settle down at a picnic table near the petting zoo area. You hand Yuji a juice box, and he takes it eagerly, swinging his legs and chattering non-stop about the animals he’s seen and what he wants to see next. You all carefully eat your lunches and just let the food settle down for a little while. Sukuna sat beside you, drinking a big glass of cola to try and cool off the heat.

“Auntie, Uncle, can we see the elephants next?” Yuji asks between sips, his face flushed with excitement.

You nod. “Absolutely. After we finish lunch, we’ll head over there.”

“That's on the other side of the zoo.” Sukuna points out to you.

You looked at your boyfriend with a small smile. “And guess what? We’re still going!”

Yuji grins and quickly finishes his juice, already standing up and tugging at your arm. “Okay, let’s go now!”

You laugh softly, but Sukuna gently pulls him back to the table. “Hey, slow down, kid. Let us finish our food first.”

Yuji pouts for a moment but eventually nods, bouncing on his toes while he waits. A few moments pass, and you’re almost done with your meal when a family nearby starts laughing loudly, drawing Yuji’s attention. Curious, he takes a few steps toward them, his bright almond eyes wide with interest.

“Yuji, stay close to us.” you remind him, keeping an eye on him as he moves closer to see what’s happening.

But as you turn to answer a question from Sukuna, just for a second, when you look back, Yuji is gone. Your heart drops to your stomach as your eyes open widely, your mouth shaking as you try to speak. You suddenly couldn’t speak and fright started to get to you.

“Yuji?” you call out, your voice a bit louder now, scanning the area. Panic begins to creep into your chest.

Your boyfriend Sukuna immediately stands up, his expression shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant. You can tell by the look in his eyes. He was just as panicked.

“Where’d he go?” he asks, his voice tight with concern.

You feel a knot forming in your stomach as you look around frantically. “He was just here, babe…i just….”

Sukuna curses under his breath, his eyes scanning the crowded area with growing urgency. “Yuji!” he calls out, louder this time, his voice cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

You quickly weave through the nearby groups of people, calling Yuji's name, your heart racing. You could feel the knot of guilt in you. Your mind started to race with many thoughts. You could have looked after him better, you could have been more vigilant. You were the adult. How could you let this happen? Sukuna is right behind you, his hand protectively on your back as you search, his expression darkening with worry.

“He couldn't have gone far, babe.” you say, trying to keep the panic from your voice. “He’s probably just wandered off… right?”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, a determined look crossing his face. “Yeah, but we need to find him now.” he says firmly.

You both decided to split up, checking around the petting zoo and nearby exhibits. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and a dozen scenarios flash through your mind. But you push them aside, focusing on finding Yuji.

Minutes feel like hours as you weave through the crowds, your desperate voice growing hoarse from calling his name. Just as your heart is about to leap into full-blown panic, you hear a familiar, small voice.

“Auntie?”

You turn sharply and spot Itadori Yuji standing a few feet away, holding the hand of a zookeeper. Relief floods over you as you rush over, immediately dropping to your knees and wrapping your arms around him. You could feel like you were going to burst into tears just holding him like this. You were relieved. He was here. He was safe. He’s okay. You thank the gods above.

“Yuji! Thank goodness, you’re okay!” you say, your voice trembling with relief.

Yuji looks up at you with wide eyes, his lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I just wanted to see the elephants…”

You hug him tighter, feeling your boyfriend’s presence beside you as he drops down to Yuji’s level, his expression stern but his eyes soft. He must have seen you both and ran over here as quickly as he could. He purses his lips int a tight line as he observed his nephew for injuries or bruises and even cuts.

“Brat, you scared us.” Sukuna says, ruffling Yuji’s hair more gently this time. “You have to stay close, got it? Don’t do that again.”

Yuji nods, tears brimming in his bright big eyes. “I’m sorry, Uncle Sukuna… I didn’t mean to…”

Sukuna’s expression softens completely, and he sighs, pulling Yuji into a hug. “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay, brat.” he mutters, his voice a little rough. “‘s not your fault, okay? Just….hold my hand next time.”

Yuji nods against his shoulder, and you reach over, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Come on, let’s go see those elephants, hmm? Together this time,” you say softly.

Yuji sniffles but nods, and you stand up, taking his hand. Sukuna rises too, keeping a protective arm around you both. “Yeah, together.” he agrees, his tone firm but warm.

