#she is like a delicate rose!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subskz · 1 year ago

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…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

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wiildroses · 4 months ago

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tags for muses for sofia :')

#🌹 ( 𝐌. 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍 ) : from a broken soul blooms a warrior #🌹 ( 𝐖. 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 ) : make peace with your broken pieces #🌹 ( 𝐇. 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ) : you never fail until you stop trying #🌹 ( 𝐆. 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 ) : a man who stands for nothing will fall for everything #🌹 ( 𝐀. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐎𝐕 ) : nothing can dim the light that shines from within #🌹 ( 𝐍. 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒𝐎𝐕 ) : as endless as the ocean; as timeless as the tides #🌹 ( 𝐃. 𝐊𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐊 ) : your mind is a weapon keep it loaded #🌹 ( 𝐂. 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 ) : she is a rose; delicate as a petal but strong as a thorn #🌹 ( 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐔𝐒 & 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 ) : i love you like i've never felt pain #🌹 ( 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 & 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 ) : your eyes look like coming home #🌹 ( 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 & 𝐙𝐎𝐘𝐀 ) : i'm drowning in the thought of you #🌹 ( 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 & 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 ) : learn me slowly ; please be patient with my pages #🌹 ( 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 & 𝐀𝐍𝐀 ) : you are the life to my soul #🌹 ( 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄 ) : you are the most beautiful thing i kept inside my heart #🌹 ( 𝐆𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐍 & 𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄 ) : show me all the scars you hide #🌹 ( 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀 & 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 ) : i'll be your lifeline tonight #🌹 ( 𝐃'𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀��𝐍𝐀𝐍 & 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ) : you shine so brightly in my eyes it puts every other woman in the shade

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holybibly · 7 months ago

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𝔐𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 | Seonghwa x reader

Pairing: Emperor Seonghwa x Virgin Bride reader Summary: You dreamed that your love would be like a cherry blossom - tender and beautiful, but instead you are going to get married to the Great Emperor of the Park Dynasty - the cruel and depraved "Lunar Dragon" Park Seonghwa.

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, s2l, Royal!AU, Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 11.6 k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, deflowering, corruption kink, first time, virgin kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: Bunnies, as promised, I am going to spoil you with something absolutely glorious and wicked at the same time. Elegant depravity, that's what this is. Although I struggled to make this work, it has turned out to be absolutely amazing. I hope you're going to love Emperor Seonghwa as much as I love him. Have fun, bunnies, tonight is the night of the fall of the stars.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing

"Mom, I'm so frightened..." You barely whisper as you sit in front of the luxurious, heavy, gold-framed mirror as servants scurry about you, combing your long, jet-black hair and gathering the smooth, silky tresses into a traditional wedding hairstyle. Massive gold jewelry set with rubies and topaz framed your head and secured your long scarlet veil—the veil of a virgin bride. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with large, wide-open eyes full of anxiety, your hands trembling nervously as you clasped the thin silk of the white robe in your lap. Your whole body was slightly shuddering with a sense of fear and dread that bound your chest like stems of icy roses full of sharp thorns, which wrapped around your delicate, pale bones and prevented you from taking a full breath. It was so natural to be afraid, not only of the fact that in a few hours you would be the wife of a great and powerful man, a man who had power over everything in your world—the greatest emperor of the Park Dynasty, "Lunar Dragon" Seonghwa—but also of your first wedding night.

"You should be proud of the fact that the Great Emperor has chosen you out of a million other girls, Y/N. His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa wants you and only you, and you must obey his wish without questioning and be the wife he would admire. You have my meaning, Y/N." Your mother said. She looked at the magnificent crimson robe, richly embroidered with gold thread, that the Emperor had chosen for you. The robe was magnificent, a perfect embodiment of His Majesty's exquisite taste and the ancient traditions of the ruling Park dynasty. Only surpassed by the brilliance of the great stars themselves and the hypnotic glow of Emperor Seonghwa's dark feline eyes were the stars and moons embroidered on the seemingly endless tail of your wedding gown. "After all, the empress must be a virgin when she ascends the throne; that is the tradition, and your purity and chastity will give the emperor a strong heir." Your mother's voice was calm and unemotional. It was as if she were talking about the most mundane of things, not your virginity.

Your mother had explained to you many times how things were going to go down on your wedding night. She hadn't gone into great detail, only saying that you should do your best to please the Emperor. But now you had a good idea of what would happen when you were alone with the Seonghwa, and it couldn't help but frighten you.

The marriage contract between your family and the ruling Park dynasty was made almost immediately after the birth of the current Emperor Seonghwa. Your family had many daughters, each one more beautiful than the one before. You never thought that you, the youngest of them all, would be the future wife of the Emperor. You had only met Seonghwa once, and then only briefly, remembering only his blowing in the wind silk robes, turquoise, and his long hair, the most beautiful shade of sakura blossom.

But you have heard many gossipy stories about Seonghwa, and they filled you with fear and kept you awake at night.

He was a cruel ruler—overbearing, selfish, proud, and arrogant. And Seonghwa was also absolutely insatiable; all the servants in the palace whispered about what a huge sexual appetite the emperor had and that his poor virgin bride would not be able to properly satisfy his hunger and desires. He had a huge harem of girls and handsome, exquisite young men who rotated in and out of His Majesty's chambers with an enviable frequency. Seonghwa never fucked the same concubine more than once. He could point his finger at anyone who interested him, and that person would be in his bed in no time. And tonight you will have to share his bed, and unlike the concubines who spend the night with him and then disappear into the luxurious gardens of the harem to continue their lives, you will have to stay by his side until death do you part, serving and worshipping him as your emperor and husband. And, of course, you will have to provide him with an heir—preferably more than one.

The purpose of your life is the continuation of the dynasty.

You were intensely jealous of all your sisters, who were free to choose their husbands, who were free to marry for love, now that you would be the bearer of the unbearable burden of the crown. You never asked for it; you never wished for it. Seonghwa was extremely wealthy; he was the most powerful ruler in the world. He enslaved and conquered lands as if it were child's play. Even though the Emperor showered you with jewelry and gave you lavish gifts to marry, you didn't care. He would never love you, and you couldn't imagine a world where you could have love and desire for a man who knew nothing but the flames of war and debauchery.

"I'm very scared of him, Mum..." You said again as you watched one of the maids place a golden hairpin set with a black onyx into your hair, given to you by one of the Seven Great Generals of Seonghwa, Choi San.

The dark-eyed demon had given it to you personally this morning, and looking at the man's otherworldly beauty, you couldn't help but think of the rumors that the generals were bound to Seonghwa not only by the battlefield and the hot blood that ran down their arms like scarlet rivers, but also by the silk sheets of the emperor's bed. And perhaps the devilish gleam in San's eyes as his plump, soft lips pressed sensuously against your wrist in a sign of respect meant that you would be able to confirm or deny the rumor in no time at all.

Right now, all you wanted was for your mother to make everything better for you, to spare you from the fears and terrible thoughts that swirled around in your head like a swirl of falling sakura petals, the color of which reminded you of Seonghwa's hair. You were a grown girl, hours away from becoming Empress, but there was a small part of you that longed to be safe and comforted by your mother. You wished with all your heart that she would be able to make Emperor Seonghwa change his mind and choose one of your sisters instead of you.

But it was impossible to do that. No one in this world had the right to go against the wishes of the great Emperor 'Lunar Dragon' Park Seonghwa. He chose you without even bothering to explain why, simply pointing his finger at you as you spent time with your sisters in the Imperial Garden during one of your family's visits to the palace.

"She will be my Empress. She will be mine." Seonghwa said, and you saw the eyes of your mother glisten with tears that had not been shed.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Your mother whispered to you. "But perhaps the Emperor will be a good husband. If he wants to have strong and healthy heirs, he'll have to treat you well."

Your mother tried so hard to be brave for you, and you were forever grateful to her for that. In your family, it was always believed that a man had to treat his wife well if he wanted her to bear him a large number of children. And your father really did idolize her, judging by the fact that your mother gave birth to nine children. You could only hope that Emperor Park would follow this wisdom, but you really had doubts that Seonghwa would make any effort to honor and follow your family's traditions. He probably didn't care about anything except increasing his power and satisfying his animal sexual desires.

Seonghwa was a true dragon, not only by blood but by nature. A predatory beast dressed in silk robes and glittering jewels.

"I will do my best to please him." You murmured, and you immediately heard the soft chuckle of a maid tucking a veil into your hair. You cast an angry glance at the slender girl, and her cheeks flushed in an instant. But you could understand the reason for her laughter. What pleasure could a virgin give an experienced and lecherous emperor, whose luxurious bed was warmed by the most beautiful and seductive girls and boys in the empire?

It was a bit of a delusion on your part to wish for that. Most likely, Songhwa would see you as just another beautiful thing in his collection, spending the rest of your life bearing children and sitting on a velvet cushion. Once the wedding ceremony was over, you would be nothing more than his next great conquest.

"Give me your hand, My Lady." Another of the maids spoke to you politely, and you reluctantly held out your cold palm to her. The girl carefully placed a heavy gold bracelet on your wrist, engraved with a dragon with rubies glinting ominously in its eyes; it was more like a shackle, another gift from the General, this time given to you by the magnificent Kim Hongjoong.

As you knew, Hongjoong was not only one of the seven generals and Seonghwa's confidant, but also his close childhood friend, with whom he grew up and shared everything in his life. Hongjoong was also the one who visited you more often than the other generals. He had a devilish gaze and a sly curve of blood-red lips, and he instilled in you the same animal terror as Seonghwa himself. You thought that everything he touched or said had an ulterior motive, and frankly, you didn't really want to know the true meaning of his actions, but the smile he gave you last night when he handed you the bracelet left you no choice. Sooner or later, you will find out, but by then, it will be too late to try to escape the Golden Emperor's cage. Your life, like your body, will belong to Seonghwa from now on.

You swallowed hard as the maids began to remove the robe from your shoulders. It exposed your sun-untouched skin.

"My Lady, it is time..."

You could hear your mother sobbing softly as the bloody silk flowed down your body. She seemed to be holding back the tears from all of them for your sake. Your heart was beating faster, and your fingers were starting to tremble. You were only a few hours away from your inevitable destiny and several miles of ceremonial procession, at the end of which would be the Great Lunar Dragon, Seonghwa Park.

The anxiety of it all almost made your stomach hurt.

The wedding ceremony was grand; your golden palanquin was carried solemnly down a street strewn with flowers and silk ribbons to the cheers of the crowd welcoming their new Empress. The flash of his cherry blossom hair and the firm, possessive palm of his hand that took yours before leading you up the great staircase 'to heaven' are all you can remember of Seonghwa. It was all a blur to you—the rich scent of incense and flowers making your head spin and a nervous knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were cold in the Emperor's hot palms as you made your marriage vows. Your lips trembled as you swore to be his precious wife and to carry the burden of a great empire on your shoulders as his Empress. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Songhwa's soft, velvety voice whispered in your ear, "You belong to me.".

Nothing in the universe could have prepared you for his kiss - fiery, passionate, and hungry, it seemed as if Songhwa wanted to drink your soul through that kiss, to consume you whole, to turn your will and your desires to ashes. You heard the rapturous cheers of the seven generals and other cronies of the ruling Park dynasty. The Emperor's graceful palm encircled your neck from behind and pulled you closer to him. Your knees buckled, and you could barely breathe as Songhwa's long, hot tongue took possession of your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue and sliding across your palate and the inside of your cheeks. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulsing vein in your neck, your pulse racing beneath his soft fingertip as his teeth dug into your plump lower lip, almost biting to the blood.

You wanted to scream in pain, but there were too many people around—too many angry tongues dripping venom—just waiting to start gossiping about you. So instead, you tried to distract yourself from the pain and focus on something else.

But instead, your eyes were captured by the seductive gaze of the siren belonging to none other than General Jung Wooyoung. His full, sensuous lips parted as if he were enjoying the kiss itself, the sharp tip of his tongue sliding across the soft, red flesh of his lower lip, leaving him glistening and moist. You had the feeling that his dark, almost black eyes were gliding over your body. His gaze was shamelessly undressing you, while his friend, his Emperor, was devouring your mouth with a hungry, passionate kiss. You looked away in shame and embarrassment.

When Seonghwa finally let go of you and allowed you to take a long-awaited deep breath, you felt like you were going to faint. Just a small glimpse of what awaited you on your wedding night sent shivers of fear down your spine.

"You belong to me. Forever." Seonghwa whispers again, and you have a full understanding of the meaning of his words. Yes, you really do belong to him right now.

When it's time for you to leave the ceremony and prepare for your first wedding night, you almost start to gasp. You catch San's dark, demonic gaze as he leans over to whisper something into General Kim's ear. His words cause Hongjoong's blood-red lips to curl into an evil, almost devilish grin. Even through the many layers of heavy silk, you can feel the flames of his gaze burning through your skin.

"Your Majesty..." You turn your head to the side, only to find yourself facing the goddess Aphrodite herself, in the form of a man. General Kang Yeosang has always held a special place in your heart. Gentle and elegant like an exotic flower, his speech always soft and soothing, and his deep, velvety voice like the call of a chamois. Seonghwa's hair may have been the color of delicate sakura petals, and his eyes may have been brighter than all the stars in the endless midnight sky, but that was just a facade to hide the lustful and cruel devil that lurked inside. Yeosang, on the other hand, in spite of his wicked beauty, was the very embodiment of an angel. You will have heard the servants of the palace call him the Black Swan of the Empire.

Yeosan's soft and gentle nature might have reassured you and even given you some semblance of comfort before Seonghwa ravaged your body and took what was now his—your virginity. But the sensual curve of his plump lips and the hungry glint in the dark eyes of the siren, General Jung Wooyoung, who now extended his palm to you in an inviting gesture, sent an icy shiver down your spine. You rarely saw Wooyoung, and when you did, there was always a decent distance or several other people between you, so you had never felt his presence as close as you did now, and you had never been so fascinated by the sharpness of his face or the small mole under his eye, and this feeling frightened you as much as it frightened Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Your Majesty, it's time for you to go." As he turned to you, Wooyoung's voice was sultry and hoarse. It made you feel as if the flames themselves were licking at your body or at the lips of your lover in the heat of a forbidden caress.

"I...my maids should see me out. General Jung, thank you." You bite your lip nervously and look around, hoping to find your maids and avoid the two generals' eyes on you, but instead you see Seonghwa watching you intently, his head tilted slightly to the side, a few soft pink strands falling onto his gorgeous face. If he could only have a breath, it would be majestic. Seonghwa was indeed the true embodiment of the divine Lunar Dragon.

"His Majesty, the Emperor Seonghwa, has ordered us to escort you to his chambers in person." It was Yeosang's voice this time. Something about the way he said your husband's name aroused you, and not in the most pleasant way.

"I... I'm not quite sure, General Kang." You have an almost pathetic look on your face, an attempt to delay the inevitable, and to be honest, you had no desire to be in the company of any of the seven illustrious generals right now.

Wooyoung just grinned mischievously at your words, obviously finding you very amusing. As he leaned closer, his lips almost touched your earlobe, and you could smell the scent of sandalwood emanating from his caramel skin.

"Don't make him wait, dear. Seonghwa is an impatient and passionate lover; the longer you resist him, the harder he will be with you, and we don't want a jewel like you to be injured, do we?"

"Stop it, Wooyoung; you're scaring her." Yeosang hisses, but does nothing to contradict the words of General Jung.

You swallow noisily and silently place your cold, clammy palm in Wooyoung's hand, letting him and Yeosang escort you to the Emperor's quarters. The last thing you notice as you leave the Ceremonial Hall, where the noisy festivities of the Imperial Wedding will continue until dawn, is the sensual curve of Seonghwa's luscious, plump lips as he smiles at you and the glimmer of ominous rubies in the eyes of the golden dragon on the very same bracelet you wear on your arm, jingling on Hongjoong's slender wrist as he lazily waves goodbye to you.

"You don't have to worry that hard, Y/N." Wooyoung says as he pulls the heavy silk of your wedding gown off your shoulders, and you might have resented the familiarity with which he addressed you if you hadn't felt the glide of his fingertips over your bare skin. The whole situation was confusing, to say the least. Completely beyond any conscious explanation, two great generals of the Empire are now acting as your personal maids, helping you change your dress, removing your jewelry, and unraveling the intricacies of your wedding hairstyle.

