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caramel-maveeato · 1 year ago

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ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇᴜᴘ ♡˚₊。。。

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: something felt very unsettled with you today, and it shattered So Mun just from thinking of the possibilities… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: So Mun x Fem!reader ♡ Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, happy ending ♡ TW: suggestive, mentions of cheating, cursing, detailed kissing descriptions, crying, sexual tension but no you two aint gon do the deed, post-ss2 ♡ Word count: 5.1k

Note: All characters originated from “The Uncanny Counter/Amazing Rumor” except for Y/n. (Sorry mom and dad because instead of paying attention during lectures, I wrote this lil silly fic about a man who doesn’t even exist)

English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Apart from all the evils hunting, So Mun couldn’t recall the last time he had been this anxious.

Normally, he never held anything against you hanging out with your guy friends. He knew you also have your personal space and it wasn’t necessarily like your entire world needed to revolve around him.

So Mun trusts you with his own life, he really does. He never once doubted your love for him. But today, something was horribly off.

“Isn’t that Gwan Daehyun from my class?”

Juyeon habitually pushed her glasses up, vocalizing her thoughts to the friend group. Both Woongmin and So Mun raised their heads at the comment, turning toward the large window.

“Gwan Daehyun,” or whoever, was a tall and slender-built young man about his age—he presumed. Judging from his figure and his dashing fashion sense, anyone would instantly conclude he was a big catch. But that wasn’t what caught So Mun’s attention the most.

The man passed by the glass window. Next to him was you, linking arms with him and smiling so cheerfully.

Even though So Mun wouldn’t admit that something has unpleasantly risen up deep inside his heart upon seeing you being so close to another guy, you were always acting so intimate with him in your relationship, so it was understandable that physical affection was rather a normal way of communicating with you.

He heard Woongmin’s voice chimming in next to his ear, snapping him out of the trance: “Is that… I’m seeing Y/n, right? Are they friends?”

“What kind of question is that? If not friends then what are they?” Juyeon cut him off, carefully stealing a glance at So Mun to see if he had any reaction.

“It was just common sense to ask!”

“Uh-huh, common sense.”

“Hey, what’s with that tone–”

“Guys, we’re in the middle of a cafe, enough with your lover’s quarrel.” A faint smile flashed across So Mun’s face as he tapped his pencil down on the table, trying to get his friends’ attention. He didn’t really care how many friends you have, but seeing such joy radiating from you, he couldn’t help but be curious to know about the man’s identity: “Gwan Daehyun is your classmate?”

Juyeon responded nonchalantly: “In chemistry, but we almost never talked. How did Y/n and he even know each other?”

The typical “I don’t know” hasn’t even slipped out of his mouth, Woongmin was quick to toss him another question: “She didn’t tell you about this?”

So Mun wasn’t quite certain “this” referred to you telling him about the guy specifically or about this entire thing, but he chose to say what felt the most natural: “About hanging out with a friend today? She did.”

His two best friends nodded at the same time, exchanging a subtle look at each other which So Mun was completely unaware of. His concentration was taped on you the entire time, following you as your silhouette slowly melted into the distance. He returned to his sketchbook, throwing all running thoughts behind his head for now.

This was when it should’ve stopped bothering him. Or he would say, it didn’t actually bother him in the first place.

Not until he saw what was on your neck.

At first glance, he confidently supposed it was a mosquito bite. But again, he knew what a mosquito bite looked like, and he even knew better what a hickey looked like on your skin.

On the side of your neck laid a small, reddish stain. As much as he tried to deny the truth flattening in front of him and convinced himself that it was a love bite he'd forgotten he left on you, So Mun knew damn well all the places on your body that he had been marking on, and none of them displayed in such a conspicuous spot.

Or maybe you just carelessly bumped into something and bruised yourself, or maybe you got burned while using a hair straightener… Yeah, that was probably the reason. He knew you loved him, adored him, even. So why would you ever do such an awful thing behind his back?

“Hey, Y/n.”

You blinked, catching him staring at you from the opposite side of the table with a soft smile: “Hm?”

“How was your day today, I mean, hanging out with your friend?” He asked to start a conversation, already predicting your reply to be positive since the image of you laughing so happily with another man was still imprinted in his mind.

You smiled in return, acting as casual as possible: “It was pretty nice. We went to get coffee and took pictures and just… you know, the classic friend thing.”

“Yeah….” He nodded, awkwardness flooded his lungs that it was nearly hard to breathe. As much as he wanted to ask you about the bruise, he was afraid of receiving the answer. What if you think he didn’t trust you?

You gulped and looked down, unintentionally exposing your nervousness. In So Mun’s perspective, you were apparently hiding something from him. He aimed at the bruise again, fighting to conceal how his pupils started burning more and more fiercely on your skin the more he studied it. He hated to jump to conclusions so soon and accuse you of committing something you didn’t do. He knew you loved him. He was fucking sure you loved him.

Then why did you have to hide it?

His body ran cold from the way you adjusted your position to excuse yourself, uneasiness enveloped your face when you realized his eyes were fixed on your neck. So Mun watched as his precious placed her elbow down the table with her palm on her cheek, awkwardly building up a cover between his gaze and the love bite that was carved by anyone but him.

Suddenly, So Mun was launched back to today’s morning, into your warm embrace. You clasped him in a goodbye hug before you both parted ways, whispering an “I love you” like you’ve always done in his ear while he tucked himself into your comfort. You did not have that mark on your neck.

And now it happened to be a claret, hickey-like stain engraved on you in such a perfect place for an actual hickey to occur, circumstantially right after he caught you hinging arms with a man he’s never seen or heard you talk about.

Everything crashed. His senses crumpled and his stomach twisted in such a way that he felt physically nauseous.

“What’s that on your neck?”

Words glided out without thinking. There was no point in hesitating anymore, he just needed to listen to your voice confronting him that he had completely misunderstood the situation, that it was only a discoloration you got by accident, that whatever he was assuming was only an illusion coating his mind.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Your movement stiffened, not too detectable yet, at the same time, not unnoticeable enough to escape his focused stare. Just this small motion of yours was enough to deliver a slap across his face.

The corners of his lips lifted with no strength, not even sure if it looked convincing to you. He had no clue how to react. It wasn’t like he ever imagined you cheating on him, let alone preparing to face it: “Ah… I see.”

On your side, you weren’t any better. The forced and bitter smile on his face seized your guts, pouring immense shame down your head. God, you regret the whole thing already.

“Baby, do you want some water? I’m kinda thirsty.”

You said, clinging onto the very last piece of your cognition and trying to lighten the mood. The effort went pointless unequivocally as there fell a small pause between you two. So Mun slowly shook his head, silent.

“Okay, I… I’ll be back in just a min.”

Getting up to your feet, you wanted nothing more than to sprint to the kitchen and take two glasses of water, no matter if So Mun already refused it. Maybe after a breather and something to soothe your dry throat, the clotted mood would soften and that’s when you could disclose the truth to him.

Waiting no time for you to take another step, a strong grip tied to your wrist as soon as you stood up, condensed around your skin like cement. You quickly saw darkness towering over your vision as an incredible softness sank onto your lips.

You froze like a deer in headlights, tackled by the submerging desire when a pair of hands snuck around your waist and your mouth was captured securely, almost leaving no room for a muffled gasp to be heard. So Mun’s eyes fastened into yours before he shut them closed, engulfing your lips through the hunger enraging inside himself once your arms had mutually snaked around his neck.

So Mun was the personification of “loving” when it came to you. Regardless of how needy he was during your make-out sessions, he always put you as his priority and ensured not to overwhelm you with his rising passion. But at this specific moment, you were dazed by his sudden blast of enthusiasm, though your bewilderment was quick to dissolve into pure fever when he drew his tongue along your bottom lip just as skillful as the artist he was, fondling your flesh between his teeth before alighting his mouth onto yours again.

Your fingers automatically crimped around his hair, gently tugging his curls in a way you knew he could never get enough of. Your little gesture welcomed a quiet groan from your boyfriend, spawning a tightened grasp on your hips. You didn’t recognize how steamy the kiss had progressed until your back collided with the wall.

The room drowned in your intimate noises. His hand’s location switched from your hip to your chin as he nailed you to the hard surface, angling his digits along your jawline. He feasted on your unorganized breathing, eagerly knocking your lips apart with his own like you were a sumptuous banquet. His sweetness erupted through every smallest gap inside your mouth. Your knees turned wobbly while you gripped onto him to keep your balance, panting and whining for mercy since you were practically devoured for what felt like eternity.

You didn’t mind if So Mun might have misinterpreted your “thirsty” for something else but its literal meaning. He was feeding you full. However, the boiling-hot tension was impotent to replace the previous alarm between you two, now adding to the baffling foreboding you secretly felt.

Colors flowered chaotically through your closed eyelids. No way you could push him away despite your remained oxygen was already sucked dry. As much as you cherished how intoxicating making out with So Mun was, you were beyond relieved when he finally pulled back and showed your strained mouth some pity.

Your heart bolted madly inside your chest, both exhilarated and puzzled due to the unforeseen shift of sensation. Both of you chased after your jumbled breaths. So Mun supported your balance with his fingers dug into your waist and let you lean against the wall, still silent.

A coat of haze smeared over your eyesight after the kiss, you weren’t able to see his face clearly from this angle. But just shortly after, you heard him speak again, barely louder than a mumble: “Love…”

The familiar term of endearment dripped into your ear, carrying a hint of unusual raspiness. So Mun’s voice was as longing as a prayer pleading for his most revered goddess, yet suffocated in boundless desperation and anguish that made your head numb just from hearing it.

“Did I… I definitely did something wrong, didn’t I?”

Time stopped.

Something inside your gut ripped apart, tearing down every single bit that made of you as the eeriness and repentance needled through your bones.

You saw clouds in his reddened eyes. All So Mun needed to do was blink once and the tears would flood down his cheeks uncontrollably.

Your roaring heartbeat echoed in your head at the sight of his dark coffee irises, now a hollow void of fog and aggrivement. Your voice splintered in your throat as So Mun grabbed your hands and swaddled them in his own, his slightly calloused hands trembling against your skin: “What did I do wrong? Please tell me, love… Tell me everything you dislike about me, I promise I will change.”

Knowing how good-at-heart you were as a person, there wouldn’t be a chance of you going around and dating different men. That being said, maybe he was the reason you let go of him.

And there it was. The look on his face looked exactly like that one of betrayal when he discovered the murder of his parents two years ago. The only difference was that he didn’t seem to be upset at you, he was upset at himself for failing you, for even allowing a thought of leaving to cross your mind.

This was a look you would rather let twenty knives riddle through your organs than ever see in your life. And now you were the one who caused it.

You didn’t dare to move. Your veins twinged and screamed and begged for his forgiveness but no sound was brave enough to emerge at the moment. You watched as he pressed his face onto your shoulder, dampening that specific part of your shirt despite his effort to bite back from breaking down.

You stuttered, not yet realizing yourself was on the verge of tears as well: “No, baby, it’s—”

So Mun scanned the purplish hue obscuring itself under your hair and the dim light in the room, resentment swelling behind his chest as he choked back a muffled cry: “Am I not good enough? Is it my personality or the way I look? Did I mess up so badly that… you went for someone else?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. You did nothing wrong!” You hurriedly brushed your fingers over his cheekbones, guiding his face to yours as your vision shielded with unshed mist. His hot tears blurred his own skin, somehow felt dreadfully cold and painful when it hit your touch.

He hesitated, confused and unconvinced: “If not me, then— Why did you…?”

“It was me, love! I was so stupid. I should’ve known…” You hated yourself for coming up with the plan in the first place. Why didn’t you consider the consequences before starting it? That it could hurt him this terribly thinking you broke his faith?

In front of his stunned eyes, the tip of your fingers aggressively rubbed against that so-called “hickey,” each stroke smudging blush powder and eyeshadow all over your digits.

One week ago, 1 p.m., at the crime scene in Eonni’s noodle shop.

“What do you mean you dunno? He never got jealous before?!”

You quietly hissed at Juyeon, whose voice was almost too loud it scared a customer at the next table: “What’s so surprising about it? Does he look like the type to get jealous easily?”

You and the girl were chatting about whatever you could think of to kill time while waiting for So Mun to finish his last minutes of individual training. As luck would have it, you stumbled across the topic of relationships, and it eventually centered on your one and only beloved.

Woongmin looked up from Junhui’s colorful drawings, looking you dead in the eye: “Not gonna lie, he kind of does.”

“Don’t eavesdrop on us, turn away!” The short-haired girl gestured her hand at her boyfriend, making him roll his eyes with sass and unwillingly obey her command. She turned back to you, lowering her voice this time: “It’s not about looks, but I refuse to believe he doesn’t get jealous at all.”

You tilted your head, thoughtlessly stealing a sip of her latte: “Um-hm…”

“Seriously, you were never curious about it?”

You shrugged. You got where Juyeon was coming from. Woongmin’s possessiveness thrived pretty easily to begin with (evidently canon from how sulky he became when she complimented a sketch of your enemy Hwang Pilkwang), and it was always so entertaining to see.

You might’ve or might’ve not wondered what kind of expression your man would show when he got jealous, but well, the idea itself was somehow very fascinating.

The only time you’ve witnessed him show the slightest hint of protectiveness besides the counter-thing was when a customer asked for your phone number—where he would observe your reaction with a sharp glare at the said person, then smirk proudly when you turned the offer down. Still, as two grim reapers, you stuck to each other like glue almost 24/7—ranging from missions and serving to something as simple as eating and walking, not to mention the countless times you have woken up beside each other. Putting it plainly into words, you had no “private life” for jealousy to evolve.

Hearing your explanation (in which you already altered the “grim reaper” part), Juyeon flashed you a hilariously serious look, for some reason very invested in solving your problem: “That makes sense. So do you want me to help you?”

You sighed: “I… think?”

“No worries girl, I got you.” She thoughtfully gave you a wink, opening TikTok on her phone as she scrolled down numerous videos, stopping at one to show you: “I was thinking... this. What do you think about a hickey prank?”

An old-fashioned trick to mess with your significant other, yet always seemed to be effective. You stared at the scene unfolding between two lovers, battling in your mind whether or not you should give it a try: “You have a point, but I doubt he’d believe it. We see each other every day.”

“Well, all you need to do is pretend to hang out with some guy and come back with a fake hickey.”

“Damn, that’s genius.” Woongmin’s voice joined you two from afar, one more time getting Juyeon to threaten him with her razor-sharp look.

“Where am I supposed to find a guy, anyway? My few guy friends either rot away in their schools or aren’t even in the country.” You chuckled at their couple-ly bicker. Speaking of the truth, you found yourself a bit thrilled at the suggestion. You would love to see how adorably pouty So Mun became when he turned possessive.

Juyeon fancily sipped her coffee: “I know someone who can help. Two days ago, a uni friend of mine coincidentally complained about how badly he wanted to get a reaction out of his black-cat partner who never gets jealous. I guess you both can do each other a favor.”

The plan developed so smoothly. You absolutely could not expect to regret your whole existence just because you surrendered to the heat of the moment: “For real?”

Earning a firm nod from Juyeon, who then gave you her friend’s phone number to further discuss the prank, you mindlessly let yourself loose into the urge. You’ve read somewhere that jealousy can prompt both parties of a romantic relationship to stay connected, which is a good thing. It’s just a small, harmless prank, right? Nothing could go wrong, right?

“We should’ve talked about this during girls’ night, maybe you could pull this prank on Woongmin, too.”

“I can hear you, y’know.”

Pure silence detonated when your explanation died down.

A sour feeling crawled up your body in monstrous shamefulness. You warily waited for his reaction upon finding out he just got caught up in a hurtful prank.

“So… the whole thing was… a joke?” A rather wounding joke, to be exact. You held your breath and raised your stained fingers up, carefully analyzing his tone while choosing your own response: “Yeah, this hickey is makeup, as you can see.”

“Right…” Based on how long a pause lingered in each sentence, you could tell he was having a hard time gathering his thoughts together. ‘Lost as hell’ would be an understatement: “...and Gwan Daehyun is just Juyeon’s classmate, he doesn’t have anything to do with you?”

“No, he doesn’t. We have nothing to do with each other.” You answered: “We only met up for the first time today through… uh, yeah.”

He exhaled agitatedly, muttering in disbelief: “And Juyeon told me she had never talked to him before. That sneaky…”

It was nearly ridiculous to think about where the situation was at the moment. If minutes ago you both were strangled by the thickened bitterness of your own reasons, now the entire ambience has reshaped into an awkward one. Confronted by quietness, you gulped, instinctively feeling like you didn’t really have the right to say these words anymore: “Plus… I would never cheat on you.”

Speechlessness floated like ashes in between you and him.

In reality, the stiffened air only lasted a few seconds, you were nonetheless certain it felt like hours. So Mun blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the left-over dried tears steamed up over his view. He eventually let out a sigh, mumbling under his breath: “Y/n, you’re… impossible.”

You lowered your head, unable to make eye contact with him: “...I’m sorry.”

“”Sorry” won’t do it.” A scoff vaguely arrived from his direction, embedding in a hint of disappointment and irritation as he wiped the dewed corner of his eye one last time: “I really was convinced you’re bored of me already.”

You clenched your mouth shut, guilt swallowed your voice.

“You know what else you have to do so I’ll forgive you?”

Although the seriousness hasn’t faltered, you wondered whether or not you were delusional out of the blue because you swore he didn’t sound that serious anymore. Your gaze shot up at him, then looked down again and shook your head when you noticed his expression hadn't lightened up.

“You don’t? I think you do.” His warm hand swept across the side of your face, lifting your chin up. You were greeted by a light raise of So Mun’s eyebrows while he airily tapped on his lips with a casual, yet cunning twinkle in his pupils.

Dumbfounded, you delayed for a second to make sure you weren’t fooled by some kind of hallucination, cautiously examining the implication he just dropped as well as his blooming smile: “You… You’re not mad at me?”

“Oh trust me, I am still very pissed off. But you know I can’t full-on stay mad at you.” So Mun shrugged, booping your nose: “Not when you’re this pouty.”

The burn behind his eyes had stopped being torturous a moment ago, yet you still felt like a criminal knowing you had created such an unpleasant tint on his scleras. You murmured: “The pouty one was primarily predicted to be you.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

As if your internal self-reproach were audible, he swooped you into his chest, holding you while half-heartedly scolding you: “Just don’t pull these types of pranks on me again. Okay? One more time and I swear, I’m sleeping with Jeokbong-hyung forever.”

