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bkgsdoll · 3 months ago

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OCT 1ST: all for you

🖤 bakugou + kirishima, scream!au

Summary: there's been a masked serial killer running around your sweet town, targeting and murdering your friends left and right. however, you soon find out.. there's two killers-- and they're after you. but not in the way you thought. Kinks: knife play, spit, dub-con, kinda maybe some manipulation?, choking, blood kink, coercion, voyeurism, dacryphilia Warnings: gore, character death

🐈‍⬛╰ 　 first ever kinktober!! im kinda not used to writing oneshots, so i apologize for how choppy this is lmaoo. still hope u enjoy tho! credits in the tags <3 🎀╰ 　 word counter: 5.3k 🐈‍⬛╰ 　 kinktober masterlist 🎀╰ 　 MDNI! this is an 18+ event

"okay your turn..!" your best friend mina giggles, sitting criss-crossed on your bed, a pink duvet draped over her lap. you lay on your stomach next to her wearing a girlish grin while flipping through magazines as you two play two truths and a lie. originally you were supposed to have a double date with your boyfriend katsuki, and mina's boyfriend ejirou tonight, but he canceled due to a family emergency. both of you were a bit bummed (mina threw a fit), but ejirou's not the type to bail for something small. so to bring up your best friend's spirits, you decided to have a sleepover at your house.

you hum softly, flipping a page in a beauty magazine. you rub your glittery lips together and tap your manicured nails against the glossy paper as you think of your lie and truths. suddenly you perk up and tilt your head towards mina. "kay, ready?" you wiggle your brows. she nods with a determined smile.

"i've never done anal--" you start, rolling your eyes with a curled-up lip when the pink-skinned girl points an accusatory finger with a cheeky snort. "lie! wow, that was quick," her dimples deepen as her intrepid smirk grows wider.

you hold your mouth shut to conceal a small laugh as she boasts. "let me finish!!" you let out a giggle, pinching her fleshy thigh. she yelps and rubs her nipped skin before quieting down. you lift your chin up with a goofy smile. "anddd i've never gotten drunk before... and! i'm gonna be a slutty witch for halloween this year." you finish with a confident grin. mina's cocky grin falters, a small pout forming while her face pinches in thought.

a finger taps her chin with a hum. "okay, i retract my previous statement. you're too goody two shoes to get drunk, and you are not basic sooo the lie is you're gonna be a slutty witch this year!-- am i right?!" she grabs your shoulder, shaking you lightly. you giggle, nodding your head. "no fair. you're too good at this." you flop on your back, folding your arms with a playful pout.

mina has thrown huge halloween bashes every year since freshman year in high school. fyi, it's not the large amount of people that makes the parties so huge. it was the drama. the loud arguments over who should've won the "costume awards". yes. this is a real thing that you, mina, and ochako came up with back in high school. anyhow, you're still unsure of what you're dressing up as this year. for the past two, you and katsuki matched (and won the "cunt couple" category both times too). you make a mental note to text him later.

"we should go out tonight! like ding dong ditch as a pre-halloween jest." mina chirps, tumbling off your bed and leaping to the full-body mirror against your wall. you turn to your side, leaning your cheek on your palm as you watch the bubbly girl fix her hair. "right, maybe if we were eleven," you tease, sticking out your tongue. she chuckles, fluffing her soft curls before letting out a gasp. "we should pick up toru and carve pumpkins!" she suggests, eyes brightening. the girl gasps and squeals, "call her!"

toru was more mina's friend than yours. since high school, you never really enjoyed hanging out with her that much. she's snooty and petty, traits you're not very fond of. almost everyone around you understands your miniature distaste-- including mina, but being the sweet girl she is, always tries to make others feel included. you pull your hello kitty cased phone off the nightstand and pull up toru's number before lifting it to your ear. mina plops down next to you, fixing the bows in your hair while the line rings. "she's not answering," you whisper with a frown. she giggles, pinching your side. "maybee she's with ojiro.."

you're brought to voicemail where you hear toru's bubbly voice. you huff, twirling a strand of your hair. when it beeps, you splurt out, "hey! me and mina are coming over with pumpkins and candles in a few so get ojiro out of there don't be mad okay see you in a bit!" you giggle and hang up before grabbing your purse and rushing out the door with mina.

"we should've gotten smaller ones.." mina whines, heaving a large orange pumpkin with both arms.

you huff, struggling to carry yours. "it's just a small walk, we'll be fine." you chuckle at the girl's sloppy walking. she sticks her tongue out with a little laugh. you two cross the street and stay to the right side of the sidewalk as you make your way to hagakure's. it's quiet and peaceful. the nightly autumn breeze brushes against your cable knit sweater as you walk.

mina exhales dreamily. "i've missed these. getting together and acting like little girls again. i only feel like that with you guys. eji's been hanging out with bakugou a lot more than me lately, it makes a girl feel kinda sucky."

you frown. boys will be asshole boys. "awe, honey. i love being with you. you can call me whenever you feel lonely!"

this brings a gentle smile back on her face. unlike your best friend, you're glad katsuki's with ejirou more often, actually, you urged him to hang out. you realized him spending almost every day with you during, in-between, and after classes couldn't have been healthy, so you suggested having bro-time with his "most favorable" friend.

you reach toru's house shortly, walking up the driveway sluggishly. the lights are on, she must be home. "i hate being outside at night." you hear mina whisper as you lug your pumpkin up the white porch steps. mina stays at the bottom, dropping her big pumpkin on the floor and massaging her arms. you gently rest yours on the porch before skipping to the front door. you're able to see through the transom in the middle of it, and your eyes widen in terror. there's broken glass scattered on the entryway floor and a fallen painting nearby. right before you smush your hand on the doorbell, you hear a bloodcurdling scream from behind you. you quickly whip around and stomp down the stairs to your shaking friend.

mina's eyes are gushing tears, her hands pressed tightly against her jaw-dropped mouth. she's looking away from you towards the lawn in the distance. "what's wrong!?! what happened??" your hand grazes her shoulder to soothe her whimpers, but she chokes on a sob, clearly not able to form any words. she just keeps staring ahead. you turn to face the direction her eyes are fixed on. and your heart drops to your stomach.

there, on the tree you used to sit under all together, hangs your friend toru with her insides on the outside. your entire body feels weak. you drop to your knees, mina shrieking when you do. "CALL THE COPS!!" you scream, sobbing loudly. with trembling hands, mina pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials 911.

you're hardly hearing anything around you, including mina, as she breathes in and out rapidly, explaining the situation to the police. "they're-- they're on the way." mina hiccups, dropping down next to you, latching onto your arm with both hands. "oh my god..." she squeezes her eyes shut and digs her face into your side, her tears pouring onto your sweater. you suddenly feel nauseous, but you can't stop gawking at the tree. your jaw is locked open and teardrops leak into your mouth. you see flashes of red and blue reflecting across the grass after a few minutes, but you can't move.

when the cops arrived, they had asked you and mina far too many questions for either of you to comprehend in the moment. you tried to be the strong one and blurt out as much as you knew. you didn't see anyone nearby when you'd arrived. you could tell that didn't help the officers much. as they investigated the property, you called katsuki, choking out what happened. he got to hagakure's house in under five minutes. "her poor parents." mina had croaked, her throat heavily sore from screaming and crying. she hadn't let go of you the entire time.

when katsuki and ejirou pulled up, you dragged mina over to them where she fell into eji's large arms and burst out crying again after just calming down. "what.. happened?" he muttered, looking at the scene while petting his girlfriend's hair consolingly. you clutched the front of katsuki's shirt and dug your face into his chest. "holy shit," he exhaled heavily, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "fuckin hell. were you hurt?" he curses, pulling you away and inspecting you, both hands on your cheeks. you were drained, it appeared so obviously on your face. you very lightly shook your head, mindlessly fingering the fabric of your boyfriend's long-sleeve. "jus wanna go home." you mumble. like mina, your throat is exhausted and raspy. katsuki nods immediately, slapping kiri on the back before tugging you to his car.

the next week was torture. mainly because mina, your cheerful bubbly girl, was in shambles. she only went to some of her classes, usually the ones in the late afternoon, and hardly talked to anyone. you didn't let this get in the way of your academics, however. of course you were upset-- though you never really liked her, she was still just a young girl figuring out her life. and no matter what it was that triggered her killer, she didn't deserve to have her guts spilled out. literally.

sometimes when you go to sleep in your once safe bed with your muscular boyfriend's arms wrapped around you, the image of toru hanging from her tree with a shocked face flashes in your mind.

another week passed, it was better than the last. mina was slowly but surely getting back to her usual self. halloween was inching closer, and you decided that having an even larger party this year might lift your best friend's spirits. and of course, she adored this idea. you two and kiri invited everyone you knew! you planned your costume, you were going to be a cute little vampire and katsuki.. well, you weren't sure until later in the day.

"oh gosh sukiii..!" you squealed, fisting your boyfriend's blond hair. his face was squished in between your thighs, slurping up your squelchy cunt like it was his last meal. "babyyyy.." you whined, tugging on his hair harder. that's when you felt sharp canines dig into your inner thigh. you gasped, throwing your head back, your hips unconsciously rutting against katsuki's face harder. "be patient baby," he muttered, pulling back slightly to stare at your pussy, pinching your little clit with two long fingers. "hey!" you let out a small cry, staring down at the amused man with a pout. he smirks, dragging a finger through your folds. "maybe i should be a werewolf this year, hah?" he jokes, rubbing his digit up and down.

the night of the party, katsuki sits at the end of the bed with a dopey grin on his face, listening to you ramble about how excited you are. he thought your outfit was adorable. you wore a frilly white miniskirt with a showy pink corset, lined with pretty white bows. you best believe he was taking professional-level pics for your instagram.

"we're gonna be late, sweets." katsuki reminds you, glancing at his phone for the time. you're quickly applying mascara with your tongue poked out when a large warm hand is placed on your soft thigh, gently massaging your flesh. he rolls his eyes as you unbutton the top of his flannel. "you look so good!!" you swoon, playfully throwing your hand on your heart. katsuki's costume was simple, really. he borrowed a green flannel from izuku, cut it up with some scissors to look like claw marks (he'll have to buy izu a new shirt..) and threw on a pair of ripped jeans. "how are people gonna know what you are??" you asked him earlier, both hands on your hips. he shrugged, "no one's gonna be paying attention to me, who cares?"

he subtly puffed his chest out at your compliment, mumbling out a small "thanks peach," before twirling your fingers into his own. he looked down at you seriously. "tonight'll be fun nd shit, but you needa be good, kay?" katsuki squishes your cheeks with a veiny hand. your squeezed grin makes him chuckle lightly, pulling away to tenderly kiss your glossy lips. you giggle, grabbing onto his large hand with both of yours. "sweets." he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. you hum, nodding your head. "m always good," you tell him with a silly smile. he sticks his tongue out boyishly before standing and pulling you up with his hand.

the party's roaringly active, the thumping bass from the large speakers reverberating through your chest as you and katsuki walk hand-in-hand into mina's house. you spot a small group of your friends from high school standing in a corner, chatting with some people you recognize from campus. the cozy home was decorated head to toe in halloween decorations, hanging bats and ghosts adorn the ceiling, and cobwebs fill every little corner. "hey lovebirds!" a familiar voice calls out. you turn your head and beam at kaminari, dragging a grimacing katsuki along to join the cluster.

mina grabs your arm from your boyfriend, tugging you down to sit next to her on a small couch. kami sits perched on the arm, both leather-covered arms crossed as he tries to appear intimidating. "what the fuck 're you?" katsuki digs his hands into his denim pockets, slouching over kaminari with a glower.

he scoffs in surprise, dropping his arms in defeat. "i'm aku! from that manga you literally gave to me, dude!!" he whines. bakugou turns his head back to you, clearly not interested in whatever loser villain denki's cosplaying.

"where's eji?" you ask mina, fixing the red hood on her head. she held a little brown basket in her lap, picking at a chipped piece of rattan with manicured nails.

"he went to go grab beers with izuku and hanta." she waves her hand dismissively. "costume awards start in ten minutes!!" she squeals, clapping her hands pertly. you smile toothily, analyzing the turnout. some lesbians were making out with a huddled group around them yelling out cheers, red plastic cups filled everyone's hands, and there was far too much twerking going on. you gasp when a girl who was just shaking her ass onto a very uninterested spiderman lifted her hands off her knees and slipped face forward onto the ground.

kaminari caught this too, letting out an "oooh.." with a wince. he clicked his tongue before taking a sip out of his cup. "y'think she'll give me a lap dance if i go help her up?" he wiped his mouth with his sleeve before shoving the cup into your hand, not waiting for an answer and rushing off. you giggle, pouring some of his drink into your mouth.

mina laughs, swirling the liquid in her cup around. "atleast he's not a pussy anymore,"

bakugou leans against the arm of the sofa, folding his arms. "now he jus wants t'eat it."

you look up at him, letting out an airy chuckle as you lean into his muscly figure. he looks amazing like this. izuku's flannel being a little too figure-hugging, clings to his body, accentuating his brawny biceps and thick pecs. his jawline's sharp enough to stab a man, and his gorgeous, almost distracting face looks enough to eat. damn, he did his eyeliner really well. he smirks at your staring, brightening his eyes and wiggling his brows mockingly.

tsu speaks for the first time this night with a quiet warning. "euhh, look who's coming over,"

...who the hell invited camie?

the gorgeous girl saunters over in her stupid police officer costume that barely grasps her bouncy tits. her finger taps her bottom lip seductively as she reaches your corner. katsuki lightly hums at your sudden discomfort.

without any greeting, camie points to your outfit. "way weird. what are you supposed to be?"

you exhale, "a vampire. it's nice to see you too, camie."

the whole thing between you and her started with katsuki. you thought it ended once he barked in her face telling her to back off, but she still believes she has a chance with him.

she lets out a tiny "eh" and turns to katsuki, pressing a hand into her hip with a smile. "hey hottie! kinda lame costume, but you still look totes fresh. i'm gonna slide over to the kitchen and grab some punch or somethin fetch, don't miss me too much 'kay byeee!" she waved before swaying away.

mina snorts, leaning her head onto your shoulder. katsuki rolls his eyes, grunting something about "no fuckin boundaries".