Letting them treat you like a doll, undressing you layer by layer, and exposing more and more of your body to their dark gaze, you didn't know how to react or what to say. Wooyoung's breath was hot on the back of your neck, while Yeosang's cold fingers brushed over your collarbones as he removed the massive gold necklace. They continued their actions until you were left in the thin white dress that was the base of your outfit, and the only jewelry you wore was a black onyx stud given to you by San and, as it turned out, a paired bracelet from Hongjoong.

"Everything will be alright, Your Majesty." Yeosang gently ran his thumb over your wrist, the feel of your pulse racing under his touch. He liked the fact that he was making you nervous; your reaction brought a smile to his beautiful lips. Wooyoung's arms wrapped around your waist for a second, and his firm, hot chest pressed tightly against your back. You could swear you could feel his heart beating through your skin at that moment; he was so close to you.

"We will leave you now, my... Empress." It was almost as if he whispered the last word into your skin. "Enjoy your night." His touch was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and you could feel the cold air of the room now caressing you as General Jung's hot body moved away from you.

"Try to relax and let Seonghwa take care of you; I promise nothing terrible will happen to you." Yeosang leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek before following Wooyoung out of the room, leaving you all alone—completely confused, frightened, and not knowing what to expect from Seonghwa if his generals could afford to treat you like this.

"Lunar Dragon" - the great Emperor Park Seonghwa is standing in front of you. His luxurious long hair, the colour of sakura petals, was still partially gathered on his head by long crystal hairpins. Teardrop-shaped crystals were dangling from them. He had replaced his heavy ceremonial robes with a light mantle of the most beautiful snow-white silk you've ever seen - dragons embroidered in silver and turquoise danced on the fabric like in the clouds. You can see his naked, chiseled torso, his muscular chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his measured breathing. Seonghwa's appearance is completely relaxed, but everything about him is a scream of the majesty and power he has over this world. He notices the way your eyes slide down his body, his lips curling into a satisfied, smug grin. You blush and lower your eyes to the floor.

Your heart is beating at breakneck speed against your ribs, and you have the feeling that Seonghwa can easily hear the sound. Your mother told you that you might feel aroused when you were alone with the Emperor, that you would want to touch his body, taste his lips, feel his hot hands on you, and maybe even feel his mouth on your private parts, but you... you didn't want to. You didn't feel aroused at all. You were afraid of Seonghwa, and after what Wooyoung had said to you in the ceremonial hall today, you were even more afraid of him, and no amount of assurances from Yeosang that everything would be all right could change your mind. You were afraid to even look him in the eye, and you clutched the fabric of your dress nervously in your hands, trying to calm yourself.

"My Emperor, are you going to hurt me today?" You were so stupid, good Lord, you couldn't think of anything else to say? Apart from the wedding vows, these were the first words you'd ever spoken to him directly, and you couldn't think of anything else to say: "Will you hurt me?" For some strange reason, you expected that after the wedding you would magically feel like a different person, that after saying your vows, your animal fear of Seonghwa would disappear. It didn't happen at all. You continued to feel frightened and ignorant, and completely at the mercy of the Emperor.

You could feel the weight of his heavy, hypnotic gaze on your skin as he silently scanned your body through the thin, transparent dress that you wore. He was looking at you shamelessly and greedily, and it only served to increase your fear. Seonghwa's long fingers cupped your chin and lifted your face. The soft pad of his thumb is pressed against your lower lip. You hesitantly met his gaze, your eyes instantly held hostage by the magnetic, bottomless eyes of the Emperor. Sharp and soft, demonic and angelic, sparkling like eternal stars and impenetrable like the thickest darkness, you had never met anyone with such eyes. His almost black irises flickered like flames, as if they were absorbing the glow of the candlelight.

"Is that the way you are supposed to address your husband, hmm? Call me by my name." Seonghwa's command to you. The sound of his voice was like liquid silk. Seonghwa grabbed your chin with his graceful hand and tilted your head even higher. You had to strain your neck to hold his gaze with your eyes.

"M-my Emperor..." Your voice trembles, and in spite of the clear command, you say something completely different from what Seonghwa wants you to say.

His finger presses harder against your lip, the sharp nail digging into the soft flesh in a painful way, and your mouth opens automatically.

"I want to hear you say my name, my love. And you need to obey without questioning, darling. You don't want to upset me. Do you?" Seonghwa's tone of voice is still soft and velvety, but you can hear the small hint of a hidden threat in his words. And it is scaring the hell out of you right now. To be honest, you don't want to say his name at all. There's something about it that feels like an irreversible end, like if you say it out loud, you're going to lose any semblance of controlling your life. But there can be no disobedience, especially not now.

"Seonghwa." It's easier than you thought, but for some reason, his name still leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue.

He turns away from you, instead walking over to the luxurious bed and lowering himself smoothly onto it. The flaps of his robe swing further open, and the wide silk collar slides off his shoulders as he sits down on the soft feather bed. You can't help but admire the Emperor for a moment as strands of pink hair fall across his handsome face.

His eyes narrowed predatorily for a second. His gorgeous, god-like face takes on a sharp, animal beauty, but it's only for a moment before his expression becomes majestically relaxed again.

"There you are, good girl." His praise is as condescending as if he were addressing one of the many maids in the palace instead of his Empress. Without taking his eyes off you, Seonghwa pushes his thumb fully into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue's soft, slippery surface. Your eyes widen at the action. "Lick it." He gives the order again, and you weakly run your tongue along the pad of his finger, leaving a thick trail of saliva on it. Then he pulls the finger out of your mouth, takes a step back, and, looking you in the eye, pushes the wet finger into his mouth. His plump lips close in an erotic way around the long appendage as he sucks weakly on it. Heat floods your whole face at this seemingly innocent act, but when Seonghwa does it, it looks so damn lewd and lascivious.

"Strip for me." Seonghwa's voice commands you.

The cold air of his chambers was now licking at your skin, causing your sensitive nipples to tense and swell in response. Embarrassed, you covered yourself with your arms and crossed your legs slightly to hide your pussy from the dark, burning gaze of the Emperor. At that moment, Seonghwa reminded you of a huge, contented cat that had gotten the cream. He leaned back slightly on his hands on the bed, arching his back and tilting his head to the side, making the muscles in his long, thin neck tense. Seductive wasn't a strong enough word to describe the way the Emperor looked right now. Depraved? Vicious? Devilish? Maybe it was all of those things at the same time.

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. His command was clear and precise, and the fear of being completely vulnerable in front of him made your heart beat even faster. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the wide waistband of your dress. It had all happened so very quickly. Your mind had barely had time for a moment's reflection. You knew that it was best to obey him and not question what he wanted. Carefully, you unbuckled the belt, and the dress slid gently down your body before it spilled out in a puddle of silk on the floor at your feet.

"I-I... do you like it?" You asked him. Your voice was barely above a whisper. God, it was so embarrassing. Would this happen every time you shared a bed with him? You lowered your eyes to the floor, unable to bear to look at his hungry, lustful gaze.

"Ain't you a pretty little jewel, huh? It was so sweet of you to ask me that. Now take your hands away, so that I can see the whole of your pretty body."

His words caused you to let out a soft squeak, as you were completely shocked. It was humiliating, to say the least. It was one thing to be lying naked under someone else, but it was a lot more vulnerable to find yourself completely naked in the middle of the room. But there was no way you could forbid the Emperor to look at your body the way he wanted to. The words he had spoken earlier were still running through your mind: "You belong to me." So you obeyed him once more, even though everything in your heart was telling you not to.

"What's a gem? Are you so embarrassed already?" Seonghwa laughed grimly as he looked at your naked body; his eyes lingered on your pussy as he sensually ran the tip of his long tongue over his plump, sensual lips. "Come closer to me, darling."

God, it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, but obviously the Emperor had thought a lot about how to make you squirm without even touching you. You took a couple of steps forward until you were standing between his legs as they spread apart.

"Now turn around for me." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, the velvety tone getting darker and more husky. Your face turned even more red, and your lips began to quiver. You slowly turned away from him so that he had a good view of your bottom. You could feel his predatory eyes on the small of your back and his greedy gaze on your crotch. You almost screamed as you felt his hands on your hips, pulling you down with all their might until you were sitting on the bed between his legs. Seonghwa pressed his body against your back, and it reminded you of Wooyoung, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when his hands cupped your breasts and his full lips were pressed against your ear. "You're supposed to please me, you know." He said. His hot breath flowed over the soft skin of your ear with each letter of the word he spoke. It sent a shiver down the length of your body. "Remember this." He squeezed your breasts roughly, causing you to give a soft whimper.

"Yes, Your Majesty…" You breathed out.

Your breasts were terribly sensitive under his rough and skilled hands, and you were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you collapsed completely into his arms. You had no idea how pleasurable it could be; you'd never played with your boobs before. As Seonghwa's long fingers brushed lightly over your swollen nipples, a soft moan of pleasure escaped your open lips.

"You're so sensitive, my little jewel, and that's what I love about virgins; you're all so sweet and shy, you blush and whimper at the slightest touch. But do you know what it is that I love the most?" Seonghwa asked you as he gently twisted your nipples with his long, thin fingers, making you moan and shake your head in a negative way. "Most of all, I love to see the look on their pretty faces when I stretch their tight little cunts with my big, thick cock. I love the sound of them moaning my name as they cum on my tongue." God, that was just too much.

The combination of the Emperor's deep, hypnotic voice and how dirty and disgusting his words were almost made you whimper pitifully. His hands continued to play expertly with your heavy, plump tits, massaging and squeezing the flesh as his fingers tweaked and pulled at the hard, sensitive nipples. The tender skin of your breasts reddened under his firm grip. Unconsciously, you rested your head on his shoulder, becoming more and more lost in the sensation of his touch on your body.

"But you are my shining star; you are special to me, unlike those whores who live only with the thought of being filled with Imperial sperm. They will never be able to stand in your shoes, and none of them will ever be the mother of my heir. None of them will ever be my Empress." One of his hands slid down your belly until his hot palm cupped your pussy in a possessive way. His long middle finger pressed between your labia to feel the moisture that had accumulated there. Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa pulled roughly on your nipple, his palm pressing even harder against your cunt. "I'm going to fuck that virgin pussy until your belly swells up with my heir." His lips brushed against your ear again, and he whispered in a sultry voice. "And maybe it won't just be mine, if you know what I mean."

Seonghwa began to kiss your neck, leaving scorching, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His lips were plush and moist as they glided over the sensitive veins and nerves, which flowed in bluish, translucent rivers beneath the pallor of your skin. You moaned and unconsciously pressed your pussy harder against his hand as Seonghwa's teeth bit into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. The Emperor ran the tips of his fingers along the silken folds of your cunt, the moisture clinging to his fingers.

"I-I...oh..." Endless moans echoed through the room as Seonghwa's finger pads pressed against your sensitive clit. The light pressure on the swollen bundle of nerves sent waves of pleasure through your body.

"Can you feel it, my star? Do you have a sense of how swollen and wet your pussy is?" The Emperor's words caused another moan to escape your lips; your mind was hazy and distant, and Seonghwa's voice was luring you deeper and deeper into the trap of lust and pleasure. "I can feel your desire, my jewel; your little cunt wants to be filled with cock so desperately." He said. Lost in the sounds and sensations of your own body, your hips twitched as his fingers began to circle your clit. Your breathing came and went, each exhale punctuated by a soft moan of pleasure. "Your virgin pussy is throbbing under my touch, my little star. I want to see you sink into ecstasy; I want to see that shy, innocent facade shatter as you cum and wriggle under my touch." Seonghwa removed his hand from your breast, then wrapped his fingers around your chin, turning your head sideways so your lips met his. "Under my tongue." He whispered before you had the taste of his kiss for the second time that night. You were so mesmerized by the feel of the Emperor's soft, luscious lips on yours that you didn't notice him pressing his hips against you.

You were whimpering into his mouth as you felt the hard, hot length of his cock pressing down hard against your arse. Your eyes widened in fear, and your mouth opened to allow Seonghwa's tongue to enter your mouth and wrap around your tongue in a sensual way.

Seonghwa's kiss to you at the wedding ceremony was nothing in comparison to the kiss he was giving you now. The impossible, hot-tight, sinful, shameful, pleasure-filled kiss that made you gasp and whimper against his lips. A low, guttural moan escaped from his lips, becoming almost animalistic in nature as his fingers slid deeper and deeper between your folds. Seonghwa growls and pulls his lips away from yours, swollen and tortured after his caresses them. You moan loudly as his fingers circle around your clit, your juices making it slick and slippery, and that just adding the stimulation. Mindlessly, you buck your hips against his touch, and he lets you do it, enjoying how desperate you are already looking. The Emperor was right. Virgins are always so easy, too pliable, and eager to be touched. And you, his precious little Empress, are no exception.

His eyes were the trap of vice, the bottomless pit of lust and wickedness, but you couldn't look away from them. They were lustrous and almost black, like the onyx in the jewelled hairpin San had given you. They seemed to penetrate your very soul, making you shiver. A seductive grin played across his devilishly handsome face as his fingers continued to play with your pussy, making it more and more wet and in need of attention. You gasped for breath as you felt your little hole squeeze on nothing, and a thick, gooey drop of slime poured out of you.

"Ahm-aah...Your Majesty...ahhhh...Seonghwa." You were at a loss for words and had no formula. Pleasure curled up at the core of your being, and you rolled your eyes in delight.

"Yes, that's right, my star. Does it feel good? Do you like it when my fingers play with your little virgin pussy, when you feel them on your throbbing, swollen clit?" He asked. The silk of his voice was a breath that was a tickle to your ear.

"Your Majesty... It's... It's so embarrassing."

His eyes flashed with pleasure, and the grip he had on your face was like a vice grip. You felt his hips jerk forward, and he pressed his cock harder against the soft flesh of your ass. His excitement was obvious. Suddenly, his fingers stopped teasing the folds of your cunt. Seonghwa brought them to his mouth instead. His eyes sparkled like jewels, seductive and dangerous, as his long tongue darted out of his mouth to lick the viscous fluid that ran down the long appendages.

"You're sweet—maybe too sweet for your own good." Seonghwa wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to his beautiful face, so that his lips make contact with yours once more. "And there's something you should know about me, my star: I have a horrible sweet tooth." Instantly, he releases you from his grip and changes position so that you're on your back, spread out on the beautiful sheets, his lithe body hovering over you. His hair is completely disheveled, long strands of pink falling haphazardly across his face, and you can see a faint blush on his cheeks and his luscious lips, swollen from kissing and taking on a darker shade. God, he looks like a true deity, and you can see why they call him the 'Lunar Dragon'; mere mortals can never be so majestic and seductive; they are not given that magnetic pull that draws everyone to this dangerous creature like a moth to a flame.

Seonghwa slides down your body until his hands are cupped around your thighs, pulling them apart so that your juicy, wet cunt is exposed to his hungry gaze. He runs his fingers gently down your thick, soft thighs, squeezing your flesh together for a moment, the sharp tips of his nails digging painfully into your thighs, and you make a squeal at the rough caress. It was a terrible shame to lie there, completely naked, with your legs spread wide open, while Seonghwa towered over you, still fascinating and powerful, even if he did look a little disheveled. And what was even more humiliating was that you were already so wet for him—your juices were constantly flowing from your hole and dripping between your cheeks onto the silk of the sheets—but you didn't have time to think about that when Seonghwa pressed down on your clit without warning, making you gasp loudly. You almost screamed, your legs twitching in a feeble attempt to squeeze together as he skillfully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingernail lightly scraping the tender skin.

"You have such a sweet little cunt, my star," Seonghwa whispered as he pushed your swollen labia apart to expose the soft pink inside. He bent his face over your pussy and let his hot breath flow over the sensitive flesh, causing even more fluid to spill out of your hole. "I will only say this once, my precious. You will be a good girl and take everything I give you. I will eat that sweet virgin cunt for as long as I want. If you dare to refuse, I will fuck you without any stretches at all, and believe me, unlike you, I am going to get a lot of pleasure when my cock rips that tight cunt in half. Do you understand me?"