“Yes, I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect it to go this far.” Your arms enclosed him instantly as though they were customized to do so. You nodded against his shoulder, trying to contain a smile when his melodious chuckle filled your ear: “But the sleeping part is up to you. Bunk beds seem pretty cozy.”

So Mun rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing your cheek between his index finger and thumb: “Is that how you apologize for making your boyfriend cry?”

You cracked up, words unclear by the stretch on your face: “Oh, I’m sorry!”

Laughter echoed through the closed room, which you both preferred this way so much better than the previous heavy and wrenching atmosphere. So Mun nuzzled his nose against yours, whispering flirtatiously: “So what now? Gotta let me forgive you or you’re good?”

“No I’m not good, so please forgive me.” Heat bursting underneath your skin, tinging a shade of rosiness. You grinned and whispered before tugging blithely on the neckline of his T-shirt. His lips instantly fit onto yours just as perfectly as a puzzle piece.

A butterfly-like peck expectedly flourished into a hot mess. So Mun’s curls spilled between your fingers, trusting him to perform his magic on you. His scent ghosted your face, sending friction straight up to your mind while your mouth was accompanied by his bewitching wetness, claiming your mouth with impatience to make up for every drop of tears that had rolled off earlier.

Your body felt weightless when he lifted you off your feet, turning you away from the wall and pushing you to a surface that was much more doughy. Goosebumps enhanced down your body when the soft mattress of your own bed scratched against your back, manipulating a gasp to flee from your throat although the touch was hardly through a layer of fabric, evincing how awfully vulnerable you were in this position.

Responding to your tiny whimper, So Mun’s chuckle vibrated against your lips. He situated himself between your legs, pinning you flat on the bed and greedily nipping on your bottom lip to get the most reaction out of you. Your delicate flesh laid defenselessly against every stroke and skim of his tongue. It was no argument that he took pride in seeing you so worked up for his affection, and he wasn’t planning to stop until your pantings had stirred into one.

Your boyfriend only detached his face from yours after a while, beaming happily like it was Christmas morning at the sight of your lips glossy with his essence.

So Mun was one hell of a good kisser in contrast to his innocent face. He knew exactly when to be sugary and when to be spicy. After melting your brain to mud with his hypnotizing techniques, he placed a tender kiss on your cheek, lingering his pinkened lips over the warmth of your skin. He sweetly moved down to your jaw, then your chin as you dreamily threw your head back against the bed sheets.

His gaze fell onto the feeble “love mark” that had virtually faded away by your vigorous smudging, grinning to himself: “You know, if you wanted to show off a hickey right here, you could’ve just asked me to leave a real one on you.”

You giggled with a slightly hoarse voice, cheeks flushing brighter when he stroked his thumb over the spot, encircling the last remaining makeup stain in a gentle yet teasing manner: “I do love to have one there. But imagine all the teasing we're gonna get when the team finds out…”

“Understandable.” His stare at the fake hickey was no longer flaming with hatred, instead full of hilarity. Leaning downward, So Mun’s curly hair tickled the place under your chin and the heat of his breath fanned your skin. But you were too distracted by another sensation—a delicious softness printing on your neck—to notice it: “I just… still can’t believe it. You want to see me get jealous that bad?”

Your source of air was cut halfway and you closed your eyes in delight. (We all know) You do. Maybe you were too much of a coward to confess but the man in front of you always looked so fucking hot when he was mad: “I mean… I’m just curious?”

“Good to know. The next time I see someone flirt with you, I’m gonna beat them up.” Mellow kisses gathered around the makeup stain. So Mun closely examined the way your body trembled underneath him while open-mouthed kisses were planted along the line of your neck, testing the waters and looking for your approval.

This earned a small giggle from you. You brought a hand up to the back of his head, your digits massaging his scalp as you indirectly turned the green light on at whatever he had in store for you: “Yung is gonna beat you up, my dear.”

“Oh, Yung can’t do anything to me. I’m the pillar and the Ace, remember?”

You smiled, about to say something before your thoughts were heavily interrupted by a raid of affection on your flesh, right where the fake hickey originally occupied. But this time, it was no longer “fake.” You thanked your lucky star for suppressing your voice on time because only God knows what kind of unholy sound you’d make at the sudden pleasure.

Exhaling a deep sigh, you were barely able to hide the shakiness in your voice as So Mun dragged his lips over your neck, painting your skin with a lovely shade of red through his teeth: “More like you and your cocky ass…”

He laughed: “Yeah, me and my cocky ass, any complaints, baby?”

His hands gently pressed your shoulders, positioning you firmly against the mattress. Every suck and nibble was followed by a trail of kisses admiring your skin. You could almost feel his marks starting to blossom each time he separated his mouth from your flushed flesh, watching it bounce back with a glowing shine.

You gulped unconsciously on behalf of him pulling the collar of your shirt aside, revealing more of your hidden collarbones for what was about to come next: “...No complaints.”

Screw it. Maybe you should just let the team tease you however they want later.

The edges of his lips raised in a satisfied smile, one that never failed to hook you in a love spell. So Mun is magnetic. That’s just the way he naturally is.

Sweeping a hand under your nape, he allowed your head to fall back in a perfect curve and your neck went unsheltered. His enchanting voice bathed in anticipation as he whispered in your ear:

“Perfect. Now relax and I’ll do all the work for you.”

His devotion exploded like fireworks in the sky, each glimmer landing on the ground meant another kiss perched down on your skin. Your evening ended in So Mun’s embrace, loving you and cuddling you until the night had gone by.

You resulted in a cycle of wearing turtleneck tops constantly for three weeks straight, whether or not it was chilling outside or you were one step away from passing out in your own pool of sweat during training. To the point the other counters were highkey concerned, like, damn, what if you actually unalive due to overheating? (you won’t.)

This is all because every time your amazing boyfriend noticed his garden of cherries on your skin had slightly faded away, he’d sneak you into whatever secluded spot he could find and plant a fresh, brand new one on you, right onto the same spots.

But since it was THE So Mun initiating the act so who’s gonna complain? Not you, obviously.

Thank you sm for bearing with me til the end i know this fic is long (and OOC) (ﾉ´∀｀*) Hope you enjoyed it!!

#so mun #so mun x reader #the uncanny counter x reader #the uncanny counter #unncanny counter #lim juyeon #kim woongmin #kdrama #kdrama x reader #pookie please come home 🏠

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starlightkun · 2 months ago

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❧ teaser word count: 453 | full fic: 25.4k ❧ genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, single dad kun, single mom reader, there is some angst but not between reader and kun, more-so around them in terms of like life events ❧ warnings: cursing, kid on kid violence (biting lol) ❧ extra info: people are non-sexually called ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ in this so if u can’t be normal abt that maybe skip this one ❧ estimated release: thursday, october 3, 2024 6:00 p.m. est (a birthday present from me to me!)

“Wonderful, everyone is here,” Mrs. Chen, the older of the two teachers, announced.

“Qian Kun.” The man took it upon himself to do the introductions, bowing to you politely. He then ruffled the hair of the boy standing beside him, just above knee-height, “And this is my son Junyi. I am deeply sorry for Junyi biting Woobin, Miss…?”

“Y/L/N Y/N,” you half-nodded half-bowed back to him as best you could with Woobin in your arms. “And before we get into all that, what I really want to know is—” You rounded on the teachers. “How this could have even happened.”

Ms. Xu, the younger teacher with whom you had spoken yesterday, opened a door on the far side of the classroom, “Of course. We’ll be having the meeting in here.”

With a short sigh at how your question was once again brushed off, you stepped into the interior office space. It looked like it must be where the teachers took their breaks and did any sort of administrative work. A few desks were against the walls, closed laptops and bags set on a couple of them. There was a table set up in the middle, four chairs around it, and a small area with toys off to the side.

“We have a place over there for the children to play while we discuss,” Ms. Xu smiled, gesturing to the toys you’d spotted when you walked in.

Mr. Qian nodded, gently directing his son towards them, “Go on and play for a bit, Junyi. Daddy’s going to talk right over here, okay?”

Junyi toddled over and plopped himself down on the playmat, picking up a truck and doll, easily entertaining himself. The other three adults looked to you and your son expectantly.

“Thank you, but Woobin is going to be staying with me,” you informed them. All the talking had made Woobin stir, but he seemed rather content in your arms anyway, simply looking between all the adults with big, curious eyes.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I assure you, I had a talk with Junyi last night and again this morning about not biting our friends. He shouldn’t be doing that anymore.”

“And I assure you, Mr. Qian, my concerns are not about your parenting,” you told him frankly. “But Woobin will be remaining with me for the duration of this meeting.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, really, Woobin will be fine with Juny—”

“Mr. Qian, I’m failing to see how this is any of your concern.”

“Because you’re treating my kid like he’s a felon.”

“Well yours treated mine like a chew toy so excuse me for exercising some caution,” you finally snapped, tightening your grip around your son and cradling the back of his head.

⤷ masterlist

#kun x reader #wayv x reader #kun imagines #wayv imagines #kun imagine #wayv imagine #kun #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #qian kun #i: kun #f: the bite #the bite: teaser #writing #text #mine #bias tag #kunkun

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theteasetwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 11: You Are My Queen

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI)—missionary, unprotected PiV (do not endorse, wrap it up), "fucked dumb" (more like "fucked tired") if you squint, food stuff (... idk it gets messy. Honey is involved.) ❧ Word Count: 10.2k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: After the defeat of Negan and his Saviors, you are confronted with the pain of what you've experienced, and you must confide in Daryl. Of course, the bittersweet moment becomes a reunion fit for lovers.

❧ A/N: Um so hi! You guys didn't think I was never gonna finish this did you? I mean I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I did it! I mean, I tried. I had a few different ideas for how to end the series, and then I realized that this isn't quite the end. I am going to write an "Epilogue" chapter that will just be wrapping up everything with Ezekiel and basically the princess telling her dad about Daryl. But for now, this is the end! Now I gotta focus on Begin Again now that I finally have this done(ish). Hope you guys like it, and thank you for waiting <3

Far from the carnage and warfare, miles away in a secluded wood, the hearth burned brightly, illuminating the small cottage in a warm glow that seemed so distinct from the deep, dark night that surrounded outside.

The scarlet wound on his thigh bubbling with vinegar and wine, you held a wooden spoonful of warmed honey, letting it drip slowly over the clean injury. After the bath you’d given him, he wore nothing, save for the loose drawstring braies of linen that reached just above his knee.

Your delicate fingers spread the translucent liquid gold over the surrounding skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you kept note of his visage. Though his face was relaxed, and softened by the warm glow of the fire, he was stoic. No matter how you treated his wound, he did not flinch, or so much as show any signs of discomfort or pain.

As you wrapped his leg with a clean gauze, you spoke to him, cutting through the silence that had settled between you for the last several minutes.

“Does it not hurt?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

“No,” he replied simply, though that was not entirely true. The blade had been the worst hurt of it, but now, it was only a dull sting. Perhaps so much pain in his life had heightened his tolerance, or dulled his sense.

In fact, the sensation was pleasant. All he could really feel was the soft pads of your fingers gently spreading the liquid over his skin, the honey acting as a soothing agent after the cleansing properties of the wine and vinegar had settled into the open wound.

Wrapping the last bit of gauze around his thigh, you gently folded the linen of his braises back over, a soft puff of air escaping your lips all the while.

“You are brave,” you said, your eyes lifting with a gentle flutter of your lashes.

With a shift of your legs from underneath you, you carefully replaced the spoon of honey into its jar, setting it aside upon the floor next to you. It felt good to no longer be upon your feet, now bandaged and clean after Daryl had so adamantly insisted that you let him do so. Now, though, you’d tend to him, after everything he’d done for you that night.

But with the fortitude of a true knight, he did not show pain nor pride. He did not bask in any glory or relish in his victory. He did not shed a tear, his limp as he walked not slowing him down or keeping him from getting you to the safety of the cottage. Not only was he brave, but he was humble. The man you’d once called a sorry excuse for a knight had turned out to be a paragon of gallantry, though he never had to prove that to you. You’d known the error of your words since he returned to you that night so many moons ago, promising to take you beyond the walls without payment or worldly reward.

That seemed worlds away now. The way you’d looked at him then was a far cry from now, when before you was the embodiment of the greatest warmth and sweetness you’d ever felt. The swell in your chest had cut your breath short for a moment, while the knight shifted on the floor cushion upon which he sat, leaning forward to pull you closer by your hands, until you were cradled in his arms, your body curled up upon his lap and your head resting against his bare chest.

That was when your breath came back, the soothing motions of his hands caressing your sides reminding you of the safety he gave you now. Negan was no more, the Saviors were no more, and soon, your father and the surviving militia would meet you here, but now, there was nothing in this world except him, and you.

When time just began to crumble away, your eyes heavy with the promise of sleep, you were brought back to the surface of consciousness by his voice, steady and low.

“You are brave.”

A puff of amused air escaped your lips, though you did not contradict him, only listened as he spoke, that voice of his more soothing than the honey on his wound.

“You killed Negan.”

Though you could not regret your actions, you shivered at the thought of that moment, the knife driving into his back, the feeling of the blade tunneling through tissue and finally puncturing his frozen heart. It made you cling tighter to his chest, as if to cower from the memory that haunted you in the back of your mind.

“If you hadn’t, I would not be here now, holding you.”

Indeed, that was what he was made for―holding you, serving you. Just as you clung tighter to him, he held you with more strength, not out of fear that you’d be taken from him again, but out of sheer devotion.

“And I owe you my life.”

“No,” you replied, almost startling him as you lifted your head. As if by instinct, he held your chin softly, the calloused pad of his thumb stroking its soft skin in short, but slow, back and forth motions. “There is nothing that you owe to me. Certainly not your life.”

Though you remained stern in your expression of earnestness, his lips curled into a gentle smile.

“I owe you everything. My life’s devoted to serving you, you know that.”

But as you looked at him, his eyes so full of love and hope for the future he had with you, there was still a hesitation inside you. It was like a parasite, worming its way inside your heart to keep you from fully embracing the comfort he brought you. It had not held such an effect on you, until now. Now that you could comprehend it, the hideous guilt that troubled you so.

He could see it in your eyes now, too, as evidenced by his smile fading and his eyes, still filled with that same love, growing dim with concern.

“What is it?”

To keep it from him would only cause more abject pain, but to hurt him, to tell him of the betrayal that you believed you had committed against him. How could you go on, now that the thought of that man’s cold, slimy hands all over you would not let you rest in the arms of the man who truly loved you?

And if you told him, would he rebuff you, disavow his love for you and never even hold you again?

“Nothing,” you said, but the quiver in your slowly faltering voice betrayed you, and the feeling of a cold, dead hand strangled around your heart made you shiver. He brought you closer to his chest, where warmth briefly tore you from the icy snare of guilt and shame. It was only a temporary respite, though. The only way to rid yourself of this regret was to tell him.

Another man’s mouth had been on yours, the salty, bitter taste of which you swore still lingered and made a mockery of your once pure lips. You’d truly never felt that Daryl had ever taken any purity from you. In fact, he made you more pure, but the bitterness of Negan’s filthy tongue had sullied you, you believed, and now you were nothing more than a broken woman, despite how whole you felt when he held you in his arms.

��Tell me,” he said, with that eerie whisper of knowing on his breath. Even the soothing circular movements of his splayed out hand on the small of your back were made with careful concern. Indeed, he knew that whatever troubled you must have been to do with what had transpired within the last week.

Afterall, the blot of watercolor black and blue around your eye gave him an inkling, one which made anger well up in him like molten lava bubbling to the surface, igniting him with a kind of rage that was strong enough to bring that scum of a man back to life just to slice his head clean off a second time. And, oh, would he do it again if he had the chance, just to know, again and again and again, that the man who tormented his princess could never bring more harm to her, or anyone else.

“Daryl, I…”

Your words having fizzled out into thin air, you shook your head and loosened yourself from his arms, as though you were unworthy of their embrace. The more you thought of that night, the more you believed that to be true.

“What happened?” he asked, his body beginning to stiffen as he mirrored you—both of you frozen in fear of whatever you would say, if you would say anything at all.

For a moment, he felt both weightless and heavy, in some kind of strange limbo wherein worry overtook his physicality before any words could confirm the worst of his fears. It washed the color from his face, where once a warm pink had blossomed from the feeling of the nearby hearth and your body so close to his, once again, after everything that had happened.

Now, he could only begin to think of the heinous things that could’ve been done to you… Knowing how Negan had looked at you, how he touched you that night of the joust. There was something sinister in his eyes then, and now, there was a similar dread in your expression as you looked away from him, eyelids heavy and head downturned.

With a gentle hand on your shoulder, his instinct to hold you too strong to completely ignore without at least a single touch, he began to speak again—voice quiet yet raspy.

“Did he… did he touch you?”

Of course, he had, but what Daryl meant by his words seemed deeper than their surface level definition. The vitriol in his voice, the sting of the word touch, which once might have been so much more beautiful on his lips, was palpable, lacerating your heart further. If it wasn’t for the pain of the guilt, you would still feel the hurt of the sadness in his voice.

You raised your eyes to meet his, though his face was blurred in the haze of your tears. A kind of shocked concern shaped his expression as he held your cheek with so much delicateness, as though you were but an assemblage of rose petals sewn together with gossamer twine.

He spoke your name now, low and almost a whisper. There was something so earnest about that, the way he called you only by your name and nothing else. No title, no epithet. Just you, just a woman, but not just a woman at all—a woman for whom he’d give the skin off his back to keep warm.

With his fingers laced delicately through your hair, he begged you with his eyes, glassy and clear, almost translucent to the point you swore you could see his soul bared before you. Even just in his stare, he made himself vulnerable to you, and soon, whatever fear you had of him turning on you melted under that comforting, warm gaze. Just for a moment, you gave in, and used your tongue to forcibly tear out the words that were stuck in your throat.

But still, you could not look at him as you spoke.

“Yes, he…” Your voice trailed off, followed by a deep breath of air you’d hoped would give you the strength to continue, but it only brought forth the tears that threatened to give way.

Two big arms encircled you hesitantly, slowly enough to allow you to break free had you not craved his touch, but his touch was all that could give you peace now. No further questions were needed, he surmised. He wasn’t sure he could even bear to know more of what was done to you, so he kept you in his grasp, which you did not fight.