"i think she and yuga would get along great," mina smirks, standing up.

you raise a brow. "where you goin?"

"awards are in a few, duh! go put your fangs in, i left them on my dresser!!" she giggles before running away. you smile widely, your favorite part of the night is coming up. katsuki clears his throat.

"i'll come wit'cha. jus gimme a sec-- y'want somethin to drink honey?" he pets the back of your head. you sweetly grin, nodding and getting up as well. he kisses your cheek, mutters "be right back" and heads to the other room.

you mingle near the couch, mildly dancing to the pulsing music. maybe a minute has passed since katsuki left, when you hear a wail, a muffled scream pierce the air. some others heard it too, their heads turned near the back door. you're about to go investigate when kirishima comes up behind you, sliding a red solo cup into your hand. "oh hey eiji--" you take the cup from him. you suck in a breath. "i just heard a scream... maybe we should go check it out.." you mutter, gaze fixed on the back door where some people started gathering.

the perky redhead hums, taking a look at the crowd before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "i think they got it. pinky told me to get you your fangs real fast before the contest starts!" he exclaims, rambling about his costume while leading you up the stairs where you steal one last look at the backyard door before heading into mina's girly bedroom.

kirishima stalks silently behind you, slowly creeping in. the lights are off and the sun has already been set. you can hardly see shit. you squint at your best friend's dresser, hand fumbling around trying to find your plastic fangs. "can you turn on a light plea--"

you cut yourself off when a large warm body presses against your back. what the fuck is he doing?? just as you're about to speak again, the ceiling light suddenly flickers on, and you see ejirou standing by the door. your eyes widen.

a familiar deep, rough voice purrs in your ear. "hey."

you gasp, spinning around quickly. your boyfriend, your katsuki, stands tall in the bedroom, flannel shirt unbuttoned and blood splattered all over. and he looks. so fucking cocky. your horrified stare slowly drags towards the ground behind him, where camie lies with her eyes bulged out and her neck covered in slashes. katsuki can feel your quick heavy breath hot against his throat, and he grins.

"dumb bitch won't get in the way of us anymore, huh?"

you jaw slacks open, ready to scream, but nothing comes out. you hear a lock click on the door. your boyfriend is relaxed like nothing is wrong. he sighs, lifting a hand to twirl a strand of your hair.

"knew you wanted this. but you were too scared to do it yourself. my poor baby, lost in what society forces you to think." katsuki's gruff voice drones. "y'wanted to be so fuckin perfect, right? boring like those extras."

you watch kirishima pull a knife out of katsuki's hand, hastily wiping the blood off on his pants. your chest heaves up and down, struggling to ignore the excited expression etched on the sweet boy's face. bakugou grunts.

"maybe that's why ya tried to push me away. 'spend time with kiri, katsuki, it'll be good fa you'... do ya not love me anymore?" his hand darts to his pec, holding his heart teasingly. he knows he's right about you having.. unnatural urges. but how the fuck did he know that? and he's all proud of himself, arrogant bastard. but that's your katsuki. fuck, you weren't ever gonna actually kill someone!

while you were stuck inside your head, his hands reached to your hips, slowly guiding you to mina's cozy bed. your skirt gets flipped up and panties pulled down to your ankles. you suck in another breath, squeezing your eyes shut.

your boyfriend starts to rub your pussy with small circles. your eyes are all hazy and glossed over, you can't help but feel stirred up by all this, no matter how wrong it is. you yelp when you feel two thick fingers pinch your clit. you lift your head to see your boyfriend quirking an eyebrow, waiting for his answer. you let out a quiet moan, tilting your head back again, your hips gently rocking into his idle fingers. "o-of course i love you.. s'much suki.." you whimper, staring at your hunky katsuki with dumb eyes.

this swells his heart, a proud smirk curling onto his lips. "course ya do. such a perfect girl, huh?" he coos, gently stroking your pussy.

kirishima watches from a wooden chair with a small grin and slightly widened eyes. the sight of you bare, his best friend's girl. tears pooling in your pretty eyes as your cunt gushes arousal. katsuki's crimson eyes catch this, a thin scowl creasing his features. "oi," he grunts, removing his attention from you. ejirou lightly shakes his head and opens his eyes wider when meeting katsuki's, who lets out a huff. "you wanna fuck my girl or somethin'?" the blond spits, his voice deep and rough.

kiri's cheeks sting as he swallows hard and glances back at you. his expression alters into a semi-confident beam. "yeah, man. i do."

if you were paying more attention, you would've visibly cringed at his words. katsuki's never, not once, liked when another man viewed you in any special aspect. you were his, and he made that very clear. though he doesn't curse out his friend or even bark at him to leave. his eyes smooth over to yours, calm and nonchalant. you huff, an angry pout forming on your lips. your thighs squeeze shut, but katsuki simply pries them back open.

"don't be a brat." he pinches the chubby flesh of your ass, jaw clenching.

"you killed them!" you cry, a little sob falling out of your throat. what you said isn't really what you mean, and bakugou knows it. your mouth says one thing, but your pinched eyebrows and puffed out cheeks truthfully tell him, i wanted to do it.

"why don't you get it?" katsuki sighs, kneading your ass with his thumbs. "we did it all for you, princess."

your cunt throbs, and you can feel your mascara running down your face. fuck it, you can't pretend any longer. your breath shakes as you exhale with a sniffle. "thank you sukiii.." you whisper, shutting your eyes shyly. you feel a kiss on your stomach as the bed shifts and your boyfriend crawls on top of you. suddenly bloodcurdling screams reverberate through the house. katsuki groans. "fucking shitty hair, why didn't you hide it better." he states rather than asks, shaking his head in annoyance.

kirishima chuckles, playing with the used knife. "dude, i had like two minutes to do it!"

it. you know what they're talking about. the scream from outside. you knew that shit sounded familiar.

"w-was it mineta?" you manage to squeak out. bakugou clicks his tongue, starting to push his fingers into your slicked hole.

"yeah, that asshole."

you moan, letting your head fall back onto the mattress. lengthy fingers pump in and out of your pussy with calculation. katsuki smugly grins at your blissful face. "yknow what ei? i think m getting a little hungry."

he slides back down the bed, face right in front of your messy cunt. he hums lightly before licking a long stripe from inbetween your cheeks to your sensitive little clit. you sigh at the tingle. your boyfriend watches you through lidded eyes when he starts sucking on your bud and fingers continue to push into you quickly. his free hand grips your inner thigh while he tugs on your clit harshly.

every lick and suck is given with precision. he's proud he was able to get rid of those jackasses for you (who is he kidding, he didn't give a shit about any of them either) and wants to make you feel good, let you know it's okay. "such a good girl," he mutters against your slit.

his fingers pull out of your tight hole to rub fast circles on your clit and dig his face into your pussy, nose bumping under his fingers as he ravages your juices.

your hips stutter and a lengthy squeal falls out of your mouth as a wave of pleasure washes over you. you can't see it, but ejirou's eyes darken as you release on your boyfriend's face. he's panting, his rocky hard-on only becoming even more visible, yet he holds his hands at his sides, refusing to touch himself.

"idiot, gimme." katsuki demands, holding his hand out towards him, keeping his gaze on your blissed post-orgasm face.

kirishima stalks over, dropping the sharp knife into his best friend's hand. bakugou sighs, gripping the knife as he leans forward to cut open your pretty pink corset. you gasp, but he shushes you gently. "i'll just buy you another," he mumbles.

ejirou sits back down in the creaky chair, clearly not planning on leaving anytime soon.

"what would pinky say if she saw this.." katsuki jeers, not meeting kiri's startled glare. "you, about to watch her best friend get fucked into next week." he chuckles tauntingly. he pulls your corset off your body and unclips your bra with his free hand while the other rubs circles into your hip.

he sighs in relief when your tits bounce free. like they just saved his life. his hand immediately leaves your hip to fondle one while leaning in to mush his lips onto yours, the other hand latching onto your throat. you whimper into the kiss when he sticks his tongue inside, sucking on yours. while he's distracting you with his sloppy lips, he removes his hand from your tit to tug down the zipper of his jeans and pull them down along with his boxers before stepping out of them.

he grabs ahold of his knife again, slightly pulling away from your mouth and giving your neck a squeeze. you feel his erect cock brush against your thigh. you bat your lashes like a pretty fawn, cupping his cheek with your hand. he unconsciously leans into your touch before raising the knife to your shoulder. you feel the razor-sharp blade graze your skin ever so lightly, swallowing quietly.

he sighs, kissing the palm of your hand. "y'wanna be mine angel?"

you scoff, "i'm already yours doofus."

he smirks, kissing you one more time before digging the blade into your flesh. you yelp with his hand pressed against your mouth. "ow, fuck!" your whine comes out muffled.

"easy, man!" kirishima exclaims from the stands with a worrisome expression.

after a few seconds, the knife is lifted to your boyfriend's mouth, licking the blood off as he stares at his initials tattooed into your skin. he throws the blade across the room, adjusting himself right above you. he grabs his dick to rub his leaking tip through your sloshing folds. you whine needily. katsuki smirks before pushing in. the stretch hardly burns with your waterpark of cunt being prepped.

he's halfway in when he pulls out and slams back in. you mewl, gentle hands gripping his shoulder blades. he lifts one of your legs, his pace speeding up. his mean cock pumped into you roughly, just how you liked it. "fuckk! 'ts so good sukii..!"

you release a long string of moans and squeals, the passion of your murderous boyfriend's fat dick turning you dumb. he coos, bucking his hips up harder, "my girl's so slutty, huh?" he taunts. "takin me so well- fhuck,"

unlike katsuki, who was evidently composed, you were a babbling mess.

"ohhh.. you're fucking crazy!" you moan, throwing your head back. he chuckles, sucking a lovebite into your neck in response. your mind becomes foggy as you cling to him, drool dripping down your chin. he leans up, licking up the spit from your face before grabbing the back of your head and smashing his lips onto yours, pushing your saliva back in with his tongue. you were completely fucked out with a fuzzy brain, and all you can think of is katsuki, katsuki, katsuki.

he adored being able to make you act to whorish, have his sweet innocent girl screaming his name like a slut. his heavy balls slapped against the curve of your ass while he pounded his fat dick with an almost fatter smirk.

he groans your name, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he nibbles on your flushed cheeks, drawing blood. you cry out, your back arching.

"y'gonna cum, sweetheart? in front of that idiot?" bakugou teases, nudging his head towards ejirou.

your vision's blurry, pretty tears clouding your sight. you blink them away, let them flow down your face so you can see your beloved, the man who slaughtered the ones you despised. your nails scratch down his back as his large tip reaches your g-spot with ease. "oh fff-ffuck! please, pleaseee, need to-- oh god katsuki!" you scream as his fingers ferociously attack your clit. it was enough to have you squirt around him, your back arching so that your tits were pressed against his. "shit, m gonna cum. all for you baby.. FUCK!" katsuki cums with a groan, pumping his seed into you lazily.

kirishima awkwardly clears his throat, abruptly standing up from his chair and heading towards the window he skillfully climbed through every week. "i'm gonna, uh, go see what's happenin' with the cops." he cups his rock hard dick with his hand, blushing furiously. "and um maybe we should-- okay, yeah, i'm going." he sighs, realizing neither of you are listening. he pulls open the window and crawls out, climbing down a tree.

katsuki digs his head into your shoulder where his initials bleed leisurely. he kisses the mark before dropping his full weight onto you. you grunt, tangling your hands into his ashy blond hair.

he hums, "y'gonna help me with 'em next time?" he looks up at you with soft eyes despite the topic of discussion.

you heavily exhale, biting your lip. "katsuki, i dunno. i was never gonna kill--"

"aht aht aht. what're you talking about? you tellin me you bought that rope that's layin in the closet for no reason? did ya plan on going fishing or somethin? cuz i don't think you'd like it baby." he stares at you with a confused frown. you huff, wrapping your legs around his. "not fair," you pout. he smirks, pecking your chin.

"you wanna know someone else i killed?"

"who?"

"that damn deku before i took his shirt."