"I-I, yes, I understand, Your Majesty."

The first licks from Seonghwa's tongue on your juicy pussy made you arch your back and roll your eyes. The sensation was too overwhelming for your words. As soon as the Emperor had tasted you on his lips, he began to eat you with a hungry ferocity. Seonghwa plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, almost biting your tender, quivering folds, his teeth clawing at your swollen, sensitive clit, making you writhe and squirm as his hands gripped your thighs tighter.

Seonghwa lived for the pussy, and he'd tasted a lot of it over the years, but your sweet virgin cunt tasted the best of all. His little Empress had the most amazing cunt of them all—a pussy that was worthy of an emperor.

"I can't wait to get my tongue inside you, my star. Do you like it, my Empress? Tell me. Do you like my tongue in your slutty virgin pussy?"

"Uh, huh... I... I... it feels so good... your Majesty..." You moaned.

Your viscous slime and his own saliva now coated Seonghwa's chin as his mouth pressed greedily against you, licking and lapping up all the juices flowing from you as if they were divine nectar. Your tight hole was twitching under the caress of his tongue, begging for filling. And who was he to refuse to give it to you?

Seonghwa slid his finger into the throbbing warmth of your vagina, feeling the slight resistance of the muscles as the long appendage stretched your virgin entrance. He did it slowly, but you moaned in spite of himself as his finger filled you. His lips circled around your clit, slowly sucking at the sensitive cluster of nerves, and Seonghwa felt the warm, silky walls of your pussy tighten around his finger.

"Y-Your Majesty... that's a lot... I" You found it hard to speak; hot excitement was flowing beneath your skin, making you helpless and pliable for him, but a sharp slap on your thigh made you cry out loudly. The mark of his hand bloomed like a rose on the milky surface of your skin.

You continued to whimper as you responded to the rough and vulgar words the Emperor spoke to you. Not daring to take his eyes off the way your hole was absorbing them, Seonghwa added another finger. Your walls clenched around his fingers, trying to hold them in, even though the burning sensation of stretching made it difficult. To make it easier for Seonghwa to move his fingers in and out of your pussy, you tried to relax as much as possible. A lump of saliva landed on the top of your pussy and spread over your delicate folds.

"My Name. I need you to moan out my name and nothing else, my star. I want to hear you say it out loud as I destroy you with my fingers and my tongue. Your hungry cunt swallows my fingers so well, my little

Empress."

"Look at you, my star; you're so wet for me; you literally drip into my mouth. You are not so clean and pure any more, are you? Who would have thought that a beautiful lady would like to have her cunt licked?" The squelching of your wetness and Seonghwa's saliva as he slid two fingers in and out of your tight hole was loud and disgusting. Seonghwa was mesmerized by the way your pussy clung to his fingers, his tongue circling the edges of your vagina, slipping inside slightly each time his fingers came out of you.

You arch your back and feel a strange, crushing tension build up in your lower abdomen, and you clench the silk sheets in your fists. It's frightening, but somehow you have a desire for it to consume you completely.

"Seonghwa, I... Oh God... I, I don't know, this feeling inside me..." Your breathing is ragged, with each word coming out of your mouth with difficulty. The Emperor lifts his hypnotic gaze up to you, his mouth still pressed against your pussy. His eyes are so dark and hypnotic—glimmering black stars in the lacy frame of his eyelashes—and you swear you see a flash of golden glow in them before it fades, leaving only lust and insatiable hunger.

"My little Empress, you are about to cum for the first time, are you? Jewel, you must wait until I say so." Seonghwa growled as he squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh harder and harder, and you could already see the purple and black bruises that were beginning to form on your skin. "Your slutty cunt won't be able to come until I tell you to." You whimper pitifully at the command of authority in his velvety voice, your pussy clutching onto his two fingers.

But Seonghwa doesn't seem to have had enough and decides to stretch you even further, trying to push a third finger inside you, causing you to squeal and jerk your hips in an attempt to avoid the stinging sensation inside you, but it has the exact opposite effect. Your abrupt movement forces his fingers deeper into you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside, and you gasp at the sharp sensation of delight that rips through you like a bolt of lightning. You are so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice the tip of his third finger as it enters you.

Seonghwa is sucking on your clit in an almost lazy way, stretching and stimulating you at the same time.

"S-Songhwa!" You almost start to cry, your eyes filling with tears from the mixture of feelings and emotions. This is too good to pass up, but at the same time, too much for you to bear. "Please, Seonghwa, Your Majesty."

"Hmm, are you beggin' me already, my star? My little Еmpress, if you can't take my fingers, then you'll never be able to take my cock, and that is literally your only responsibility in life. To lie here in my bed and to fuck me like this. Your husband and your Еmperor. Seonghwa replies, licking the broad stripes between your trembling soft folds and pulling her fingers out of you to suck on your clenching, flowing hole.

"I'm sorry... I'm t-trying to be a decent wife to you... I'm so sorry." You stutter.

The Emperor slid three fingers back into your pussy, stroking your velvety walls and pressing the pads of his fingers against your G-spot as he did so.

"You're so sweet, begging and crying like a pretty little girl, but you're not a girl anymore. You're my wife, my Empress, so be damned obedient to me and take everything I give you without objection." When he had finished speaking, his lips were around your exhausted clit again.

"Oh, please, Seonghwa! P-please, I need...I want...please let me come...I promise I'll be so good to you." Tears streamed down your face as your whole body began to shake a little, and you lifted your hips to press even harder against Seonghwa.

Seonghwa seems to have decided to spare you this time, enjoying how desperate and needy you look—all that crying and whining, and he hasn't even fucked you properly. But it's not over yet.

"If you want it so badly, darling, you can cum." As soon as those words fall from his flushed, swollen lips, it feels as if your whole body is completely attuned to his every command or desire, and you arch up almost immediately, rolling your eyes and experiencing your first real orgasm on Seonghwa's long, slender fingers. Seonghwa lets out a deep, low moan as he watches you writhe in pleasure as he continues to finger-fuck you until you begin to whimper and beg him to stop.

"I'm not done with you yet, my star." Seonghwa whispers in a grim voice as he pushes his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You're almost incoherent at this point, shaking with excitement as he pulls his fingers out of you and crawls up your body to pull you into a hot, dirty kiss. His lips, chin, and cheeks are wet and sticky with your juices, but he doesn't care; he doesn't bother wiping, preferring to fuck your mouth with his tongue.

As Seonghwa pulled away from your lips and allowed you to take a full breath, the look on his face took on that predatory animal look that you'd seen on him before tonight, and it was crystal clear to you what was going to happen next. Fear and excitement at the prospect of finally losing your virginity mix together in your heart. You weren't sure if the feeling was one of relief or horror, but your body was already on edge with anticipation. You could feel your stomach twist with desire and excitement, and you were absolutely shocked that your body reacted in this way even after an orgasm.

"And now, my little Empress, I would like to show you what it means to be the wife of the Emperor. His beautiful cock sleeve." Seonghwa gets down from you, but only to take off his silk robe and to pull his trousers down over his long legs until he is completely naked. His hair is now completely loose, long strands the color of sakura petals falling freely over his shoulders and chest. You would want to admire how beautiful his face looks framed by his pink silk hair if your eyes weren't focused on his cock pressed against his flat, embossed belly. Like everything about His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa, his cock was just as magnificent and attractive: the hard, thick length was slippery and glistening with pre-cum flowing from the dark pink head, the vein bulging with tension stood out on its velvety girth, and overall, his cock made you inexplicably want to run your tongue over it and taste its flavor. You swallowed loudly, turning your head to the side, a crimson blush of embarrassment mixing with the lust that now filled your veins with something intoxicating and forbidden and spreading across your rounded cheeks.

Your mouth opened to say something, but you quickly shut it when you noticed that he had raised his perfect eyebrow in a slightly mocking expression. His movements were slow and elegant as he crawled across the bed towards you like some mythical beast. Long fingers wrapped around your ankle before he pulled you towards him until his body was between your spread legs. He towered over you—magnificent, almost divine—making you feel small and fragile. Strands of his long, sakura-colored hair fell around his slender body. His smooth skin shimmered like liquid gold in the soft, diffused light of the candle.

His graceful hand slid up the curve of your thigh, caressing your soft skin where the marks of his possessive touch had already blossomed, and higher and higher until it reached your full breasts. Seonghwa squeezed your breast before running his fingers around the swollen pink nipple. A pitiful moan escaped your lips as his luxurious, juicy lips connected with another hardened bud and sucked it roughly into his hungry, beautiful mouth. You meowed in response, the new kind of stimulation causing you to arch your back in pleasure and unconsciously push your breasts closer to him. He purred velvetily, flicking his tongue over your tender nipple until it was glistening and wet from his attention.

Without hesitating, the Emperor lifted his knee between your hips, forcing them to spread further apart, allowing him to slip between them. Your hands rose hesitantly and floated in the air for a second before you found them lying on Seonghwa's strong shoulders. His skin felt warm and soft under your fingers. Your body tensed, and a small cry escaped your parted lips as you felt Sonhwa's teeth bite into your chest, and soon a mark resembling a shining crescent moon formed where his teeth had been. Suddenly, the Emperor grabbed hold of your wrists and lifted your arms above your head, restricting your movements and locking you completely into the cage beneath his body.

"And now you would like to touch me, my little Empress?" Seonghwa grinned grimly. "First of all, I want to take what is rightfully mine, my star. Beg me for it." He let out a growl. Like a dark, forbidden caress, the low, vibrating sound of his voice went through your body. The heavy, velvety length of his cock pressed against the inner side of your thigh. You wanted to run away, to hide from that bottomless, hypnotic gaze of lust and hunger, but at the same time you wanted more of him, to feel everything you'd never felt before. The thought of how Seonghwa would enjoy you, how he would use you for his own pleasure, and how he would make you his own, subjecting you to his will and his power, made you long for that feeling. You desperately wanted to belong to him.

"Please, my Emperor, Seonghwa, take me. I belong to you." You barely managed to whisper the words, but the Emperor was able to hear them clearly. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, exposing your slender, delicate neck. His hot body merged with yours as his head sank into the curve of your neck. The swollen, wet head of his cock pressed against your trembling pussy. He was still holding your wrists tightly above your head, his sharp nails digging into your skin, but your hips were lifting to meet him as Seonghwa moved forward, weakly, and rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. A low, languid moan escaped from his throat as your soft labia parted a little, allowing his cock to slide into the warmth of your wet cunt.

"You are so impatient, darling. And that's another thing I like about virgins—once they've tasted pleasure, they stop controlling themselves and start asking for more. Look at you; you're so desperate for me to fuck you, little Empress. Can't you wait for my cock to be inside of you?" He looks so smug, his ego shining brightly in his dark eyes, and a lecherous smile has blossomed on his plump lips. Your natural essence thickly coats his thick cock, allowing it to slide easily through your warm folds, the head of his cock touching your sensitive clit with every move he makes. He is laughing at you, at the way your body is haunting him at every moment. Once again, the Emperor is proving you to be right—you really are hungry for more. You want to feel him all over you.

Seonghwa loves the way you look underneath him—your flushed face, wet from the tears you shed earlier from your orgasm, your skin covered with bruises and his bite marks, and of course, your wet little cunt begging to be filled to the brim with his cum. Maybe that's why he can't hold himself back any longer and slowly begins to push his cock into your oozing hole. You moaned loudly as his cock pushed deeper and deeper into you, and although you had been prepared for it, the way his thick girth stretched your silky walls made you squeeze your eyes shut and feel a slight burning sensation. Seonghwa's cock was too big and thick for you, at least for now, but somehow you didn't doubt that he was going to fuck you until you could easily take his whole length at once.

When his cock was all the way inside of you and his balls were pressed against your plush arse, he let out a guttural, almost growling, moan as he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. Your cunt was everything he'd imagined—tight and hot and silky—divine. A small shiver of pleasure went through his body as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. Your answering moan was an unrestrained one, grateful for the hot, thick length of it as it displaced your emptiness, stained your chastity, took away your purity, and filled you instead with an insatiable need.

He hardly gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock before he began fucking you mercilessly. Obscene sounds filled the air with each of his hard and deep thrusts, mingled with your whimpering and long moans, as well as his enthusiastic purring of satisfaction as he tormented you. His warm breath filled your mouth, forming a subtle contrast to the uncompromising demand of his tongue as it penetrated your mouth and tasted you as you moaned and whimpered. Seonghwa feels that he has become a little bit dependent on you and that he will probably never be able to satisfy this hunger that he now has for you. Your slippery pussy tightened around him impatiently and greedily, hot and wet, squeezing him so hard that Seonghwa let out a low moan of pleasure.

Seonghwa lets go of your hands and wraps the palm of his hand around your thin neck instead, squeezing it lightly. His grip on your throat makes you gasp, and your moans are hoarse and soft.

"You are all mine." He growls, watching as his cock enters and exits your tight, pink cunt, a thick vein stretching along your silken walls with every movement of his beautiful and skilled hips. Seonghwa can't help but marvel at the way your juices are coating the velvety length of his cock as it plunges deep into you. Your hands dig into the sheets, crumpling the fabric between your fingers as you do so. "Who is your husband? Your Emperor? Tell me, my little star!" Seonghwa demands as she presses her fingers around your neck more tightly.

"Y-y-you!" You screamed, but the sound of your voice was so distorted that it was barely audible. Your thighs began to ache from Seonghwa's relentless thrusts, but you didn't know if you wanted to ask him to stop when his cock kept hitting the most pleasurable spot inside you, making you feel every cell in your body heat up until it was white. Stars started to dance in front of your eyes, exactly the same—mesmerizingly sparkling stars like the ones in Seonghwa's eyes. "Seonghwa, that's you! You are my husband, my Emperor!"

"That's right, you treat me so well, my little Empress. I am going to fuck you until you are swollen with my heirs and until your little pussy is dripping with my cum day and night. My beautiful star, don't you think that we should give the seven great generals a taste of your divine cunt, as well? Let them saturate you, let them breed you, and let them shower you with caresses and praise. They are magnificent lovers, my star—passionate, tireless, and demonic—and they crave you so much. And here's something else you should know about me, my little Empress: I share everything with them—the battlefield, power, life, bed, and of course, I will share you with them, my beautiful wife." Seonghwa stops what he is doing and looks down at your trembling, delicate body lying underneath him. You can feel how his demonic gaze is burning into you before he grabs hold of your waist and quickly forces you down on all fours, lifting your bottom up into the air. His hand slides along the curves of your inner thighs, running his fingers over the warmth of your cunt and oozing sticky nectar. Two slender, long fingers rub your quivering hole, and you clench involuntarily at the tantalizing sensation of his fingers.

"Say it once more." He orders you as he presses down on your clit and begins to rub it in rapid circles. You let out a shrill cry, your voice echoing through the luxurious imperial chambers.

"Seonghwa! I am yours. You are my Emperor. You are my magnificent husband."

The Emperor let out a purr in response to your words, which sound silky and almost sinful. He pressed himself against you once more, thrusting his cock inside of you. Your face was pressed against the pillow before a graceful hand pulled your hair and pressed you against his wet, hard chest. He never stopped his hips from moving. His pace was sure and persistent, his lack of mercy cruel to your tender, sensitive cunt that had never known such sensations before, but still you moaned with pleasure.

"You are going to cum on my cock, my beautiful star." His teeth graze across your ear before Seonghwa bites down on the lobe of your ear. All of a sudden, his fingers find your swollen clit and make slow half circles over it, stimulating you even more. Immediately, you feel yourself tightening around his thick cock; your mouth falls open, and your lower lip begins to quiver as you feel that sweet tension at the bottom of your belly. Your orgasm is like a starburst of sensations—the pleasure exploding beneath your skin, stinging you like sharp shards of broken stars—and you almost lose yourself in the sensation. You moan so loudly that you swear the servants outside the door can hear you loud and clear, but whether it's the servants or perhaps one of the seven handsome generals, you have no way of knowing.

Seonghwa lets go of your hair and grabs your waist instead, digging his nails into your flesh until it bleeds. The squishing sound your pussy makes every time his balls slap against the soft plush of your arse draws a deep animal growl from Seonghwa's throat, the great dragon inside him coming out. The warm, sticky liquid slowly seeps out between your thighs as you shiver and melts into Seonghwa's arms as he holds you upright, your head resting on his shoulder. But it doesn't last long. In a second, you're on your back again, facing the godlike Lunar Emperor.