With a shaky voice, he spoke against your cheek as he held onto you. Your head found a cradle in his shoulder, where tears wetted his bare skin. On his breath was a gentle shhh sound, like a light breeze rustling the leaves of an ancient oak in cool night air. It comforted you, along with the steady motion of his hands on your back, moving in slow, languid circles.

But no longer could you only contain your emotions to your sobs. Now, you raised your head and faced him, looking him sharply in the eye despite the pain that singed your heart with each syllable:

“I had a plan,” you began. “I… I only wanted to get close to him. He called me to his chambers… I had a knife. I let him touch me…” Once again, you could no longer hold his gaze. You continued on, now tripping over your own words as you scrambled to explain, through a tear-soaked voice that trembled in fear of whatever reaction you’d receive. “Only just with his lips… His filthy lips. Then as soon as I could, I tried to stab him. I swear, all I wanted was to get close to him, long enough to kill him.”

The knight only looked at you with a steady gaze, one that only softened with each passing moment. You felt his arms tighten around you, and you weren’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort you, or to suffocate you. Either way, you would’ve died a thousand times to feel that touch.

But you longed most of all, now, to know exactly what he was thinking. To hear those words you knew must’ve been brewing inside that head of his—those words that would crush you under the weight of their rebuke. Though those words never came, no shame or disappointment, only another kind of pain in his eyes. A pain that was born of your sadness as each tear you shed sent a new wave of agony through his aching body.

Shakily, you whispered to him, pleading in all but words for him to tell you how much he hated you for betraying him, for letting another man touch you. “My love… Won’t you end my suffering and speak to me?”

At times, Daryl’s movements carried more meaning that any service his vocal cords could provide. All he could do in that moment was hold you by your cheeks, his thumbs meandering in circles to gently rub the tears into your skin.

And, finally, he did speak, but his words caught you off guard far more than you thought possible.

“What are you afraid of, princess?”

Afraid of?

“I… I do not understand.”

“The look in your eyes, the fear. You look afraid of me. Why?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat as you shook your head, both in denial and in confusion. “I do not fear you.”

Quite the contrary, you wanted nothing more for him to hold you until your heart gave out.

“I—I fear that you will detest me,” you continued, now trying desperately to let your tears drown out your words. “I fear I’ve betrayed you.”

In your mind, you had, and Daryl would have had every right to leave you now: alone and pitiful. Though he didn’t. He only kept his eyes on yours, and though you had a shameful urge to look away, you could not tear your gaze from his. There was no spite in his eyes, no bitterness or loathing. Not even anger.

All you could see in his eyes was the same gentleness, the same kindness and utter servitude that he devoted to you with each passing moment his eyes took you in. That sentiment had always been there, nothing had changed, no matter what you could say. It would never change. There was no enmity there, only the strength of his love for you.

His hands held your cheeks still, pulling you gently closer until his forehead softly touched yours. The feeling made you shudder, as though still you could never fully comprehend the sensation his touch gave to you. You were sure that you would never get quite used to that feeling, though you never wanted to. That sense of novelty was a pleasant sensation all on its own.

“My princess,” he said, his grainy voice barely above a whisper as his nose touched yours. His lips began to upturn ever so slightly into the softest smile, natural and sweet. “There’s nothin’ you could do to make me think that.”

As you shuddered a shaky breath, he held you closer still. You let out a heavy sigh, one that felt like it had been lingering deep inside you ever since you escaped the Sanctuary.

“You’re trembling,” he said, running his coarse fingertips along the exposed skin of your neck, until his hand met the loose neckline of his chemise that you borrowed, draped over you more like a dress than a shirt as the oversized garment reached just below your thighs. He leaned back to look at you, still sniffling back tears. With a strong hand, he swept back your hair to nestle it in the warm crevice behind your ear.

“You cold?” he asked, already beginning to tug a blanket from under a nearby cushion. “Here—”

“No.” Your suddenness nearly startled him. It reminded you just how fragile he was, no matter how reluctant he was to show it. “I’m all right.”

Daryl knew, though, that you still could not shake the guilt, like a vulture’s ravenous gnawing at your heart. He knew you too well, so well that it almost frightened him. There was no one else with whom he could see through, whose transparency reflected a deep, intrinsic understanding beyond conscious comprehension. The depths of you were overwhelming, but he could never fight the profound urge to navigate them, despite the sadness that his love’s empathy could bring.

With a deep breath of his own, he brought you back to his lap. The ease with which he could manipulate your body with the most gentle yet sudden caress would never fail to momentarily paralyze you. You melted into his arms once again. It was only a matter of time before you became completely at his mercy, though there was absolutely no part of you that protested, except maybe that last shred of guilt.

“You know I love you,” he said. “You know I serve you.” You must have broken out into a smile, because he, too, smiled. “And you know that you’re here now. You’re alive. Whatever you did to get here, whatever I did to get here… They’re sacrifices—risks.”

You found your hands returning to his body, their place on his broad, firm shoulders solidified like indentations in concrete. Swallowing hard, you felt a chill run through you, but it was not from the fear of losing him now—it was the effect of his touch, his hands having found their way beneath the shirt he lent you, sprawled out over your back, stroking in gentle rhythms.

“Daryl.” Your voice seemed to crumble under the pressure of the air that you spoke shakily into, the utterance of his name so delicate upon your trembling lips. “What I did, it haunts me. Perhaps you can forgive me, but how will I forgive myself, when I let that man—”

He did not let you utter another word before he interrupted, his own voice soft with sympathy. How he could remain so patient with you in this state, you would never know.

“I know your heart, I know you.” Now he all but forced your weary head to rest upon his chest, where the gentle beating of his heart warmed your cheek. “The only anger I have is for the man who touched you, not you.”

But still, it was hard for you to forget. The only cure to that ailment seemed to be Daryl’s touch, his assurance that he loved you beyond what words could convey. You needed his touch, but not just skin to skin. There was more, a lingering desire that floated between you perpetually, yet was stronger now than ever before.

It was a desire that penetrates, that longs to be penetrated. The kind that only lovers of the truest caliber could satisfy in the company of one another, the company which you had been deprived of for far too long.

The pestilence Sir Negan left for you to wallow in would only be destroyed by the greatest expression of love—that which made all pain and sorrow and suffering pale in comparison to the feeling of knowing that your heart was in the safe hands of no one else but him, your lover.

Your knight.

When silence overcame you, he uttered your name softly against one cheek, while his hand delicately brushed over the other. If he touched you anywhere else, you might crumble into a million pieces, like an ancient Grecian statue carved from the most fragile marble.

Only the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth could be heard against your soft breaths caressing the shell of his ear, while your hands crept carefully up his chest, brushing over the creases of his underarms to grasp at his shoulders. They felt so hard, so firm and unbreakable. You held them tighter now, and in response, he tightened his arms around your waist to bring you ever closer, until your lips found his.

The kiss was tender, light, each of your lips dancing softly over the other’s. With a tilt of his head and a brief respite, he caught your lips again, this time more firmly, yet still somehow cautious.

Perhaps he’d never grow completely forthcoming in his lust for you, which seemed almost sacrilegious, yet somehow sacred. He knew that he’d be killed for this, but how on God’s green earth was he going to keep his hands off you? How could any star up above in those vast, empyreal heavens compare to the gleam in your eyes when he uttered your name, each syllable dripping with honeyed cadence? How could the rich, melodic refrain of any skilled bard’s lute come close to the dulcet sighs that tickled his ears so delectably, almost tauntingly? How could there be anything more soft, more supple, than your body—that which occupied his thoughts far more often than he could ever truly admit?

Even your scent roused his most lustful thoughts, that sweet citrusy musk entangled with heady notes of the most intoxicating rose, the petals of which could not compare to the plump, velvety lips he traced his work-worn thumb over now, parting them gently until a sliver of darkness formed, with just a flash of white where your teeth could be seen.

Finally, those lips opened just a bit more to speak again. “I want to forget that night,” you said. “I want to forget everything that’s happened… besides you.”

Truly, nothing was of consequence to you now, but him. You wanted to be enveloped in him. To be absorbed in him. To be one with him.

If he hadn’t been so lost in the vibrant hue of your glittering eyes, speckled with sparks alight from the nearby hearth, he might’ve noticed the feeling of your hands exploring his bare chest, your palms melting against the buttery surface of those defined muscles. When the sparkle in your eye lost his attention, he did feel it—that soft touch with just a hint of something more… indecent.

With a slow, meandering movement, never taking those silvery blue eyes from yours, he took both of your hands in his, where they rested so delicately in the strong cradle of his warm palms. He brought them to his lips, the touch of which was so featherlight that you could barely even hear the sound of them pressing an ever so sweetly suggestive kiss to your hands.

It was then that the chemise you wore slid slowly off your shoulder, its size much too big for your frame. With even just your collarbone and the slope of your neck now exposed, much to the delight of his increasingly wandering eyes, he knew there was no escape from the desperation you awakened in him. Only it was not just desperation, but the insatiable urge to provide for you the comfort you so needed. It was written clear as day in your eyes.

Even so, you could not let the heavy air between you go without another plea, though it seemed to him almost like a command—from a princess to a knight.

“Make me forget.”

And so he obliged, not with another kiss, but with a tight grip on your waist, lifting you until you sat upon his lap, where the heat of his center warmed the bare underside of your thighs. After he took a moment to gather his thoughts in the midst of his sudden haste, he did not keep you in that position for long. The feeling of your weight upon his lap was too divine, nearly too much. If he took you now with too much urgency, that which was so strong he could hardly hide it, he might reach the peak of his pleasure much too soon.

So you were caught in a slight whirlwind for just a moment, in one last burst of quickness punctuated by a low, raspy rumble in his voice. Now you were laid out rather ungracefully, resting on piles of weaved woolen blankets and furs strewn loosely upon the floor.

There was not as much hesitation now, having already seen your body in its most bare form. He lifted the chemise over your head with ease, and when the fabric no longer obscured your vision, you met his face—a gentle, almost unnoticeable curl of his lip.

Above you, his eyes took their time roaming your chest, but not just your breasts. There was a delicateness to you everywhere—the slope of your collarbones, the way your shoulders rolled as you started to grow aroused, the pulsing of the strained tendons in your neck.

But before he could bring his lips to kiss your neck as he so deliberately planned on doing, he noticed the now tipped over jar of amber-colored honey slowly dripping from the lip of the vessel onto the floor, not far from where your hair had been strewn about amidst the sudden movements of passion. Those same movements must’ve caused the nearby jar to lose its balance.

Now brought to his attention, the silken honey seemed to shimmer with a warm, enticing glow. His heavy, blown-out eyes returned to your body, now with a sparkle of mischief, perhaps. You weren’t entirely sure, as you’d rarely seen such a quality in his gaze before.

In a trance of combined anticipation and confusion as the man held his half-naked body over yours, you looked up at him with innocent questioning.

“My knight?” you asked quietly, your voice only a faint, fragile whisper, delicate as a butterfly’s wing. “You seem confounded.” A soft tickle of laughter trailed off from your voice. “Does something trouble you? You moved with such vigor only a moment ago.”

He was unsure of how to explain in words the idea that came to him then, though you seemed to have grown accustomed to his sometimes reticent nature. That would prove to work in his favor now, as he all but remained silent in response to your questioning, opting instead only to scoop a bit of honey onto his index and middle fingers, slowly removing them from the jar with a hefty glob of the sticky substance.

You turned your head to watch in confusion, which quickly became concern.

“Does your wound need more honey? Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replied simply, with a more serious tone of lust to his deep, gravelly voice, the vibrations of which sent a fresh shiver down your spine.

For several moments, you were held hostage by his gaze, which roamed down the expanse of your neck. Your heavy breathing told him what he needed to know—the way your chest heaved with each passing second. You craved him, more than ever before, perhaps. With each new breath, he swore he could hear a slight pleaing whimper just trailing behind.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he brought his honey-drenched fingers to your lips, already slightly agape.

But he did not want to force the liquid into your mouth, only to coat your lips in its sweetness.

So he traced the shape of your lips, leaving behind a trail of gold sheen to glaze the soft, plump skin. Despite your slight disorientation, you allowed him to do as he pleased. After all, there was no other way to forget the pain of all that you’d experienced. No other way to be completely enveloped in the pleasure of love.

Soon you could taste the honey seeping into your mouth, dripping slowly onto your tongue. It tasted sweet, of course, but as his lips gently pressed to yours, the taste seemed even sweeter.

Between your lips was a sticky mess of warm sighs and saccharine wetness, with his tongue invading your mouth impatiently, swirling feverishly as your hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders.

Your touch ignited a fire in him, deep in the pit of his stomach, from which a guttural moan melted into your mouth.

And he knew there was more of your body that he needed, more skin he could drench in the warm nectar of the honey, more skin he could lick clean.

A fragile sigh escaped your trembling lips as he separated himself from you abruptly, though the disappointment in your voice compelled him to return to your honeyed lips for just a moment to kiss them in an offer of apology for his momentary departure.

He separated once more, leaning to the side to find the jar of honey, and immediately collecting another hefty, dripping glob of golden syrup.

There was a shaky whimper in your voice when he trailed his honey-drenched fingers over your breast, circling slowly around the nipple.

The more he applied to the soft tissue of your nipple, the more the substance globbed and began to drip slowly, like molasses, down the slope of your breast, making your back arch at the tickling sensation.

The knight could only watch your breast become drenched in translucent golden liquid, the subtle scent tempting him to come closer, until you could feel his warm breath against your heaving chest.

An absent-minded sigh escaped your quivering lips, with his name: “Daryl…”

Just as he heard it, his own name spoken on the wings of a swan’s breath, his flattened tongue caught a plump drip of gold slowly making its way down your breast.

He licked upwards then, reaching the hardened bud of your nipple, where his tongue circled eagerly now, yet with a slowness just enough to delay your pleasure, to properly torment you with his toying attention.

But his own temptation prompted him to take the whole sweetened nipple into his mouth, which craved above all else to taste every inch of you—the delicate, virtuous princess writhing naked underneath him as he made use of your body to the fullest extent of his desire.

With his mouth upon your aroused nipple, he suctioned his lips, now himself becoming too impatient to merely kiss the engorged flesh.

The feeling sent your head reeling backwards against the pillow, with a low, breathy moan. Each kiss made you cry out louder, more impatiently as your body craved more of his kisses.

But what he wanted was more honey.

So he took the jar again, this time tilting it so that the golden liquid began to drizzle in zigzag patterns over your chest, then your stomach.

Now you felt drenched in honey, sticky with it. Not to the point of discomfort, but amusement at his fascination with it, his tongue now licking up the trail.

You let out a quiet laugh, your voice low and sultry as you began to speak. “You’re making a mess of me.”

He did not stop lapping up at the drizzled honey, except to look up at you with a subtle mischief gleaming in his eyes of quicksilver blue for a few moments, long enough to say, “A very sweet mess.”

Soon his lips returned to yours, while his chest pressed against yours in a sticky embrace. You couldn’t help but laugh softly against my mouth, while your hands reached up to loosely tangle in the soft umber colored tresses upon his head.

And it felt like heaven to him then—your softness underneath him, your own sweet taste overpowering the saccharine honey, the tickle of your laugh fluttering against his lips, the slight scratch of your fingernails upon his scalp, the intoxicating warmth between your legs opening up to take him in as your legs wrapped around his waist.

That eagerness of yours made him snicker. Unable to resist the urge to chide you a bit, he pulled his lips away for a moment.

“Your highness seems restless,” he said, nodding his nose against yours with a small but wicked smile curling to one side of his face. “I thought princesses were supposed to be patient and proper.”

With a tilt of your head, you glared up at him, only with a very slight sense of playful annoyance.

“You know nothing of patience or propriety, depraved knight. It is you who so wantonly tempts my resolve… Who compels me to crave your devilish touch, which causes my weary mind such carnal turmoil.”

The knight’s quiet laugh seeped out from the charmingly crooked crack in his lips. With a low hum, somewhere between amusement and lust, he leaned down to kiss his increasingly restless princess once more.

When the kiss broke, he brushed the back of his hand against your heated cheek in soothing motions as he spoke softly against your slightly pouty agape lips.

“Those are big words,” he said, with a low rumble of laughter underscoring his scratchy voice. “They sure sound pretty on your lips.”

As your hands absentmindedly roamed the broad expanse of his heaving chest, the muscles underneath the hair-speckled flesh flexing under your soft touch, you met his gaze from above you with a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

“My love,” you hummed softly, your eyelashes fluttering slowly against his cheek as his mouth roamed aimlessly over yours. “You torment me with your caresses… Your sweet touch.”

“You said it was devilish,” he replied between kisses, using your dramatized words against you.

“It is,” you laughed softly. “Devilish and sweet. But it’s your touch. I wish to feel it every moment of every day and every night for all eternity, and the eternity after that, and before that, and every eternity in between.”

Daryl’s hand lifted to the side of your face, gently placing a strand of unruly hair behind your ear, to continue his increasingly feverish onslaught of kisses on your other cheek.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied, much to your amusement. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“Mm, you’re mine.”

After a momentary pause, he seemed to turn more serious—almost frightening—as he grabbed you with more impatient vigor, your arms having no choice but to cling around his neck. With your face surrounded by soft tresses of brown hair, you let out an instinctive cry, as though he was a predator and you were prey, about to be devoured. Though there was nothing in your biology that compelled you to fight him off. You’d accepted your fate, and you welcomed it.

Your weight was suddenly cradled by the softness of the bed beneath you, though your legs were still wrapped tightly around Daryl’s waist. That did not keep him restrained for long, for he soon unraveled himself from your entanglement and began to strip himself of his worn linen braies.

There was hardly any time to marvel at his anatomy—he soon climbed back over you, catching your breath with his mouth once again. You could at least feel his now unhindered length, though. You could feel it harden between your legs, where the warmth of your soft thighs made his cock begin to twitch from the pressure.

As though your body wasn’t close enough for his liking, he looped his arm under the arch of your back, lifting you up just enough to feel your belly pressed against his. If he concentrated enough, he swore he could feel the delicate fluttering of your excitement inside you.

The tingling became stronger now, his body moving above you with enough rhythm to force his cock against the fleshy folds between your legs. The feeling was still so foreign, having only felt it in its fullest form once before, but you knew that tingle just from the sight of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. He did not even need to touch you there to make your body react in such a way, you were certain.