326 notes · View notes

daenysx · 4 months ago

Note

could i request modern aemond finding out about his wife pregnancy, tbh im not sure if she would prepare a romantic dinner to tell him or if she would tell him since the moment she has the signals

thank you for requesting ♡

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

cw; pregnancy, pregnancy tests

"i'm sorry- i have to-"

you covered your mouth and left aemond alone at dinner table. this happened ten minutes ago. he's waiting for you by the bathroom door but you don't say anything other than you're fine. he leans against the wall, worry creeping through his body.

you look exhausted when you open the door. your lipstick is gone, your cheeks slightly wet with the way you washed your face clumsily. you look at aemond through blurry eyes, he's quick to hold you.

"are you okay?" he asks, cupping your cheeks. "shall we go see a doctor?"

you shake your head. "it's just my stomach. i think i ate something bad."

he gives you a fond kiss on your hair. "i'm sorry for ruining our dinner." you murmur.

"that's ridiculous, sweetheart." he says. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

"can we go to bed?" you ask. he nods, accompanies you to the room. he helps you take off your clothes, making you wear one of his old university shirts. you are glad to be buried on the pillows as your mind suddenly gets a crazy idea.

the next morning, you decide to try taking your chance. your hands are shaking with excitement and stress, but you think you can feel it. you've counted days from your last period, you've been feeling nauseous for the past week, you feel more tired than ever lately. the most important clue is the date of your period.

you decide not to tell aemond anything until you see the result yourself. since you married, there was always this baby talk you had, and you know aemond will be happy if you are actually pregnant. it's just- you don't know how to feel about it. it's silly, thinking all of these without having the test results first but you can't help yourself.

when you get home, you have 5 pregnancy tests in the bathroom. you'll use all of them, spending your afternoon physically and mentally on this. they don't take long to show you the result, what takes long is preparing yourself to do the tests. you rub your stomach to ease off your worries, wishing for aemond to be here suddenly.

you call him before taking the first test. hearing his voice always helps. "sweetheart?" he picks up the phone.

"is this a bad time?" you ask, biting your lip.

"no, of course not. are you okay?"

"yes, i'm fine." you say. "just wanted to hear your voice. are you too busy?"

you hear sounds of paper shuffling. "actually i'm almost done. i'll probably be home early."

"that would be so nice."

"do you want me to get you something?" he asks. "you sound sad, you're worrying me."

"no, no, just get home quick." you say, anxiously playing with your hair. "i'm fine, i promise."

you take a deep breath after hanging up. you gotta be brave if you want to do this. it's just a test, no matter what the result is everything will be fine.

half an hour passes and you use all the tests. you try not to look at them but you can't help yourself. you put your hands on your eyes, thumbs rubbing your skin to stop being so nervous.

the sound of door opening catches your attention and you leave the bathroom to go check. aemond steps in, holding his laptop bag and suit jacket. his brows are furrowed, eye searching for you as he puts his keys aside.

"welcome back." you say, hugging him. it is all you needed. he rubs his hand on your back, squeezing your body with his arms. you go lax against his chest, he kisses his way on the side of your head.

"are you okay? you got me so worried."

"i need to show you something." you say, holding his hand. "in the bathroom."

he's curious, lets you lead him on the way. there they are, 5 pregnancy tests laid out. they should be showing the results now but you turn your head. "i just wanted to be sure." you say. "i can't look at them, now. i don't know what i want to see."

aemond's heart takes a leap but he keeps his face calm. "i can look at them. can i?"

"yes, please."

he's still holding your hand when he eyes the tests carefully. "they are all the same. two lines, that means you're pregnant- right?"

you tear up, can't help yourself. aemond wraps his arms around you immediately, he doesn't know how to get over the shock. he's gonna be a father? you'll have a baby, you chose to marry him and now you will have a baby with him. his chest feels too tight, your tears rolling down softly on your cheeks. you are smiling. you are happy.

"that's wonderful." he manages to say. "i don't- i don't even know what to say." aemond targaryen doesn't know what to say. tell the papers.

you lift your face to look at him. "are you happy? you don't think it's too early, right?"

he shakes his head quickly. "no, no, of course not. it's not early."

"we'll have a baby." you whisper. the reality slowly kicks in.

"we will." he says. "i can't believe it. i never thought i could have this."

you give him a kiss, he's finally smiling. his hand goes to your belly, nothing's showing but still it's a comfort. he will be a father. he has to keep telling himself that to actually believe it.

"we should go see a doctor first thing in the morning." he says. there he is, finally going back to his normal self. you nod, still holding onto him. you stay in the bathroom for minutes, trying to convince yourselves you'll be parents.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #dad!aemond

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hyukalyptus · 4 months ago

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.”

@aduh0308 request a tag :)

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thisfanisgonesorry · 1 year ago

Text

groupie love — hobie brown

guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮

tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent

(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)

🕸️

One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)

Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.

“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.

“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.

“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.

His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.

“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.

“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.

“... Yeah.” I nodded.

His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck,

“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.

He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.

“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”

One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.

He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it.

Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.

My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.

“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again.

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.

“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.

“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.

He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.

He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—

“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.

I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses.

“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”

He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.

“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.

“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.

He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.

“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.

“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”

I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.

He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.

“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.

“You’re sorry?”

“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.

He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.

His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.

“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”

“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”

“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.

He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.

“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.

He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.

He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.

“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”

“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.”

“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”

“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.

“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.

“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.

“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.

“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”

“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.

“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”

I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.

“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.

The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.

I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.

“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”

“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”

“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals.

“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”

“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.

“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”

“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.

“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”

I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.

“Hobie—” I cried out.

The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.

“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.

“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.

“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”

He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.

I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.

He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.

“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.

“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”

I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.

“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”

“Hobie—”

“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”

His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.

“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.

“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”

There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.

“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”

His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.

“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care.

“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”

He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.

“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.

His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.

I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.

“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.

We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.

I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.

His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”

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hyukakisses · 4 months ago

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-scream!

pairing: beomgyu x fem reader

plot: (vv old and re-edited post i had from my old account) (heavily inspired by scream 5 my favorite film from the slasher franchise)

warnings: !ghostface (yandere) beomgyu x sweet reader are in a established relationship together, (based off of tamber), beomgyu is emo (of course), cursing, gore, smut! (lowkey ddlg themes if you squint)

it was mid october, halloween just a week away. it was colder in woodsboro your university was shut down and the whole town was forced to go down on a lockdown since the infamous ghostface decided to go back on a killing spree

you were horrified to say the least, you’ve lived in woodsboro your whole life and yet you were still so convinced you were ghostface’s next victim

you would have nightmares about the slasher, and it didn’t help that your childhood bestfriend chad had fallen victim to the brutal slaughter pretty recently either

you’d think to yourself; am i next? i could die at any given moment just like chad did. your mind would pander on the mere thought of that possibility, worsening your already bad anxiety

you’ve decided to face your fear of leaving the comfort of your pretty pink bedroom and waltz in the kitchen, finally mustering up the courage to walk around the house alone while your parents were away for work.

everything was fine as you happily chew on your ‘safe’ food, until you were startled at the loud ringing coming from the house phone that was nailed on the wall by the living room

who could that possibly be at this hour? it’s already 11 pm your heart pounds against your chest so loud you could hear it as you went back and forth on if you should answer the phone or just let the phone ring

but then again it could be your parents or your boyfriend choi beomgyu seeing how you had no other friends but the elder male

with a shaky exhale, you grab on the phone picking up with a nervous stutter. “h-hello?” you answered the call mentally cursing at yourself because of your social anxiety

the mysterious male voice laughs finding you oddly cute, “hello is this y/m/n?” his voice was filled with curiosity and a hint of mischief

“n-no but i can tell her you called” you’d place a hand on your chest to regulate your breathing once you heard the obvious ghostface voice changer behind the cellar device

“so is this her daughter she can’t seem to stop talking about in yoga class?” the voice asked you and you felt your throat closing up, feeling more terrified at how much this stranger knew about you

“yes but h-how did you know?” you frantically turn your head side to side scanning your surroundings to see if anyone was watching

“you know your mother talks a lot about you” the unknown man changes the subject and you stupidly grin at the image of your mother going on about sweet you were to her friends.

“she does?” you’d let out feeling comfortable. “what does she say about me?”

“she says you’re sweet, and you love all things sanrio and that she loves you very much” the man replies tone flat with boredom. “but im curious what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you blinked puzzled, what does that have to do with anything? “um i don’t know 500 days of summer maybe?”

you hear a faint laugh over the phone before you quickly hang up, your heart racing like a marathon that was really fucking weird

your wondering thoughts stilled for a moment, once you heard a faint knock at your front door sighing in relief but as you recognize it was none other than your boyfriend beomgyu

“hi baby“ beomgyu’s rasps, he was dressed in the baggiest black sweatpants with a hoodie. pairing it off with black air force ones which you didn’t pay much attention to

tears glisten in the corner of your eye sockets as you just stare up at the much taller male, remembering the phone call you had not too long along.

“oh no what’s got my baby girl so upset? c’mere” beomgyu consoles you cradling your head in his scrawny chest and you melt at the feeling.

“im sorry im just a bit j-jumpy you know? i think ghostface just called me” you’d weep helplessly and beomgyu grins sickly, loving how you nuzzle your head deeper into him as if he was going to leave you

“shh it’s okay you have nothing to apologize pretty girl i bet you were real scared being alone without me here huh?” beomgyu coos in your ear, his cut covered fingers that were bandaged up running through your hair in a soothing manner.

you gave beomgyu a nod, as beomgyu felt the sad look you gave at him tug at his heart strings. “im so sorry baby, let me make it up to you” beomgyu felt guilty he knew calling you like that was gonna scare you, but he just wanted you to cling onto him the way you were doing right now. he could never really hurt you

“make it up to me?” you’d ask growing excited

beomgyu laughs assumed by your reaction, “just lay down on your back and let me take care of you yeah?” he gently pulls you out of his warm embrace tossing you lightly on your bed as if you were some type of doll

“b-beomgyu keep going” you’d let out a string of whines in pleasure when beomgyu grunts releasing himself into your needy pussy followed by resting his forehead against yours, regaining his breath.

“baby wants more?” beomgyu chuckles breathlessly as he begins to move inside you again, his large hand reaching down to your core tugging and pulling at your clit in attempt to make you cum.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute you know that? crying on my chest about how you’re so scared of some killer going around but that’s nothing my cock can’t fix right? just look at how your pretty little princess parts take me so well” beomgyu was giggling watching the sight of your needy cunt squeezing his member so tight the emo boy could barely move anymore

you’d just whimper at his words, not being able to form a sentence at his words as you just lay there helplessly taking beomgyu’s rough assault against your pussy

“and now you can’t do anything but cry? you really are just a little crybaby aren’t you?” beomgyu snickers loving how drool dribbled down your chin as you let tears fall down your face

beomgyu felt pity for a spilt second as soft gurgles fall from your lips, reaching for your checks wiping you dry. “you’re being so good right now baby, letting me use you and waiting until i say you can cum i have the best doll ever don’t i? who’s my good girl?”

you’d gasp once you felt beomgyu grip onto your cheeks signaling he was excepting you to answer him, “i-i am im your good girl”

beomgyu smiles his dimples showing off as he relentlessly plowed into you, “yeah i know you’re the sweetest little girl in town, always so obedient without me even asking you really love me don’t you?”

“don’t you? come on say you love me” beomgyu repeats a sick grin on his face when you let out a dry sob at the iron grip of his hand on your chin.

“y-yes i love you! just can i please cum now?” you’d squeak your head full of beomgyu and the thought of finally getting your release

beomgyu laughs at your desperate plea, his dark brown eyes staring into your hooded eyes making him coo at the sight. “you’re so good to me babydoll of course you can��

you let out one final moan feeling relived that you finally got to cum, your bedroom was quiet and comforting again. nothing could be heard but your soft breathing and beomgyu’s loud pants and the crickets outside your window

you finally felt safe in beomgyu’s arms, his head nuzzled in your crook of your neck signaling he was falling asleep and you giggle at how he was always sleepy and always the first one to fall asleep

your head rolls to the side as you cuddle into your boyfriend deeper, your pretty brown eyes scanning your surroundings as you calm down from your high grinning at how beomgyu black discarded clothes stuck out like a sore thumb in your pretty pink sanrio themed room.

you were about to fall asleep until you noticed something white and shiny under beomgyu’s black hoodie it was something like a ski mask maybe? your eyes widen in fear as you recognized the outline of the ghostface mask and you squeezed your eyes shut turning away

hopefully you’re just paranoid

#lyrical’s garden 💒#coquette #txt #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt smut #txt x reader #txt beomgyu x reader #txt reactions #txt beomgyu #yandere txt #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface x y/n

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indecisive-dizzy · 10 months ago

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AHFHAJFIWJAJSHRJAKSJAAA I LOVE IT <3 <3 <3 !!!!