He stares down at your emaciated face and at the glistening beads of sweat on your brow. His smug smile was devilish and vicious; he spread your legs again, watching the heat of your tiny, squelching cunt as it greedily swallowed his cock.

"Oh, your pussy is so beautiful, my star. A perfect little cunt to be filled with the emperor's cum, to be a breeding." Seonghwa's words are nothing more than the sweetest praise wrapped in pure sin.

Holding your breath, your body feeling boneless and tired, you nod recklessly at his words.

"You will cum again, my star. You're going to scream out my name so loud that everyone in this palace will know just how good a fuck I give you." He lifted one of your legs and pressed it up against the side of your chest. In this new position, you felt stiff and small under the Emperor's exquisitely elegant body, yet your pussy continued to greedily milk his cock. The vulgar, disgusting words that Seonghwa spoke to you in his deep, velvety voice made your head spin around. It made you feel so soft and sweet.

Seonghwa fucked you in a deep and rough way. You could still feel the remains of your orgasm boiling in your belly—so sensitive, almost painful. As the head of his cock kissed your cervix, your body tensed, and every muscle in your body tightened like a silk ribbon. Yet, as if it's his only purpose in life, Seonghwa continues to split your heart. You roll your eyes, your lips quiver, and your chest shakes with sobs. You look completely fucked up as you lie there, taking everything the Emperor gives you.

"Who do you belong to, little Empress?"

"I-I, yours, Seonghwa..." You let out a gasp as you felt the tingling sensation of a new orgasm flutter around your pussy. Your soft walls clenched hard, almost restricting Seonghwa's movements, contracting and pulsing around his thick cock.

"Louder!" He crashes his hips into you, your skin reddening where his thighs made contact with yours.

"S-Seonghwa, I belong to you, only to you... ah!"

You feel like you're drowning—falling rapidly and irreversibly into the depths of a bottomless ocean of pure pleasure as Seonghwa's fingers press against your swollen, torn clit. Your orgasm is all-consuming—your vision disappears for a second, your breath is trapped in your chest, and all you can hear is the raging roar of the blood in your veins. You scream—piercingly loud—but the sound barely reaches you. You're shaking, your whole body twisting and writhing from the wild intensity of your orgasm as Seonghwa continues fucking you relentlessly. Seonghwa's skilled fingers move over your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips, making your body shake around him as you go through blissful orgasm. Your juices rush between the two of you, spilling over and down the silk of the sheets.

"I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, Seonghwa..." You cried out, the tears running freely down the sides of your face.

Seonghwa leaned forward and captured your lips in an incredible kiss, his hips pressing hard against you as he began to pour his cum as deep as he could, savoring how hard and greedily your pussy milked his cock, your silky walls trembling around him. After a few moments, he slips out of your exhausted pussy, lets go of your leg, and lies down next to you on the bed, his head dropping to your chest as he cuddles closer to you, listening to your heart pounding furiously beneath his cheek. The Emperor intertwines your fingers with his own in the most intimate and tender of gestures. Still in a daze, you lie motionless on the bed and allow him to do whatever he wants to you.

The Great Lunar Dragon is curled up beside you like a purring, cream-fed cat. He looks completely relaxed and peaceful. Your eyes wander aimlessly around the luxurious chambers, trying to collect your thoughts, but it's only for a moment before your eyes widen—frightened and in disbelief—as you meet the gaze of none other than the great, demonically beautiful General Choi San. Your soft scream attracts the attention of Seonghwa, and his eyes are lazily open to see what it is that has upset you so much.

"Ah, Sannie, you have frightened my star." Seonghwa reluctantly gets up from you and lightly covers your body with the sheet, but it does little to help the situation, as you can feel the general's sultry gaze burning into your skin. "You should have waited until the morning at the very least; you are too impatient, do you know that?"

"My precious Empress made a sound that was too tempting for me to resist, Hwa. I am nothing more than a male slave of my most beautiful mistress." San purred, got up, and crept towards the bed like a big cat of prey. He moves clean and elegantly, and you can't help but be enchanted by what you're seeing. But the spell is broken as soon as you feel the bed begin to sag under the weight of his body. In an attempt to shrink and hide your body from this breathtakingly handsome man, you pull your legs up. Seonghwa notices this and gently puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and giving you a light kiss on the cheek.

"My star, you have no need to be afraid of San; he is as gentle as a kitten. You will have fun playing with him, I assure you." Seonghwa's voice was like melting honey on your skin, and you wished you could relax, but the whole situation was just wild; this is totally not how you expect a first wedding night to go. "But first we need to bathe, and then we can go and play again, my little Empress; the night is still so young." Seonghwa literally sings, letting you go and moving around the bed until she is next to San. You watch in silence as the emperor's plump, sensual lips touch the sharp cheekbone of the general for a moment before he rises from the bed and pulls a silk robe over his naked body. "I trust everything has been prepared." It is clear that the question is not directed at you.

"Of course it has; Wooyoung and Yeosang have taken care of it." San extends his hand to you. It is the same inviting gesture that General Jung used before leading you to Seonghwa's chambers. "Come with me, my precious Empress. Your servants are waiting to please their mistress."

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randomdragonfires · 7 months ago

Text

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife.

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age.

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved.

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love.

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens.

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did.

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to.

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride.

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought.

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband?

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance…

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him.

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them.

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was.

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her.

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get. Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately.

How she wished it was her.

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals. Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?” she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?”

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now.

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut.

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger, it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face.

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him.

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these, he needed a champion too.

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife.

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor.

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit.

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife.

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron.

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive.

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him?

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there.

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked.

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.

Oh yes, their marriage had grown.

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either.

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige.

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do.

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own.

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened.

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.”

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care.

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears.

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into.

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up.

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?”

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.”

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full.

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind.

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you, for everything.”

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did.

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago.

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria.

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries.

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said.

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored.

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself.

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim.

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed.

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally.

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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ja3yun · 1 month ago

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Guess Who?

puppy hybrid!jake x human!reader x puppy hybrid!sunghoon warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, double pen, sensory deprivation (blindfold), oral (f.rec), fingering, knotting, spanking (slight), petnames (pup, baby, baby girl), poly relationship, includes mlm (kissing and humping), jakehoon are cute and hybrids obvs, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 15.1k synopsis: for your 21st birthday, your two devoted puppy hybrid boyfriends decide to help you celebrate in a way only they know how. a/n: hi! i've been mia for nearly three weeks and i'm so sorry! ofc my return had to be for my baby @yzzyhee's birthday! love of my life, i really hope you like this and you have a great day :(( you make my life a million times better and i am so thankful you were born! i love you! p.s i will never make another hybrid fic again, this shit is hard. comments, reblogs, etc are all welcome!!

You unlock the door, the key clicking softly in the lock, and as it creaks open, a hushed murmur greets your ears.

“Shh, she’s coming!”

“Shut up, she’ll hear you, you idiot!”

Your brow furrows as you step into the flat, uncertainty settling in your chest. The room is blanketed in near-total darkness, an odd quiet stretching across the air. Faint shadows dance and flicker as if they’re alive, shifting ever so slightly in the blackness. You hesitate on the threshold, taking a breath- click - the lights burst into life, filling the space with a warm, glowing radiance.

The sight before you takes your breath away. The entire room has been transformed, dressed in delicate pink, black, and white ribbons that cascade from the ceiling in beautiful, sweeping spirals. They trail down walls and weave across the furniture, shimmering gently as they catch the light. A large banner stretches across the far wall, the letters in glittering gold spelling out ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ in an elegant, swirling font. Balloons hover in the corner, two enormous numbers bobbing amid a sea of smaller ones, all in shades of blush, rose, and cream, softly swaying with each movement of air.

It feels like you’ve stepped into a dream, everything so perfectly curated and thoughtful, the air brimming with sweetness. A fond smile spreads across your face, but your attention is soon drawn to the two figures standing in the middle of the room.

Sunghoon and Jake, your two mischievous puppy hybrid boyfriends, are still bickering, their argument continuing even though you’re clearly in the room. They’re adorably oblivious to your presence, caught up in blaming each other for almost ruining the surprise.

“You were supposed to stay quiet!”

“Well, if you hadn’t stepped on that balloon-”

Their argument plays out like a well-rehearsed comedy act. Jake, with his floppy ears twitching in irritation, points accusingly at Sunghoon, whose pointier ears are now folded back in frustration. You watch with amused affection, knowing full well that this dynamic between them is part of the package. Sunghoon is the more serious of the two, precise and calculated, while Jake is more playful, his carefree nature often leading to these light-hearted clashes. The way their ears move is a telltale sign of their emotions, and you’ve come to love how expressive they are without even realising it.

You stifle a giggle and finally decide to make your presence known, clearing your throat. The sound cuts through their argument, both pairs of ears immediately perking up. Sunghoon’s ears shoot upright for a second before they fold back again in a mix of sheepishness and surprise, while Jake’s ears give an almost comical jump as he turns to face you with wide eyes.

“What’s all this?” you ask, your voice warm but teasing as you gesture to the room’s elaborate decorations. Despite your best effort to keep your tone light, you can’t help but feel touched by the effort they’ve put in.

You had told them not to make a big deal out of your birthday this year. You didn’t want any fuss; after all, you’ve always treated birthdays like any other day. A quiet dinner, maybe a movie, nothing more. But you should’ve known better. The boys are nothing if not loyal by nature, and deep down, they both knew that if you came home to no celebration, especially on your 21st birthday, you’d feel a pang of disappointment, even if you tried to hide it.

As soon as you left for uni this morning, they sprung into action. Skipping their own mid-morning classes, they rushed off to the store. It didn’t take long to find the perfect accessories out of your favourite colour scheme. After just over a year together, they knew you inside and out. They picked out everything meticulously, but what warms your heart the most is the extra effort they put into hand-making some of the decorations.

Sunghoon, ever the perfectionist, probably spent hours crafting the intricate paper flowers that now adorn the table, each one delicately folded with precision. Jake likely took charge of blowing up the balloons, glueing gems and bows to their otherwise minimalist surfaces, and arranging them in a way that screams pure enthusiasm.

They wanted it to be perfect. They wanted you to feel special because, to them, you are special. The thoughtfulness behind every tiny detail, from the glittering banner to the colour of the ribbons, speaks volumes about how much they adore you.

Your mind begins to drift back to the very beginning, to the day you first met them at the university’s human-hybrid mixer. It had been a nerve-wracking event, designed to help bridge the gap between humans and hybrids, building a sense of community. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but as soon as you walked into that room and laid eyes on them, something shifted inside you. It was instantaneous, like the world had clicked into place. You hadn’t even exchanged words before you felt the tug - something deep, raw, and undeniable pulling you towards them.

Hybrids, you have learned, can experience soul ties with humans. It’s a bond deeper than even the most romanticised ideas of soulmates, more visceral and primal. There’s no logical explanation for it, but once it happens, it’s unbreakable. That’s what had happened between the three of you. From the moment you met, there was no going back.

Sure enough, Sunghoon and Jake felt it too, that sense of loyalty, affection, and devotion that goes beyond anything they had ever experienced. Soul ties like this usually only happen between one hybrid and one human, yet they both felt that magnetic pull to your heart. The day after the mixer, they had sat down together, the atmosphere between them heavy with the weight of this newfound connection. It hadn’t been easy. The bond between them and you was so intense, neither of them wanted to lose the chance to be with you, but they couldn’t bring themselves to fight over you either.

They talked for hours that day, confessing how deeply they felt drawn to you. Neither wanted to step aside for the other, but at the same time, they couldn’t imagine you with just one of them. It wasn’t until the conversation led to you - when they thought about how you might feel - that the solution became clear. It wasn’t about competition or winning you over. It was about all three of you, together.

Being best friends, they always joked about being tied to one another too in some way, whether platonic or not. Their love for one another has been there ever since they first met, not a soul tie, but definitely something. That fact just made their decision final; both of them would have you.

When they finally brought the conversation to you, you’d been surprised, of course. The idea of being in a relationship with two people, much less two puppy hybrids, was a lot to process. But you couldn’t deny the pull. That inexplicable bond had wound itself around your heart, and no matter how much you tried to rationalise it, you felt it just as intensely as they did. Eventually, the apprehension faded, and you gave in to the inevitable.

And now, here you are, standing in the middle of your flat, staring at your boyfriends who have gone to great lengths to make your 21st birthday special.

Jake is the first to make his move, skipping towards you with the kind of joyful energy that’s distinctly him. His wide, boyish grin grows even larger the closer he gets. He practically leaps into your arms, winding himself around you like an affectionate puppy, arms squeezing you tightly as though he might never let go.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he says, his voice filled with excitement, the words almost a little breathless from his eagerness.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly. With Jake, it’s always like this - his hugs are all-consuming, full of warmth and enthusiasm. His body presses against yours, not just with strength but with an earnestness that’s pure and unguarded. It feels like he’s trying to merge your two bodies together, as though the closeness could never be enough. He nuzzles into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes you in, basking in the comfort of your touch.

Jake loves being affectionate, perhaps more than anything. He thrives on physical contact - the soft pressure of your hand against his, the way your fingers thread through his hair, or the way your bodies fit together when he wraps you up in one of his bone-crushing hugs. It’s as if every moment spent apart from you is too long, and when he finally has you in his arms, he can’t help but revel in the feeling of having you close.

His head rests against your shoulder, his floppy ears brushing your cheek as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a kind of vulnerability in how open he is, how unabashedly he shows his love for you. His body, though strong and lithe, feels almost like a blanket of warmth around you, cocooning you in his affections. He never holds back - whether it’s a kiss, a hug, or just the way he lingers close to you, as if you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

Sunghoon approaches with a more measured pace, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches Jake all but smother you. There’s no rush in his steps - he’s content to let Jake have his moment. He’s always been the more reserved one, the quiet presence beside Jake’s exuberance. But that doesn’t mean he loves you any less; his affection is simply more silent, more subtle, yet just as deep.

When Sunghoon reaches you, he gives a light pet on your head, his touch gentle but firm. Then, with a soft breath, he leans down and places a feather-light kiss on your lips. It’s not hurried or overly eager, but the tenderness in it makes your heart flutter. “Happy birthday, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a little lower, intimate.

While Jake is excitable, Sunghoon’s affection is steadier, more controlled but just as sincere. He’s a border collie hybrid, after all, a little more relaxed than Jake’s golden retriever mix. Sunghoon’s affection comes through in smaller gestures - a brush of his fingers against your arm, a lingering glance, or a kiss placed gently on your forehead when no one’s looking. He’s not as overt as Jake, but the intensity of his love is undeniable, simmering just below the surface, waiting to be felt in those quieter moments.

You shift one of your arms from Jake’s back and lift it to scratch behind Sunghoon’s ear, knowing full well how much he enjoys it. His eyes close slightly, and a faint smile curves his lips as he leans into your touch, savouring the sensation.

“Thank you,” you say softly, looking between the two of them. “Both of you. But you really didn’t have to do all of this.”

Jake’s head lifts from your shoulder, his face full of adoration as he looks at you, his brows pulling together just enough to show how deeply he feels. “We wanted to,” he says earnestly, his voice softening in the way it does when he’s especially emotional. His floppy ears jitter a little as his eyes search yours, a mix of happiness and tenderness reflecting in them.

Standing beside him, Sunghoon nods in quiet agreement. There’s no need for him to say anything; you can feel his love just in the way he gazes at you, calm but unwavering. For him, the effort was never a chore - it was an expression of something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words but hoped you’d feel in every ribbon hung, every balloon tied, every delicate touch that went into creating this moment.

You can feel a tightness in your chest as their love surrounds you, almost tangible in the air between the three of you. Your heart swells with emotion, and for a second, you’re not sure what to say. What can you say to thank them for this? Words hardly seem enough to capture the overwhelming gratitude, the pure affection you feel for them both.