Taking notice of your soft moans against his lips, and the slight gyration of your body, he used his free hand to find the warmth that so enticed him. His fingers settled in that crevice, staying still for a moment, until by some impulse they began to move. Up and down, up and down… A rhythmic motion not unlike the way the rest of his body moved, too. For your part, you broke the kiss to let out a moan that could not be contained by the velvet cage of his adoring mouth any longer.

“Oh!”

Your head had tilted back so far that your neck was now exposed, completely subject to his will. As his hand moved not faster, but with more pressure, more insistence, he trailed his lips down your jawline, leaving messy, imprecise kisses along your perfumed skin.

Applying increasing pressure, he sank his fingertips into you, that warm, sodden opening between your legs. The sensation was still so new, though the slight burning pain was less than before. You only clenched your teeth slightly, feeling his fingers extend deeper within you, curling upwards toward your belly.

For a moment, he could not pay attention to anything but the way you felt—the way your body reacted to his invasion. Your passageway seemed to pulse around his fingers ever so slightly, as if it was some innate reaction, coercing his fingers further.

He only noticed your slight discomfort when he looked at you, your eyes shut tight. He pressed his lips to your cheek, his hair falling in your face. It was soft, yet ticklish, like a curtain of brown feathers draped over you.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice a soft, soothing whisper. If his touch wasn’t pleasing you enough, his voice so gentle and yet gruff was sure to push you over the edge of pleasure and into the realm of extraordinary bliss. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s only slight… You’re quite gentle.”

Against your cheek, you could feel his lips curl into a smile. All the while, his fingers moved slowly, back and forth, migrating between the shallow part of you, and the deepest part.

“Do you like it this way, your highness? Slow… gentle? I could go faster, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”

With a laugh, you shook your head, amused. “You could hurt me and it would still feel like heaven.”

He smiled down at you, then pressed another kiss to those plump, agape lips, sparkling with wetness and trembling with desire. Daryl was never a particularly confident man, but something about the way you wanted him, craved him beyond anything he’d ever known, he felt like he had the whole world in his hands.

And now, he felt the world quake and shiver round his curled fingers, an accumulation of warm wetness pooling where his knuckles breached the entrance of your body in repetitive motions. Coupled with the aching softness of your uncontrollable moans were the sounds of his fingers moving inside you, the rhythmic, involuntary squeezing of the canal creating drenched and airy sighs of its own.

As his fingers pulsed inside of you, you clung tightly to his shoulders, the tan, sun-freckled skin stretched thinly over defined muscles. A strained sigh escaped your lips as your fingers dug into his skin. Daryl’s pace slowed steadily to keep you from coming too soon, but he knew you were so very close.

It amused him a little, the way your body was so sensitive to his touch. He found arousal in the way he could so easily bring you the ultimate pleasure, and the way he could withhold it at will. Despite how subservient he was to you, he could not help but revel in the dominance that came over him when so much control of your perfect body was given willingly over to him.

But you sighed and pouted as his fingers paused inside of you. Opening your eyes, you tilted your head and looked up at him—he traced your jawbone with his finger, while the fingers he had inside you playfully wiggled upwards to make you shiver.

“Daryl,” you sighed, not quite sure what else to say but his name.

In response, he smiled as hazy silvery blue eyes roamed your face, taking in each and every flawless feature. “You’re so beautiful… My sweet angel. I’d like to have you like this forever.”

Though your heart fluttered at his sweet words, you could only muster a few words, as your body anticipated its release: “Do not stop.”

But he did the opposite, removing his fingers altogether and leaving you throbbing, writhing desperately as you groaned softly.

Panting, he sat up, lifting himself up from the bed to look at you, taking you in for a moment as he decided on what to do next. After all, he was leading the way.

Before you could say another word, or even lift up your head to see what he was up to, you felt his hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you towards him as he stood at the end of the bed.

You managed a surprised exclamation at the sudden jolt, your legs now spread just wide enough to fit his body as he climbed over you, his weight holding you against the bed. Now he kissed you again, with lips and tongue moving wildly over yours. Lost in this passion, you found your hands exploring the wide, muscular surface of his back, moving in erratic circles. With each flex of his muscles underneath your soft palms, you let out a breathy sigh, swallowed by his mouth on yours.

As much as you craved his kiss, you knew you craved the hardness between his legs that was pulsing against your sodden entrance more. It was so close to being inside you, so close to that feeling you had only known once before, that you coveted ever since he first made love to you. There was an overwhelming emptiness there always now, where you hadn’t quite felt one before. You had known the carnal pleasures of sex, and now it was like a curse of desire had overtaken you. Not a desire just for the feeling, but for him, and the feeling only he could give to you.

He felt your desire, too. It only heightened his own as his lower body moved against yours, assuaging his hunger for the embrace of your body just enough to keep him from spoiling this moment of closeness with his impatience. You deserved more than a quick burst of passion that ended in an underwhelming sensation of relief. That was what he’d only known before, after all―mindless, loveless moments with nameless, faceless women who could satisfy his purely biological need in the most practical exchange of goods. These occasions were few and far between, but never satiating beyond that primal desire. This was unlike anything he’d felt before, and to make love to someone, real love, was a change of pace he had to orient himself with. A most welcome change, of course.

But he could not hold out much longer, he knew this of his body well enough. So at last he pulled his lips away from yours, his focus turning to the space where your bodies were so close to connecting. He reached down, with a series of gruff pants escaping between his lips, to bring the tip of his cock to your entrance.

There was just a tickle of his flesh brushing against yours, but it was enough to elicit a shiver and a sigh against his sweat-dripping cheek. There, you pressed your lips to his face, with the salt of his clammy skin on your tongue. As he slowly entered you, you felt your body loosen, no longer tense with need, but now just beginning to feel full and warm.

And with a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself further. Despite how slow he tried to move, he could not waste another moment―he did not want for anything in this moment but to be completely inside of you.

The feeling lingered for a while as both of your bodies rested in place. He did not move, neither did you. There was only the erratic beating of your hearts and the heavy breaths escaping your lips. Daryl’s head found its place in the space between your head and your shoulder, where he found refuge in the warmth of your hair, scented with galgant and cloves.

Though you could bask forever in the feeling of him inside you, still and deep, your desire was to feel him move again.

As if on their own accord, your hands moved swiftly down his back to squeeze the flesh of his buttocks, as you’d call it. Ass, as he would call it, you were sure. The feeling elicited a laugh which tickled your cheek.

“Where did you learn to do that, princess?”

“Nowhere,” you replied, just as he lifted himself up to look down upon you. There was a look of playfulness in his eyes, with a considerable amount of increasingly impatient lust. It excited you more, so you moved yourself as much as you could in an attempt to feel the friction of his cock inside you.

Amused at your clumsy wiggling, he relented with a subtle swirl of his hips and a movement of his body which pulled him further out of you, until he slowly buried himself deeper again.

His arms propped up the bulk of his weight as he moved in and out of you at increasing pace, his breath becoming more and more ragged all the while. Nothing could hold him back as he began to lose control of himself. Every cell in his body screamed for release, and he couldn’t slow down now. His lower body moved faster with each thrust that shook you to your core, where the tingly feeling of pleasure was building up inside once again.

Wide-eyed and breathless, your hands moved to his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself steady, but it was no use. His sheer physical strength and size was enough to make your body practically seize from the force of his thrusts. In these desperate, hungry movements, there was a deep reverence—a kind of devotion you’d never known before, not even as a princess. He made love to you like it was an act of worship, in every conceivable way.

From the way he focused on you, as though the sun and stars revolved around you, to the feeling of his body making every frantic, passionate movement not only to sate his need, but to please you, he wanted nothing more than to serve you, as was his sworn oath.

And as you came closer to losing control of your loins, your body squeezed and writhed around him. In a fit of pleasure, so close to the precipice of bliss, your back arched and your head was thrown backwards with an involuntary spasm, as your legs clenched tight around his waist to draw him further into you.

He was so deep, and you felt so full. The pain was there, lingering, as you were stretched open again and again. In all your ignorance, a part of you feared he’d tear you open, but you trusted him—your gallant, noble knight.

Now your hands held for dear life to his upper arms, where well-worn and well-defined muscles gleamed with sweat and ached with each part of him that needed release, which was soon to come. Your heavy, quickened breaths formed a pattern that seemed to match his, with occasional moans, groans, and even a slight curse or two escaping his tightened lips.

And soon, a sudden wave of vibrations overtook you—that sensation you’d been dreaming of since the first night he bedded you. It was like a hurricane sweeping through your body, each new pulse of tingling pleasure surging through you like a strong gust of wind that left you squirming and crying out underneath him.

It was a feast for his eyes to see you like this, and to know just how much power his love held over you. With each gasp, each breathy moan, each soft convulsion that contorted your body, he lost himself in your bliss.

He couldn’t help but kiss your trembling lips as your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling his body further against you and into your pulsing center. This feeling, along with the soft dance of his tongue across and around yours, drew him closer to his own release.

It had been buried deep in the back of his mind from the moment he realized you were taken—that terrible longing, tainted by the fear that never again would he feel this again. Of course he knew the most important thing was rescuing you and returning you home safe, but there was that selfish part of him that desired you carnally, because once was not enough.

Now that you were safe, he feared he’d never be able to go another second without you again.

So, with a final deep thrust and a hearty groan, he let his body go. He was quick enough to free himself from you, releasing the buildup of his arousal onto the soft inside of your thigh.

The warmth tickled you slightly as it trickled down. You watched through hazy, lidded eyes as Daryl’s hand stroked his pulsing cock until it was rendered limp as if with exhaustion. His body drooped over yours, his head cradled against your shoulder. Fast, heavy breaths warmed your neck. In a matter of seconds, he caught his breath enough to catch your lips with his once more.

Heady air thick with the scent of honey and sex swirled between your bodies, moving languidly beneath the fur blanket Daryl had draped over the two of you somewhere between lazy, sweaty kisses and tangled arms.

Tonight was different than the first night you made love. That night, the passionate fire he stoked inside of you kept your mind alert enough to stay awake with him into the wee hours of the morning, murmurs of dreams and worries slipping between your lips. Tonight, you could hardly keep your eyes open once you’d felt your body sink into the straw-filled cot beneath you.

Daryl, in his lust, hadn’t noticed you’d begun to drift off as he showered you in kisses. When your hands began to slowly lose their tight, needful grip on his shoulders, he let his lips separate from yours with a smile. Your head sank like an anchor onto the pillow beneath you. With your last sensation the feeling of your knight’s lips pressed gently to your temple, you entered a deep, much-needed sleep.

The night was still when you awoke in a slight daze, colored a deep brownish orange from the flicker of the dying hearth. Your newborn senses clung to the feeling of the soft fur beneath your outstretched hand, where once Daryl lay.

You stirred awake at the realization of his absence. Sitting up, the fur blanket fell from your body to expose your naked breasts. A sudden shock dispelled any last remnants of sleep. You weren’t at all accustomed to sleeping in the nude, after all.

Moreover, you feared something, though you weren’t quite sure what, had happened to your knight.

As you raised yourself from the modest cot to dress yourself in the once discarded chemise, you could not help the fearful thought of whatever remained of the Saviors taking Daryl from you, leaving you alive in some cruel, twisted act of revenge for the death of their leader.

But as you stepped outside, into the darkness of the early morning, Daryl’s voice, grainy and soft, came to you through the crisp air. In your slight daze from waking just moments ago, it took you a moment or two to recognize his voice speaking your name.

Your eyes caught up faster than your ears when you turned to see him, illuminated only by the light of a small lantern placed on the pebbled ground near his feet. He was dressed already, a simple tunic of linen white, with a wool cloak of deep indigo on his back. The closer you stepped towards him, the more the almost crimson glow of the majestic Friesian’s coat shimmered to distinguish the creature from the black of night.

“Phantom?” you spoke softly, rubbing your sleep-heavy eyes as if to wake yourself from a dream. You’d almost forgotten about the loyal steed, and it was hard to imagine him surviving the chaos of the battle just hours ago, but then again, you survived.

Phantom seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice. He lifted his head to meet your eyes, and left the side of his master to slowly come towards you. The gentle creature’s muzzle seemed to slide perfectly between your delicate hands as he huffed a breath of air. After a few moments of accepting your pets, he raised his head to nuzzle your shoulder, nearly putting you off balance with the sheer force of the large animal’s affections.

Daryl flinched for a moment, about ready to lunge forward to catch you if you fell, but you caught yourself with your back foot, laughing despite the slight pain of the raw blisters that began to form there from last night’s escapades.

“Oh, I am so glad to see you.” The horse lowered his head as if in reverence, some kind of formal acknowledgement of your voice. You ran your fingers through Phantom’s silky forelock, which you knew to be quite pleasing to the destrier. “I thought I might never do so again.”

“He found his way home.” Daryl’s voice came closer, until you felt the warmth of his chest against your back. His chin rested upon your shoulder, a comforting weight. “Like he always does.”

Daryl’s arms squeezed tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. While still lavishing attention upon the rather needy horse before you, you closed your eyes and took in his scent of pine and honey. But you did not stay still long, turning to see his face you’d dreamed of, just to remember that he was real. Phantom, though, huffed in slight disappointment.

“When will my father come?” you asked quietly. Something about the stillness and the darkness of the early morning, just a matter of time before the sun would begin to rise, made you whisper.

Daryl’s chin lifted towards the distant horizon, where the first sliver of dawn slowly parted the darkness of night to give in to the pale light of morning.

“He said we’d meet here at first light. Should be any moment now.”

Daryl’s mind drifted elsewhere. Last night’s events had left him with a whirlwind of emotions and revelations. Negan’s death brought with it the triumph of war, the splendor of victory that he knew well from practically a lifetime of battle. And with war came the inevitable grief of countless lives lost. Daryl’s thoughts lingered on the duke, the prince, and the rogue Savior who’d helped them. He wondered if they’d made it out of the dungeon alive.

And when those thoughts gave way to the realization that, within only a matter of time, you would return to the arms of your father, and no longer would you be his. The king would never understand your love for each other. Why should he, anyway? Daryl was of lowly birth, even if he was a knight. As much as he wanted to believe King Ezekiel would allow him to marry you, he knew he was more likely to end up headless at the mere suggestion.

As he held you now, and as he knew you in the most sacred passions of love that you had shared, you were not just a princess, but his princess. When you were away from him, the world around you blissfully unaware of the truth, you were just a princess. Not his, at least as far as the world was concerned. Despite all logic, he knew there would need to be a time when the love between you was not hidden in the shadows of the forest.

Daryl’s pensiveness was not lost on you now. You felt him cling tighter to you as he looked off into the distance, a heaviness in his face. Your hand caressed his cheek with enough pressure to bring his attention back to you. His expression became lighter by just a tad, but whatever plagued his thoughts was still lingering.

“What is it, my love?”

“Nothing, I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if to rid himself of these worries. “I wish we had more time.”

Where there was once a look of concern blossomed a sweet smile that was almost potent enough to make him forget your father altogether.

“We always have time. We will make time, like we always have.”

But in your heart, you knew what he meant, and you felt the same. How long could you go on like this, hiding your love from your father? Escaping into the woods to consummate your love in secret? For as much as you loved him, and as sure as you were that your heart belonged to no one else, you were not sure how you could keep your love a secret much longer.

Still, the time would come when you could tell your father. You were sure of that.

“You told me that you’d marry me,” you whispered, lips fluttering against the soft hairs of his cheek. “You said someday, you’d marry me. And a knight always keeps his promise, especially to his lady.”

The knight let out a huff, then soon found himself nuzzled into the warmth of your hair, where memories of every moment spent in your company curled around his face in a deep, honey-scented embrace.

“Someday,” he murmured. “I promise you, my princess.”

When his lips touched yours, he felt your tremble against the cold. He pulled the cloak from his back to swing it around you and wrap you in a woolen cocoon. Pulling you ever closer, your chest was heated by the fire that seemed to perpetually burn in his. Another longer, deeper kiss, then a smile shared between the two of you.

“Perhaps one day, I will be your queen.”

His warm hands rubbed your back in steady motions as his eyes traced dreamily over your face, each curve and crevice and color another feature he would keep to memory for in those moments when he could not hold you. He wanted for nothing in this moment—everything he could’ve dreamt of wanting was here, in the shape of you.

“You are my queen.”

A new heat rouged your cheeks and ignited your heart. To be his queen seemed to be the greatest height you could ever reach, if only it meant you were the queen of his heart.

Dawn stained the sky with rich hues of rosy orange and dusty violet as you fell into another kiss, though your lips would be torn away by the distant sound of clopping hooves coming closer beyond the horizon. Not just a handful, but nearly hundreds.

But the fearful flutter in your heart soon subsided as the blue flag of Alexandria raised above the militia, their silhouettes coming into view. They were led in triumph by the king, flanked on either side by Duke Richard, and one man you did not recognize—Prince Jesus of Hilltop. In your father’s hand was the chain that leashed his mighty companion, Shiva. They were victorious, and no more would you fear Negan, nor walkers, nor death itself. Not when your knight was near.

Not even death could tear you from him, and as you held his gaze, you felt a calmness overcome you—a relief, as though you knew that everything, somehow, would be all right.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

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byeoltoyuki · 11 months ago

Text

❄︎ Not Over you ❄︎

↳ Pairing: Minho x Reader

❧ Genre : demon Minho / dad Minho (kind of) / exes to lovers / fluff / smut / slight angst

❧ Warnings: oral (f), spanking, overstimulation, hair pulling, unprotected sex

❧ Words: +17k

❧ Summary: Minho had it all. He was strong, powerful and beautiful. An immortal that people either loved or feared. Except you. You, a simple human. You who he loved so dearly. And yet, You who had left him heartbroken.

❧ A/N: Hi guys! It's finally out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing ♥. Thank you wifey for dealing with my bullshits and helping me out ♥

Likes and reblogs are appreciated. Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about it ♥

❧ Taglist: @hoes4lino , @queenmea604 , @devilsmatches , @straykeedz , @kangyeonie , @malunar28replies , @amastaa , @yoontaethings

Minho thought that after being alive for nearly five thousand years, nothing in this world (or another) could surprise him anymore.

Wrong. Terribly wrong.

The moment he opened his door and found you shivering and looking terribly worn out, he knew the world had come to its end. Because why would you, his ex-girlfriend, the love of his life, be standing at his doorsteps after almost three years of absence?