Wailing I'm so giddy rn thank youuu this is hilarious and so cuteee ✨✨✨🥺💕

Wowsers i don't think i have drawn anything so quickly before the idea for this short comic was from a post @indecisive-dizzy Made! thanks dizzy :3

#This is so amazing!!!!#ill be honest i wasnt expecting full color/rendered!#I am So Pleasantly Surprised!!!#I'm keep this forever it gets a dedicated spot in my brain #Steamed vegetable!! You have met my sense of humor!#i was laughing before the punchline i was just so dang happy!#and Eddie's expressions!! <3 🥺 he's so cute #hes so proud of himself #Howdy too! His expressions are great too!#He's so tired of Eddie i love itttt #mentally im hanging this on my wall #welcome home #eddie dear #howdy pillar

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justwinginglife · 4 months ago

Note

im begging on my knees for Soshiro contents. Soshiro Hoshina, the vice captain of third division and a skilled swordsman is freaking jealous on a small sized plushie when his s/o is cooing and gives kisses the plush version of himself.

Now he's trying to get his s/o's attention and tried get rid the little menance.

Plushie Hell

Soshiro didn't mind when you put up a poster of him on your wall. When you'd first bought it, he was real smug and teased you endlessly about how obsessed you were with him, but secretly, he was happy about the idea that you'd hang it up in your apartment where everyone who visited could see. They'd all know you were proud of your boyfriend, proud enough to put him on display. And, if he was honest, he looked really good in the poster. He liked to walk by it and be reminded of all the hard work he'd put into his physique. He was also encouraged by the fact that he'd made enough of a difference in the Defense Force to warrant making posters of him.

In fact, lately he'd begun to get popular rather quickly among the masses. It was hard not to draw attention as one of the only sword wielders in the Defense Force. And to make Vice Captain so young at that, he was quite the impressive man. So there were posters of him, but there were also figures and plushies, and one day you couldn't help but buy a plushie of him. It was radiating cuteness from atop its shelf and you knew the moment you entered the store and spotted it that you weren't leaving without it.

Again, Soshiro almost never minded anything you did, so when you first bought the plushie, he just found it endearing. It just further proved your love for him; you wanted to support him in any way that you could. And when he had late nights at work, or had to go away on joint missions with other divisions, he found it adorable that you'd cuddle the plushie to sleep and pretend it was him.

But then, when he would slide into bed with you in the middle of the night, you'd shoo him away, saying that you were already cuddling Soshiro and the bed wasn't big enough for two Soshiro's. Of course, you were half asleep and only teasing, but he had pouted the rest of the night about it.

And whenever he'd steal kisses from you, you would immediately kiss the plushie as well, "so he doesn't feel jealous," and Soshiro would demand to know why you cared if a plushie was jealous but not if he was jealous. You'd simply tease him for being jealous of an inanimate object and he'd drop the subject, embarrassed.

Eventually, he lost his mind when you turned down a dinner date with him because you were still watching a movie with plushie Soshiro. He had tried walking back and forth in front of the TV, even going so far as to flex while he did it so that maybe you'd get distracted by him but you kept cuddling the damn plushie and watching what glimpses of the movie you could see. When he finally just turned the TV off, you claimed that you'd been meaning to take a nap anyway and you drifted off with the plushie in your arms.

That day, as he watched you all snuggled up with the plushie instead of him, he finally decided it had to go. The only question was how would he do it?

He thought about getting a dog and feeding the plushie to it as a chew toy but then there was the possibility you might pay more attention to the dog than him. Then he thought about "accidentally" washing it with his laundry and when its stitches split and its insides tumbled out he'd have no choice but to toss it out. He might even try to comfort you, say he'd buy you another and then just never do it. Or remind you that you didn't need another because you had the real deal. And your poster. He made a mental note to remind you that the poster existed, you'd been neglecting it after you got the plushie.

At least when you had the poster, you'd make comments about how good he looked and then you'd kiss him all over to show him just how attractive you found him. Now you just kissed the stupid doll.

He knew he was overreacting, he knew he was being dumb, he knew he was being immature. But he also knew that he couldn't handle a single second more with that thing in the house, sapping up all your love and affection.

He wondered if you saw a fresh mound of dirt in the backyard if you'd instantly assume he'd buried it. Would you go dig it up? Would you want it back that bad? Would you just buy another one? Would you even know he had anything to do with it? You hadn't even been paying that much attention to him lately; he thought you might not even notice if he acted out of the ordinary.

The next day, he went to work, still plotting his revenge in his mind. Okonogi noticed him crumpling up pieces of paper, clicking his pen incessantly, and just generally being more cranky than he'd ever been, and she made him spill the beans. After she teased him for a bit, she finally told him to just be honest with you and be an adult about it. He had conceded at the time, admitting to her that she was right and he knew there were better ways of dealing with his frustration. But that was then.

When he got home that night, before he could even open the door, his mind flooded with thoughts of what he'd find when he entered his home. Would you be singing to the plushie as you cooked it dinner? Maybe you'd let it watch you bathe. Maybe you were already asleep, cozied up to it like you always were. All rationality left his body and he thought he might just yank the plushie from your arms and drown it in a vat of bleach.

He almost broke the doorknob trying to rush inside, ready to commit plushie murder.

But you were there waiting for him in the front entrance, welcoming him home with a sweet smile and dinner already laid out for him.

He turned to look behind him in case you'd left the plushie near the door and were talking to it instead. When he realized you meant him, he cautiously looked around, trying to spot it. It was nowhere in sight. He made the excuse that he needed to change out of his work clothes so he gave you a quick peck on the lips and then rushed (as subtly as he could) to the bedroom to see if it was occupying its usual spot on the bed. It wasn't. It was nowhere to be found.

He met you in the dining room to have the first real meal you'd had together in weeks, and while he tried to enjoy it, all he could think was where was the damn plushie?

After several minutes of eating dinner quietly, you finally broke the silence. At first, you just let out a slight giggle but then it erupted into full-blown laughter. You had one hand clutching your side and one hand steadying yourself on the table so you didn't fall out of your chair laughing.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "What? What is it?"

"It's not here," You said, still laughing.

"What's not?" He asked innocently, picking at his food.

"You thought I wasn't going to notice that you searched the entire house before you came to have dinner with me? And that your eyes keep darting around even while we're eating?"

He almost choked on his food. He really didn't think you'd notice. "So... so where is it then?"

"I gave it away as a gift," You grinned, full of amusement as you watched the confusion contort his face.

"What? Why?"

"You talk in your sleep. I know you hated that thing." You teased, wiggling your eyebrows at him and nudging him playfully.

He flushed bright red. "Ah shit, you didn't have to go and get rid of it just for me."

"Actually I bought it for my friend's daughter's birthday. She has quite the crush on you. I just thought I'd have some fun with it and mess with your head before I gave it away." You winked at him.

His jaw dropped. "You... you were messing with me? You little shit."

You bowed dramatically. "That would be me. Besides, I've got my man and I've got my man's poster, what would I need a plushie for? But I will say, you gave me way more of a reaction than I thought you would and eventually it just became too much fun fucking with you. So really, I'd say it was your fault for being so reactive." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Just for that, I'm getting a Mina plushie."

Your eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"Soshiro Fucking Hoshina. Don't you fucking dare."

And there was that smirk he had been holding back. "I'm just saying, payback's a bitch. You owe me an apology and a lot of quality time to make up for my psychological trauma."

Oh the little bastard. Then a thought crossed your mind and a mischievous smile spread across your face. You suddenly sank down onto your knees and positioned yourself in between his legs.

He gulped as you looked up at him with devious eyes.

"Oh if only there was some way I could make it up to you..." Your hands worked their way up his calves and eventually settled themselves on his thighs, giving them a light squeeze.

"All is forgiven, all is forgiven!" He blurted out suddenly.

You laughed, nuzzling up against his pants with your nose. "No Mina plushie?"

"Fuck no. Now get in the bedroom, you little tease."

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina #oneshot #anime #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #han's library

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eiightysixbaby · 10 months ago

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this is heaven, what i truly want

oliver quick x fem!reader

you’re never truly alone at saltburn. there’s always someone watching. (3.4k+)

18+ only! oral f receiving, voyeurism, unprotected piv, creampie, spit kink, use of pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby, etc.), one use of ‘sir’, cum eating (just a smidge), biting and choking (literally one brief instance of each), edging. lmk if I forgot any!

a/n: hooooo boy I wanted to try something new, so here it is! promise I’m not fully veering away from my usual stranger things content, I just desperately needed to write some filth for ollie 🤭 hope you enjoy!! I proofread this a couple times but if there’s mistakes iM SORRY. my closing statement: I can fix him your honor.

Watched. For days you’ve felt like you’re being watched. Carefully, closely, tracking your every move. Maybe the walls have eyes, who knows with a place as eccentric as this. All of the ornate fixtures and ancient paintings do have a bit of an eery, haunting feel to them.

Or perhaps it’s just because you aren’t used to having housekeepers around at all hours of the day. Duncan has always been off-putting; every summer you’ve spent at Saltburn throughout your life there’s been an energy about him that’s made the hair on your neck stand up.

Regardless, you’ve tried to shake off the feeling, wondering if you were finally losing your mind. Because here, with Felix and Venetia, Elspeth and James and Farleigh — you’re safe. They’re lifelong family friends who, as strange as they may be at times, make you feel secure. Nobody would have any business spying on you.

But oh, you should’ve known better.

You slip out of the large clawfoot tub, bare feet planting themselves on the white tile floor. Water drips from your body, the tiniest puddle forming at your feet. Grabbing your towel, you begin to dry your body with the soft fabric. You hum softly to yourself, reaching for your satin robe where it hangs by the vanity. For a moment you think you hear something, the tiniest creaking sound, and you move to look around the unnecessarily large bathroom. It’s dark in the corners where the light doesn’t quite reach, but even squinting you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You’re fucking losing it, you mentally scold yourself. It’s an old house, it’s going to make noise.

You lean against the vanity, palms flat on the marble countertop. Letting out a heavy sigh, your head hangs low, eyes closed. Get it together.

When you’ve finally steadied your breathing, you look back up to greet yourself in the mirror. You work your hairbrush through your wet hair, taking care to untangle any knots. The feeling won’t go away, your defenses raised. Eyes on you. There’s someone watching. There has to be.

You see him in the mirror before you actually see him.

Turning on your heel, a loud gasp escapes you. Your heart pounds behind your rib cage, your eyes focusing in on the figure lurking in the dark hallway. The bathroom door is open a crack, eyes you know to be blue piercing through you.

Oliver.

“What the fuck, Ollie!?” you shout, watching as he slips fully into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

You retreat, back pressing against the counter behind you. He stalks calmly towards you, caging you in. You swallow, unable to stop the way your eyes study his muscular frame, his tank top clinging tight to his torso.

“Now now,” he says, soft and steady. “We don’t want the whole house to wonder what’s up, do we?”

“What are you doing here?” you grit, nostrils flaring as you exhale heavily. Your posture stiffens, tense under his chilling gaze. “Why were you watching me?”

“Don’t act so offended, darling,” he says, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your lips part, breath hitching in your throat. It’d be a filthy lie to act as if you haven’t been admiring him since he first arrived, under Felix’s wing like a timid little animal. Something about him has captivated you, intrigued you, lured you in. He’s just so quiet, so skittish. So beautiful.

Being as close to family as you could get, you didn’t want to make things awkward by putting the moves on Felix’s friend, so you avoided him when you could. But that only made things more unbearable for you. Many a night was spent with your hand between your thighs, softly crying his name into your dark bedroom. Imagining he was there with you. He couldn’t know about that… could he?

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Lying through your teeth. You should know he can practically smell the nervousness on you.

It’s cute that you think he’d buy this.

“Oh, save the games, sweetheart,” he tuts, taking a final step closer to you. His chest fully pressed against yours now, his face dipping forward until his mouth is right beside your ear. “I know you touch yourself at night, stretching open that pretty little cunt, wishing it was me.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you really think you could be slick? Think I wouldn’t catch the way you stare at me all of the time, think I wouldn’t figure you out?”

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask quietly, your voice meek now.

“Not any longer than you’ve been watching me.”

“I haven’t—” you start, but he presses a finger to your lips, quieting you. He raises a brow, as if to say ‘Do you really want to go there?’

God, you were so stupid. Staring at him any chance you got; looking out your window at him while he’d lounge shirtless by the pool, or peering through his cracked bedroom door one evening after dinner in hopes of seeing him changing. You were sick. And here you are, chastising him.

You keep your gaze directly on his, feeling your heart rate increase under the scrutiny of those piercing, gorgeous blue eyes. He gently holds your chin, keeping you focused on him as he studies your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his free hand come to rest on your waist. You’re reminded then that you’re only in a robe, and suddenly your skin feels like it’s ablaze.

“Oliver—” you start, your eyes big and pleading as you stare at him. What exactly you’re hoping for you don’t know, you just want him to do something.

His gaze flits to your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. Leaning in, his mouth ghosts over yours, barely grazing your waiting pout. He pulls back, teasing, and you chase him. Seeking out his lips until he gives in, one hand on your lower back, holding you against him as he kisses you roughly. His tongue licks into your eager mouth, swirling around yours, tasting you. It feels as though you’re nearly devouring each other, teeth clashing as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair.

You whine, a high-pitched and pretty thing when he lets his mouth find your neck, sucking harsh on the delicate skin. Rolling your hips against his, you can feel the bulge straining in his boxers and he groans at the sudden friction.

“Ol— Ollie, please,” you beg, for what it isn’t clear, but he removes his lips from your pulse point to look at you.