Reaching up to your face and breaking the hug, Jake brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your cheek, warm and gentle. His eyes, dark and soft, reflect his adoration for you. There’s a purity in Jake’s love - a kind of innocence that comes with his boundless energy and enthusiasm. He doesn’t need to hide it or temper it. His affection is full-force, all-consuming, and it’s impossible not to be swept up in it.

“We actually didn’t just want to,” Jake says after a moment, his voice still soft but tinged with that familiar playful sincerity. “We had to. You deserve it. You deserve more than this.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes your breath catch in your throat. His tone is so earnest, his belief in what he’s saying so unwavering, that you feel your cheeks warm slightly under his gaze. Jake has always had this way of making you feel like you’re the most important person in the world - like he’s constantly in awe of the fact that you’re his.

“You know we couldn’t let today go by without doing something,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice a little lower, more intimate. “It’s your 21st, after all.”

His hand moves to the small of your back, guiding you into a gentle embrace. Sunghoon’s touch is gentle but commanding, like he’s savouring each second of closeness. He doesn’t rush; he never does. Instead, he pulls you into his side slowly, his body warm against yours.

For a moment, you’re caught between the two of them - Jake’s eager touch on one side, Sunghoon’s soft and subtle presence on the other - and it strikes you just how perfectly balanced everything feels. The way they complement each other is something you’ve come to love more than anything.

You will never understand why more people don’t have a poly relationship like this. But then again, you three are special, connected by fate.

Pulling back slightly, you look at both of them, a smile tugging at your lips. “You guys are too much,” you say, shaking your head fondly. “But I’m not complaining.”

Jake’s grin stretches across his face, his eyes lighting up at your words. “Good!” he exclaims, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for another quick, excited squeeze. “Because there’s more!”

Sunghoon lets out a small chuckle beside you, shaking his head at Jake’s enthusiasm. “We may have gone a little overboard,” he admits, though there’s no hint of regret in his tone. If anything, he seems quietly pleased with how everything has turned out.

Jake steps back, his hand slipping into yours as he tugs you towards the centre of the room, where the table is set up. “Come on, we’ve got cake!”

Yanking you toward the table, Jake gestures you to a spot on the dining table where a heart-shaped cake sits proudly in the centre, stealing the spotlight among the delicate decorations. It’s adorned with soft pink frosting that traces a neat border around the edges, forming a perfect frame for the simple yet heartfelt message written in slightly uneven, hand-lettered icing: Happy 21st Birthday, Y/N. The pink lettering pops against the soft cream-coloured surface of the cake, and small cherries dot the edges, adding a bright touch of red. Around the base, tiny white pearls encircle the cake, giving it a touch of elegance.

Your smile widens as you take in the cake’s beauty. “This is so…” you begin, laughter bubbling up as you admire the thoughtful details. “You guys didn’t make this, did you?”

“Fuck no,” Jake laughs, eyes sparkling with mischief as he swipes a finger across the back of the cake, scooping up a dollop of frosting. He waves it playfully in front of your lips, teasing you with the sweet temptation. “We’re talented, but not this talented.”

Without missing a beat, you lean forward and suck the frosting off his finger, your tongue brushing against his skin. Jake’s ears twitch in excitement, his eyes widening, and his smile turns bashful, almost shy. His floppy ears, always so expressive, bounce with joy as he watches you enjoy the taste. The frosting is sweet, creamy, and delicate on your tongue, the perfect combination of sugary delight and subtle flavour. You nod in appreciation, your eyes flicking between Jake and Sunghoon.

“It’s amazing,” you say, licking the last bit of frosting off your lips. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon, who’s been watching the two of you with a soft, amused expression, steps forward. “We can have some after presents,” he says, his voice smooth and calm. He reaches behind the table, and your curiosity piques as he pulls out three carefully wrapped boxes, each one tied with a neat ribbon.

Your heart flutters with anticipation as you sit down, the three gifts now laid out in front of you. “You guys didn’t have to-”

“Stop saying that!” Jake interrupts with a laugh, his tail wagging in spirit if he had one. “Just open them!”

With a smile, you carefully tug the ribbon on the first box and peel back the wrapping paper. The box is sleek and black, and as you open it, a familiar scent hits you before you even see what’s inside. It’s the Prada perfume you’ve been eyeing at the store for weeks, the one you always stopped to test but never quite convinced yourself to splurge on. Your breath catches as you lift the bottle from the box, its elegant design glimmering in the light.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the smooth glass.

Sunghoon smiles softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Of course we did. We noticed how you always looked at it, and we wanted to make sure you had it.”

“Plus it gives us an excuse you smell you,” Jake adds, already imagining all the ways he can attach his lips to your neck and wrists, engulfing his senses in your new scent. Jake loves to sniff you, to know every note of your aura, it’s intoxicating. He thinks your natural scent is the most delicious though.

You feel a warmth spread through your chest, touched by the thoughtfulness of their gesture. The aroma of the perfume lingers in the air as you place it back in the box, turning your attention to the second gift.

The next box is smaller, and when you open it, your heart skips a beat. It’s a mixtape, decorated with a simple hand-drawn label featuring little doodles of stars, hearts, and music notes. You can’t help but giggle softly as you look over the list of songs, recognising some of your favourite artists immediately - Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, and a mix of other singers you love.

“We put all your favourites on there,” Sunghoon says, his voice tinged with pride. “And a couple of new ones you might like, or songs that make us think of you.”

You run your fingers over the tape, your smile growing. “This is so sweet,” you say, glancing up at them. “I love it.”

The gift is thoughtful, so much time and effort to select every song, place them in order, and decorate the label. It’s gifts like these that make you feel understood and known, that it’s not just a gift someone bought because they had to get you a present, but a declaration of their adoration and understanding of you as a person. It’s cliche, sure, but you love it all the same and will cherish it for the rest of your life.

You don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t own a cassett player though...

But the third box is the one that truly tugs at your heartstrings. It’s a little larger than the others, and as you carefully untie the ribbon, your eyes land on the softest, fluffiest star-shaped plush toy you’ve ever seen. Its smile is embroidered in delicate stitches, and its squishy texture is irresistible. You can’t help but let out a soft pout as you hold it up, hugging it to your chest with a small pout of delight.

Jake grins, clearly pleased with your reaction, but before you can say anything, he nudges you lightly. “Wait, there’s more. Look inside the box.”

You place the plush aside, curiosity blooming as you peer back into the box. At the bottom, there’s a small envelope. You pull it out and open it, revealing a certificate. Your eyes widen as you read the words, the meaning sinking in.

This is to certify that the star, Vega, in the constellation of Lyra has been named in honour of Y/N L/N.

You look up at them in disbelief, your heart swelling with emotion. “You…you bought me a star?”

And not just any star, but Vega, one of the brightest stars in the night sky. It appears mostly in summer, which is exactly the season you all started dating, the same season in which you saw the beautiful star and marvelled at all its hope and wonder. It represented you, the puppies knew that, you shine brighter than anyone else in their life, and with the sun unable to purchase, Vega was the next best thing.

Jake nods, his eyes filled with excitement. “To show you that you’re always a part of our universe.”

Sunghoon steps closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. “We wanted something that would last forever, just like…well, just like us.”

Tears well in your eyes, not because of the star or the gifts, but because of the love behind them - the thought, the care, the intention to make you feel special in a way only they could. You’re at a loss for words, but your expression says it all. They’ve made you feel like the centre of the universe.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion as you look between them.

Jake pulls you into another tight hug while Sunghoon rests his hand on your back, the solid warmth of his presence grounding you in the moment. They’re everything to you, and today, they’ve made sure you know how much you mean to them.

Sunghoon moves closer, his hand steady on your back as his other gently cups your cheek, wiping away the tears that have slipped down without you even noticing. His touch is delicate, and the concern in his eyes makes your heart ache with tenderness. “You’re so precious to us, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I know this might not be much, but I hope you like it.”

You let out a quiet scoff, the absurdity of his words catching you off guard. Not much? How could he possibly think that? This - all of this - was more than anything anyone had ever done for you. The decorations, the gifts, the thought they had put into every detail...It was overwhelming, in the best possible way. You shake your head, a mixture of disbelief and affection swirling within you.

“Not much?” you repeat, your voice thick with emotion. “Are you kidding? This is everything. More than I could have wanted.”

“Good,” Jake exclaims behind you, “Because we aren’t done yet.”

Jake's grin grows impossibly wider as he bounces on his heels, clearly unable to contain his excitement. You tilt your head at him, feigning curiosity. "What do you mean?" you ask, eyeing him playfully.

Leaning into your ear, Sunghoon’s low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. His breath brushes the sensitive skin just below your earlobe, making your heart race a little faster. “Jake’s set up a few games for us to play. His idea, not mine," he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear in a way that feels both teasing and intimate. "I can’t take credit if you enjoy it,” he adds before nibbling at your earlobe, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “But if you don’t, I’m definitely not taking the blame.”

His mischievous whisper ignites warmth in your chest, but before you can respond, Jake comes bounding back, arms full of props. He’s beaming, the kind of uncontainable energy that only comes from him in moments like this - utterly contagious.

“Okay!” Jake exclaims, barely containing his excitement. “So, you need to choose between one and three.” He hides the items behind his back, swaying his hips like an eager child waiting for you to pick. His whole body vibrates with anticipation, his floppy ears bouncing slightly as he waits, his grin impossibly wide. He’s so irresistibly adorable like this that you can’t help but laugh softly at his excitement.

You look up at the ceiling, pretending to think long and hard, your eyes dancing with playful mischief. The corners of your lips twitch as you hum dramatically, one finger resting on your chin. “Hmm... let’s go with one!” you announce, drawing the word out for effect.

Jake’s excitement explodes as he reveals his choice: two large, fuzzy fake tails in a variety of colours. Sunghoon’s immediate groan is deep and regretful, contrasting sharply with Jake’s pure glee.

“Not this one,” Sunghoon mutters under his breath, sounding utterly exasperated.

Curiosity piqued, you raise an eyebrow. “What is it?” you ask, looking between the two of them. Their polar opposite reactions have you intrigued.

“Pin the tail on the hybrid,” they answer in unison - Sunghoon’s voice low and filled with immediate regret, while Jake practically bounces with enthusiasm.

Jake clearly had a hand in creating this game and you can't help but laugh as the details slowly click into place. Since hybrids like Jake and Sunghoon, who are part of the newer generation, don’t have tails, Jake had come up with the idea of mimicking a playful, somewhat childish game like ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey,’ but with a hybrid twist.

"Wait-" you laugh, holding your sides as the image fully forms in your mind, "Is it a butt plug or something?"

Both of them freeze, looking at you with wide eyes and a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"No!" Jake shakes his head so vigorously that his floppy ears bounce wildly. "Blindfolding you and having you wielding a metal butt plug doesn’t sound very safe." His lips twist in playful dismay, but he quickly regains his sunny disposition, his excitement bouncing back full force. “I’ve got little Velcro patches, see? We each take turns, and you try and pin it on us until you get one right.”

You’re still giggling, the absurdity of it all getting to you. “So, I’m pinning tails on you guys?”

“Yes…” Sunghoon groans again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s...so embarrassing.” He sounds thoroughly defeated, but you know him too well by now. There’s no real annoyance behind his words - just that reluctant indulgence that comes when Jake’s happiness is at stake. And there’s something adorable about how much he’s willing to go along with Jake’s excitement, even if it isn’t to his taste.

Jake skips over to Sunghoon with unrestrained glee and, without any warning, gives Sunghoon’s backside a playful smack, placing the large Velcro circle right where it needs to go. “You’re first, Hoonie!” Jake declares with a mischievous grin, fluttering his lashes at the Border Collie.

Sunghoon sighs, resigned to his fate. “Great,” he mutters, shooting you a look that’s half annoyed, half amused as he walks over to the couch, using the armrest as an X on the ground.

Not wasting any time, Jake turns to you with the blindfold in his hand, eyes gleaming with joy. “Your turn, Y/N.” He steps closer, moving with a deliberate slowness that makes the air between you spark with a new kind of tension.

As he reaches up to gently tie the blindfold around your head, his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. His movements are slow, almost sensual. You feel the softness of the fabric brush against your skin as he secures the blindfold, but it’s the way his lips hover close to your neck that really makes your breath catch.

Jake doesn’t stop there. He lets his lips trail a gentle kiss down the curve of your neck, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs softly, his voice dripping with playful affection. It’s a mix of excitement and something deeper - something that sends your pulse racing.

If there is one thing Jake loves to do, it’s send your mind in a tizzy. Behind all the fun and gleefulness of his nature, comes those dog-like sexual urges. He changes so rapidly that you get emotional whiplash, only adding to the tingles you feel all over your body.

This also isn’t the first time he’s blindfolded you, so the memories of those nights with his cock pounding into you as you stare into darkness come flooding back, settling deep into your stomach.

His hands linger on your shoulders, fingers squeezing gently before he steps back, leaving you standing there, blindfolded and just a little breathless.

“You ready?” Jake’s voice is light, teasing, and you can almost hear the grin on his face as he spanks you, much like he did Sunghoon only a minute ago.

You nod, unable to suppress a smile. “Ready.”

With the blindfold in place, you hear Sunghoon shuffle awkwardly in front of you. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, though there’s a faint hint of amusement in his voice. You can practically hear his smirk, even if you can’t see it.

Jake giggles in the background, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, baby,” he says, guiding your hands toward one of the tails. “Let’s see how good your aim is.”

As you take a few tentative steps towards Sunghoon, your hand reaches out instinctively, fingers hovering just above his body, ready to feel for the perfect spot. But before you can make contact, Jake’s playful voice cuts through the air.

“No touching! That’s cheating!” he chides, chuckling behind you with a cheeser on his face.

Huffing, you concede to his rules, pulling your hand back and placing it behind your back. You focus harder now, relying on your instincts to guide you. You can hear Sunghoon shifting slightly, likely in quiet amusement at your predicament, but he remains silent, waiting.

With your free hand, you move the tail towards where you think his lower back is, feeling proud of your guess. You press the Velcro onto his body, releasing the fluffy tail with a satisfied nod.

Pulling off the blindfold, you blink a few times to adjust to the light. As your vision clears, you burst into laughter. The tail sits just above Sunghoon’s lower back, nowhere near where it should be. You glance at him, expecting him to grumble, but instead, he’s biting back a smirk, his lips twitching as he stares down at the misaligned tail.

Jake laughs from the side but is supportive, ever your cheerleader. “I think it was okay!” he chirps, always the optimist when it comes to you. To be fair, it was closer than you thought you’d manage.

“Me next!” Jake announces, barely giving you a moment to catch your breath. The game continues, full of light banter and laughter as you go back and forth between pinning tails on Jake and Sunghoon. Each time, you aim for the perfect spot but always fall just a little short, earning chuckles and teasing remarks from both of them.

Finally, after a few failed attempts, you manage to stick a tail exactly where it belongs. You cheer loudly, jumping up and down in triumph. “Knew I could get one!” you exclaim, spinning around in a small victory dance.

As you twirl in triumph, your victory cry still echoing in the air, you catch a glimpse of Jake and Sunghoon exchanging glances. Their smirks deepen, a silent exchange of thoughts that sends a ripple through the room. The laughter fades, and suddenly, the lighthearted atmosphere shifts. There’s a weight to the air now, something simmering beneath the surface. It makes your pulse quicken, a flicker of awareness spreading through you. You feel the intensity in how their eyes trace your movements, lingering a beat too long.

Sunghoon steps forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering, and for the first time in the game, his tone has lost its playful edge. "Put the blindfold back on," he says. His voice, once light and teasing, now carries a gravity that sends a shiver cascading down your spine. It's not a request - it's an instruction. The room seems to tighten around you, the shift in his voice enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the blindfold. The fabric feels different this time as you slip it over your eyes, no longer just a tool for the game but something that heightens the tension. Darkness envelops you, and in the absence of sight, your other senses heighten. You feel the thudding of your heart in your chest, the way your breathing speeds up, shallow and anticipatory.

The room falls quiet - eerily so. The only sounds are soft footsteps and the faint rustling of fabric, too faint to locate. Without your sight, every shift in the air feels magnified, every sound sharper. The unmistakable sound of Velcro tearing apart makes you inhale sharply. You can picture it in your mind, the boys silently stripping the patches from their trousers, and though you can’t see, the tension thickens in your throat. You don’t know what they’re planning, but the unspoken intensity between you all leaves your skin prickling.