He stared at you, unmoving, face blank, mind empty. It had to be a trick. Or maybe he had finally lost his mind from being so old. It had to be his imagination, his restless mind playing a very dirty trick. Minho closed his eyes, took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes once more, you were still here. No. It wasn’t a trick and it wasn’t just his imagination.

“What-“ He started and stopped. What was he supposed to say? The urge to slam the door right to your face was so tempting. It was what he was supposed to do. He offered you his heart on a plate, he offered you the world and you trampled on it and left without looking back. And yet, he couldn’t do it. Not when you looked like a ghost, a shadow of yourself. Whatever had happened to you, left a mark on you and despite his anger, his resentment, he couldn’t ignore the tug at his heart. He worried.

“I’m sorry.” You finally found your voice. Being in his presence overwhelmed you in so many ways. Being finally face to face with him hurt more than you had expected. You knew, going to Minho was a risk; for your heart that despite your choice, never fully recovered, but also for your life. You knew, deep inside you, that no matter how angry, how petty Minho could get, he would never hurt you but you couldn’t control your fears.

Minho opened his mouth, a snarky comment right on the tip of his tongue but all of it vanished the moment his eyes finally fell on what you were holding in your arms. Too stunned with your presence, the dark green blanket pressed tightly against your chest went completely unnoticed. Until now. As he stared at it, he quickly realized that it wasn’t the blanket you were clenching so tightly against you, as if you were scared someone would try to steal it from you. No, it wasn’t just a blanket. Warmth and pure innocence radiated from within the blanket.

Minho took a step back. Surprise, fear and hurt flashed all at once in his eyes. And yet, one question remained. Why were you at his doorstep with a baby?

“I-“ You hesitated as your eyes went back and forth between your little baby and him. “I didn’t know where else to go.” It was the lamest excuse you could come up with but it was also the truth. Of course, there was a whole story behind your presence and you knew, inevitably, you would have to share it with him.

“You got to be kidding me.” Minho growled, frustrated with your explanation. “You come back three years later and with a baby on top of that.” To say that Minho was not amused would be the understatement of the century. He drew nearer, stopping inches from you.

And then it hit him. The scent. The scent, he hated so badly. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the tiny hand that appeared from under the blanket and grabbed a lock of your hair. “Why is there an angel in your arms, Y/N?”

As he sniffed and tasted more of the baby’s scent, the answer formed inside his head but his heart, already aching just because of your presence, refused it. All color drained from his face.

You averted your eyes from Minho’s face and looked instead at your baby, your little girl and the reason you found your way back to Minho. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at her and press a kiss on her forehead. “Hana is my daughter.”

“No.” Minho refused and put space between the two of you. Maybe he wanted to distance himself from you just so your own scent could stop messing with his mind, or maybe he was hurt because of what this little human-being meant. “There is no way you got pregnant with a fucking angel.”

You winced at his unspoken words. You could perfectly understand his anger, after all, didn’t you leave him because you refused to deal with what he was? When Minho confessed to you about being a demon, he shared his most prized secret; he did it because he trusted you, loved you. But you got scared. You weren’t a strong believer to begin with but when faced with the truth, you had no other choice and it terrified you. You doubted everything and even his love. Demons weren’t supposed to be nice. They weren’t supposed to be able to love and cherish. And definitely not a human.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice shaky.

“I don’t believe you. You humans lie so easily.”

‘That’s rich coming from a demon.’ You wanted to say but refrained yourself. It would do you no good to pick a fight with Minho. No, you needed his help and if you had to deal with his pettiness and hatred – you will.

“I didn’t know he was an angel!” You said instead, a little bit more confident.

Sadly for you, Minho was far from ready to accept this excuse, even if you were right. Demons and angels had at least two things in common. One, they could hide their identity without trouble. Nobody could tell them apart from humans. Two, they were biggest liars in the world. “Oh come on! They’re not that hard to distinguish.”

“To you maybe! But I’m human, Minho, in case you had forgotten. I don’t see a fucking difference if you don’t show it! I would have never guessed you were a demon just like I couldn’t tell he was an angel.”

“Were you that desperate to get fucked?”

On second thought, to hell with needing his help. You were clearly out of your mind to think even for a second that Minho would accept to help you, to shelter you. You had spent the last ten days running away, never staying more than a night at the same place, too scared to be found, too scared Hana would be taken from you. But Minho’s hatred for angels was apparent and so was his resentment for you. You had to leave before it was too late.

“Fuck you, Minho.”

Hana stirred in your arms, sensing your distress and hurt and anger. You pulled her closer to your face and peppered her tiny face with kisses, trying to comfort her, to tell her that everything was fine as long as they were together. Nobody could take her away from you – you would fight till death.

You turned around to leave for good this time. There was no coming back. But before you could even take two steps, Minho grabbed your shoulder. You didn’t dare to turn around and look at him, too scared of what you would see on his face.

In this moment, Minho hated his treacherous heart for acting on its own accord. He had watched you leave once and it left him in pieces. He couldn’t do it a second time. Maybe he was out of his mind and maybe he would come to regret his decision, but right now, seeing your body so frail, yet your spirit wild and fierce – he couldn’t ignore it.

“Stay with me. For tonight at least.” He finally said. He knew, he probably should apologize for his harsh words, but he couldn’t. “You need some rest and I guess-“ He paused and peaked over your shoulder at Hana. Damn, she was only a few days old but he could already see traces of you on her face. He took a deep breath, “And I guess Hana needs some rest too.”

That night, Minho didn’t get any sleep. His mind was restless, head filled with thoughts of you, of your baby and nothing else. For a while, he laid in his bed, pondering over what he should do with you. Should he let you leave? Should he help you? He was far from being fond of angels but he didn’t want them at his doorsteps either. Not that he was scared of them, quite the opposite. But the truce between angels and demons lasted for the past five hundred years and it should stay this way.

Realizing that he wouldn’t get any sleep, Minho got out of his bed and despite the little voice in his head telling him to stay away from the room you slept in, he walked inside the room. You were sleeping tightly, curled around Hana, keeping her close in fear she would be taken from you.

Now that his anger lessened, he wanted to know the full story. He wanted to know how you managed to go back to your life while he was stuck with the memories of your love. He wanted to know how and why your path crossed with a bloody angel and how in the world he managed to get you pregnant. It was possible, Hana was a living proof, but it wasn’t that easy. Was he jealous? Maybe a little.

“This is madness.” He told himself, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You had lost weight, too much even, he could see it. For a moment, he wondered how you managed to give birth to a healthy little girl while being in such state.

Hana opened her eyes, sensing another presence in the room, a shadow hovering over them. She stared at Minho; his eyes flashed red but she didn’t cry, she didn’t budge and simply stared at him in wonder.

“Hello there.” Minho whispered, lightly surprise that the baby didn’t show any fear with his presence.

Hana’s response came in the form of outstretched, tiny arms. Her eyes shone brightly and turned gold.

“Huh. Now, aren’t you precious.” Minho leaned over her to have a better look, his own hand outstretched but he hesitated. She was the result of you and an angel, this thought alone disgusted him. But could he really hate such an innocent part of you? Hana made the decision for him; she didn’t hesitate as she grabbed his finger with impressive strength. Ten days old or not, she was half angel and her strength was already manifesting. “It’s gonna be fun, I can tell.”

Hana seemed to agree as she held his finger a little tighter.

The next time Minho visited your room, you were awake and feeding Hana. You sat by the window, enjoying some ray of sun.

You glanced at him, your heart pounding in your chest at the simple sight of him. There was a lot to discuss, you knew but it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Minho leaned against the wall and watched you from afar. Ten hours of sleep and you looked more alive than last night but still not enough. Your face was sunk, dark circles under your eyes. It would take you more than one good night of sleep to recover and he was perfectly aware of that.

“You look like shit.” He commented and slapped himself mentally for being rude, unprovoked.

“You would be too after giving birth and running away right away.” Instead of feeling offended by his statement, because he was right, you did look like shit and you felt like shit too, you simply cocked a brow at him.

“Nah. They would be all dead if it was me.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course, he would say something like that. But then, you guessed he was right. “Right. The almighty Minho.”

“I actually like the sound of that.” The corner of his mouth turned up, amused with the small banter. It felt better than he expected.

For a moment, it felt like the three years had never happened. You were in his house, with him and joking around. Minho could lie to himself as much as he wanted, but he missed it. A lot.

He cleared his throat and drew closer. He sat on the other side of the bed, keeping his distance just in case you didn’t want him so close. And maybe, a little for his own safety. “We should talk.”

Hana yawned in your arms and slowly closed her eyes. The two of you watched her fall asleep, completely unaware of the dangers lurking in every corner.

“She took after you.” Minho commented, his voice gentle, betraying the fact that he was already growing fond of the little girl, not caring about the fact that she was half-enemy.

“She’s only 11 days old. No way you can tell she looks like me.” You snorted

“But she does.” Minho insisted. “Moreover, she’s half-angel, Y/N, she doesn’t age the same way as you, human do.”

You opened your mouth to protest but then his words dawned on you. You looked down at Hana. You hadn’t seen many babies in your life, but one look at Hana and you would never believe she was only few days old. She looked older. It terrified you to even think how she would look in few months. “How does it work?”

Minho could taste your fear, your pain, he couldn’t ignore it even if he tried. “Don’t worry. It will slow down eventually. You have years before she reaches adulthood.”

You looked at him hopeful. Was he trying to simply appease your mind or was he telling the truth? “Really?”

“Yes.” You almost whipped in relief but held back. You were so damn tired, your emotions were overloaded and it was getting harder and harder to keep it together. But you had to, for Hana’s sake.

“How did it happen?” Minho finally asked and pointed at Hana.

“Apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson. Looks can be deceiving and I fell right for it again.” You didn’t intend to sound so bitter but your words hit Minho like a slap. You regretted instantly. “Sorry.”

Minho curled his fists on his laps and tried not to think about his feelings, tried not to think about an angel having you when it was supposed to be him. He tried not to think about how much having you at his place tortured him. “How did you find out he was an angel?” “Well, did you know that my pregnancy didn’t last nine months but five? I got worried with how big I was getting so I went to-“ You stopped and bit on your lips. The name you were about to drop would not please Minho.

“Who did you go to, Y/N?” He too sensed he wouldn’t like your answer.

You cleared your throat. “Amy.”

Minho growled, annoyance showing. “You got to be kidding me.”

“Listen!” You slowly put Hana back on the bed, trying not to wake her up. “I know you were never fond of her and I figured once I found out about that witches and demons don’t get along but I was terrified. Doctors couldn’t explain what was wrong with me but she did.”

Minho tried to be reasonable and forced himself to not make any comment. He didn’t think your story could get any worse but it did with the mention of the witch. Witches couldn’t be trusted. They obeyed to no rules except their owns. “Did she ask something in return of her help?” You paused and simply stared at him. You obviously didn’t know many witches or demons or angels but judging from Minho’s question you easily guessed that his past experiences were bad. “Amy is a friend, Minho. Witch or not. She helped me to go through the pregnancy and she helped me to deliver Hana.”

“She’s a witch.”

“And a friend.” You defended her stubbornly. Amy was a sweet friend, the only one you trusted. Especially after the attack. “You can hate her all you want but you have to know that Amy took huge risks for my sake.” The night everything changed was still fresh in your mind and still just as painful. “Mere hours after Hana’s birth, he came for her along with other angels.”

Before you could even finish, Minho knew where you were heading. He expected nothing less from angels. For both, demons and angels, it was rare to have children, full blooded or not; they would never leave a special child like Hana behind.

“He tried to convince me to give Hana up. Told me it was for the best and that I wouldn’t even know what to do with a special girl like her. And he’s right. I know shit about angels and I don’t want to know. But I will never give up on my flesh and blood. She’s mine.”

Your voice was filled with venom and anger and a will so strong, Minho could feel it in his bones. He could almost pity the angels who dared to go against a mother, against you. Whoever was Hana’s father, knew nothing about you, otherwise he would have known not to mess with you.

“Amy blasted them away.” You continued. “And even if it was a small victory, I was glad. But I also realized that I couldn’t stay with Amy. They would come back and this time they will be prepared. Amy did the only thing she could to protect me.”

Minho had a hard time to believe that a witch would go to such extent for a human. It seemed unfathomable and yet, Minho saw that Amy truly cared about you. At first, he thought it was another fool play, a trick, but he had to admit defeat.

He rubbed his neck, unsure of what he should tell you. Should he reassure you? Should he be honest with you? “They will come back for her. Angels are petty assholes; they do not forgive. By helping you, she pissed them off.”

You didn’t want to think about what they would do to Amy; you guessed it could get ugly but Hana was your priority, you couldn’t worry for someone else. But you did. What if Amy got hurt because of you? Or worse, what if they kill her? “They won’t kill her, will they?”

Minho’s silence spoke louder. He didn’t think the angels would kill her, no matter how much they hated everything that weren’t them. Witches were dangerous and angering them would not be wise. But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt her enough to make her pay.

“They won’t kill her.” He said in the end. “What happened after you left her?”

“I’ve been running ever since that night.” You admitted. “I didn’t know where to hide and my body started failing me.”

“So you came to me instead.” Minho wasn’t sure how he felt about it. A tiny part of him was glad that you considered him safe enough to seek his help, but the bitter part of him, the jealous monster wanted to scream at you, to bite you, to hurt you the same way you had hurt him. He did none of that. Minho closed his eyes and took another deep breath before opening his eyes and look at you. “Rest. We’ll talk more when you feel better.”

As Minho left your room, hand still on the knob, he wondered what he should do. He knew you were right; Amy had taken a huge risk by fighting angels, they would come to punish her. It didn’t sit right with him. She was a witch but she was your friend who stood by your side.

“You’re making me do some crazy things, Y/N.” Minho muttered as he shook his head in disbelief. He owed you nothing and yet.

“Watch after her while I’m away.” Minho ordered and a shadow moved on the wall in response.

“Your place is boring and so witchy.” Minho commented as he appeared by the fireplace in Amy’s home.

If Amy was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it, instead she kept mixing the herbs. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“True, but I still thought you needed it.” Minho answered unbothered as he stepped closer to her. The last, and only time he had seen Amy was the day you innocently introduced her to him. Amy, the best friend who happened to be a damn witch. To say that Minho was not thrilled with the knowledge would be an understatement and the feelings were mutual.

“What are you doing here, Minho?” Amy finally asked, still without looking at him. “If you’re looking for Y/N, she’s not here.”

“I know. She’s at my place.” Minho didn’t hide this fact.

Amy snapped her head towards him, shocked with this piece of information. She opened her mouth and closed instantly, words lost on the tip of her tongue. Realizing she had finally showed him her face, she lowered her head to avoid his gaze. She didn’t want him to judge or pity her.

But it was too late, Minho had seen it all and he didn’t like it. He hoped he would get there first, but the angels worked faster, they wanted their revenge. They hadn’t wasted their time. Fist clenched, he slowly approached her and crouched down before her. “And they say demons are cruel.” Gently he pushed some strands of hair from her face to expose more of the ugly scars the angels have left behind.

“They couldn’t kill me because of my lineage.” Amy admitted, “Something about a truce with my coven.”

Angels and their truce, bullshits, Minho refrained from saying.

“I suppose you already tried to heal it?”

“Of course. No spells, no potions worked. I’m no match to a freaking angel.” Amy replied with bitterness.

“Well, aren’t you lucky I’m a demon.” Minho’s eyes shone a bright red. Angry, furious even. His hands were itchy, he wanted to fight and to kill.

“Wha-“ Amy didn’t have time to react; Minho’s hands were already on her face, his grip firm but gentle, making sure not to hurt her. “What are you doing?”

“Let’s say it’s my way of thanking you for taking care of Y/N.” It was the truth. Of course, it pleased him to go against angels’ plans without them even knowing it, but the main reason was you. He knew you; if you ever found out about Amy’s state you would never forgive yourself.

“Why?”

“Because she’s the only one I have ever loved.” Minho straightened and looked down on her. “She worries for you.”

Amy shook her head in disbelief and chuckled. “So typical Y/N.”

When Minho got back from Amy’s place, his feet led him straight to your room, his body knowing better what he wanted than his mind. You were sleeping peacefully, body curled around Hana, in protection once more. Even unconscious you wanted to make sure she was safe. Minho hated this situation with all his being, but he couldn’t deny that motherhood suited you.

Just when he thought about leaving your room, Hana’s little giggle caught his attention. Slowly, he approached the bed and hovered over your bodies. Hana was wide awake, her eyes shining brightly and with something very familiar to Minho: mischief.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” He cocked a brow at her. He shook his head, realizing he was getting either stupid or just tired, thinking she could understand him.

But Hana did understand him as she managed to shake her head, something such a young baby wasn’t supposed to do. Angel’s blood was running strong in her veins.

Hana outstretched her arms, wanting Minho to take her in his arms. He hesitated. It wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t want to get any more involved but Hana had a strong will, something he was familiar with. She frowned at him and tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh hell no. Don’t do that.” He hurried to take her in his arms. One hand holding as carefully as he could her head, the other wrapped around her tiny body. “Let your mommy sleep. She’s exhausted.”

Hana’s response came in the form of a light slap on his nose, followed by another small giggle.

Minho’s heart did a little flip; how could he resist her natural charms? He could be jealous of the situation, wishing none of that had happened, wishing Hana was his daughter - in the end, he couldn’t come to hate her. Not when she was a piece of you. Not when she stared at him with the same bright eyes as yours.

“Come on. Since you don’t want to sleep anymore, I’m going to entertain you while your mommy is resting.”

Till this day, Minho thought that babies and him would never get along. He thought wrong. Or maybe it was just because Hana was a special baby. She wasn’t afraid of him, not even when his eyes turned red and he tried to scare her. No, she simply giggled and moved her tiny arms, trying to grab his face. Few days old and she was already fearless, he could already imagine the troubles she would bring once older. But he liked it. More than he thought he would.

“What am I gonna do with you hm?” He asked

Hana wiggled in his arms, pushing him as strongly as she could, without words trying to make him understand what she wanted. Minho quirked a brow, amused at her attempt to escape his arms. He put her on the couch and observed how easily she rolled over and got on her knees. She stared at her hands, scrunched up her face in concentration. She pushed, once, twice, until she managed to straighten her body and sit only on her knees. A squeal of satisfaction left her lips and she clapped her tiny hands.

“Well done.” Minho watched her, amazed. He sat on the floor, leaning on his hands as he watched her proudly. “I think it won’t take you long to start walking.” In fact, he was pretty sure it would only take another day or two – way to give you another heart attack, he believed.