“Such a needy little thing you are,” he says, regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “And to think five minutes ago you were acting like I wasn’t welcome in here…”

You chew at your bottom lip, thighs pressing together involuntarily at the way he speaks to you. His tone is ultimately patronizing, and you’d have no complaints if he spoke to you like this all of the time.

He dips his head back down, this time kissing over your collarbone. Every inch of skin he kisses seems to ignite, electricity coursing through your veins. He unties the fabric belt securing your robe around your front, letting it instead fall open for him. You’re completely bare beneath the black silky fabric, and you watch the way his eyes trail down your figure. He studies you like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and there’s an insatiable hunger behind that stunning blue. He’d eat you whole if it were possible.

Continuing his descent, he takes the nipple of your right breast into his mouth, kneading the left with his hand. You gasp, tipping your head back as his tongue rolls over the sensitive little bud, sucking on it. He diverts his mouth’s attention to the other side, then, making sure he gives equal attention to each of your tits. You can feel yourself throb for him, nearly dripping at your core in anticipation.

“Such pretty tits,” he mumbles, lips trailing against your skin. He lets his face linger between them for a moment, caressing them with soft hands.

Your mind wanders as he works his way down, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips. You wonder how often he’s spied on you without you catching him — exactly how many times he’s seen you touch yourself to the thought of him. It only drives you further up the wall; picturing him peering through a crack in your bedroom door on nights where you’d lay completely bare on your bed, pleasuring yourself to thoughts of his fingers and tongue. He’s sick, you’re sick, and maybe you’re perfect for each other.

You’re brought entirely back to the present when you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, his eyes peering up at you from where he rests on his knees. He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings two fingers up to swipe through your folds, collecting your slick. You shiver, mouth agape as he brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweet honey from them.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, darling. And you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pressing his face against your mound. He inhales, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit, making your hips jerk slightly. “Smell even sweeter,” he praises. He’d bottle up your scent and wear it like cologne if it were possible, anything to feel close to you all of the time.

His lips part, hot breath fanning against your exposed cunt as he collects himself. You feel his tongue lick a delicate stripe up through your folds, a barely-there sensation, but it makes your back arch regardless.

“Oliver,” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You hear him exhale in a smug laugh before you feel his tongue again. He’s far more intentional this time, letting it lap up your juices from every crevice. You tug hard on his hair when you feel the wet muscle breach your entrance, lewd slurping sounds coming from the way he pleasures you. His strong hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, keeping you right where he wants you.

It feels like you’re levitating, ascending to a higher realm as he licks and sucks at your pretty, glistening pussy. He allows his mouth to focus on your clit, teeth grazing it in a greedy little nip before he soothes the area with his velvety tongue. You’re seeing stars when you feel two of his fingers slip generously inside of you, scissoring within your walls.

“Oh— oh my god,” you whine, your eyes pinching shut as you tip your head back.

“That’s right, baby — I’m your God. Worship me like I’m your God,” he growls, in a different headspace entirely.

While he’s usually so soft-spoken and polite, in this moment he’s cocky; more confident than you thought he’d ever be. You can’t fault him for it, though, because you do want to worship him. You want to get on your knees and pray for him.

Weeks of yearning, lusting after him from afar have come to fruition. Your longing now seeps out of you, with his eager mouth to swallow it all. He fucks his fingers harder into you, curling into your sweet spot as his tongue flicks rapidly back and forth over your sensitive bud.

The thing is, it’s been weeks of yearning on his end, too. This place, warm and wet between your thighs, is his altar — his holy ground. He wants to worship you just as much as he wants you to worship him. He’s dreamt of what you would taste like, how you’d suck him right in, and now that he has you he never wants to let you go.

“Fuck, Ollie, don’t stop,” you plead, letting loud rhythmic moans fall from your lips. At this point you don’t care if the entire house hears you; so fucking be it if they do. You know Farleigh would love something to gossip about; what better topic than how Oliver gave you a religious experience right under this massive roof?

Reading your mind, he speaks from his spot between your legs. “So fuckin’ loud, darling. You want everyone to hear us? To hear how good I make you feel?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you pant, grinding down on his fingers, nearly humping his face.

He hopes in his twisted mind that someone is listening. Hearing him claim you, mark you as his. He shakes his head back and forth, tongue laying flat as it swipes over your clit messily. You can feel yourself about to let go, to come completely undone for him.

But he can sense it, he can see it on your face that you’re so deliciously close to release, and he’s not having it yet.

Your brows furrow when he removes his fingers from your cunt, pulling his mouth away as well. You’re about to protest, about to plead with him to keep going, but he’s standing and pressing his lips to yours before you can get a word out.

There’s a painful ache in your core, and you can feel yourself still soaking wet for the man before you. His teeth bite at your bottom lip, tugging on it while he studies you with half-lidded eyes. He rolls his hips against yours and you can feel his excitement, his cock stiff in his boxers.

You paw at the waistband, attempting to free him from his confines, desperate to feel him. His fingers wrap around your wrists, stopping them from getting any closer to his cock.

“Don’t get greedy, sweetheart,” he warns. “I call the shots.”

He grabs you by the waist, encouraging you to sit on the counter behind you. You jump with his assistance, your skin cold where it rests on the marble surface.

His lips latch onto your neck once more, sucking on delicate skin, leaving tender bruises. He takes his sweet time, drawing out your agony as your arousal drips down your thighs. Pitiful whimpers crawl their way out of your throat, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. He nips at the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, licking the stinging spot afterwards to calm the ache. His thumbs tease your nipples, palms squeezing your breasts and making your back arch into him.

He removes one hand, reaching down to discard his boxers onto the floor. Finally, he grips his weeping cock in his fist, thumb running over the angry red tip. You gasp at the size of him, letting your eyes take in every inch, every vein. Committing him to memory.

“So fucking big, Ollie,” you murmur, reaching a tentative hand out, running a fingertip gently along his shaft. You’re almost surprised he lets you, and you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches in an attempt to keep his composure.

His large, warm palms move to your thighs, parting them for him. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips at the sight of you spread open for him, completely bare and wet with both his saliva and your arousal. In a moment of boldness, you pull him to you by the chain around his neck, your tongue instantly finding its way into his mouth. He exhales heavily, your tongues licking fervently into each other’s mouths, lips grazing.

You register the feeling of him lining his cock up at your entrance, the tip pressing against your folds. He slips inside, a groan leaving his lips as a shrill moan of his name leaves yours. The way he stretches you is bliss, there’s no other word for it. Pleasure that just barely teeters on the edge of pain, his cock reaching spots inside of you that your fingers could only hope to. He dips his head slightly, trailing kisses along your jawline until he reaches your ear, biting at the lobe. He starts with slow, calculated thrusts, his fingers digging harshly into your hips.

Your breathing is ragged, sinful sounds leaving you over and over as he starts to fuck you faster.

“Bet I feel so much better than your fingers, hm? Is this what you wanted all along? My cock stretching you out?” he asks, voice breathy and low. His words send shockwaves right to your core, turning you on even further.

“Yes, god, yes. Thought about this every night, Ollie. Wished you’d sneak into my room and have your way with me,” you confess, your cheeks growing warm as he smirks at you.

“Dirty little girl,” he tsks, letting his forehead rest against yours, fucking into you hard and fast.

The sounds of skin on skin mix with his pretty noises and yours; grunts and whines and sighs that reverberate off of the walls. Your nails claw at his shoulders, grounding yourself as his cock drives into your sweet spot again and again and again. Your eyes go wide when you watch him dip his head, spitting down onto your pussy, adding to the slippery mess that you’ve already created.

When he looks back up at you, your lips are parted in awe, your eyes begging for him to give you more. Spit in my mouth, please, is the unspoken cry that he understands instantly.

He grabs your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks hard enough that your lips part further. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he lets a string of saliva fall into your waiting mouth, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin twice, encouraging you to close your mouth and swallow. You do as he wants, willing to swallow whatever he’d give you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, slowing his thrusts briefly, giving you long and passionate strokes before returning to his previous quick pace.

“Oliver, oh my god,” you cry for him, your eyes screwing shut. “Feels so good, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You can feel your previously staved-off orgasm approaching once more, the coil in the pit of your gut tightening more and more with each snap of his hips against yours.

“You getting close, baby?” he asks, letting his fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. It gets the reaction he wants, your eyes snapping open and focusing on him. “That’s right, you look at me when I’m making you feel this good,” he instructs, letting go of your neck. “Otherwise, you don’t get to cum.

“Y-yes sir,” you comply. “Please make me cum, I’m so fucking close, Ollie, need it so bad,” you beg, making sure to keep your eyes on his. That stunning, icy blue pierces through your soul, sending a chill down your spine. His stare is intimidating, raising the hairs on your neck just as it did each time you weren’t quite sure who was watching you.

He bites down hard on your shoulder, rutting into you faster and faster until you’re finally tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in overwhelming waves, your walls clenching tight around his thick length.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” you chant his name, a prayer being raised to the sky as he shows you pure ecstasy.

His movements don’t slow, his lips greedily sucking at your neck before making their way back to your mouth.

“Gonna let me cum inside you sweetheart?” he asks between desperate kisses, your instantaneous nod nearly embarrassing.

“Please cum inside me, need your fucking cum, Ollie,” you respond, lips brushing against his. “Fill me up, make me yours.”

He groans low at your words, eyelids fluttering closed as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Warm, thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, shuddering breaths leaving him as his head tips back.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, giving you every drop that he has, continuing to rut into you until he’s completely milked dry.

Heavy breaths fill the room, his spent cock slipping out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip out and onto the floor. Trying to catch your breath, you watch in shock as he drops to his knees once more.

“What are you… what are you doing?” you ask, a sly smile on his face as he looks up at you.

“Just making sure you’re properly cleaned up, is all. Can’t have you going to bed like this,” he muses, collecting some of the sticky mixture with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Just lean back and relax, darling. Got to make up for all those nights you spent alone.”

#oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x fem!reader #oliver quick #oliver quick smut #oliver quick fanfic #saltburn smut #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #mdni banner by cafekitsune

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st4rgzer · 8 months ago

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now playing…FORTNIGHT (spencer reid)

-“ˈfɔːtnaɪt: a period of two weeks”-

summary: in which your unlawful affair with fbi agent spencer reid must come to an end

genre: angst, flashback of fluff

cw!: allusions to cheating, kissing, inappropriate innuendos

a/n: this is acc so long but i promise its worth the read, first of many to come!

you watched as spencer methodically fiddled with his tie, a sign that no matter how loose he’d get it to be, it felt like he was choking. you grinned reminiscent, this had brought back to your mind the memory of your first date with him. except he had shorter, neater hair and a less bitter smile.

“how’s your wife” you said, pettiness laced in your words. your arms crossed over your chest, putting up invisible walls, distancing yourself mentally from him. pretending you weren’t thinking about how pretty he’d look under you.

“she’s…well.” he had given you a short, wary response. his eyes studied your face, landing on your lips, he licks his. most likely, he was trying to memorize everything, as if you were a fleeting moment. but you were. you were uncertain about his intents when his eyes wandered for a few seconds.

“how’s dan?” the word ‘dan’ came out with a petulant smile, and sour tone. flourishing the little likeness he had toward him.

the conversation bored you out of your mind. he was holding back. he could’ve said about a million things by now but he chose to keep silent, neglecting your tortured heart even more.

“i think he’s cheating on me, though im still not sure. but i have strong points on the subject, good reasoning” you say dismissively, looking down at your nails. the issue didn’t seem to faze you. after all, some could say you had committed certain behaviors that could allude as cheating.

spencer tried to bite back the grin that was forming on his face, he looked down to try and conceal it.

“i’m sorry about that…” his tone seemed untruthful. he wasn’t sorry about it, because he knew the things he’d done with you while both of you had a ring on your fingers.

you gnawed on your bottom lip. thinking of an ingenious comment that would make him laugh. a quip to start some friendly fire. something that could break through the crushing tension that lingered between the both of you, like thick vines wrapped around your neck, making you unable to speak.

‘i love you, it’s ruining my life’ was all that your brain could come up with, but of course, this wasn’t exactly the best thing to say given the setting and circumstances. but it was how you felt. you treasured every touch and every word, hanging onto every detail desperately. every fortnight that his wife would be out of town. it was unlawful, but, who were you to neglect an invitation with spencer reid? until then, your mornings are all mondays. stuck in an endless february. unable to move on from what should be yours.

you meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. knowing the lethal effects he had on you, like some sort of drunkenness that had turned you into a barely functioning alcoholic. his eyes change, his smile differs. he swallows, clearing his throat.

“we can’t do this anymore.” he speaks, his voice sounds brittle and unsure. you don’t break eye contact. you listen intently to his words.

“my wife…my wife knows that i don’t stay late at the BAU as much as i say i do.”

“im a profiler, i can lie but- it doesn’t take away from the fact that this can’t happen anymore.”

“i mean you know how i feel about you, i just- i just can’t keep up with the ruse. i love you and it’s ruining my life.”

your eyes widen at the last sentence, appalled. you tried to decipher spencer’s words. reading between the lines, seeking for some sort of clue that hinted towards the truth. if he loves you, why can’t he stay?