So you aren’t playing another round…

The moment you realise the game has shifted is when you feel their warmth surrounding you, enclosing you in a cocoon of sensation. Sunghoon's fingers find your waist, his touch firm yet teasing, while Jake's hands glide against your thighs, his fingers brushing against your skin with an excruciatingly slow reverence. The air feels thick, heady, charged with something that goes beyond playfulness, the space between you electric.

Sunghoon’s breath tickles your ear as he leans in, his voice dropping into a sultry murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "How about another game?" he asks, the dark edge in his tone making your knees tremble.

Your throat feels tight as you try to keep your voice steady. "Sure...what one?" you manage to whisper, though your breath is unsteady, betraying the fluttering anticipation in your chest.

"A guessing game," Sunghoon replies smoothly, and even blindfolded, you can sense the smirk on his lips. His fingers move to sweep your hair aside, gathering it loosely at the nape of your neck. His touch lingers there, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Jake doesn’t miss the opportunity, his lips finding the tender skin of your jaw. He places soft, deliberate kisses, slow and torturous, trailing down to your collarbone. The warmth of his breath fans across your skin, each kiss building a slow, insistent heat that coils deep within you.

Your voice catches. "What...what kind of guessing game?" you ask, your words shaky, barely holding onto the thread of conversation as their touch unravels you.

"You have to guess which one of us is touching you," Sunghoon explains, his voice dripping with mischief as Jake begins to pull your t-shirt from your body, his lips back on your chest as he kisses gently along the top of your breast and down their valley. His lips pause just below your ribcage, his breath warm against your skin, but the heat building inside you is anything but halted.

Your breath hitches. You can’t help but let out a soft gasp as Jake’s kisses become more insistent, his mouth grazing your skin, making it impossible to concentrate. His hands hover at the waistband of your trousers, fingertips skimming just above your hips, a teasing, electric touch that sends waves of pleasure through your core. Each kiss, each brush of his lips, sets your nerves alight, and you can barely think straight, let alone guess who’s doing what.

A weak laugh escapes you. "Well, that's obviously Jake," you joke, trying to keep up the banter, though your voice is shaky and thin, completely betraying the desire threading through every word. Jake’s lips move lower still, his kisses drawing along your stomach, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. You can feel his breath, warm and tantalising against your skin, and your heart pounds in response, your body humming with need.

Before you can register just how far Jake has taken you, Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft, so slow, it melts away any remaining thought. His touch is tender but commanding, pulling you deeper into the moment as his other hand weaves through your hair. The intensity of his kiss drowns out everything else, making you forget who is where, or even that there was a game at all.

When he finally breaks away, Sunghoon’s voice is thick with amusement, a smile lingering on his lips as he murmurs against yours, "It’s not going to be that easy, baby." His words hold a promise, his tone teasing, yet filled with something deeper, something that makes your pulse quicken. Even though you can’t see the mischievous glint in his eyes, you feel it in the way he pulls back just enough to leave you wanting more.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon pushes you gently onto the couch, the plush cushions sinking beneath you as you fall back. He looms over you, ears perked up into points, his presence commanding and filled with intent. The game is no longer just playful; it’s something much more serious now - something charged with tension and need.

“You need to guess correctly…or else,” Sunghoon’s voice is both teasing and dark, a quiet threat hidden beneath his words. It sends a shiver down your spine, the thrill of the unknown building between the three of you.

“Or else what?” you ask, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably as your voice comes out in little more than a breathless whisper. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you wait for the answer, your body buzzing with excitement and wonder.

Jake chuckles from below, his mouth hovering over your waist, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks. “Or else you don’t get to cum,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a heat beneath his words that tells you you’re night is going to be a long and teasingly painful one.

But then again, that all depends on you and your guessing abilities.

Sunghoon’s hands glide up your thighs, parting your legs gently as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And trust me, baby, you’ll want to cum…” His breath fans across your skin, sending goosebumps erupting along your arms.

The combination of their teasing and your own mounting desire creates a cocktail of anticipation that leaves you dizzy. You’re torn between the thrill of the game and the very real yearning for release. You can feel the heat radiating from both of them, their excitement palpable as they prepare to test your ability to guess who is who.

“Okay,” you manage to whisper, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’ll try.” You don’t want to give in too easily, but the way their touches make your body sing makes it increasingly difficult to think straight.

Jake giggles, the sound light and carefree despite the charged atmosphere. “Let’s see if you can guess who’s touching you,” he says, still hovering at your waist, the anticipation palpable in his tone. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you, heightening your senses even more.

“Ready for a little practice before the real game begins?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low and seductive. You nod, your heart pounding as the thrill of the unknown rushes through you.

With both of them positioned strategically around you, you can barely keep track of where they are. The game begins with Sunghoon’s fingers trailing down your sides, exploring the curves of your body with a feather-light touch. It sends shivers racing down your spine, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan.

“Who’s this?” he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, urging you to focus.

“Sunghoon?” you guess, feeling the familiar warmth and the teasing nature of his touch.

“Correct,” he replies, a smirk evident in his tone. But before you can fully revel in your success, Jake’s hands slip around your waist, his fingers playing with the hem of your trousers, teasing you with a brush of his lips along your skin.

The golden retriever's long fingers undo your jeans button and pull them down, your hips lifting instinctively to help get them off, showcasing your eagerness to play their game. Jake discards them, tossing them so they hit a few of your birthday balloons scattered on the floor.

Both of them stand towering over you as you sink into the couch, heart pounding with happiness and anticipation as you breathe out shakily. You hear them switch places a few times, circling one another in an attempt to trick you. But you know your puppy hybrids better than anyone in the world, and you certainly know how they both touch you.

This should be easy. A walk in the park.

Giving each other a look, Sunghoon and Jake both kneel down in front of you, smirks plastered on their faces and excitement evident in their growing members, concealed by their trousers. You can feel their eyes on you, drinking in the sight of you sprawled on the couch, your body reacting to the closeness of their touch. The heat between you all is palpable, and it sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your veins.

Without a word, they move in synchrony, their hands gently tugging at the waistband of your thong. One of them, most likely Jake from the playful way his fingers brush against your skin, hooks his fingers into the lace fabric and begins to pull it down. His touch is soft yet deliberate, teasing you with the slow pace as the fabric slides down your thighs.

You lift your hips, allowing them to fully strip you, your skin flushing with warmth as your body is exposed to their gaze. There’s a moment of stillness as the thong hits the floor, and you can feel both sets of eyes on you.

Sunghoon’s hands are the first to make contact again, his palms gliding over your hips before settling on your thighs, spreading them apart gently but firmly. His movements are slow, measured, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your inner thighs, so close yet not close enough. Jake, on the other hand, remains at your waist, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach, teasing kisses trailing lower.

They seem to have fallen into a rhythm, taking turns with their touches, each one designed to make you squirm in anticipation. The contrast between Sunghoon’s steady, calculated touch and Jake’s more playful, teasing approach is driving you to the edge, the tension building with every second. You can easily guess who is who right now.

But how much longer?

Gripping your ankles, each of the puppies lifts a leg, placing it gently over one of their shoulders. Their bodies are now intertwined together, making this game more difficult; their voices and touches are all coming from one place, and with your mind set on a high of horny, clouds are forming your judgement.

With your legs draped over their broad shoulders, the pressure of their firm grips against your thighs and the heat of their breath makes it impossible to focus on anything but them. Each breath you take is shallow, and the room feels electric, thick with the tension they’ve woven into the air. You try to steady yourself, but your mind is already spinning, teetering between confusion and desire as they work in tandem.

The hybrid aspect of them is something you’ve become accustomed to in daily life - their heightened senses, and the way they move with an innate grace. But now, their abilities seem even further elevated, their touches more precise, almost animalistic. It’s like they’re hunting you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild without giving you what you crave.

The golden retriever hybrid, starts first, his tongue flicking out to give the lightest of touches to your clit. The sensation is maddening. It’s so gentle you almost don’t know it’s happening, but the effect it has on you is immediate. A ripple of heat shoots through you, making you squirm, but before you can even process the sensation, his mouth pulls away. Your legs twitch, instinctively trying to move closer to any of their mouths, but he keeps his distance, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still.

Your breath catches as you feel the faintest brush of lips - no, teeth - against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Jake’s hybrid nature makes his bites more playful, but there’s a sharp edge to it that sends goosebumps over your skin. He grazes his teeth over your thigh before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. You gasp, the sting quickly replaced by warmth, and the pulsing heat of your growing arousal.

And then...they switch. You can’t see them, but you can feel the subtle differences in their movements, yet it’s hard to know who is touching you at any given moment. One of them trails their fingers down your side, slow and feather-light, sending shivers all the way down your spine. It’s the gentleness that throws you off. Jake is usually more eager, a little more frantic, but this touch...it’s deliberate, controlled. It must be Sunghoon, you think, but as the fingers curl around your waist, the next lick to your clit has you second-guessing everything.

"Unfair," you breathe out, your voice betraying your frustration. Their soft chuckles are the only response, and the way they both sound so amused makes your stomach tighten with anticipation. You think you hear Jake’s distinctive laugh, that bright, carefree sound, but then a warm breath against your stomach has your mind spinning again. You can’t keep track of who’s where, their movements seamless, like two wolves circling their prey.

Another agonisingly slow lick - Sunghoon, maybe? - and you buck your hips forward, trying to chase the sensation. Before you can go any further, teeth sink into your other thigh, another mark, another reminder of their strength. His soft, canine growl sends a thrill of excitement through you, but you’re torn between which sensation to focus on - the teasing bite or the flick of a tongue against your most sensitive spot.

Desperate for something to hold onto, your hand instinctively reaches down, fingers tangling in the nearest head of hair, but before you can fully grab hold, a hand swats yours away. “No touching,” Sunghoon commands, his voice low and controlled; it’s too easy if you feel their ears, both hybrids distinctive just by their shape alone. You drop your hands, frustrated but obedient, gripping the cushions beneath you instead as you moan out in helpless need.

They switch again, and now there’s no way to tell who is doing what. Jake’s usually sloppy enthusiasm and Sunghoon’s precise control blend together so seamlessly it feels like they’re working as one. The sensation of their tongues flicking against you is almost maddening. Slow, singular licks that keep you on the edge, but never quite tipping you over. It’s a maddening torment, like a slow burn just beneath your skin.

The heat between your legs grows unbearable as their tongues move with the same deliberate, precise motions, as if they know exactly how to keep you guessing. They’re hybrids, after all - capable of teasing you with both their human intelligence and their canine prowess. And they’re using every bit of that duality to toy with you, their mouths working in a rhythm that’s far too coordinated for your sanity.

A hand moves between your legs, and fingers slide into you slowly, drawing out a long, drawn-out moan from your lips. The stretch feels heavenly, but the pace is infuriating. One finger curls inside you, and your mind races. Sunghoon always moves like this, calculated, hitting the exact spot that makes you see stars. You gasp his name, “Sunghoon,” the word tumbling from your lips in a breathy moan.

The fingers pause for a moment before continuing, confirming your guess with a small squeeze on your thigh, but there’s no verbal answer. Instead, the teasing continues as Jake’s mouth returns to your clit, adding just enough pressure to keep you gasping, but not enough to let you cum.

The world around you fades, a haze settling over your mind as the pleasure intensifies. The rhythmic lapping of two tongues against your folds creates a symphony of sensations that overwhelms your senses. Both Jake and Sunghoon kiss your heat, growling into you as your juices melt along their tongues. It’s as if they’ve perfectly synced their movements, each flick and swirl of their tongues igniting a fire deep within you.

Jake’s mouth works expertly against your clit, the pressure alternating between firm and feather-light, sending shockwaves of bliss coursing through your body. You can barely keep track of who’s who anymore, their hybrid natures blurring the lines between their human dexterity and animalistic instincts. One moment, you feel the warmth of Sunghoon’s fingers curling deep inside you, stretching you, filling you in a way that makes your back arch and your breaths come out in desperate gasps. The next, Jake’s playful tongue sweeps over you, teasing and tantalising, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

As more fingers sink into your heat, the delicious stretch turns into something euphoric, each thrust inside you mixing with the delightful flick of tongues around your clit. Your body responds instinctively, thrusting forward, seeking more as you become lost in the sensations they’re creating. It’s an exquisite torture, every nerve ending alight, every touch sending you spiralling deeper into a world of pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, the word slipping from your lips in a breathless whimper, but it’s swallowed by the sounds of their movements. You’re a mess of need and desire, the heat pooling in your core building to an unbearable level as they work you closer to the edge. It’s like they’re reading your body, understanding the ebb and flow of your pleasure better than you do yourself.

Sunghoon focuses on his fingers scissor inside you, curling just right, while Jake alternates between suckling and licking your clit, ensuring that every sensation is heightened. You can feel your climax tightening, like a coiled spring ready to snap, but just as you think you’re about to tumble over, they pull back slightly, slowing their pace to keep you hovering right on the brink.

“God, don’t stop!” you cry out, the frustration laced with desperation. They only chuckle, the sound low and teasing, as if relishing in your torment. It’s maddening, and yet, it sends another wave of heat coursing through you.

Then, with no warning, they both lean in closer, their mouths working in unison, each tongue exploring every inch of you. It’s as if they’ve forgotten all the rules of teasing and have decided to push you over the edge together. The sensation is overwhelming, the combination of their soft, wet tongues swirling around your sensitive core and the expert thrusts of Sunghoon’s fingers. You feel your body arching, trembling under their skilled ministrations as your mind starts to blur, the world outside slipping away completely.

“Y/N…guess, baby,” Sunghoon whispers, but it’s muffled by the rush of blood in your ears. You’re too far gone, too lost in the sensations to respond, too consumed by the need surging through you.

With every lap of their tongues, every curl of their fingers, they bring you closer and closer to that precipice. You can feel it building, a tight knot of pleasure coiling within you, and as they pick up their pace, the intensity increases, making your breaths come in short gasps. You’re teetering, just one more push away from falling over the edge into bliss, but they don’t give you that release just yet.

You feel Jake’s mouth pull back momentarily, but before you can process the loss, Sunghoon’s fingers plunge deeper, hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out his name again, louder this time. The sound reverberates off the walls, mixing with the cacophony of your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of their tongues.

“Come on, baby,” Jake urges, his voice low and sultry, but the words barely register as another wave of pleasure washes over you, leaving you breathless. You grip the cushions tightly, knuckles white with the effort to hold on, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

Jake’s mouth returns to your clit with a renewed fervour, his tongue swirling around it in that way only he knows how, your guess at the tip of your tongue. His lips seal around you, creating the perfect amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. It’s a feeling so familiar, yet it never loses its power to make your body melt under his touch.

Your back arches off the couch, a sharp cry escaping your lips. “Jake! Fuck, Jake,” you gasp, the words tumbling out as the sensations crash over you in waves and your final guess is made. Your hands have enough of grasping the cushions beside you and fly to his hair, his floppy ears weaving through your fingers as you tug harshly,, knuckles white, as you try to steady yourself against the overwhelming pleasure surging through your veins.

Growling and whimpering at your harsh pulls, Jake’s body vibrates. His pretty dog ears are sensitive, they love to be nibbled, pulled, and played with. It’s something you and Sunghoon do often, loving the way his voice cracks and chest shakes with happiness.

“Good girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low and approving, the sound deepening the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. He knows it’s technically both of them that have worked you to the edge, but it’s Jake’s expert tongue that is the finisher. He watches Jake devour you with a smirk, clearly enjoying the sight of you completely at their mercy. His hand slides to Jake’s head, his fingers gently scratching behind Jake’s ears, massaging the sensitive spot just right as you let go of your grip slightly. “You win this round, baby. Cum over Jake’s mouth whenever you want.”.

Jake lets out a soft, deep sound, almost like a purr, and the vibration travels through his tongue, sending shivers through your already trembling body. The added sensation is too much, your whole body responding to the combined stimulation. You can feel the low rumble of Jake’s contentment reverberating through you, the sound mixing with the intense pleasure he’s drawing from your clit.