“I wonder what else you inherited from him.” Minho tried to sound as neutral as he could manage, but even the thought of the bloody angel made his blood boil. He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image of you and an angel from his mind. He tried not to think about the fact that someone else touched you, someone else saw your beautiful smile, someone else heard your pretty moans. He clenched his fists so tight, his knuckles turned white – Hana groaned while trying to reach for him.

“Wha-hold on.” He hurried to outstretch his arms and catch her before she could fall from the couch in her attempt to get to him. “What were you trying to do, little one hm?”

In response, Hana touched his face, at first it seemed like she wanted to pat his cheeks but then she poked playfully his cheeks instead and giggled. Minho blinked in confusion only to realize that it was her unique way to comfort him.

Minho couldn’t help; his mouth curled into a smile. “Thank you, little one.”

Minho felt you way before he saw you. Not like it was hard to miss when your steps were loud and hurried. And not like he could ignore the taste of your panic. You ran down the stairs, almost falling but catching yourself on time.

“Don’t break your neck right now.” Minho commented from the couch, frowning at your sudden appearance.

You opened your mouth to speak and closed it right away. All your panic vanished at the sight of Hana, sitting comfortably on Minho’s laps, playing with his hands and looking incredibly happy. Your heart was still roaring in your ears; you woke up to an empty bed and for a moment, you thought he had found you.

“I-“ But you couldn’t think straight.

Minho shook his head and averted his eyes from you. “Take a seat. Hana was getting impatient. She wanted to see you.” Not that she could speak and tell him that, but from her behavior, he guessed. She wanted her mom, no matter how nice Minho was.

You did just as he said and sat on the chair across from him. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Minho was so gentle and so comfortable with Hana. She tugged at his hands, conveying a silent message and he chuckled in response. Minho gently scooped Hana in his arms and brought her to you. Having Hana back in your arms had a healing and soothing effect on you, and yet, before you could fully have her, Hana grabbed his fingers and held tightly.

“I think she likes me.” Minho stated the obvious but with so much fondness, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

“I see that.” Your heart swelled with love and a little bit of pride; Hana could already discern who was good and who wasn’t. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“What?” You looked at him in disbelief. There was no way you had slept three days. Of course, you were very much aware that your body had reached its limit while you were running away from a horde of angels, but maybe you hadn’t realized the extent of the damages to your body. But it wasn’t the only reason of your disbelief. Minho had taken care of Hana for three days and judging from their little exchange, you believed they had bonded.

You looked at Hana and finally noticed the changes in your baby. You had been out for three days and she already looked different. Older. Nobody would believe she was only days old.

Minho noticed the change in your mood and kneeled before you, Hana still holding his fingers. “She looks more and more like you.” And he wasn’t lie. He had three days to observe, to witness firsthand the changes. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, it was all you and Minho truly believed that she would look even more like you once older.

“She’s growing so fast.” You whispered, terrified of what it meant. “How-“

With his free hand, Minho put his hand on your knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. A simple gesture that set your body on fire. His touch was so familiar, your body reacted on its own, without you being able to control it.

“I promise you, it will slow down.” He tried to reassure you. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Hana who smiled at him. “I-“ He hesitated and couldn’t believe he was about to say it. For the past three days, he thought about what he was supposed to do with you and Hana. The reasonable thing would be to let you leave once you recovered but his heart was begging him to do something else. Something unfathomable. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes widened in shock, so shocked your body shook. “You can’t be serious.” It was what you wanted, of course, what you hoped for but hearing him say the words took you completely off guard. How could he let you stay after you broke his heart? How could he let you stay when you cursed him for what he was and yet had a child with an angel?

“Trust me, I am.” Minho sighed as he got back on his feet.

“Minho.” You didn’t know what to say. Of course, you were overwhelmed; his presence, his gentleness with your baby, him being too understanding. You didn’t deserve any of that, you knew it and so did he. Before your mind could spiral even more, Hana giggled and clapped her hands as if she understood the meaning behind Minho’s words. The two of you looked at her, you amazed and Minho with a soft smile.

“See. She agrees.”

Even after three years of not visiting Minho’s place, everything stayed the same. The same minty and wooden scent all around the place. Same furniture. Same decoration. But what amazed you the most, and tug at your heart, was the fact that he kept the traces of you. Your little presents, the pictures, he kept it all. Minho was just too good. He could have erased all memories, or traces of you but he had a gentle soul. If demons had one.

You stared for a moment at a picture. The two of you smiling happily together with the beach on the background. You remembered this day vividly, even now. You had begged Minho to come with you to the beach. You were stubborn but so was he, except that you had an advantage, a joker to use against him: he was weak for your puppy-eyes game. He had stayed out of water for the biggest part of the day, but it was enough for you.

You traced the frame with your finger and smiled at the memory. You had pushed him a lot that day which ended with Minho throwing you right into the sea, laughing evilly at you.

You missed the old days.

With a heavy heart, you averted your eyes from the happy picture and resumed your walking. You woke up with an idea on mind: make breakfast for the three of you. There wasn’t much you could do to show your gratitude but cooking was a good start.

Easily, you found everything you needed in his kitchen. You hummed to yourself and started cutting the vegetables. One thing, you and Minho shared was that you both loved salty and sweet breakfast.

“You look better.” Minho’s rough, still sleepy voice interrupted you.

You halted and slowly raised your head to look at him. He rubbed his eyes and then stared back.

It shouldn’t be allowed to look this good, you told yourself but quickly shook this thought off your mind. It wasn’t right for you to admire him.

“Hana?”

“Still sleeping. I think she likes the bed you brought her.” The moment Minho had decided that the two of you should stay with him, for safety, he made some changes to your room. Even if, you didn’t mind sleeping with Hana beside you, he put a nice cradle in your room. The cradle wasn’t the only addition to your room. Shelves filled with plushies and nice accessories were added. He wanted the two of you to feel at ease, at home. It reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place. Despite his cold demeanor, he was the sweetest and gentlest lover. He cared deeply. Even now.

“Good.” He walked behind you, arm brushing yours – it sent shivers down your spine. You cursed your body once more for being so easily affected, for longing for him, for anything. “Let me help you.”

Minho took a look at the ingredients you displayed on the table and quickly understood what you had on mind. “I’ll prepare the pancakes.”

So easily he saw through you. It was disarming, in a way. You cleared your throat and forced your eyes to keep their focus on the vegetables. “Thank you.”

But who in their right mind could concentrate? You couldn’t. You kept glancing as discretely as possible at him. You didn’t know how he managed to stay so composed, so focused on his tasks while you couldn’t. Your heart was beating loud against your ribs, too loud for your liking. What if demons had enhanced hearing? You didn’t need him to find out how you truly felt about his presence.

But maybe you should have been paying more attention to your work instead of focusing so much on your thoughts and on him. One moment of inattention and you cut your finger.

“Fuck!” You cursed and held your finger. Fortunately for you, the cut wasn’t too deep but deep enough for your finger to bleed. Quickly, you got to the sink and let the cold water wash your cut.

“Let me see.” Minho told you as he gently grabbed your hand and inspected it.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you were unable to avert your eyes from his face. He was so concentrated on your cut, frowning at it. “It’s not that bad.” It really wasn’t. But then, Minho brought your finger to his lips, his eyes on you. “What are you-“ But you never managed to finish; Minho parted his lips and brought your finger to his mouth.

“Minho!” You gasped and tried to pull away from his grip, but he didn’t budge. At all. Instead, you felt his tongue swirled around your finger. Your face heated up with embarrassment, your heart on the brink of explosion. You were in so much trouble.

Satisfied with your reaction, Minho let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving your face. He licked his lips and smirked. “Now, better?”

The cut had simply vanished. You blinked in confusion as you inspected your finger. You came to realize that there was so much you had to learn about demons and their powers. “Was it really necessary?” You tried to hide your embarrassment but your face was too red.

“No. But watching you squirm was priceless.” He admitted, smugly.

“Dick.”

Minho had always been a light sleeper, always on alert; call it years of war between angels and demons, attacks were frequent, danger everywhere, he had to adapt. The moment he heard Hana’s first, tiny sob, he was already out of bed and on his way to your room. He didn’t need to, obviously, you were sleeping in the same room as Hana but his body, possessed clearly, moved on its own. Before she could even start fully crying, she was already in his arms.

“Sshhh pretty. Let’s not wake your mommy, hmm?” Minho whispered as he rocked her, slowly moving in your room.

“Minho?” You called, voice weak, eyes barely opened. You tried to rub the sleepiness from your eyes with no success.

He looked at you, his lips stretched into a small smile. “Go back to sleep.”

Barely realizing what was going on, you did exactly what he said. You lay down, closed your eyes and let his pretty voice lull you back to sleep.

“Better.” Minho averted his attention to Hana and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She giggled in return, happy with the outcome.

You woke up to the gentle chirp of birds. Your window was opened, not that you remembered opening it last night, but for once you didn’t panic. You also didn’t panic not to find Hana in her cradle. Instead, your chest warmed at the thought of Hana being again with Minho. When you first decided to come to him, you never expected to stay and you certainly didn’t expect him to grow so fond of her. It was a miracle. A miracle, you welcomed with opened arms and a little regret. If only you didn’t act so childish back then. If only you had listened to your heart, then maybe, the situation would have been different for the better. Of course, you didn’t regret having Hana, she was your precious treasure, your blood and flesh and you would risk everything for her, even your life. But maybe, it could have been different. Maybe, if you had stayed, she would have been his.

“Stop it.” You scolded yourself. Regrets were useless right now.

You climbed off the bed. One look at the window and you guessed it was already late and way past breakfast time. You grabbed the closest piece of cloth; a simple grey hoodie that Minho had left for you. As you put it on, you got overwhelmed with the familiar and comforting scent. His scent. You pushed the collar closer to your nose and with closed eyes you inhaled his scent. Memories flooded your mind. Memories of sweet kisses, of heated touches, of lovely words, of safety. You missed those times.

On tiptoes, you left your room. Minho’s house was calm, too calm for a place where now lived a baby. You expected to find them easily but no, no sign of Minho and Hana in the living room. You glanced over your shoulder, at Minho’s bedroom door. You hesitated. Were you really ready to go back to this familiar room? A place you had stayed for hours, lying in bed, most of the time naked, under him, on top of him, in the safety of his arms.

You closed your eyes as a particular good memory flashed through your mind.

Flashback

It was way past your bedtime and Minho knew he shouldn’t keep you awake any longer if he wanted you to rest and look good on your first day of work. But Minho had a tendency to be selfish. He wanted to talk more, to touch you more, to feel more of you. Who could blame he when you looked so sweet against him? He had one hand in the air and you didn’t hold back from touching him. Feather like touches, you traced the shape of his fingers, of every vein.

“I love your hands.” You whispered, captivated.

Minho chuckled in response, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek. “I wonder why.”

You rolled your eyes at his remark. So typical of him. Instead you feigned innocence. “What? They’re pretty.” They truly were and he certainly knew how to use them to make you lose your mind.

“What else?” His voice got darker; it should have been your clue not to push if you wanted to sleep but you couldn’t resist.

“I lose my sanity whenever I see your pretty hands.” You admitted. How many times you found yourself staring at his hands? How many times, he caught you red handed, imagining all the things he could do with those pretty hands?

Minho’s smirk grew wider at your confession. He rolled right on top of you and admired your body under him. You were just so damn beautiful. The most beautiful person in the world. With your wild hair splayed all across the pillow, with your pink swollen lips, with your pretty neck covered in marks.

“And what do you imagine?” His hand found your throat only to slid down slowly from there to your collarbone, to between your breasts. He watched every breath you took, every raise of your chest, every bite on your lips. “Do you imagine how good it feels?” And they slid further down, to your stomach, feather life touches that set your body on fire, pushing yourself more against him, to feel more of him - he smirked, satisfied.

“Or do you imagine how good my fingers feel inside you?” He asked as he brushed your clit playfully.

“Shit.” You mewled. How did he always manage to get you so needy? Always ready to beg him to play with you, to take you. You just couldn’t say no. And you didn’t want to either.

“Is it what you want, love?” He teased your entrance by pushing a finger inside and retreating right after, making you whimper in despair and need.

“Yes. Shit, baby, please, I need you so badly.” You pleaded and pushed your hips, hoping to get more.

Minho tsked and shook his head. “Such a greedy baby. I thought you told me you had enough for tonight?” And he teased again, watching with awe and love as you let out low whimpers.

“I can’t get enough of you.” You were ready to say anything to please him and get what you needed. But it wasn’t a lie. No matter how many times Minho touched you, ruined you, you were always left begging for more. You just couldn’t get enough. You were addicted and he was the best drug you could have asked for.

“Is that so?” He hummed, satisfied with your answer. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against yours. “Always so good for me, kitten.” His lips trailed from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, leaving in his trail tiny bites as he pushed a finger inside you. “I believe you deserve a reward.”

You let out a sob of relief as he added another finger, stretching you in a delicious way. But the moment he latched his lips around your nipple, was truly the moment you lost it. You arched your back, pushing your chest further. You plunged your fingers into his hair, tugging at the locks, feeling his deep groan against your skin - a sexy groan that made you clench around his fingers.

For once, Minho didn’t try to control you; he let you rock your hips as you needed to feel his fingers deeper inside you. He let you touch him however you wanted, enjoying every tug on his hair, every little scratch you made - he took everything.

“Is it what you had imagined?” He asked as he curled his fingers inside you making it impossible for you to speak, a loud moan escaping your pretty lips instead. Minho smiled proudly, feeling that you were close. “Come for me, love. Show me how happy your greedy pussy is.”

And you gladly did.

Back to present.

Your face heated at the memory alone. It happened long ago and yet your body remembered everything; every touch, every kiss, every mark Minho left.

“Get a grip!” You scolded yourself and slapped your cheeks for good measure. You couldn’t have this thoughts, not now and especially not when you were heading for his room.

Despite being more than familiar and comfortable with his place, you knocked at the door – no response. Without making any noise, you pushed the door to his room. The room was plunged into full darkness, except for his bedside lamp that was on, the light illuminating the bed and Minho. Minho who was soundly asleep, Hana sleeping on his chest with Minho’s arm around her. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Every time you witnessed some interaction between your little girl and Minho, your heart almost broke with joy.

“Aren’t you guys super cute.” You whispered to yourself, your hand pressed to your chest as if you could save your little heart from the lovely sight. You wished you had your phone with you so you could take a picture of this moment and maybe so you could tease Minho about being completely in love with Hana.

You smiled to yourself and let them sleep some more.

In a matter of few days, Minho came to realization that your presence along with Hana’s at his place was more than welcomed and felt absolutely natural. He never thought he would need something like that. He never thought he needed a family. For a demon, to wish for a family it was unheard of. It was too human, too pathetic and yet, he could now understand this very unfamiliar feeling.

More he spent time with Hana and more he grew fond of her. Every time he held her in his arms, he couldn’t help but wish for her to be his. Every time she held his hand, he wished he could protect her forever. Every little smile, every little giggle, became his most favorite thing in the world. And you. You, no matter how much he wished he could make you pay for the pain you put him through, he couldn’t find it in him. Every time he looked at your face, his heart ached with longing. Every time he found himself in your presence, your sweet, captivating scent brought back unwanted memories, unwanted needs. He couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to hold you in his arms, that he wanted to feel your touch, your kisses.

Before he could get any more lost in his thoughts, Hana, playfully, slapped his cheeks. Once, twice, until he blinked and looked at her and quirked a brow. This girl was too fearless. If only she realized that she was playing with a powerful demon (and even then, he was convinced she would still not care).

“Aren’t you being a little bold today, hm?” He joked and pretended to bite her nose – Hana giggled loudly in response which made his eyes to go soft. Yes, she had him, completely, wrapped around her finger.

“Darling, I’m home!” Jisung appeared out of thin air, right in the middle of the room, just like he always did. He threw himself on the couch, too happy to annoy his friend and completely unaware of two new presences in the house. “Missed me?”

Minho should have known that eventually Jisung would pay him a visit at the most unexpected time. He should have warded his place against everybody to keep his little secret a little longer. But now it was too late; Jisung blinked in confusion as he spotted Hana in his arms.

“Holy shit!” Jisung screamed so loud Hana winced and pressed herself harder against Minho. “No, it can’t be. Is it a baby in your arms?” He shifted on the couch, leaning to get a better look at her and then at him.

“Language.” Minho scolded him. “What does she look like? Of course it’s a baby.”

Jisung couldn’t believe his eyes as he gawked at the two of them for a moment, trying to figure out why a baby was in his house. Why, a demon such as Minho, would even be with a baby. But then and because of his attention on her, Hana tried to hide in Minho’s arms and Jisung thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Minho, the big, bad demon, was babysitting. He burst into laughter, holding his stomach. “The guys will never believe me when I’m gonna tell them about you and the baby.”

The urge to kick Jisung’s ass was strong and for Hana’s sake, Minho had to resist it. Instead, he rolled his eyes at his friend and averted his eyes to you, coming out of the kitchen, the apron still around your body. The simple sight of you lessened his annoyance and the sight of your soft smile melted his heart.

“Guess I was right cooking more than necessary.” You commented as you looked at a very confused Jisung. He hadn’t changed at all, still the same loud boy who adored Minho. Not that you could blame him for it. “Hi Jisung.”

“What?!” Jisung jolted at the sound of your voice that he instantly recognized. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe you were back, looking so comfortable and homy. It didn’t sit right with him. Jisung was never the type to hold back and he was ready to share a piece of his mind but he halted. He looked at you, then slowly looked at Hana, noticing the similarities between the two of you. Then, and even slower, his gaze slid to Minho.

“How? What? When?” Jisung didn’t want to jump to conclusion, but what was he supposed to think when the ex-girlfriend of his best friend suddenly showed up? How was he supposed to react seeing his friend, so comfortable (and a tad overprotective) with a baby who was clearly yours?

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction – Minho gave you the stinky eye in return.

“She’s not mine.” Minho declared to put end to Jisung’s misery and inner turmoil.

Jisung pointed an accusing finger at Minho, scowling. “If she’s not yours, why the hell are you glued to her as if she was yours?”

And just like that, the urge to kick his ass was back. Minho got back on his feet, still holding Hana, as he walked towards you to hand her. You gladly took her in your arms. He lingered, his eyes on Hana and gently patted her head before briefly looking at you.