“okay…can we at least stay friends?” you ask him cautiously. even if it meant no more sneaking around, his eyes would at least stay in your life.

spencer swallowed harshly, your eyes lingering over his adam’s apple as he does so. he looks uncertain. you figure maybe his wife was the one with the real issue, not him. you wanted to kill her.

“sure” his voice was slightly above a whisper. he looked away. almost as if, if he continued to hold your gaze he’d had no choice but to give in. that’s what you wanted him to do, to cave in, like always. you wondered if this would be the last fortnight spent with him, and suddenly, realization hit you like a 10 ton truck. you looked down as well, confidence derailing.

“but you’re still my best friend, spence” your voice was nearly a whimper, sounding like a wounded dog. you look up at him with glassy eyes. tilting you head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you try to control your emotions. you look down, hands fidgeting nervously.

“yes, of course…we just can’t have those benefits anymore” he wants to do nothing more than to grab you and hold you in his arms. to say sorry for everything he had put your through. instead he looks to the waiter.

“check, please” he clears his throat and hopes the sound of his tearing heart isn’t too loud as you look up to look at him with tear rimmed eyes. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. spencer pays the tab, leaving a generous tip. you get up from your seat, incapable to look at spencer in the eye.

you don’t notice him stepping towards you. your breath hitches as you stare up at him, the closest you’ve been to him all night. his calloused hand cups your cheek, fingers tracing your face, to your under eye. you blink, cursing yourself internally as a tear slips. you look away. he sighs, wiping the tears carefully with his thumb.

“im sorry, you know what i’d do if i could…if things were different” his words are just more salt to fresh cuts. even if he sounded regretful, even if he was sorry, you still had the right to be sad.

“it’s fine, you aren’t mine, i shouldn’t be this sad” you harshly take a step back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. his mouth stays slightly agape at your sudden movement. he bites down at his lip, sighing, admitting defeat. you were right, he was never yours and you were never his. two parallel lines who never got the chance to see what could’ve been if the circumstances were different.

he had corrupted you, nights that belonged to only you would fade into a memory. the touches that lasted a fortnight. the feeling of his hands in your hair, your clothes on his bedroom floor.

you loved him, and it was ruining your life.

“goodbye, reid” you tone was purposefully cruel, and the choice of using his last name. you looked at him for a second, fighting the instinct of kissing him as a goodbye. he stared with pitiful eyes as you walked away, bell chiming as you opened and closed the door. for a moment he regretted everything said, wishing to just run away and live in the mountains, to follow through on that quiet life you had both talked about when the night passed 3am. tangled in bedsheets. he curses his eidetic memory for remembering your tearful expression, comparing it to the soft, sweet smile you had on every time you left him. can he erase every curve, every dimple he knew you had, every tiny change in your expression he could read like a book, over and over? no, he will be cursed with the gift of knowing, just like you’ll be cursed with the sound of his voice. soft and tender, the sound of his whispers of foreign words against your ear.

“Я тебя обожаю.” his voice is quiet, nose brushing against your neck as he places soft kisses against it. you giggle at the ticklish feeling, grabbing his face delicately to stop him.

“what does that mean?” you ask with a smile, pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of his nose, his face heating up in your hands.

“i adore you” he grins, leaning against your hand and kissing it.

“i know that but what does the sentence mean?” he rolls his eyes as you break out laughing, throwing your head over his shoulder, giggling as if it was the funniest joke you had ever told. you look up at him, both of you grinning widely as he places a proper kiss against your lips.

he loved you, it was ruining his life.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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mrdixon · 1 year ago

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Work in Progress

pairing: pre-negan Alexandria Daryl x f!reader

wc: 8.1k (sorry.)

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, p-in-v, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), alcohol (sober sex.), mild swearing, some fluff,,,

summary: Your friends peer pressure you into asking Daryl out to the cookout that's taking place tonight.

A/N: this is like my first ever smut officially written and OH MY GOD im so sorry if its terrible i was cringing at some parts. sooooo cliche but i promise ill be better. i realize reading this back that so many of them are slightly out of character but ignore it, i was drunk writing half of this. i also never intended this to be that long and i freaked out reading the word count so. anyways i hope you enjoy and feel free to request anything more!! id be happy to write more for you all.

masterlist!

“I’m telling you, he likes you.” You roll your eyes from your spot at your desk after hearing Maggie’s comment, continuing to focus on your work rather than the idiotic conversation taking place.

“How and why would Daryl like me?” You ask and look up at your three friends Maggie, Carol, and Rosita. It’s like you can pinpoint the exact moment they all mentally facepalm at your question, “I’m just saying.” You mutter under your breath, looking back down at the plans for the reinforcement of Alexandria’s walls. The silence was too loud but you could tell the three of them were all glancing at each other while trying to figure out what to say to you.

“Well for starters, he visits you a lot.” Carol tried to reason, earning a scoff from you. “No I’m serious, he doesn’t even stay home that often. That prick has only stayed for food recently.” The corner of your mouth curls up slightly at her comment, still looking down at your notes.

“Plus he smiles a lot around you, I’ve never seen him smile that hard before… Let alone at all.” Rosita adds. You sigh, finally looking up at your friends and immediately getting startled by all of them looking towards you. You think about what Rosita said and contemplate it for a moment, well he has been hanging around you recently…

“Nope, no way.” They all audibly groan as they turn away from you, “besides. I don’t even like him like that.” Now that earns a scoff from them.

“Oh please. You can hardly keep eye contact with him, let alone speak coherent sentences when he’s around.” Carol retorts, tending to the carnations in a vase in the corner of your study room. You scoff again at the exaggerated example whilst shaking your head.

“Uh uh, I can keep eye contact with him. In fact I have no problem interacting with him because he’s just a friend.” You state bluntly before getting up and putting your notes into a folder behind your seat.

“Oh my god hey Daryl!” Rosita calls out, causing you to quickly fix your hair and spin around with a bright smile on your face. All just to slouch back down onto your chair once you realize it was just to catch you off guard. The three of them laugh silently to themselves while muttering a “we told you so” in unison.

“Fine. I guess I do like him but that does not mean I’m going to do anything about it.” You look down at your lap, hearing clothes shuffling from how quickly they all snap their heads in your direction.

“Why the hell not?” Maggie exclaims, “you know it’s nice. Being in a relationship, plus you guys complement each other well.

You sigh as you spin around in your chair, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “Well… Even if he does like me, I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Bullshit.” Carol says bluntly before walking up to you, “just ask him out. He won’t say no.” You roll your eyes and spin away from her, staring at your wall.

Rosita spins the chair around back so you can face them, “Carol’s right. Daryl has been pining you for like months, maybe even years now.”

“How am I even supposed to ask him out? Like should I ask him to hang out like usual and pop the question or should I ask him to dinner?” You nibble at the end of your finger anxiously, even considering asking him out is terrifying.

“Oh! You should ask him out to the cookout tonight, it’ll be perfect.” Maggie grabs your hands excitedly, flashing her bright smile at you.

“Oh god no I’m not going.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Rosita grabs your hands, forcing you to look at her. You can tell she has an idea, one you won’t like.

“You are going. No questions asked, no objections. And you will ask him out.” You bite your bottom lip, “c’mon…. If you’re lucky you’ll get laid-” Maggie’s hand flies over Rosita’s mouth to stop her but the statement was already heard.

“I’m not going to fuck him on the first date!” You exclaim, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“It’s a date!” Maggie yells, Rosita says the same but muffled from Maggie’s hand over her mouth. You shake your head profusely, waving your hands around as you panic, not wanting to admit asking him out.

The door opens suddenly, all four of your heads snapping towards the door. A very confused Daryl pokes his head in, furrowing his brows at the scene. “Am I interrupting?”

Carol grabs Maggie and Rosita, dragging them towards the door. “Nope, in fact (Y/N) has something to ask you so we’ll leave you to it.” Carol grins “unsuspiciously” at him whilst dragging the other two out. Rosita mouths a “we’ll come back later” while exiting the room, Maggie giving a thumbs up. You groan, putting your head in your hands as you run your fingers through your hair.

You can hear heavy footsteps walk towards you, the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your desk before that familiar gruff voice speaks. “What was it that you wanted to ask?”

You lift your head to look at Daryl, your heart jumping at the close proximity you two were in. For a moment you contemplate whether to bail on the question or just go for it. You clear your throat, sitting up and crossing your arms, “are you going to the cookout tonight?” Quickly looking away in embarrassment. Nothing even happened yet.

He grunts, shifting in his seat. “Was just gonna go fer a little bit, don’ really feel like stickin’ around.” You nod slowly, muttering a mutual statement.

“Wanna go together?” You look up once more, mentally cringing and hitting yourself. For a moment you could swear his eyes lit up, he nibbled the inside of his bottom lip. A habit of his which you silently found endearing.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” He grumbles, looking to the side. His hair falling over his face, you had an urge to reach up and brush it away but you held back, not wanting to be too bold. You hum silently, awkwardly shifting away from him in your seat.

“Oh, why’d you come here? Did you need something?” You look over at him, realizing he came here on his own free will. He clears his throat, brushing his bangs out of his face with his hand as he looks at you. Reaching into his pocket and handing you a little fox figurine, he had a slight smile on his face as he handed it to you.

You giggled, inspecting it as you held it in your hands. Unbeknownst to you, he was staring at you. Looking at your features and studying them, if someone walked in it would look as if he were a painter and you were his subject. “I jus’ found it on a run earlier, thought ‘cha might like it.” He murmured sheepishly, playing with his fingers.

You looked towards him, smiling at him with those eyes that made his heart skip a beat every time you even glanced in his direction. “I do like it, thanks Daryl.” You placed the figurine on your desk, next to a picture frame of you and the group. Daryl suddenly stood up, looking down at you softly before turning towards the door.

“I’ll pick ya up later tonight then?” He smiled slightly and you nodded, waving to him as he left. Once the door shut you spun around in your chair, your face heating up as you just processed everything that just happened. But now you were left to dread about the upcoming cookout in a few hours.

“No, not happening.” You crossed your arms at the dress presented to you by Rosita and Maggie. It was a very flattering dress for sure, it was a deep red colour, the length ended just above mid thigh, and the neckline was pretty low. It was something you probably wouldn’t ever wear, even pre-apocalypse. “Sorry Rosita but your style just doesn’t fit me. If anything, I’d like to try one of Maggie's dresses.” You shrug and Maggie stifles a laugh.

“Hun this is my dress.” She smirks at you while you frown, “farmer’s daughter can be pretty outrageous too y’know.” Rosita laughs, tossing the dress at you.

“At least try it on, just humour us.” Rosita mockingly pleads with you. Rolling your eyes you walk towards the bathroom with the dress in hand, hearing a quiet cheer from the both of them as you shut the door.

You stare down at the garment in your hands, trying it on couldn’t hurt… Right? You sigh, taking off your shirt and shorts before slipping the dress on. You audibly gasp at your reflection in the mirror, a hand going over your mouth. The dress hugged your body perfectly, it wasn’t tight but it fit in all the right places. You looked hot.

“Everything alright?” Maggie knocked on the door. You rushed over to the door, opening it.

“Dude…” You mutter in disbelief as you show yourself off to them. Maggie clasped her hands together laughing.

“Girl. If I wasn’t helping you get with Daryl I’d be all over you right now.” Rosita smirks, looking you up and down as you smack her shoulder playfully.

“Well are you gonna wear it or not? I think you should, if you have Rosita thirsting over you then imagine how Daryl is going to react when he picks you up like this.” Maggie giggles, fixing the back of your dress.

You bite your lip in thought, “I don’t know….” Rosita almost slaps you with how fast she turns around to grab you.

“Why not!? You look so fucking hot right now and I swear to god Daryl will think the same.” You laugh slightly at Rosita’s shock, Maggie murmuring agreement with her.

You let out a breath, shaking your head as you turn to the mirror. Fixing your hair a bit and brushing over the dress, a small smiling tugging at your lips as you nod. “Okay fine I’ll wear it, but only because I want to. Not because I want to impress Daryl.” Maggie rolls her eyes playfully as Rosita jumps up clapping.

“Okay well don’t let us bother you, and have fun tonight.” Maggie giggles, taking Rosita to leave, “not too much fun.” She jokes while winking and leaving the room causing you to shoot a glare at her as the door closes behind them.

You go to grab some small heels which surprisingly matches the colour of the dress and quickly look yourself over. Fixing your hair properly this time. Now all that’s left is to wait for Daryl to come pick you up… You take a deep breath, muttering a small affirmation before exiting your room and going downstairs to wait for Daryl.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, a familiar three beat knock shatters your thoughts. Immediately standing up and walking over to the door, taking yet another deep breath before opening the door.

There he was. Daryl was standing there dressed in his normal attire but neater. His eyes widened at the sight of you, discreetly looking you up and down. A small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before averting his gaze after a moment, causing you to blush and look down at your feet.

“You look… great.” He breathes out, a small smile playing at your lips as you mumble a small thank you. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, not noticing the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. He cleared his throat, moving to the side to let you exit your house, “well let’s get going then.”