You thank the zookeeper and solemnly leave, with Sukuna carrying Yuji in his arms still trying to comfort him. Your boyfriend pat his nephew’s back, stroking it over and over to comfort him. It broke your heart that Yuji was upset. But he was here. And he’ll be okay. That’s all that mattered to you. You knew just as much that Sukuna was the same.

The three of you head toward the elephant exhibit, Yuji keeps close between the two of you, his little hand gripping yours tightly, and Sukuna’s hand resting on his shoulder. Despite the scare, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, knowing that as long as you’re all together, everything will be alright.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day three

THE SLEEP WAS ROUGH LAST NIGHT. You didn’t want to let go of Yuji in your sleep. He had ended up not wanting to leave your bed last night and slept with you and Sukuna in your bedroom. He still was anxious from being lost, you can’t help but think. And you don’t really blame him for it. Sukuna didn’t utter a word and just let it be, wrapping the covers on your bodies and went to close the night light.

Come morning, you wake up to the sound of muffled clinking and clattering coming from the kitchen. You couldn’t help but blink your eyes open, the early light filtering through the curtains. Beside you, Sukuna stirs, frowning slightly at the noise.

“What’s that racket?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

You sit up, listening closely. The noise continues — the unmistakable sound of plates and silverware being moved around, a chair being dragged across the floor. You glance at Sukuna, a smile tugging at your lips. “Sounds like our little guest is up to something.”

Sukuna narrows his eyes suspiciously. “That brat better not be doing anything dangerous in there.” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his voice.

You both get out of bed and quietly make your way to the kitchen, peeking around the corner. There, in the middle of the kitchen, stands Yuji, a determined expression on his face as he tries to balance on a chair he's pushed against the counter.

His small hands are busy spreading a thick, uneven layer of butter on a piece of bread, followed by an enthusiastic dollop of jam. Nearby, a bowl of cereal overflows with milk, and a few spilled Cheerios are scattered across the counter.

Yuji mutters to himself under his breath, clearly focused on his task. “Okay, okay… just a little more…” He tips the milk carton a bit too far, and more milk splashes onto the counter. He gasps softly but quickly goes back to his sandwich-making, a look of concentration on his face.

You can’t help but smile, and Sukuna, despite his earlier grumbling, looks a bit amused too. “What’s he doing?” Sukuna whispers, leaning closer to you.

“I think… he’s making us breakfast, babe.” you whisper back, feeling your heart melt a little.

Before you can say anything, Yuji notices you both standing there. His eyes widen in surprise, but then he beams, his face lighting up with pride.

“Auntie! Uncle Sukuna!” he exclaims. “Good morning! I… I made you breakfast!” He gestures to the chaotic spread on the counter, looking so proud of himself that you can’t help but feel a swell of affection.

You step forward, giving him a warm smile. “Wow, Yuji! This looks… delicious!” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible while suppressing a laugh at the mess.

Sukuna crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised, but there’s a soft look in his eyes. “Yeah, brat, you really outdid yourself.” he says with a small grin. “What’s the occasion?”

Yuji’s smile falters a little, and he looks down at his feet, shuffling nervously. “I… I wanted to say sorry for yesterday.” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to make you worry… So I wanted to make you a special breakfast to make up for it.”

Your heart melts at his sincerity. You crouch down to his level and pull him into a gentle hug. “Oh, Yuji, you don’t have to do that for us.” you say softly. “We know you didn’t mean to worry us. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

Yuji hugs you back tightly, burying his face in your shoulder for a moment. “But I wanted to, Auntie!” he insists. “Because I love you and Uncle Sukuna… and I wanted to make you smile.”

Sukuna’s expression softens further, and he crouches down next to you, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Hey, brat, you already made us feel relieved.” he says gruffly, though his voice is unusually gentle. “But I guess we should at least taste this fine meal you’ve prepared, huh?”

Yuji’s face lights up again, and he nods eagerly. “Yes! I made a sandwich and cereal! It’s my favorite!”

You and Sukuna exchange a glance, amused but touched by Yuji’s earnestness. You take a bite of the butter-and-jam sandwich, doing your best to keep a straight face as the unevenly spread butter melts on your tongue alongside a very generous layer of sweet jam.

“It’s… unique.” you say, giving Yuji a big smile. “Thank you, Yuji.”

Sukuna follows suit, picking up the cereal bowl and taking a careful sip of the overly milky concoction. “Mmm.” he says with a nod, holding back a chuckle. “Not bad, brat. Not bad at all.”

Yuji beams, clearly delighted by your reactions. “Yay! I’m glad you like it!” He claps his hands, his earlier nerves completely gone now.