“See. This is exactly why I’m not believing you when you say she’s not yours.” Jisung commented, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at you.

You couldn’t blame Jisung for thinking this way; Minho was truly sweet and protective over Hana as if she was his own. If only.

Minho sighed and turned to face his friend. “Can’t you tell what she is?”

Jisung tilted his head to the side and truly looked at Hana. It didn’t take long for his eyes to widen in shock as realization dawned on him. He opened his mouth and closed it then looked at you. “What the hell?!”

“Language.” Minho repeated himself.

“Minho.” Jisung inhaled sharply, bracing himself. “Why the-why is Y/N here with a baby?” Then his gaze slid to you, frowning and not hiding his dislike. His eyes turned purple, revealing what was hiding beneath this pretty, cute face. You should have known that he was just like Minho and yet it took you by surprise.

“Jisung.” Minho warned him, standing now right before you, shielding you from him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Jisung snarled in response. He didn’t look so cute and harmless anymore. Far from it. He took a step towards you. “She left you for a fu-freaking angel, got a baby and now she’s crawling back to you? Did I miss anything?”

“I didn’t leave him for an angel.” You fought back. You understood his anger; he had all the rights in the world to be angry with you but he didn’t have the right to twist your story.

“And yet here you are with this thi-“ Jisung never managed to finish his sentence. Whatever he was about to say turned into a shriek as he found himself thrown against a wall with so much strength it left a crack in the wall.

You blinked in confusion before slowly looking down at your little girl. Hana had her arm outstretched and looked upset, her eyes glowing. So small, so young and yet she already showed so much strength; you couldn’t imagine how stronger she could get.

If you were both impressed and scared with Hana’s display of power, Minho simply chuckled and ruffled Hana’s hair before walking to his friend.

“Guess she doesn’t like you.” Minho commented, smirking at Jisung. He grabbed his arm and helped him back on his feet. “Better watch out or she might throw you through the window next time.”

Jisung whined in response but didn’t comment, still stunned with the outcome.

“So. Let me make sure I understood everything. You met an angel without knowing he was one - I still don’t know how you didn’t notice, they’re just bunch of assholes.” That earned him a slap on the back of his head from Minho and a roll of eyes from you. “Whatever. Anyway. He got you pregnant and once you found out what he was you run away. Sounds familiar.”

You took the blow without a word. But Minho thought differently. He kicked Jisung under the table.

“Don’t be an asshole.” Minho scolded him.

“Language.” You scolded him in return, even if Hana was asleep in your arms. “I ran away because he wanted to take her away from me.”

Jisung thought about it for a moment. He looked at Hana then back at you and nodded. “No wonder they want her. They will come for her.” Jisung was scared to ask what the plan was. More he looked at his friend, at his odd behavior and more it worried Jisung. He didn’t hate you, he hated your choice but he also knew you were good for Minho. But you being back with something their enemies wanted badly, was trouble they should avoid. “What’s the plan?”

“She’s staying with me.” Minho answered without hesitation.

“Are you mad? She can’t!” Jisung jumped from his place and slammed his hands on the table. “You know they will fight to get her back.”

“Let them fight. I don’t care.” Minho shrugged. He looked nonchalant about the whole mess and yet you saw through him. He was slowly losing patience.

“I care!” Jisung insisted. “We’ve been at peace with them for centuries! You can’t throw away the peace just for her!”

Instead of answering, Minho looked at Jisung right into his eyes. He was cold, indifferent and yet his eyes were burning with rage. “Let them come. I dare them to take Y/N and Hana from me.”

“Is there really a truce between demons and angels?” You asked as you sat beside Minho on the bench outside his house. The weather was lovely, but it looked too calm for your liking. Especially after the talk with Jisung. Despite Minho’s reassuring words, you couldn’t stop worrying. At any moment angels could appear, provoke a fight in order to get Hana back. And what could you do to stop it? Nothing.

Minho didn’t want to talk about it. Not because it was a forbidden subject but because he had a feeling you would try to leave the moment you found out how bad it could get because of his decision.

“You’re worried because of what Jisung said.” He said instead and observed you. You were avoiding his eyes; your gaze glued to your hands as you kept playing with your fingers, nervous.

“And you’re avoiding my question.”

Minho sighed in defeat. “So stubborn.” Nevertheless, a smile tugged at his lips.

“Minho.”

“Fine. Yes, there is a truce.”

Your heart leapt in your throat at his admission. “I can’t stay here. You had enough shit to deal with.” You stood up from your seat only for Minho to grab your hand and pull you back.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growled dangerously at you. The mention of the truce was enough to turn his mood sour but the mention of you leaving was even worse.

One glance from him should have silenced you but your fears were stronger than his menacing glare.

“You know I can’t stay!” You protested, body fully turned to him. “I brought my problems to your doorstep because I knew the only place I could be safe would be with you. But I didn’t know the consequences. I can’t let you risk all for me.”

“Shut up.” Minho snapped, his eyes turning red. Minho was pissed, alright. He tried desperately to keep his temper in check but your words and the simple mention of you leaving pushed him to the edge.

“Min-“

“You made your choice three years ago. Let me make mine today.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The moment he opened his eyes, they were back to their normal color. All trace of anger vanished just like that and was replaced with softness and sorrow. “It’s unfair how much hold you have over me, Y/N. It’s dangerous for so many reasons, but it seems that I just don’t care. You could stamp on my heart again and I’ll let you.”

Once more, he took your hand and squeezed gently. His hand was warm and soft and so comforting you almost wept. “I wish I could hate you.”

“But you don’t.”

“No I don’t.”

Living with Minho was everything you had imagined it would be and more. Easy, comfortable, filled with banters and sweet moment that usually involved him and Hana. You easily found the right rhythm that suited the two of you. Whenever he had to leave, he always made sure that someone he trusted stayed behind. Sometimes it was Jisung, sometimes it was another of his friends. All of them were wary of Hana at first and of you of course, but one big smile from Hana and they melted. Especially Jisung.

Just like that six months passed. Hana’s power grew stronger every day; throwing people against walls was the least of your concern. Whenever she threw a tantrum the whole place would shake and things would fly around. If at first it scared you because you had absolutely no clue how to deal with such incredible and powerful baby, you got used to it. Minho happened to be a great help with it too. A flash of his bright red eyes and Hana would always calm down. Sometimes later, you believed, she would go against him but for now it did the trick.

Hana’s powers weren’t the only thing that grew. She did too. Despite being only six months old, she looked much older. And she could talk which made things much easier and your life livelier.

Your life turned out as normal as it could get with a half angel baby and a life with a demon, but there was still one thing that bothered you. The lack of activities from angels. Minho barely talked about it, telling you every single time not to worry, that he would deal with it when times come but it made you wonder. Did he talk to them? Did he persuade them to give up? You gathered from the few conversations with Jisung that Minho was someone angels avoided and would not mess up with unless necessary. It made you wonder just how strong Minho was.

“A problem for another day.” You told yourself as you took a deep breath.

You put the different snacks on the plate and headed outside to join both Minho and Hana. The weather was lovely and perfect, not too hot and not too cold, just what you needed to enjoy a little afternoon all together. A big blanket was splayed on the ground, Minho laying on it with Hana sitting on his chest and clapping her hands.

Despite living under the same roof, you didn’t witness many times his display of power. Today however he was using it freely for Hana’s pure enjoyment. Butterflies formed from shadows flied all around them, all around Hana, playing with her hair. It was a pretty sight and you enjoyed it almost as much as Hana did.

“I think it’s the first time I’m seeing you use your powers.” You admitted as you put the plate beside them but still far enough to avoid any accident. Just as you said those words, a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose, tickling you softly.

Minho looked at you, smiling so fondly, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t tell whether it was because of Hana or because of the two of you but you appreciated the moment all the same. His smile was contagious as you leaned to plant a kiss on Hana’s cheek.

“He made so many butterflies! Just for me!” Hana explained to you, voice filled with excitement and cheerfulness as she spread her arms widely for butterflies to land on her.

“Just for you.” Minho confirmed. Then, with a flick of his hand a shadow formed around you, circling you before taking form. “And this one for you.” A black cat made of shadows.

Hana applauded louder than ever and tried to reach for it– she failed and fell beside Minho. The two of you stared at her, trying desperately to stifle the laugh. Minho being the strongest managed, you, not so much. Hana raised her head and glared at you; her glare reminding you awfully of Minho.

“This is so you.” You pointed at her scowl before looking at him. “She’s imitating you.”

“She’s learning from the best.” He said proudly.

You rolled your eyes at him and chose not to respond. Instead, your attention was on the cat that kept turning around you, brushing your knees every now and then. You reached out to pet it and immediately the cat came to bump its head against your hand. Despite it being made of shadows, it felt warm against the palm of your hand. Warm and familiar – like Minho which you supposed made sense, it was his power, a part of him.

“Just wait when Jisung hears about it.” You teased knowing that Minho would rather die than show his soft side to his friend.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned you sounding threatening if not for his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You were tempting the devil, you knew it and didn’t care. “Or what?”

Minho quirked a brow at your provocation. “Do you really want to find out?”

You grabbed a grape and shoved in your mouth to hide your smile, to hide how this little game was truly affecting you – Minho saw it anyway. “Someone is playing with fire.”

“Who?”

“How cute.”

Your blood froze in your veins. You knew this voice. The deceptive one. The one that made you believe that you could love again. The one that managed to get through the walls you had built around yourself after the breakup. The one that seduced you. He was here. He had found them.

In the blink of an eye, Minho was on his feet, standing before you, fists clenched, eyes red. All trace of happiness, of genuine smiles vanished to replace with wrath and the urge to fight. To protect.

You hurried to scoop Hana in your arms as you stood behind Minho, watching five angels standing too close for your liking. They looked relaxed and satisfied. You bet they were. It took them six months to find you and finally they were so close to their goal.

“I’ve been wondering who managed to hide you so well.” Soobin said, unbothered, completely ignoring Minho’s presence. His eyes were on you and on Hana. “But to think you would hide with a demon. I’m both impressed and disgusted.”

Hana was shaking in your arms. Your grip around her tightened. Just like Minho, you were ready to fight if needed. There was no way you would give up your child, your happiness without a fight.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” And as he said those words, he took few steps towards you.

His mistake. Maybe he should have paid more attention to Minho. To what and who he was. The moment he took those steps, darkness erupted from everywhere. The beautiful blue sky turned black and so did your surroundings. It felt as if life itself was being sucked from everywhere. It was only then that Soobin’s attention shifted to Minho. His eyes widened in shock before his mouth set in a hard line.

“You.”

You stared at Minho’s back in disbelief and wonder at the same time. You thought you knew what he looked like as a demon, thought the only changes were his eyes. You were wrong. So terribly wrong. Because the man that stood protectively between you and the angels looked completely different. Strange and yet still so familiar.

Black marks covered his arms from his wrist to his shoulders and you suspected it went beyond. The tip of his fingers were black and with claws. Even his hair seemed a little longer. Shadows surrounded him, following his every gesture. He looked absolutely deadly and magnificent.

“Take my advice and leave.” Minho simply said. For the sake of his friends, Minho chose to use threats instead of fighting, no matter how much he wanted to kill them all. So what if some angels went missing from heaven? It wouldn’t be a big deal. Good riddance even.

“I can’t.” Soobin recovered quickly. While his friends were ready to fight, he hesitated. “I really don’t want to fight you. Nothing good will come out of it.”

Minho snorted at that. “Why? Scared that this time I will actually end your miserable existence?”

Minho’s remark made you snap from your observation. As you scrutinized the two men, you quickly realized that they shared a past. They knew each other and not only because they were sworn enemies. No. There was something else and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing.

“Mommy, is Minnie in trouble?” Hana whispered as she glanced at Minho. She outstretched her arm, wanting to reach for him but you stopped her by hugging her tighter against you.

Hana, despite her young age, recognized the danger when faced with it. You couldn’t lie and tell her that you weren’t in trouble, but Minho. Minho looked so composed, so confident, it made you wonder who would come out victorious if they fought.

“Don’t worry.” You whispered to her. “Minho is the strongest person I have ever met. If anything, they are in trouble, not him.” You kissed the crown of her head and prayed that it would be over soon.

“Do you think you can fight all of us?” Soobin dared him. Maybe a part of him truly believed that they stood a chance against Minho. Or maybe he bluffed.

“Want to find out?” There was at least one person who wasn’t bluffing and it was Minho.

He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second as his power spread. From the corner of your eyes you spotted movement; fast and lethal. The shadows took form, solidifying, turning into giant monsters that stood beside Minho, protecting him, waiting for his orders.

“She’s mine.” Minho growled. His growl loud, dangerous and filled with so much venom, goosebumps spread all over your skin in response. You didn’t fear Minho. You trusted him with all your being but it didn’t mean your body didn’t recognize the predator that stood before you. The incredibly beautiful predator.

“She’s mine.” He repeated and you swore you heard the monsters repeat his words.

And his words, his possessiveness echoed in your mind, in your heart. And you watched as this beautiful, dangerous man, despite everything, stood proudly before you. Watched him as he was ready to fight for the two of you, not only because he offered you a roof but because he truly cared for Hana. You heard it in his voice. You saw it every day; he truly loved Hana as his own.

Tears shimmered in your eyes as so many emotions raged inside you. Love, gratitude, pain, longing. All of it. You couldn’t stop yourself as his name escaped your lips. It was barely audible but he heard it anyway. He always did.

Minho glanced over his shoulder and your eyes locked for a moment. In this moment, there was so much you wanted to tell him. To tell him you were sorry, to tell him to be careful and that they couldn’t live without a world where he was not. And Minho being Minho understood it. He shook his head and winked playfully at you before returning his attention on the angels.

“Leave.” He said, “You interrupted our peaceful family moment.”

“You’re a fool, Minho.” Was the last thing Soobin said before vanishing along with his friends.

“So I’ve been told.”

The three of you stood in silence for a moment. You, still speechless; because of Minho’s true form and at the same time because he managed to make the angels flee. Minho, because he was still trying to sooth his anger.

“Minho.” You called for him.

Slowly, and after taking a deep breath, he turned to look at you, expecting to see fear and maybe disgust in your eyes. He saw none of it. Instead, he found you standing close to him, your hand outstretched for him to take.

“Let’s get back inside.” And you smiled.

“No! I don’t want to sleep!” Hana protested and kicked her blanket with as much strength as she could muster after a long and rather emotional day.

You frowned at her before looking at Minho in despair. You had tried everything to force her to sleep but nothing worked. It was one of those days.

“What if the bad guys come back?” She muttered as she pressed her teddy-bear closer to her heart. “What if they try to break us apart?”

“Oh baby.” You wrapped your arms around her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “They won’t come back.” At least you hoped so.

Minho joined you on the bed. He leaned closer to Hana and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to worry about the bad guys. I kicked their-“ He stopped himself on time, glanced guiltily at you, before adding, “I mean, we fought already once and they lost. I’ll fight them again and they will lose. Nobody will take you from me.”

“But what if they try to take mommy away?”

Her words hit deeper than you thought. Too scared to see Minho’s reaction, you kept your eyes on her, but your heart was beating fast and loud. Would he fight for you? You didn’t know and were scared to find out.

“Not going to happen.” Minho confirmed and ruffled her hair fondly. “You have nothing to worry about. So sleep or else we’re not getting your favorite cake tomorrow.”

You looked at him, eyes boring into him at his admission. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but his words soothed your fears, more than you were willing to admit.

Once sure Hana was asleep, the two of you left the room. You wanted to talk some more with Minho, to discuss the incident with the angels but it seemed like Minho was either avoiding you or simply had enough for one night.

“You should go back and sleep.” He advised you without looking at you. “Good night, Y/N.”

The wise thing would definitely be to go back to your room and sleep but you were known for not being very wise. He should have known. Without making any sound, you followed him and you bet he knew it.

Minho went back outside, his shadows following him. It made you stop and observe. It fascinated you how they were simply part of him, always following him, protecting him. They spread behind, almost reaching you and halted as if hesitating to touch you.

“You have a mind of your own?” You felt silly for talking to a shadow but it reacted. It moved again and wrapped around your ankle. You expected to shiver, you expected it to be cold but it wasn’t. It was a warm caress. Just like Minho.

You followed Minho outside and the shadow followed your every step, maybe because it was fun or maybe because it appreciated your company.

Minho’s power spread around the house and marks appeared in the air. You didn’t recognize any of them, not even from your time with Amy, but you easily guessed it was in order to protect the place.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asked

“I got distracted.” You admitted

“With what?”

“You.”

Minho chuckled in response, half amused, half surprised with your admission. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he approached you, smirking devilishly at you. And you? You gulped, nervously. To save yourself from this beautiful creature, you averted your eyes from his face.

But Minho was in a rather playful mood. “And how exactly am I distracting you?” A finger under your chin, he tilted your head to make you look at him.

It was pure torture to be so close to him and yet not being able to fully touch him. It was torture to have him watch you so closely – you bit your lips and his eyes followed the gesture.

“Be careful. I might bite.”

Minho thought that nothing could terrify him in this world. He was once more wrong. After the recent events, he came to realize that the idea of losing Hana truly upset him. He couldn’t imagine a day without her. Not anymore. But it wasn’t the only thing that scared him. No. Hearing your screams shattered his heart in thousand pieces.

One scream from you and he was out of his bed and appeared in your room, ready to fight whoever managed to get through his wards. But there was nobody in your room. No signs of breaking. Nothing except for you fighting invisible enemies in your sleep.

“Y/N.” He called for you in hope to wake you from your nightmare.

But you didn’t wake up. Not even when he joined you and grabbed your arms, trying to stop you from hurting yourself. Not even when he took you in his arms and tried to reach your mind.

“Come on, love. Wake up.” He whispered to your ear and kissed your forehead. “You’re safe. Hana is safe. I’m here.”

Minho rocked you in his arms while, slowly, your body started to relax and you stopped fighting. He kept you in his arms and watched your every breath and listened to your heartbeat.

“Come back to me.”

And you did. As you opened your eyes, you were met with the familiar face and soft eyes. With familiar warmth spreading through you.

Minho smiled. “Hi. Bad dream?”

“Yeah. But now I think I’m dreaming again.” You managed to say. You didn’t know what shocked you more; your nightmare or the fact that Minho was in your bed, holding you.

Minho chuckled at your attempt at being funny. “Nope. Not a dream, I’m really here.” And to prove his point, his hold around you tightened. “Make room, I don’t think I can go back to my room now.”