You guys started walking towards the middle of Alexandria where the cookout was being held, you felt a bit nervous for tonight as you were worried about fucking everything up. You glanced up at Daryl who had a slight smile playing at his lips, you sighed softly as you looked back down. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You two walked in silence, the air was tense. Neither of you said anything before you got to the cookout. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw Carol cooking up some rabbit stew by one of the picnic tables. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered to Daryl, giving him a pat on the shoulder before darting towards Carol. Daryl stared after you for a moment, a slight frown on his face when you left him.

Carol shook when you approached her from behind and smacked a hand on her shoulder, placing down a large pot of soup as she looked at you with furrowed brows. “Don’t do that, I could’ve dropped that and I bet a lot of people here would be very mad at you for destroying everyone’s favourite rabbit stew in town….” You rolled your eyes, turning your head to find Daryl before nodding your head over to him. Carol narrowed her eyes confused as she looked at you, “you got a neck problem or something?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you muttered to her. “Daryl’s over there.” Her eyes lit up before immediately smacking you on the head, causing you to yelp and hit her back.

“What are you doing here with me? Go talk to him you idiot.” She grinned, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the pot of soup. Before you could argue she pushed you away, “go, I’m busy anyway.” She giggled as you glared at her, taking a deep breath and turning to walk in Daryl’s direction. He was over by the drink table, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and taking a sip. Your eyes traveled down to his throat in which his adam’s apple bobbed when swallowing the liquid, his bicep flexing when he moved his arm. You immediately shook your head to escape those thoughts and looked around to make sure no one was watching you practically drooling over him.

You took a deep breath before approaching him, a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him. He glanced down at you, his usual tough demeanour faltering and he flashed you a quick smile. “You wan’ a drink?” He offered, gesturing to the table. Your gaze moved towards the table, scanning over it before eyeing the bottle of red wine. He immediately followed, picking up a glass and pouring some for you. He shyly handed you the glass before taking your hand and dragging you along with him. The contact of his hand holding yours was enough to make your knees shake, looking at the back of his head as he led you through the crowd.

He finally let go of your hand once you guys got to a more secluded spot of the area, he took a seat by the tree nearby. You quickly followed suit, making sure to hold your dress down as you went to sit beside him, once you sat you took a sip of your wine to calm your nerves. He slowly shifted closer to you, taking his vest off and placing it over your lap which made you look up at him.

“Don’ wan’ anyone to look up yer skirt.” He mumbled, sitting back against the tree and taking a swig of his whiskey. You blushed, hiding your face by drinking some more of your wine. He noticed and chuckled a bit, tucking your hair behind your ear. He immediately retracted his hand, “sorry.”

You shook your head giggling as he watched you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s fine.”

“You really are pretty tonight.” He mumbled, clearing his throat as he looked you over again. You chuckle, placing your hand on his knee.

“Thanks, you look good too y’know. Clean.” He snorts at your statement, hiding a grin behind his glass. You try to grab his head and turn him to you, the both of you giggling as you quickly discard your glass of wine, the substance seeping into the ground beneath you.

“Stop hiding… You’re so cute when you smile.” You blurt out, causing Daryl to pause for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head. You were glad you drank, the alcohol probably aiding you with even looking at him. “You are.” You insisted, brushing his bangs out of his face.

He pulls back which makes your brows furrow together, worried that you may have made him uncomfortable. “Don’ say things like tha’.” He murmurs, only fueling your confusion.

You tilted your head to try and read his expression, but like always you couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking. He was hiding behind his hair again, you tried to reach up to brush it away. To look into those piercing blue eyes you grew to love but he backed away. “Stop, ya shouldn’. We shouldn’t.” He said gruffly. You frowned, moving closer to him.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, a twinge of hope in your tone as you placed a hand on his knee. He shifted away and cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair.

“We shouldn’ do things or say stuff we don’ mean.” Your heart broke at his sentence. Maybe you were right, he didn’t like you like that. You moved away slightly, a gap in between the both of you as you sat in silence. You played with your fingers, a lump in your throat as you realized you probably made him uncomfortable. You beat yourself up mentally for being too bold with him, thinking about how you should’ve just stayed home tonight.

He glanced at you, nibbling the inside of his bottom lip before grunting, moving closer to you before speaking softly. “What I mean is, I don’t wanna do somethin’ you don’ want an’ scare ya off.” You looked at him, tilting your head as you bite the edge of your thumb.

You took a deep breath as you processed his words, still looking up at him as you narrowed your eyes questioningly. “I like ya, (Y/N).” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he again, shifted away from you. You said nothing for awhile which only piqued Daryl’s anxiety, making him wonder if you even heard him.

“I like you too.” You physically cringed hearing the words come out of your mouth, feeling like you were in middle school again. He chuckled, leaning back against the tree and staring up at the purple sky. You looked at him for a moment, the soft summer breeze was blowing his hair gently and causing it to occasionally fly into his eyes, giggling when he grunted about it. You also leaned against the tree, your head turned towards him the entire time as you stared at him with eyes he never thought would be directed towards him. He turned his head to look back at you, a soft smile playing at his lips before he opening his mouth to speak.

“Wanna get outta here?” Once you nodded he smiled, standing up and offering his hand which you gratefully accepted. He took his vest back and wrapped it around your shoulders to keep you warm which didn’t really help due to there being no sleeves, but the feeling of his affection did. You interlocked your fingers together with his as he led you through the crowd for the last time tonight, his heart skipped a beat when you initiated the hand holding and he felt a warm feeling in his chest. One he never knew he’d get to experience.

He eventually brought you over to his house in which he shared with Carol, letting you enter first as he came in behind you. His large hand lingering over the small of your back while you took off his vest, mumbling gratitude as you handed it back to him. He chuckled, placing the vest on the couch as he took a seat, gesturing for you to join him.

“Carol won’t be home ‘til late tonigh’, reckon it’s gotta do with the cookout.” He grumbled, watching you sit down. He took time to watch you, noticing the way more of your thighs were exposed when your dress rode up. He quickly averted his gaze, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed the scruff on his chin. You just nodded, silently leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

He laughed silently, “yer awfully quiet tonight. Why’d the sudden confession change the way you act aroun’ me?” You slapped his chest gently, hearing a quiet “there it is” from him as you lifted your head up.

“It’s just… different. I guess it’s just me seeing you in a different way, officially.” He snorted, glancing over at you. His eyes caught a glimpse of the low cut neckline of your dress, your cleavage practically flaunting in his face. His head shot up towards the ceiling, a gruff chuckle escaping him.

“What kinda way you see me before?” He grunts as he mocks your words slightly, you shake your head and placed your head against his shoulder once more.

“Never wanted to admit my feelings for you, not even to myself. I always just thought you saw me as a friend and nothing more.” You mumbled, absentmindedly tracing shapes into the back of his hand with your finger. He smiled at the gesture before looking up in thought.

“It was the same fer me.” He rubbed over his face with his left hand, “if you didn’ ask me out today I probably never would’ve.” You hummed softly in acknowledgement, silently happy you were literally peer pressured into asking him out.

His hand grasped yours, rubbing circles into your hand with his thumb, sighing softly. “I’d probably still be sneaking glances at you. Who am I kiddin’ I’ll probably still do that.” He chuckled softly as you grinned stupidly. His heart swelled at your smile. Wanting to see more of it he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it gently while you giggled at his stubble scratching against it. “I love the way you sound.” He added softly, looking at you with eyes you never knew was possible for him to make. This Daryl was way different from the one you met all those years back at the quarry, you weren’t complaining. You just hoped you’d be the only person he looked at this way.

You both sat in silence as you stared at each other, gradually leaning closer. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against yours. The way his lips felt against yours was perfect, better than any pair of lips that fell upon your own. The kiss went on for awhile, it was soft, innocent. His hand moved to your cheek, tilting your head as he tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue prodding at your lips for entrance. You gratefully granted it and his tongue slipped into your mouth, the faint taste of whiskey and tobacco lingering on his tongue. You hummed into the kiss and felt his breath hitch from the vibration, reluctantly you both pulled back for air, your foreheads pressed together.

“Daryl… can we go to your room?” You broke the silence, feeling his hot breath against your face. He stroked your hair and pulled back with his brows furrowed.

“Ya sure…? I don’ wanna do anything you don’ want to do.” He was serious, looking into your eyes. Once you nodded he hesitantly grabbed your hand and gently guided you towards the basement where he claimed his bedroom. His hand no longer lingered on the small of your back, now fully pressing against it as he held your hand with his free one, guiding you down the stairs and into his bedroom.

He closed the door behind him, turning back to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips. He let out a shocked noise which you found cute, his arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed you back. The kiss quickly deepened, your tongues moving together in a sensual dance as he backed you up towards his bed, gently placing you down.

He pulled back, sitting next to you. You immediately sat up to try and kiss him again but he stopped you, “(Y/N), you drank earlier. ‘m not gonna do anythin’ if yer drunk, ya know that.”

You shook your head, moving closer. “I had two sips, barely enough to get me drunk. And I know I want this, especially with you. Only you Daryl.” You whispered, noticing the way his breathing became shallow as you moved closer.

“Ya sure? (Y/N), I need you to be absolutely sure. I—I don’ wanna hurt ya.” He nibbled his bottom lip anxiously. You placed a hand on his chest, your eyes clouded with desire, feeling the way his heart beat faster. He watched as you lowered your head towards his neck, kissing and licking the skin there, closing your eyes as he groaned quietly.

“I’m sure.” You whispered against his skin and caused him to shiver before he took you by the shoulders, pushing you onto the bed. No further words were needed as he started kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin. You shook underneath him as small pleas escaped your lips.

He growled quietly, nibbling you and leaving small bites on your neck, searching for one spot. You let out a louder than intended moan, there it is. There was one thing about Daryl, he was good at finding things. He continued to kiss and suck on the soft spot of your neck, quiet noises left your mouth almost pathetically as you fell apart underneath him. He pulled back to look at you, his breath hitching as he saw the state you were in. Your face was flushed, eyes closed, and your lips were parted. Red and swollen from your previous making out. You whined softly, raising your hands to try and feel him again. He swallowed hard. He barely even touched you and yet you were so… so needy.

“Jesus (Y/N)…” He muttered under his breath, lightly tracing over your knees before pushing them apart. Rubbing his chin as he stared down at you, grabbing you by your shoulders, “sit up girl.” He helped you sit up, kissing your lips softly before looking into your eyes once more. His hand moved to your back, playing with the zipper of your dress. He looked up at you for permission, you gave a nod and he smiled softly, kissing your temple before slowly unzipping your dress. He slowly slipped your dress down, kissing your shoulder gently as his left hand rubbed your knee comfortingly.

Soon he pulled your dress off, leaving you in your undergarments. His eyes traced over your body, thinking he’d never live to see this moment. You shivered as the cold air hit your body and he immediately encircled you, his arms moved around your body as he went to press his lips against yours once more.

Your eyes fluttered shut and giggled into the kiss when his stubble tickled you, his hand running through your hair gently. The feeling of his nails scratching your scalp made you shiver excitedly. Gently, his hands moved down your body but they moved with hesitation. It was like he was treating you as if you were fragile and would crumble if he moved too quickly.

“Don’t hold back Daryl…” You whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He nodded, looking back down as his hands moved with more force. He lightly traced over the straps of your bra, playing with the little bits of lace as he moved down to kiss your collarbone. His tongue darting out to lick over to the bra strap, kissing your shoulder before slipping the strap off your shoulder. All while glancing up at you to make sure there were no signs of discomfort, you looked back down at him and smiled softly causing his heart to skip a beat. He pressed another loving kiss to your lips before slipping the other strap off your shoulder, his hands moving behind you to unclasp your bra with ease. He tossed your bra onto the floor, backing up to look at you. After he said nothing you felt a rush of embarrassment, shyly covering your breasts from him.

“No, no, no…” He whispered, taking your hands and moving them to your side, “don’ hide ‘em. Yer beautiful.” He quickly kissed your cheek, then your chin, your neck, and then finally the valley of your breasts. You let out a soft whimper as his lips moved over to your left breast, kissing the flesh gently before parting his lips and placing it over your nipple. A shocked but pleased moan exited your mouth while his left hand moved to massage your other breast, his tongue swirling around. Your eyes fluttered shut when his mouth moved to give your other breast attention, your lips parted and let out soft gasps of pleasure. Your hand moved to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair and gripping it gently, causing him to grunt against you.

He moved back giving your chest one last kiss before unbuttoning his shirt, you reached up to help him. Hands shaking with anticipation as each button was undone, pushing the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor. He kissed you intensely, pushing you down onto the bed and pressing a knee in between your legs. Your hands moved to touch his chest, tracing over the scarred skin. He flinched back, suddenly self conscious about the scars all over his back and chest. You knew about his trauma, you were one of the only people he opened up to, but this was your first time seeing it. Noticing his anxiety, you leaned up on your elbows, tracing the scars gently. Pressing your lips against them, feeling his tense body relax under your touch, he let out a deep sigh as you showed affection towards him like this. Closing his eyes as his love for you only grew deeper, never in his life would he have thought someone would creep this deep into his heart.

He pushed you back, his lips finding yours as his hand lingered down over the waistband of your panties. You groaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped under and over to your wet pussy, his breath faltered at how wet you were. How eager you were for him.