You reach over and give Yuji another hug. “Thank you for being so thoughtful, Yuji.” you say warmly. “You’ve definitely made our morning.”

Sukuna nods, wrapping an arm around Yuji’s shoulders. “Yeah, brat….you’re alright.” he says, a rare softness in his tone. “But next time, let’s make breakfast together, okay? Might save a little bit of the kitchen from total destruction.”

Yuji giggles, nodding eagerly. “Okay, Uncle Sukuna! Next time, we’ll make pancakes!”

You smile, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you look at the two of them. Despite the mess, despite the unexpectedness of it all, you can’t think of a better way to start the day.

Later that morning, as you and Sukuna help Yuji clean up the kitchen — which now looks like it’s survived a mini tornado — your phone rings. You glance at the screen and see it’s Jin calling. You exchange a quick look with Sukuna, who’s wiping a smear of jam off the counter, and answer the call.

“Hey, Jin!” you greet him warmly, keeping an eye on Yuji, who is carefully stacking dishes in the sink. “How’s everything going?”

Jin’s voice comes through, sounding a bit tired but cheerful. “Hey! We’re wrapping up at work sooner than we thought. Kaori’s gonna arrive in a day or two. I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way back home. I should be there in a few hours.”

You feel a pang of mixed emotions — relief that Jin and Kaori are safe and on their way back, but also a little sadness knowing this means Yuji’s stay with you is coming to an end. “That’s great news, Jin.” you say, glancing at Yuji. “We’ve had such a fun time with Yuji, he’s been wonderful.”

Jin laughs. “I’m glad to hear that! I hope he wasn't too much trouble for you guys.”

Sukuna snorts softly, overhearing the conversation. “Trouble? That’s an understatement.” he mutters, though there’s a fondness in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding.

You grin at Sukuna’s comment before turning your attention back to Jin. “No trouble at all.” you assure him. “Yuji’s been an absolute sweetheart.”

Jin sighs, a smile evident in his tone. “Thanks for looking after him. We’ll come to pick him up as soon as we get back.”

You hang up the phone and turn to Yuji, who’s watching you with wide, curious eyes. He tilts his head slightly. “Was that Daddy?” he asks, his little voice hopeful.

You nod, smiling gently. “Yes, Yuji. Your dad said he and your mom are on their way back. They’ll be here to pick you up soon.”

Yuji’s face falls, and his shoulders slump. “But… but I don’t wanna go home yet.” he murmurs, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I’m having so much fun with you and Uncle Sukuna…”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looks down at his nephew. “Oh, come on, brat.” he says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “You miss your parents, don’t you?”

Yuji frowns and shakes his head, his small hands clenching the hem of his shirt. “But I wanna stay here longer! We didn’t even make cookies yet!” he protests, looking between you and Sukuna with pleading eyes.

You kneel down to his level, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Yuji, we’ve had so much fun with you, and we’re going to miss you too.” you say softly. “But your mom and dad miss you too, and they can’t wait to see you.”

Yuji’s eyes welled up with tears, and he looked down, his voice barely a whisper. “I know… but I like being here… with you two.”

Sukuna sighs, his expression softening. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting on Yuji’s shoulder. “Hey, brat.” he says, his tone gentler now, “Just because you’re going home doesn’t mean we won’t see you again. We’ll have more fun days together, I promise.”

Yuji sniffles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Really?”

“Really.” Sukuna confirms, ruffling his hair. “And next time, we’ll definitely make those cookies, huh? Maybe even chocolate chip ones. What do you say?”

Yuji’s face brightens a little, and he nods, his tears already forgotten at the mention of chocolate chip cookies. “Okay… but can we still go to the park one last time before I go home?”

You exchange a glance with Sukuna, and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Alright, one last trip to the park.” he concedes with a smirk. “But only because you already made us breakfast.”

Yuji grins, and you can’t help but smile too, your heart feeling full. “Let’s get ready, then.” you say, standing up and taking Yuji’s hand. “One more adventure before your parents come to get you.”

Yuji cheers, jumping up and down excitedly. “Yay! Let’s go!” he exclaims, all traces of sadness gone.

As you head out the door, you feel Sukuna’s hand slip into yours, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re good with him, you know? Thank you for that, babe.” he murmurs, a rare softness in his voice.

You smile up at him. “Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re just as good with taking care of him, you know? Love that about you, babe.” you reply.