“Who say I want you in my bed?” You obviously wanted him in your bed. Not only because you were scared of having another nightmare, but also because his presence alone was everything you needed. You wanted him close to you, you wanted him to keep holding you.

Minho rolled his eyes and pushed you playfully to make room for himself. He thought he was being polite by asking, but really, his decision was made the moment he got inside your room.

“What a gentleman.” You commented but gladly lifted the blanket for him to settle under.

“A trait of my personality that you used to love.”

“Still do.” You hadn’t meant to speak aloud but the words left your mouth anyway. You froze beside him and then cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t fret.” Minho pulled you back against him as if it was the most natural thing to do. And it used to and it still felt the same. Good. Right. “Was your nightmare about angels?”

You shut your eyes and tried not to think about it, but the image was still fresh in your mind. “Yes. They were trying to take her away from me.”

“You know that I was sincere when I told Hana that I won’t let them take you away right?” But despite the sincerity in his voice, you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want him to see the tears in the corner of your eyes. Minho gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “You do know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, right? Nothing I can deny you.”

“I let you out of my sight once. I’m not doing it again.”

After that night, something had changed between you and Minho. Maybe it was because of the attack and fear of another one. You weren’t stupid; it couldn’t be just that easy. One threat from Minho and they left you alone – it didn’t make sense. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the angels and more to do with the late confession.

From the moment you had left Minho, you knew, deep inside you, that it was the biggest mistake of your life. Yes, you were allowed to be scared, to feel insecure and doubt but it was Minho. You should have listened to the little voice – the one that whispered late at night. The one who reminded you every good, magical moments you had spent in his company. The one who reminded you every time you tried to start anew that no matter how nice a man was; nobody could compare to him. Nobody could compare to how he made you feel. How deep was his love for you. You tried to reason yourself. You tried to bury your feelings, your love and your regret.

But look at you right now? You were back to the very same place you had run from. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

And yet, he still cared for you. He was stilling willing to fight for you, protect you from everything and from everyone. You didn’t want to hope, to expect anything more from him but could you really ignore this tiny part of you? You couldn’t. You couldn’t ignore the lingering eyes on you. You couldn’t ignore his little touches; simple brushes of arms that set your skin on fire. You couldn’t ignore the attention he gave you.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer.” Minho teased you. Without realizing it, you had been staring at him for too long, lost in your own little world.

Your face heat up; it was a tad embarrassing to be caught red-handed, especially because you would never hear the end of it. “Why would I when I see the real thing every day?” You managed to say with a huff and averted your eyes from his face.

Minho chuckled at your attempt to save your face but it was too late. He had seen it all and enjoyed every second of it. “Maybe so you can frame it and put it on your bedside table?” He closed his book, finding that teasing you was so much more interesting. He watched you like a hawk as he got closer to you – you took a step back.

“What were you thinking about while staring at me like that?” He grinned as he leaned closer, eyes never leaving yours. He enjoyed the effect he had on you; the flush on your face, your breathing and especially how loudly your heart beat.

You took another step back only to meet the wall. You were trapped and at his mercy. And whatever Minho wanted, he always had it. Including the truth out of you. “Like what?”

Minho’s grin turned into a full smirk. He leaned, a hand resting on the wall right beside your head. “Were you thinking about how handsome I am?” And he leaned even closer, mere inches between you. “Or were you thinking about something naughty? That wouldn’t surprise me.”

You gasped at his words. “Why would I?!” You tried pushing him away for the sake of your sanity. His closeness, even if much appreciated (if not too much), was driving you nuts. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think about anything else but his body so close to yours.

But your attempt was another failure. Minho didn’t budge, not even a little.

“So you were.” He teased, unable to stop himself.

“I was not!”

Minho’s lips were hovering over yours, leaving no space between your bodies. His warmth spread through your own body like fire. All you had to do was to tilt your head and you could kiss him. So damn tempting.

“Be honest with me, Y/N. Say what you want.”

And it would be so easy, wouldn’t it?

Not under Hana’s watch.

“Mommyyyyyyy!” Hana called while running in the room, so fast Minho had barely the time to put some space between you. “Look, look!”

You tried, you really did, but your dizziness prevented you from concentrating on anything other than the man beside you and the thought that you almost kissed. Almost.

“What is it?” Minho was the one to recover, fast, as always.

Hana showed him the palm of her hand, proudly. Tiny balls of light floated around her hand. Slowly at first and then it spread. The balls got bigger and slowly the shape changed and turned into butterflies, identical to the ones Minho had made for her, except they were made of lights and not shadows.

Minho whistled, impressed with how easily Hana managed to learn the trick. How easily she managed to learn to control her power. He crouched to be at her level and admired her work closer. Impressive indeed.

“Well done.” He ruffled her hair.

From the day you started living with Minho, and especially after the little visit from angels, there was one thing you didn’t think you would ever witness. A talk between Soobin and Minho.

You woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty and a little disoriented. You didn’t know what time it was except for the fact that it was still late considering the darkness you spotted from your window. Without making any noise, you hurried to get to the kitchen, wanting to go back as quick as possible to the warmth of your bed. But before you could walk back to your room, you noticed that the front door was opened. Not widely but enough to worry you. Your instinct told you to get to Minho, to warn him but your body moved on its own. You walked on tiptoes. Closer you got and louder the voices got from outside. Voices that you recognized easily. Voices that you didn’t expect to hear so soon together.

“I can’t believe you would go so far for a human.” Soobin admitted as he ruffled his hair in frustration. “You used to kill them on sight.”

You clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent any noises, to stop yourself from gasping out loud. Why the hell was Soobin here? And more importantly, why did he look so comfortable around Minho? It didn’t make much sense.

“Y/N is special.” Minho simply replied without elaborating.

Soobin paused to observe Minho. The demon he knew would have never praised a human, no matter how pretty the person was. “She’s human. A pretty one, yes, but still human.”

“One that bore your child. You can’t deny she’s special.” Minho reminded him. It hurt him to even mention the fact that Hana was his child, he wished he could forget this fact but he also needed Soobin to realize that you weren’t just any human. You were different.

“When you put it like that.” He sighed. “You know the child is special. I want her.” He winced when Minho’s eyes flashed red. A silent warning that Soobin took seriously as he raised his hands in defense. “Are you really going to start another war for them?”

Minho didn’t answer. He had the answer right on the tip of his tongue but his attention was somewhere else. On you. Despite your attempt at being discrete, he could feel you, too close to them for his liking. Soobin, on the other hand, was oblivious.

“But it’s not only about the child, is it?” Soobin realized in disbelief. “It’s about Y/N. Is she worth it?”

“To me? Yes.” Minho took a dangerous step towards him. Everything about him screamed danger. Just one wrong word and this almost friendly encounter would turn to a bloody one. “I don’t particularly like you, Soobin. But I don’t hate you. But should you come back with an army, I will fight you and I will end you for good, this time. I won’t let her go. Not her and not Hana.”

“Is it a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Soobin shook his head. “You’re crazy.” Only then, he noticed you by the door. You couldn’t help yourself as you got closer, body shaking and teary eyes. His own eyes softened at your sight. He liked you, in his own odd way. Yes, you were a special human.

“And I must be crazy too.” Soobin sighed in defeat. “Take care of them. I can’t promise you that we won’t be back. But I’ll take in consideration your promise.” And with that he vanished into the darkness of the night.

“What a pain in the ass.” Minho groaned and turned to face you. He observed you for a moment, frowning at your state. “Why are you crying?”

Minho knew from the moment he felt your presence you would end up hearing them but he didn’t care. He had nothing to hide; not his business with angels and definitely not how he felt about you. It was about time he addressed the matter and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.

“I-“ But no words left your mouth, too overwhelmed with your own feelings.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he got closer to you. “Say it.” Minho knew you well enough to know what was going through your mind. He always could read you easily, then and now.

It frustrated you how easily his words unsettled you, how easily your heart answered his call. You didn’t want to hide how you felt, how badly you wanted to go back to what you were. But you didn’t deserve it. Not after hurting him over and over again.

“Y/N. Say it.” His voice was calm and gentle when really, inside he was dying to hear you say it. He wanted to hear your confession and ease his mind and heart.

“I don’t deserve you.” You finally managed to whisper through tears. “I can’t say it, Minho.”

He shook his head and gently cupped your face. “I still want to hear it.”

You looked at him, heart roaring in your ears. “I’m sorry.” There was so much you should apologize for, but your mind was a mess and you weren’t sure you could convey all your feelings. But you still were willing to try. For you, for Hana, for him. Especially for him. Because Minho deserved it. He was always there for you, then and now. He showered you with love then and he still did it today. He showered Hana with the same love when he could have hated her for what she was. But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for being an idiot and getting scared. I should have listened to my heart. I should have known that despite being a demon, you were sincere, that you cared so much for me. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Minho stroked your cheek with his thumb, gently wiping your tears. “When you showed up at my doorstep, I really wanted to slam the door to your face. Just the sight of you brought back unwanted feelings, unwanted needs. But I couldn’t do it. I saw how fragile you were and my heart refused to let go. Refused to let my bitterness stands between you and me.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated. You bit on your lips to prevent another sob but your face told him everything he needed to know.

Minho leaned over and kissed your right eye, tasting your tears, and then the left one. “I never stopped loving you. Not even when you broke my heart.” He kissed your nose, your cheeks, making you tremble even more. “I’m not letting you go again and if it means I have to start another war then so be it.”

“You’re cra-zy.” You managed to say through a hiccup.

“Can you blame me?”

You couldn’t.

Satisfied with your reaction, Minho kissed the only part of your face he hadn’t touched, the only part he desperately wanted to touch. At first, it was a simple brush of his lips, light and hesitant. Maybe he was giving you one last chance to pull back, to escape – as if you would. Never again. Minho’s hold on your face tightened as he pressed his lips a little stronger, unable to hold back any longer. And he didn’t need to; you wrapped your arms around his, tightly as if your life depended on him. And you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm, with the same need and despair.

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips. “Don’t ever leave me again, Y/N.”

The simple mention of leaving brought back tears to your eyes. You clung to him as strongly as you could, shutting his mouth with yours. In that moment you realized that you would rather die than leave him again.

“Never again.” You promised

Minho scooped you in his arms. A peck on your lips followed by a smile so bright you weren’t sure you had ever seen it on his face.

He carried you back inside the house and straight to his room. Minho dropped you on his bed. He stood by his bed for a moment, admiring the sight of you in his bed, admiring your parted lips, admiring the look in your eyes. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. And there was so much he wanted to do to you. He wanted to taste you, to claim you and make sure that nobody would ever touch you. He wanted to make you scream and make you remember who you belonged to.

“Are you sure about it?” He asked one last time for good measure.

You smiled at his attempt, at his gentleness. You spread your arms widely. “Come and claim me.”

Minho closed his eyes and took a short moment to calm himself, to let your words sink in. You were his. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Despite knowing his body for years, you couldn’t help but suck in your breath in amazement, in need. He was so helplessly perfect. Strong, lean body that you were dying to touch again, to feel the smoothness of his skin against you.

“You’re drooling.” Minho teased, yet incredibly satisfied with your reaction.

“Can’t be helped when you look this good.” You didn’t try to deny, there was no point when your body was reacting so strongly to his presence.

Minho’s hands found their way to your ankles, softly massaging them making you moan in response at his gentle touch. Slowly, his hands travelled from your ankles to your calves, to your knees, setting your body on fire. You were burning with need and longing.

He grabbed your shorts and pulled them just as slowly from you. He knew that you were desperately needing more and so did he, but where would be the fun if he gave everything to you right away? It all came apart the moment he realized you weren’t wearing any panties; the scent of your arousal hit his senses. He let out an animalistic growl. This same fucking sweet scent that used to drive him crazy.

Growing just as impatient, you took off your shirt and threw it somewhere on the floor, eyes never leaving Minho. Your heart was roaring; your body was burning. “Touch me.”.

In response, Minho leaned over you and claimed your lips in a heated kiss. His hands were roaming freely all over your body, touching, groping, fondling. “So fucking beautiful.” He dragged your lower lip playfully with his teeth. His lips trailed from your lips down to your neck, leaving bright marks. He marked every inch of your skin; your neck, your chest, your stomach.

“Can’t believe you’re a mom.” He planted kisses all over your stomach, worshipped every tiny scars, marks that were left on your body. “And such a good mom.”

The moment his lips connected with your clit, all air left your lungs; your body jerked in response. Minho feasted on you, savoring the sweet taste of you, the one he had missed for so long. The stroke of his tongue were determined, determined to make you scream, to make you come apart with just his tongue.

“Minho,” You moaned as your head fell back. Your body responded to his touches so easily, so eagerly. There was no stopping. You couldn’t ignore how loud your heart beat. You couldn’t ignore how wetter and how your body tingled with every flick of his tongue. But you needed more. You rocked your hips against his tongue, seeking to feel more, to feel him deeper.

“I want to spend the whole night buried between your legs.” Minho confessed and glanced at you from between your legs. The sight of his mouth covered with your wetness made you clench around nothing. He looked absolutely sinful and gorgeous.

“Minho, please.” You begged, your body aching with need of release.

“What is it?” He teased and gave a harsh suck. “Use your words.”

As if you could when he was devouring you like this. He knew it and still teased.

“Please, I’m so close.” You mewled and pushed your hips closer. “Please.”

“How can I say no when you beg so prettily?” He kept licking and sucking with even more eagerness, more strength. His grip on your ass tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he ravaged you.

“Minho!” You cried out as a wave of orgasm hit you.

He could have stop, could have let you a moment to recover but Minho was insatiable. He wanted and needed more; more of you, more of your taste, even if it meant to drive you crazy. So he kept feasting on you. He didn’t stop. Not when your body trembled under his assault. Not when you grabbed his hair and pulled, softly at first and stronger as your sensitive body was torn between the wish to pull away from him and let him end you right on the spot. He didn’t stop when a second orgasm hit you, even stronger than the first. He didn’t stop even when a third one hit you, so powerful you screamed his name.

“Please, I can’t.” You begged, tears streaming down your face, half delirious. Your whole body was so sensitive; you couldn’t bear it.

Minho smirked at you, pleased with his work, pleased with the way you looked; lips swollen, body covered with his marks and pussy wet and ready to take him. He quickly disregarded his last piece of clothes before going back to you, his hands sliding up and down your legs – you shook under the touch, still sensitive.

“Guess you forgot what it’s like to be overstimulated.” He mocked, “I bet it was boring with the angel.”

Even in your dizziness you understood his words, his innuendo. If you had any strength left, you would have scoffed at his words, instead you nudged him with your leg. A weak attempt at showing your annoyance.

“Should I remind you what you really like? Hm?” He challenged you. “Should I remind your pussy that it was made for me? Only me?”

“Stop talking and just show me.” You provoked him, knowing too well that he would make you pay and that it would leave you shattered and unable to walk for the next five business day. Exactly what you needed.

“So bold.” But he loved it. With ease he flipped you over. His hands found their rightful place on your ass. Such a beautiful one that used to be red with his handprints. He caressed your ass, lovingly, slowly and then gave it a strong first slap followed by another and another. Your body jerked as you moaned.

“Much better.” Minho gently rubbed your now bright red skin. “You look pretty with your ass all red.”

“Minho, I need you inside, right now.” You half begged half ordered. Despite his grip on your hips, you pushed your hips against him, needing to feel him.

“So impatient.” He shook his head. He took his hard, angry cock and brushed the tip against your folds – you whimpered.

“Please,” You begged, “I need you so badly.”

With one thrust, Minho buried himself deep inside you, welcoming your warmth. “Fuck, love, you feel so good.” He stilled, savoring your tightness – his cock twitched inside of you. “Since you begging me, you’re going to take everything I give you like a good girl right?”

“I will.” You promised as you gripped the sheets beneath you tightly, bracing yourself for the storm to come. You knew Minho was no longer able to control himself, to hold back, even if he tried. He was at his limits and you were more than ready for him to snap.

And he did. From the very beginning, he set a strong and fast rhythm, pounding into you mercilessly and you took it like a good girl. You accepted every thrust, his strong grip on your hips that would leave another set of bruises – and you didn’t care. With every powerful thrust, your eyes rolled back in your head.

“So fucking good.” Minho groaned and slammed his hips. “Taking me like a good little slut. I told you, this pussy was made for me.”

“Just for you.” You chocked. “I-m,I’m close.”

“But do you deserve to come?” He wondered.

Minho let go of your hips and you fell face on the bed, unable to hold on your own. It didn’t last; Minho grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled you against him. You arched your back, exposing your delicate neck.

“Tell me,” He whispered to your ear, “Tell me why you deserve to come hm?”

“I-“ But your words were lost; Minho’s free hand slid to where you were connected and found your clit. He played with you, making sure you wouldn’t be able to think straight, that you wouldn’t be able to answer back.

“I guess you don’t deserve to come. Should I stop?” As if he could stop.

“No!” You screamed as he kept playing with you. You were so close you could taste your orgasm. “Please, Minho. Let me come.”

He pulled your hair a little stronger and bit on your flesh. “Then tell me.”

“I love you!” You screamed, “Please, please, please.” You were a mess. A beautiful, sticky mess. His mess.

“Then come.”

You convulsed violently around him, eyes rolling back in your head. Minho’s thrusts got sloppier as he helped you through your orgasm while seeking his own. Minho stilled and let out a loud and deep groan as he spilled into you, letting you take all of him, not wasting any single drop.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. He pulled out slowly, dragging the moment and admired as his cum slowly dripped from you. “Your pussy looks amazing.” He scooped the cum that was leaking from you and pushed it back inside you.

“Minho, too sensitive.” You whimpered, unable to take any more.

“Sorry,” He peppered your shoulder, your back with kisses. “Can’t help it.” He plopped beside you and pulled you in his arms, kissing the crown of your head.

Your body ached, every part of it but it was worth it. The bliss that followed was even more worth it. You were back to where you belonged to. His bed, his arms, his heart. You kissed his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly and tilted your head.

“I love you.” You told him again. “I loved you then and I love you even more now.”

“Now that’s the mind-blowing sex talking.”

You groaned and hit his chest. “And the moment is ruined.”

But Minho laughed heartily and pressed you tightly against him. “No, it’s not. And I love you too.”

#stray kids #lee know #stray kids smut #lee know smut #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #han jisung #stray kids scenario #lee minho #not over you

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