“Daryl.” You breathed out when he parted from your mouth, his fingers gently rubbing your clit.

“Mm?” He hummed next to your ear, his middle finger dipping through your slick as he continued to rub your sensitive nub. A choked moan escaped you as he did this, his other hand running his fingers through your hair as he shushed you. “Easy…” You bit your lip as the hand in your hair left to pull your panties down, tossing it onto the floor to join the other clothes.

His fingers left you momentarily as he moved down the bed slowly to look at your glistening pussy. He placed a hand on your thigh, spreading your open further while you looked down at him. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, lips parted as your breathing came out shallow and ragged. He pushed his index finger past your folds, groaning at how wet you were as he teased your entrance. Your whining was enough to make him twitch in his pants, suddenly realizing how tight his pants felt. He let his index push into your entrance, feeling your tight walls convulse around the digit and hearing a moan escape you. He smirked from his place as he looked up at you, “alrigh’ up there?” Your eyes were shut tight while your brows were pressed together, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. He took your confirmation as a sign to start pumping his finger in and out of you, your legs shaking.

You were kind of embarrassed by how this man had you shaking just by one finger, but it’s been awhile since you’ve last done this with anyone. Plus it was Daryl fucking Dixon… You let out yet another pathetic moan, your hand coming up to cover your noises out of embarrassment. He stopped moving his finger and you whine, looking down at him. He had a frown on his face.

“Don’ cover yer mouth, lemme hear those pretty noises from you darlin’.” He drawled lowly, you whimpered as you slowly lowered your hand and he continued moving his finger. He eventually slipped a second into you, stretching you out. You threw your head back against the bed as you cried out in pleasure. After a moment he removed his fingers, only to replace it with something warm. You gasped out once you realized it was his tongue pressing against your clit.

“D—Daryl…” You stuttered, your fingers finding themselves in his hair. He lapped at your pussy, eating you out as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten in his entire life. Loud moans echoed through his room as you tugged on his hair, lifting your hips to grind against his face. He grunted against you, holding your hips with his large hands as he held you down, slurping up your arousal.

Moans kept spilling out of you as he kept sucking at your clit, feeling a familiar feeling building up in your stomach. You whimpered, pushing his head further down against you. “Fuck Daryl… I’m gonna…” You groaned when he slipped a finger into you again, his tongue still lapping at your clit, “I’m gonna cum.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge as another finger pumped into you. The amount of attention he was giving your pussy was overwhelming as his fingers curled inside of you, fingertips just barely brushing over your sweet spot. You mewled, pulling his hair hard as he curled his fingers again, sucking on your clit in the process. He could tell you were close and he pumped and curled his fingers faster, finally hitting that sweet spot inside of you. A loud moan spilling out of your mouth as your head pushed back further into the bed.

“Tha’s it… come fer me..” He mumbled against your clit, sending you over the edge and reaching that climax. Your fluids rushing onto his fingers, which he pulled out. His tongue darting towards your juices and licking it all up. You let out a small whimper as lewd noises of him slurping all your juices up rang through your ears. He licked you clean, lifting his head up and wiping his chin with his forearm, covered in your release. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high. He licked his fingers clean, rolling his eyes back with a low groan. “So sweet…” He whispered, eliciting a whine from you.

He quickly started unbuckling his belt, needing to free his almost painful erection. You whimpered again, his hands twitching at the noise. “Daryl…” You whispered so desperately you normally would’ve been embarrassed, but the ache between your thighs and the desire for him was too strong for you to even care.

“Shh.. I got ya..” He whispered, moving closer to you as one hand gently caressed your cheek, the other continuing to unbutton his pants. He placed a sweet kiss to your temple while the hand on your cheek moved to push your hair out of your face. “So beautiful.”

He planted another kiss to your head before moving back to shove his pants down, you eyed the bulge in his boxers. You moved to sit up and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He chuckled lowly, caressing your head as he looked down at you. His lustful eyes peered down at you as you looked up at him with your own desperate ones. Before you could pull him out of his underwear he stopped you, pulling back.

“Hold on.” He whispered softly, moving to his bedside table and rummaging through it. Your gaze followed him, crawling over on the bed towards him, “shit.” He muttered, a frown on his face. You furrowed your brows in confusion, sitting on your knees as he went to cup your face. He kissed your lips sweetly, apologetically. “Sorry (Y/N)… I think we have to do this another time, I don’ got any condoms.”

You took his hands from your face, kissing his knuckles. Feeling his calloused fingertips run against your palms. “It’s okay… I don’t mind.” You said gently and looked down at his fingers laced with yours. His eyes widened and he frowned once again, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Ya sure? I don’… I don’ think tha’s a good idea (Y/N),” he murmured softly. You sighed, lowering your hand to palm him through his briefs, earning a grunt from him as his hand gripped your wrist. You looked into his eyes, begging him to just continue without it. His grip on your wrist loosened and you continued to move your hand against him, a low groan escaping him. “(Y/N).”

“Please Daryl… I don’t care. Just pull out.” You pleaded with him, you just needed him inside of you. Feeling more aroused the more he kept you waiting. His bangs were over his eyes again, ”I’ll have to trim those soon.” You thought to yourself, he kept silent as if contemplating the idea. He nodded slowly, taking your chin and lifting your face to his before smashing his lips onto yours in a heated kiss.

His tongue met yours messily as he pushed you down onto the bed, his hands finding your breasts again. Kissing him was addicting, it felt right. You let out a small moan into his mouth, his grip on your breast tightening as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. A low growl escaped him as he pulled back, slipping off his boxers. Your eyes travelled down to see his cock, your breath catching from how hard it was. Not to mention how huge he was. He groaned, taking hold of himself and stroking himself slowly to relieve some of that tension, precum starting to dribble out of his tip. You pulled him down by his neck, connecting your lips once more while you replaced his hand with your own. Jerking him off slowly as he groaned deeply into your mouth.

“Hol’ on baby.” He whispered sweetly, taking your hand away from him. He moved back, keeping his hands on your knees as you looked up at him. Your expression one of pure lust and desire, the dim light of his lamp highlighting your curves, your body scarred from past battles and years of being in the apocalypse. Your hair was perfectly splayed around the pillow framing your head and your lips were parted, swollen. The hands on your knees slowly pushed them apart, spreading you open for him. He groaned at the sight unravelling in front of him, his cock twitching as his gaze wandered down to your dripping cunt. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

His finger dipped down to touch your pussy as he jerked himself off slowly, a mewl spilling out of your mouth at the sensation. His touch was so light and delicate it almost hurt. “Daryl please.” You pleaded, not wanting to continue this any longer. You needed him inside of you. He got the memo, nodding while grabbing your hips with one hand as the other grabbed his dick and positioned it at your entrance.

“Fuck yer so wet.” He drawled, his tip running through your folds as you whined impatiently. He chuckled quietly, lowering his head to kiss your jaw, sucking gently. “So impatient.” He growled, kissing down your neck and over to your breasts. His tip pushing into you slowly.

You let out a cry as he slowly pushed into you, his thick dick stretching you, your walls convulsing around him as you struggled to adjust. He cursed into your neck, kissing the sweet spot on your neck while a hand moved into your hair to try and distract you from the pain. You whimpered, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on anything but the pain as he continued to push in slowly. He caressed your hair and kissed up your neck and over to your jaw, shushing you. Murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as he bottomed out, halting once he fully entered. You weren’t necessarily a virgin but the last time you’ve ever had sex was before the apocalypse, and he wasn’t as big as Daryl.

“Move.” You whimpered breathlessly, he looked up at you for confirmation and when you nodded he slowly pulled out. Only to push back in, eliciting a whine from you. He hesitantly continued and soon the pain turned into pleasure, a deep moan erupting from you as he kept his face buried in your neck. His hot breath turning you on further as he started to bite at your neck, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

He let out a low groan into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he moved down to your breasts once more. His tongue darting out and licking your nipple while his hand moved to pinch the other. Everything quickly became overwhelming as your back arched off the bed and into him, a loud moan escaping you once more. You didn’t care about being too loud, you were too in bliss to even think about someone hearing you. Your hands moved into his hair, tugging it and causing him to grunt in your ear. His pace quickened and the squelch of his dick pumping into your wet cunt echoed through the room.

His lips returned back to yours, your tongues meeting in an intimate dance as his hips snapped relentlessly into you. You could do nothing but moan into his mouth and tug his hair, his own hands gripping at your hips, probably going to leave bruises in the morning from how tight he was holding onto you. The kiss was sloppy and messy, your teeth clashing together while moans and whines poured out of your mouth and into his. He swallowed up your noises, pressing his mouth right up against yours to muffle your sounds. All while pounding into you at a rough pace.

One of your hands trailed down his neck and onto his back, digging your nails into his skin and releasing your mouth from his. He buried his face into your neck, groaning more as you scratched his back and pulled his hair. His hips stuttering slightly. You held him close, wrapping your legs around his waist while he tried to speed up again. The headboard was hitting the wall now and the bed was creaking with every thrust he gave. Your moans blended perfectly together with his heavy groans, the sound of his balls hitting your ass echoing through his room.

You started to shake, that same feeling building up in your stomach as your walls throbbed around him, eliciting a choked moan from him as he slipped an arm under you. Soft gasps came out of your mouth, your throat hoarse from all your screaming and moaning, but they kept on coming. He held you close to him, acknowledging the fact you’re close.

“Almost there baby, hold on fer me.” He grunted into your ear, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and irregular as he also chased towards his climax. You quietly whined into his ear, your pussy clenching around his dick. His eyes rolled back into his head as your walls trapped him inside of you, thrusting deeper into you and hitting that sweet spot.

You threw your head back, arching off the bed as you let out a loud moan of his name. Releasing all over his cock and onto his bedsheets.

“So tight…” He moaned softly, pulling out and cumming on your stomach. He collapsed on top of you, not fully pressing his body weight on you. The two of you breathing heavily as you try to catch your breaths. After a moment he lifted off of you, kissing your jaw. You kept your eyes closed, lips parted in a soft breathing while he whispered into your ear. “Be righ’ back.”

You can hear him walk into the bathroom, a bit of shuffling around before he comes back into the room. You were right where he left you, eyes closed and covered in cum. You could hear him chuckle quietly before a cold feeling hits your skin, your eyes snap open in shock and he shushes you. You look down and notice he’s wiping you clean with a wet towel. Relaxing, you lay your head back down on the pillow, enjoying the cold feeling on your hot skin as he wipes you completely clean. He leaves for a second time to throw the towel into a laundry bin, walking back up to you and smiling softly as he watches you wrap yourself up in his blanket.

“Got some room fer me?” He drawled, chuckling softly. You open your eyes a bit, lifting your arm to welcome him. He quickly got into bed with you, shutting off his lamp as he pulled the covers over the both of you, kissing your forehead. “Okay?” He asked quietly, stroking your hair out of your face.

“Better than okay.” Your voice cracked, hoarse from all the moaning. He just breathed out softly in response, holding you into his chest.

“Y’know I wanted our first time to be special…. but ‘m not entirely upset with how this went.” He snorted, squeezing you gently. You laughed gently, lifting your head to peck his lips.

“It was special.” You argued lightly, kissing his cheek before relaxing in his arms. He looked down at you, there wasn’t much light in the room but he could still make out your features. He smiled to himself, glad that tonight happened the way it did. Nothing else was said as you both slowly succumbed to sleep.

You woke up when you felt no one beside you, panicked you sat up and looked around for Daryl. Your shoulders relaxing when you heard the sink in the bathroom, quickly getting up and slipping on your underwear along with your bra. You didn’t have any place to be so you decided to just stay here for the morning, grinning as you found one of his shirts. Bringing it up to your nose and smelling it, tobacco and his natural musk filling your senses. You put it on, blushing at the fact that you could now wear his clothes.

“Oh my god.” You turned around at the sound of Daryl’s voice, he stood there at the doorframe of the bathroom. Looking you up and down before walking up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, “you look so gorgeous (Y/N)…” He kissed the top of your head, rocking you side to side slowly as you giggled.

“You going out?” You beamed up at him, knowing he usually wakes up early to hunt. He nodded, kissing your head again before ruffling your hair and letting you go.

“Yeah, ya should probably go get somethin’ to eat. Wouldn’ want yer pretty self to be hungry.” You giggled, nodding before turning to go upstairs. He smirked as he watched you leave, his eyes trailing over the marks on your neck. He shook his head grinning to himself as he got his gear ready.

You walked into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and grabbing some leftover food from the cookout. Jumping when you closed the door and saw Carol, “jesus fucking christ.”

“So you did fuck him on the first date.” Carol smirked at you, following you over to the table. You rolled your eyes, hiding a grin. “So are you together now? Finally? After months and months of painful interactions that I had to witness and hear about with my own two ears and eyes???”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to answer before Daryl stepped into the room.

“Mornin’.” He gruffed, waving to Carol and kissing your head before heading towards the front door. “See ya later, (Y/N)…” He looked you over once again before leaving, crossbow in hand.

You turn your head back to Carol, a light blush on your face along with a grin. “Got my answer.” She grinned.

You giggled softly, picking at your food. “It’s…. a work in progress…”

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