Sukuna couldn’t help but snorts but doesn’t disagree, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he leads the way, Yuji’s laughter filling the air. And for now, that’s all that matters.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

Itadori Choso finally arrives home from college after a long drive. He was eager to spend some time with his little brother, Yuji. Being far gone in college, all he thinks about is when he’d get to play with his little brother. And he can’t wait. He steps into the house, dropping his bags by the door with a loud thud, and immediately calls out in front of his mother.

“Yuji! I’m back!”

Yuji, who has been doodling in the living room, perks up and runs over to greet him. “Big brother!” he shouts, throwing his arms around his older brother in a big hug. But no sooner has he hugged Choso than he starts babbling excitedly. “Guess what! I had the best time ever with Uncle Sukuna and Auntie!”

Choso’s smile wavers slightly, and he looks down at Yuji with a puzzled expression. “Oh, did you?” he asks, his tone laced with a bit of unease. “What did you do with them?”

Yuji’s eyes light up as he launches into a detailed recount of every moment spent with you and Sukuna, from the trip to the zoo to making breakfast and playing at the park. “And then Uncle Sukuna said we’ll make chocolate chip cookies next time! And Auntie said we could go to the beach too!”

Choso’s smile turns into a slightly forced grin as he listens, nodding along but feeling a twinge of jealousy in his chest. “Wow, sounds like you had… a lot of fun.” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “But hey, I’m back now, so we can have fun too, right? We can do all the things we used to do!”

Yuji’s face scrunches up in thought for a moment before he shrugs. “I guess…” he says, a bit too nonchalantly for Choso’s liking. “But Uncle Sukuna is really funny, and Auntie gives the best hugs. And we were going to make pancakes!”

Choso’s eye twitches slightly. “I can make cookies too, you know,” he says, sounding just a tad defensive. “I’ve been making them for you since forever, Yuji.”

Yuji nods, but he looks unconvinced. “Yeah, but… Uncle Sukuna flips them really high in the air. And Auntie says we can put as many chocolate chips as we want!”

Choso crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Oh, really?” he mutters. “Well, I bet Uncle Sukuna can’t make cookies shaped like dinosaurs like I can.” He puffs out his chest a little, feeling smug.

Yuji’s eyes widen for a second, but then he shrugs again. “Maybe!” he admits. “But Uncle Sukuna and Auntie took me to the zoo and the park, and we saw a real dinosaur—uh, I mean, a lizard that looked like one!”

Choso’s eyebrow twitches again, and he huffs. “Yeah, well, that’s cool and all, but I’m way cooler than Uncle Sukuna, right?” he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice pitches a little higher than usual.

Yuji tilts his head, considering this for a long, exaggerated moment. “Umm… I dunno…” he finally says, looking genuinely torn. “You’re both cool. But Uncle Sukuna can lift me with one arm! Can you do that?”

Choso frowns. “Of course, I can! I’m your big brother!” He scoops Yuji up in a single swift motion, lifting him high into the air. “See? I’m strong too!”

Yuji giggles, kicking his legs. “Okay, okay! You’re strong too, Choso!”

Choso sets him down with a triumphant grin, feeling like he’s finally won this little contest. “See? You don’t need Uncle Sukuna. You’ve got me.”

But then, just as Choso thinks he’s secured his place as Yuji’s favorite, you and Sukuna walk through the front door, having stopped by to return a forgotten toy. Yuji’s face lights up like a thousand-watt bulb. “Auntie! Uncle Sukuna!” he squeals, running over to you both.

Choso watches, deflated, as Yuji clings to your leg, babbling excitedly about your return. He turns to Sukuna, glaring a little. “So, you think you’re the cool uncle, huh?” he grumbles.

Sukuna smirks, crossing his arms with a cocky grin. “I don’t think, kid. I know.”

Choso rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “I knew I should’ve stayed home this semester…”

You laugh, noticing Choso’s pout, and lean in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, Choso.” you say with a wink. “There’s always room for many cool people in Yuji’s life.”

Choso sighs but manages a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so.” he mutters, giving in with a playful eye roll. “But I’m still making those dinosaur cookies with him today.”

Yuji bounces up and down excitedly. “Dinosaur cookies with chocolate chips!” he exclaims, clearly enjoying this newfound competition for his affection.

Sukuna scoffs, grinning. “Game on, Choso. Game on.”

And with that, Choso knows his days of being Yuji’s favorite are numbered… but at least it’ll be fun trying to win back the title.

1K notes · View notes

hyukalyptus · 15 days

Text

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.”

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