Withdrawing his fingers from you to allow Jake easier access, Sunghoon licks them clean. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he tastes you, palming himself through his jeans. He knows Jake likes to lap you to completion, so he will always give him that privilege, but man does he wish he would be selfish for once and have you wash over his tongue

Your moans become louder, breathless, your body strung so tightly on the edge that it feels like you’re going to snap at any moment. Jake’s tongue flicks over your clit faster, his lips sucking gently but firmly, keeping you right at the edge. Sunghoon’s fingers in his hair encourage him, the gentle pats turning into slow, methodical scratches, making Jake purr even louder.

The combination of Jake’s relentless mouth and the teasing vibrations drives you wild. Your body quivers, and you gasp as your orgasm starts to build, your hips bucking towards Jake’s mouth, desperate for more. Every flick of his tongue, every hum from his purr sends you spiraling further into pleasure, and you know you’re right on the brink, just a breath away from falling over completely.

“Come on, baby. Let go,” Sunghoon coaxes softly, his tone dark and dripping with satisfaction, knowing full well how close you are.

That’s all it takes. Your body arches, your back lifting off the couch as you finally tumble over the edge. A broken cry rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, waves of pleasure consuming you completely. Your vision blurs and your entire body quakes as the ecstasy pulses through your veins, overwhelming and all-encompassing.

The puppy's tongue slows but doesn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor from your body until you’re left a trembling mess beneath them. You slump back against the couch, chest heaving, your entire body alight with the lingering aftershocks of your release.

Pulling away slowly, Jake’s mouth leaves your sensitive core, but not without placing a few soft, lingering kisses on the inside of your thighs, trailing up toward your hip. His lips are gentle now, in contrast to the intensity of moments before, and each kiss is a tender reminder of the care and attention he’s always given you. Your body hums with the remnants of pleasure, still tingling in the aftermath of your climax.

His breath tickles your skin as he murmurs against your thigh, “The game isn’t over, baby.”

Before you can catch your breath or even respond, Sunghoon’s strong arms slip beneath you. In one smooth motion, he lifts you up, and your legs dangle in the air as he carries you, positioning you over the back of the couch. Your palms rest against the soft cushions, bracing yourself as your body arches naturally, wanting more of them. The fabric presses against your chest, heightening your awareness of every inch of your body. The blindfold remains secure much to your dismay, but you don’t grumble.

Guessing this should be easy, each of their cocks imprinted into your brain, both beautiful but so unique. Jake, who is thick and long, stands straight and always hits that sweet spot deep inside you. Whereas, Sunghoon is skinnier but curved to the right, always angling himself perfectly to drag along your sensitive walls.

Behind you, Jake and Sunghoon exchange a glance, their mischievous smiles fading slightly as the unspoken competition between them resumes. Unbeknownst to you, they square up for a quick, playful round of rock-paper-scissors. A soft sound of irritation escapes Sunghoon’s throat as Jake wins, his tongue sticking out in mock victory as he flashes a grin Sunghoon’s way.

Sunghoon’s furry ears pin back in annoyance, his eyes narrowing, but there’s no real anger in his expression - just begrudging respect for the outcome of their game. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath so you can’t hear, stepping back to allow Jake to take his place behind you, even though you can practically feel his impatience radiating off him.

Jake wastes no time. His shirt is off in an instant, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing as he throws the fabric aside. The sight of his bare skin, glowing with a light sheen of sweat, makes Sunghoon swallow thickly. His trousers follow, hitting the floor with a soft thud, and you can sense the eagerness in the moves, positioning himself behind you.

Sunghoon, feeling the heat swirl in his blood follows suit, peeling off his clothes just as quickly, though, with an air of frustration, his eyes never leaving the curve of your body bent over the couch. He inches forward, watching intently as Jake prepares to claim you, waiting for his own turn with palpable hunger.

Jake runs his hands over your hips, sliding up your waist as he leans in, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. His warmth engulfs you, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against you. The anticipation in the air thickens, and your body tingles in response, ready for whatever comes next.

Sliding his boxers down just enough, the golden hybrid’s cock springs free, his hand gripping around it and pumping in glee. He can’t wait to be inside of you. Although you might guess who it is right away, he is going to try and make it difficult, already planning to switch up his rhythm to trick you somehow.

You feel the tip of a cock press against your aching hole, already desperately squeezing around nothing as you wait in anticipation. You hate waiting, you’ve never been a very patient person, particularly in situations like these, so the teasing from the hybrid behind you is making you mewl out in both frustration and want. It’s not like you can even see anything in front of you to help distract you, the blindfold doing it’s just a little too well.

Creeping up behind Jake, Sunghoon’s fingers dip into the boy’s boxers and pull them down, his body dipping down with them until his face is at Jake’s soft butt. Sunghoon wouldn’t call himself an ass man, he would take your tits over anything else, but something about his boyfriend’s ass just speaks to him, making him want to mark it and bite it. But before he can get too carried away, he has to remember that this is your birthday, and all of his attention should be on you.

That doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun while you’re preoccupied.

With a smirk on his lips, he places gentle kisses on Jake’s right cheek, then the left, letting his mouth trail up Jake’s back and shoulders, enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend’s skin against his own. Jake turns his head slightly, confusion evident on his face as he tries to catch a glimpse of what Sunghoon is up to, but Sunghoon grips Jake’s hips firmly, preventing any further investigation.

“What are you doing?” Jake whispers, making sure you can’t sneakily figure out that it is in fact his cock two seconds away from pushing inside of you.

Shrugging, Sunghoon pecks the other puppy’s lips. “I’m having some fun…and I’m gonna help you out,” he whispers, the words flowing like silk, so soft that Jake might have missed them entirely if not for his canine senses catching every nuance. Yet, it leaves Jake puzzled, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

Tilting his head slightly, Jake silently asks for clarity, but Sunghoon nudges him forward with a few gentle fingers at the back of his head. “Focus on her. Make our girl feel extra good,” he instructs, a playful yet commanding tone lacing his voice. It’s not like Jake needs to be told twice, he loves burying himself inside of you, thrusting his hips until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him.

While they conspire about god knows what, you begin to slide back, pushing onto the cock, trying to devour it out of pure greed and impatience. But as quickly as you feel the delicious bell stretch your hole, it’s quickly taken away from you. It’s fucking infuriating, so much so that you huff out loud and groan.

“This isn’t fair. This is my birthday, y’know,” you point out matter-of-factly, hoping to remind them that today should be dedicated to you, to your pleasure. Surely your 21st birthday should revolve around indulgence, not this agonising denial of the simple pleasures you know both hybrids would willingly give you any other day.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp smack against your cheek, the force of it making your back arch, sending a sting shooting up your spine. “It is your birthday, so you should be grateful Jakey here came up with such a great game for us to play,” Sunghoon growls, his tone deep yet lacking malice. Instead, there’s an undercurrent of authority, a reminder that if you push too far, this delightful game could end before you’ve even begun to enjoy it. “Say thank you to Jake for setting this up for you, be grateful.”

As the sting from his slap dissipates, you feel a gentle hand soothing the reddened mark, an unmistakable touch that could only belong to Jake. He never liked when you received harsh marks unless they were pretty little hickeys; the tenderness he displays is a testament to his nurturing nature, balancing out Sunghoon’s authoritative presence. It’s why the three of you work so well as a couple.

With a playful pout, you huff out, “Fine, fine. Thank you, Jake.” The words slip out, albeit begrudgingly. You are thankful to him, to both of them. No one gives you this sort of effort and love like the the two boys who stand behind you. Plus, they wouldn’t be doing all of this if they knew you were going to hate it. They know fine well that this will be a new game you’ll play a lot more of.

Sunghoon’s assertiveness is a thrill for you, a dance of power and surrender. He’s not entirely dominant, but he definitely holds authority over both you and Jake. You relish this side of him, especially in moments like this, even if you grumble. There’s an undeniable thrill in being commanded, the excitement of receiving praise for your compliance.

As you settle back into the moment, still completely oblivious to who’s cock you are desperatley trying to seek the comfort of, Sunghoon’s hands glide along Jake’s body, guiding him back toward you. The heat radiating off both hybrids sends shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what’s to come.

Licking his plump lips, Jake pumps his cock a few times, lining it up at your entrance. Although it’s your celebration, the pup suddenly feels like it’s his own birthday, the throb of his cock exhibiting his excitement to be nestled inside your walls. So, without much warning, he slides into you, filling you up so beautifully.

You can’t even try and decipher who it is just yet, the satisfaction of your craving finally being fulfilled is clouding your judgement and your body is only screaming blissful a chain of ‘yes, yes, fuck yes’ into your mind. Moaning loudly, you push back as far as you can, begging with your body for him to stay there for a moment.

Complying, Jake waits until you have adjusted, though with Sunghoon’s fingers scissoring you open earlier, it doesn’t take long for the stretch to turn to comfort and ease. Your cunt is Jake’s favourite thing in the whole world - its taste, the way it moulds perfectly around him, and certainly the way it squeezes his cock. Being a hybrid comes with advantages, and his senses are immensely heightened. While you need a blindfold to be more attuned to your smell or hearing, Jake lives like that constantly. He can hear every breathless gasp coming from your lips as he drags his member along your canal, the ridges of your walls making him feel even better than if he were just human.

Jake starts slow, thrusting in and out of you with agonising deliberateness. He’s trying to catch you off guard, and you can tell by how foreign the movements are to you. None of them have ever fucked you like this before, making it harder to play their guessing game. You have to get this right. If you don’t, then you’ll be denied your release, and considering how perfect your first one was, you don’t want to miss out on multiple moments of euphoria.

Behind Jake, Sunghoon grips his hips tightly, guiding him in and out of you with a fervour that makes Jake groan with pleasure. He feels the pressure building with each thrust, the warmth of your body enveloping him, drawing him deeper into bliss. Each thrust is met with delicious friction, and each drawback is met with Sunghoon’s bulge dry humping him. He can’t help but revel in the sensation. The heat radiating off your skin is intoxicating, and he relishes the feeling of your slickness coating him as he moves.

You’re both utterly consumed by the rhythm, Jake’s mind swimming in a haze of pleasure. Each thrust sends a wave of warmth through his body, and he’s acutely aware of how tightly you’re gripping him, how perfectly you fit around him. The delicious squeeze of your walls makes him ache for more, each movement sending shocks of ecstasy radiating through him. He bites down on his lip to stifle a moan, his brow furrowing in concentration as he fights to maintain control while also surrendering to the pleasure washing over him.

As you move beneath him, your breaths quicken, and every sound you make fuels the fire within him. Your body shifts, pushing back against him, and the way you arch your back sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins. You’re a vision of pure ecstasy, and the sight alone is enough to drive him wild. He finds himself instinctively matching your movements, thrusting deeper with each push, allowing the waves of pleasure to wash over him.

Noticing Jake fall back into his typical frenzied rhythm, Sunghoon bites down on his neck, causing him to whine out, his ears jumping at the sudden sharp pain. “Follow my lead, don’t get carried away. We want this night to last, don’t we?” The dark-haired boy whispers into Jake’s ear, kissing down his neck to soothe the mark.

Nodding, Jake nuzzles Sunghoon’s cheek in apology, his breath hitching slightly as he feels his boyfriend’s warmth radiating against him. He understands the importance of pacing; you’ve already cum once, and if they want this night to continue, you’ll need time between each orgasm to keep up with their animalistic sex drive. Jake feels a surge of determination to make sure you feel good, his instincts kicking in as he returns to a more measured rhythm, albeit with the primal undertone of urgency that he can’t fully shake off.

Sunghoon’s hands guide Jake’s hips, the pressure of his grip firm yet gentle, reminding him of the control they’re both meant to maintain. As Jake follows Sunghoon’s lead once again, he can’t help but relish the feeling of you wrapped around him, your body clenching as he pulls back before pushing in again. Each thrust brings with it a new wave of pleasure that sends ripples through his body. You feel perfect, and that thought alone is enough to push him to the brink of his own release.

As Sunghoon’s fingers trace the line of Jake’s spine, the hybrid feels the tension within him coil tighter, the electric connection between the three of you simmering with intensity.

“Go on, baby girl. Guess.”

Not now. You mentally whine as you feel the coil in your stomach build and build. You’re so close and yet you have no fucking clue who’s cock is taking you to the stars. Jake is fast, a little sloppy in the best way but harsh, and Sunghoon is skilled and forceful, but with a sense of gentleness in the way he pulls back.

None of this is happening right now. It’s like the perfect balance of both.

The way they work in tandem creates a delicious confusion, each of them pushing you toward the edge, yet holding you back just enough to keep you guessing. As your body begins to respond instinctively, you let the sensations wash over you, focusing on the bliss they’re creating together.

You take a few moments, your mind racing as you contemplate your guess, but suddenly the rhythm shifts. What was once a barrage of piercing thrusts transforms into quick, deliberate movements, each one aiming for that perfect spot inside you. The change catches you off guard, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. It feels different, the thrusts more measured and calculated, as if both hybrids are working together to keep you on that tightrope between ecstasy and overwhelming bliss.

Sunghoon smirks as he adjusts his position, shifting behind Jake, holding him impossibly close. The connection between them feels primal, a bond of instinctual dominance as he continues to hump Jake’s ass, matching his movements and melding their bodies together as he joins in on your fun.

A high pitched whine comes from Jake as he loses rhythm slightly to focus on his own pleasure. Sunghoon is doing most of the work now, using his gyrating hips to guide Jake inside of you at a fast pace. All the while, his hands find their way to your nub, the teasing touch igniting a fire deep within you.

With each rub, the confusion only deepens; the sensations blend into one intoxicating cocktail of pleasure. The fingers work in a back-and-forth motion like Sunghoon does, rather than the circular movements from Jake, drawing sharp gasps from your lips as you struggle to piece together the puzzle of your pleasure. The connection between the thrusts and fingers becomes a symphony of sensation that sends you spiralling.

And you take a wild, semi-educated guess.

“Sunghoon! It’s Sunghoon. Fuck, please let me cum.” The words tumble from your mouth in a desperate plea, and the moment you clamp down around the cock filling you, everything suddenly pulls away from you. It’s as if the universe pauses for a brief moment, the pleasure you were chasing slipping just out of reach.

The abruptness of it leaves you gasping, the emptiness you feel is aching like no other pain you have ever felt before. The confusion of who was taking you to the stars swirls in your mind. It feels unfair, like a cruel twist of fate on your birthday. The room grows quiet except for you and Jake’s panting. Shit. You got it wrong. But you were sure those were Sunghoon’s fingers…and he was right behind you.

Wasn’t he?

Turning to face the other hybrid, Jake looks at him with pain and frustration. He was so close to filling you up, giving you the greatest gift of all and yet he was denied it all so suddenly.

His reaction makes Sunghoon laugh, his hand coming up to pet Jake’s disappointed ears. “I’m sorry, pup, she got it wrong. You made the rules, remember.”

“Fuck the rules,” Jake pouts, his hand pumping his cock in a desperate rhythm to relieve the ache building within him. “I need to cum.”

“And you will, Jakey. As soon as she gets the next guess right, we’ll all be cumming.” Sunghoon’s voice drips with promise as he pecks his lips gently, easing Jake’s frustration but heightening the tension in your body. The prospect of getting it wrong again sends shivers of anxiety coursing through you. If you miss this chance, you’ll be left not only with blue balls for both hybrids but also with a very frustrated, very needy pup on your hands.

Jake nods in agreement, even if the simmering frustration lingers in his expression. He gently lifts you from your position over the couch, your body tingling with anticipation. The blindfold still obscures your vision, but Jake’s zephyr-like hands are hard to mistake. You feel them guide you, their warmth radiating around your waist. You sit on the couch and await further instructions. God you want to see them so bad, to touch them and cum all over them. That is what you want to wish for on your birthday.

The moment you’re seated, Sunghoon finally discards his boxers, leaving all of you naked and exposed, each member aching with desire and needing release. The air is thick with the scent of lust and heat, and you can feel the tension rising. Both of them sit at either side of you, hands flying to roam over your body. The sensation of skin against skin sends waves of excitement through your body as you shift slightly, feeling the soft cushions of the couch beneath you.

“We’ll make this one so easy for you, baby,” Jake smiles into your neck, nuzzling his nose into you as he lifts the aura of your scent. You smell like a mixture of him, Sunghoon and sex, his favourite combination.

Sunghoon presses his chest to your back, kissing the other side of your nape. You’re so beautiful and he has been so patient with this night, but he’s losing his control. Border Collie hybrids are very good at self-restraint, yet, all of that resolve crumbles as soon as you are involved. You have a spell over him, call it a soulmate blanket or whatever, but he just knows that he cannot get enough of you.

Jake, ever playful and eager, has grown impatient, his hybrid instincts taking over any sense of restraint. With a low growl, he scoops you into his lap, his thick cock already leaking with precum as it slides teasingly between your folds. His touch is filled with both affection and hunger, and his excitement is palpable in every movement. His retriever nature means he’s always been a little less controllable, but that’s what you love about him.

With the position you’re in, there’s no way you could mistake which one will be inside your pussy and the other taking your other entrance.

At least, that’s what you thought.

When Jake finally pushes into you, a loud, blissful moan escapes him, his chest vibrating with a purr of contentment. His big hands grasp your waist, guiding you up and down his length with a rhythm that has you arching back in pleasure. Your head falls against his shoulder, your breath coming out in soft, needy gasps.

“Jake, please…” you beg, though you’re not even sure what you’re pleading for. The ache between your thighs is insistent, a sweet agony that makes you feel like you might unravel at any moment. Your clit pulses in desperate need, still unsatisfied from the previous teasing.

Through your blindfold, you feel Jake’s gentle pout even though you can’t see it. “My good girl,” he whispers, his hips thrusting up powerfully, driving himself deep into you. The combination of his praises and his cock pressing perfectly inside you has you trembling in his lap, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

He captures your lips in a tender kiss, slow at first, teasing you by pulling away when you silently beg for more. The softness of his lips against yours creates a stark contrast to the intense heat building between you both, and soon, you’re lost in the intimacy of the moment, despite the raw need in your body.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon has been watching with adoration, his pointed ears twitching as he observes the two of you. He loved to see the two of his partners connect like this, the scenes so sweet despite the crude nature of your actions. But his cock is hard, throbbing with a need that matches his longing gaze and he refuses to sit in the sidelines much longer. He shifts closer, the heat from his body making your skin prickle in anticipation. He’s been waiting patiently, but now, his own desire overtakes him.

He moves behind you, hands gentle but firm as he guides his cock into position, the tip pressing against you in a way that takes you by surprise, your ass feeling empty despite the expectancy.

“Sunghoon - what are you…” You gasp, your breath hitching as the sensation of his cock pressing alongside Jake’s makes your heart race. The stretching of your cunt is intense, something new and overwhelming, as you feel Sunghoon’s length slowly filling you.

Fuck, it feels good, painful, delicious, and sadistic all at once. And you couldn’t be happier.

Jake’s hands tighten on your waist, holding you steady. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he reassures you, though his voice shakes with his own pleasure. The sensation of Sunghoon’s shaft rubbing against his inside you is sending him spiralling into ecstasy. He never imagined sharing you like this would feel so incredible, the friction between their cocks heightening every sensation.

As Sunghoon begins to thrust slowly, Jake’s hips instinctively buck in response, the three of you moving together in perfect harmony. The moans that spill from your lips, mixed with theirs, echo around the room, a symphony of pleasure that fills the space.

Sunghoon leans closer, his breath hot against your neck as his hands join Jake’s on your hips. Without a second thought he tilts his head and captures Jake’s mouth in a heated kiss, their tongues meeting in a dance of lust and affection over your body. The warmth of their connection sends a shiver down your spine, the intimate moment only heightening the heat between the three of you.

Growling into his mouth, Jake brings your hand to his ear, a signal you know all too well. You know exactly what he wants, so you grip his ears and tug harshly, making him open his mouth as he whimpers out and allowing Sunghoon deeper access, his tongue roaming freely around the oldests mouth.

The feeling of both of them inside you, their cocks pressing together as they fill you completely, makes your head spin. The fullness is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced, every thrust making you gasp and cling to Jake’s broad shoulders for support.

Jake’s lips leave Sunghoon’s, panting heavily as he gasps for air. But not for too long, as they hover just above yours again, his breath ragged. He chuckles softly, his voice tinged with amusement and lust. “Take a guess, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing yours teasingly, “guess who is fucking you and then you can let go.”

Despite the overwhelming sensations, a breathy laugh escapes you, the humour of the moment breaking through the intensity. You look at him, eyes gleaming with love and desire.

“Both of you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but full of affection. “It’s both of you.”

Jake grins, his lips capturing yours in a messy, needy kiss, while Sunghoon’s low growl of satisfaction rumbles in your ear, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate as he savours the way your body reacts.

The sensation of them both inside you, their movements perfectly synchronised, sends you spiralling closer and closer to the edge. Jake’s pace falters beneath you as his release nears, his grip on your hips tightening, his cock throbbing inside you.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice hoarse with need. “Just let go, love. You can.”

And that’s all it takes. With his words still hanging in the air, your body finally gives in, the pleasure that’s been building within you crashing down like a tidal wave. You cry out, your walls clenching tight around them both as you’re consumed by your orgasm, every nerve alight with white-hot pleasure. Your body trembles uncontrollably, lost in the intensity of the release.

Jake moans your name, his hips jerking as he finds his own release, filling you with his warmth as he groans into your mouth. His cock pulses inside you, the tip of his cock swelling as he knots, the sensation driving you even deeper into the haze of your climax.

Behind you, Sunghoon’s movements grow erratic, his hips slamming into you as he chases his own end. With a low, guttural howl, he thrusts one last time, his length pressing deep before he lets go, filling you completely as his own release takes him over.

Both of their knots are pressed against one another, your walls being pushed and hole stretched to its limit. The pups whine and growl as they lock into you, shooting their load so deep inside of you that you feel your stomach swell slightly. Jake’s eyes roll back as Sunghoon’s cock throbs next to his, creating a natural vibration that he’s relishing in.

For a long moment, the three of you remain connected, your bodies trembling in the aftermath, the heat between you radiating in waves. Your breath comes in shallow pants, your body still trembling as the afterglow settles in. Sunghoon and Jake nuzzle their faces into your neck, rubbing their scent over you, claiming you as theirs.

Jake’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as you come down from the high. Sunghoon, still behind you, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his own breathing ragged but calming.

And then, with a tender touch, Sunghoon reaches up to the blindfold that’s been covering your eyes. Slowly, carefully, he unties it, the material slipping away to reveal the warm, golden light of the room and the two men who’ve made this birthday one you’ll never forget.

As your vision clears, you blink up at them both, feeling the love and affection in their gazes as they look back at you. Sunghoon smiles softly, his hybrid ears twitching as he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth.

Jake, still holding you in his lap, grins down at you. “Best birthday ever, right?” he teases, his nose brushing against yours.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full of affection for them both. “Definitely a top 5.”

Jake’s playful grin falters for a moment as something seems to click in his mind. His golden retriever ears twitch with excitement, standing upright as his tail wags behind him. His heart races, and his eyes widen with sudden realisation.

“We have one more gift,” he announces, voice bubbling with enthusiasm. His arms still hold you close, careful not to pull his knot from you, his hips shifting ever so slightly as he reaches around you with some effort. From behind, he produces a small, velvet-lined blue box, and your heart skips a beat.

You blink in surprise, watching him with curious eyes as he offers it to you, his expression soft but brimming with joy. “Open it,” Jake urges gently, his voice filled with excitement, and you can’t help but smile at his eagerness.

With trembling fingers, you take the box and slowly open the delicate lid, revealing the contents inside. Nestled within are three beautiful silver rings, each adorned with three tiny engraved hearts. Each ring is identical, except for the smallest detail—a single heart on each one is coloured in black. The simplicity of the design is stunning, and your heart swells at the sight of them, the meaning behind the gift slowly dawning on you.

You glance up, eyes wide with emotion, shifting between Jake and Sunghoon. “What… What’s this?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the moment settles over you.

Jake’s smile softens as he nuzzles against your cheek. “Promise rings,” he murmurs. His voice is tender, carrying a depth of affection that makes your chest tighten. “One for each of us,” he explains, his hand gently brushing over yours, guiding your gaze back to the rings.

Sunghoon leans in closer, his fingers tracing the edge of the box, his hybrid ears flicking as he adds quietly, “A promise to always be together… no matter what.” His words are soft, but they carry a gravity that tugs at your heart, and his eyes shine with a sincerity that takes your breath away.

You look between them again, feeling the overwhelming love and warmth radiating from both of them, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The rings glisten in the soft light, a physical symbol of the bond you share. You can barely find the words, but the happiness on your face says everything.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, voice shaky with emotion. But before you can find the words, Jake leans in, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering kiss, silencing any further thoughts.

Sunghoon, not to be left out, moves in as well, his lips brushing against yours from the other side, creating a perfect moment of intimacy between the three of you. The kiss is gentle, filled with love, as Jake and Sunghoon share this tender moment with you, the connection between all of you undeniable. Their hands hold you firmly, grounding you in the affection and promise they offer.

As the kiss deepens, the warmth between you grows, the rings in your hand a reminder of the unbreakable bond that now ties the three of you together. You’re all intertwined, hearts aligned, and the future filled with the promise of love, laughter, and unwavering devotion.

It’s a birthday you’ll never forget, not just because of the pleasure shared, but because of the love that wraps around you now, a love that will only grow stronger from here.

_____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

@diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee

@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

@notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08

@emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove

@heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun

@ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee

@xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @iluvikeu @deobitifull

@yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm

@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut #sim jaeyun smut #park sunghoon smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #everyone say happy birthday to my love!

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ivyyisbored22 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞—𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin have been together for 8 months now and both of you are getting serious as you go. One evening when you were at Hyunjin's place, he finds out that, it's your first time...

Warnings: Smut🔞, protected sex (for once xD), experienced Hyunjin, reader is inexperienced and a bit nervous, loss of virginity, reader is called Angel, slow and soft sex, intimate, lots of kisses, oral (f.receiving), fingering, pet names, holding hands. Love Love Love⁠♡

Minors do not interract!!!

Note: I'm always writing kind of rough(?) one shots, so this time it's a soft one. It's my first time writing something of this type, and again, I'm exploring, so bear with me xD.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:6.5k (My hands lost control. I'm sorry lmfao-)

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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The fragrance of freshly bloomed flowers lingered around the boutique, filling Hyunjin's senses as he waited patiently for the girl behind the counter to wrap a neat dozen of red roses.

"That'll be fifteen dollars," The girl said as she handed the bouquet to Hyunjin.

"Thank you," He said, paying for the flowers, holding the delicate bouquet in his hands and softly smiling at the girl before exiting the boutique.

He walked to his car, unlocking the door and got in the driver's side, placed the bouquet on the passenger seat and drove over to your apartment.

Ten minutes later he arrived and pulled up near the sidewalk, he took the bouquet and got out of the car, pulling his phone out to text you.

Me: Hey Angel, I'm here ^^

Her<3: Hey Hyunne!! I'll be down in 2 mins!

He received a series of red heart emojis from you, he chuckled as he looked at his phone and slipped it back into his pocket and held the flowers behind him.

Two minutes after you came out of your apartment building, you immediately saw Hyunjin and ran towards him, falling into his open arm.

"Hyunneee!" You squealed, excited, happy to see him, Hyunjin's arm wrapped around you, kissing the top of your head.

"Hey baby,"

He brought the bouquet out from his back while you were in his arms, your eyes widened with surprise as you looked at the bouquet he was holding.

"Happy 8 months" Hyunjin said cutely as he looked at you smiling, your eyes sparkled at him then fell back on the roses, your fingers brushing against his as you took it.

"Aww Hyunne, you do this every month" You said, Hyunjin’s eyes softening as he watched your face light up with joy.

The gentle breeze tousled his dark hair as he smiled down at you, his gaze warm and tender. His heart swelled seeing the way you carefully cradled the bouquet, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“You deserve it every month,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice low and filled with affection.

His hand reached out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek as his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin. Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you bit your lip to hide the wide grin threatening to break free.

The scent of the roses mingled with the familiar warmth of Hyunjin’s embrace, creating a moment that felt almost dreamlike.

"I have something for you too," You said cutely grinning, that made him playfully narrow his eyes.

"What is it—" You cut him short, tip toeing and pressed your lips on his.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise, but it only took a heartbeat for him to respond, his playful demeanour melting into something more intense. His hand moved to cup your face, fingers slipping into your hair as he deepened the kiss.

Your breath hitched as the kiss grew fiercer, your heart pounding in your chest. His touch was both gentle and demanding, like he was trying to memorise every curve of your lips, every small gasp you made.

The roses in your hand were momentarily forgotten as you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidity of him against you.

Hyunjin’s other hand found your waist, drawing you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The intensity of his kiss sent shivers down your spine, and you felt a warmth spreading through you, igniting a fire that only he could spark.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady your racing hearts. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze locking onto yours with a look so full of love it made your knees feel weak.

“Angel,” He whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion. “You always know how to leave me speechless.”

You smiled, your eyes glimmering with the same intensity reflected in his. “I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, Hyunne.”

He let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t have to remind me,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours in a featherlight touch.

“I feel it every time I look at you.”

His words wrapped around your heart, filling you with a sense of contentment. The air between you crackled with unspoken promises and the undeniable connection that seemed to pull you closer, again and again.

"Shall we go to my place?" He asked, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yes of course," You nodded, smiling softly, Hyunjin guided you to the passenger seat of his car and opened the door for you, you settled in the plush, leather interior.

He got into the driver's seat and started the engine, it roared to life and you took off on stretching roads, going to his penthouse. And throughout the drive, his hand was on your thigh.

Once you both reached, Hyunjin parked his car in the private parking space and you both headed to his penthouse. Once you entered his home, you were immediately enveloped by the warm, inviting atmosphere.

The space was modern and stylish, yet it carried his personal touch—soft lighting, art on the walls, and the subtle scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

The bouquet of roses still rested delicately in your hands, their vibrant red petals a striking contrast to the neutral tones of his home.

“Make yourself comfortable,” He said softly, his voice full of warmth as he walked over to you. His hand found its way back to the small of your back, guiding you further into the living room. “I’ll put these in water.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile as he took the bouquet from you. As he disappeared into the kitchen, you found yourself gravitating towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

Hyunjin soon returned, a crystal vase in his hands filled with the roses you’d cherished all evening. He placed the vase on the coffee table, the flowers adding a touch of colour and romance to the room. He turned to you, his eyes soft as they met yours.

“How about some wine?” he suggested, his voice low and intimate. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his presence wash over you. “I’d love that.”

Hyunjin moved to the small bar in the corner of the room, his movements fluid and graceful. You watched as he selected a bottle of wine, expertly uncorked it, and poured two glasses, the deep red liquid catching the light as it swirled in the glass.

He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “To us,” he murmured, raising his glass to yours.

“To us,” You echoed, clinking your glass against his.

The first sip of wine was smooth and rich, and you sighed contentedly as the warmth spread through you. Hyunjin’s eyes never left yours, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you.

Both of you sat down on his plush sofa, you sank into its softness as Hyunjin settled in beside you. He turned slightly, facing you fully, resting his hand over your shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

He took another sip of his wine before setting his glass down on the table.

For the next thirty to forty minutes the two of you were talking about your week, upcoming plans. You were the one who was doing most of the talking but still Hyunjin listened to you attentively, he could listen to you talk without getting bored for the rest of his life.

"So, then I told her..." You continued spilling the tea to him but then his hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into him.

"Yeah yeah I know, Angel," Hyunjin's face dipped in your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume and placing a hot wet kiss on your neck and shoulder. You didn't stop him. You loved how he was so clingy with you, how he always wanted to shower you with his kisses.

"This is the third time you told me the same story," He said, looking up from your neck grinning, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, your fingers going through his hair.

"Sorryyy," You said, he got up from your neck still grinning, his hands going down to your thigh, gently squeezing it which made you inhale a slow breath.

Hyunjin has been trying to be more intimate now that you guys were getting more serious with your relationship, but of course, he didn't push you too far until you yourself told him that you were ready to take things further.

But here's the thing. You've never had sex. OH.

And you felt embarrassed of the fact that you've been a virgin for so long. You knew Hyunjin would never judge you, yet you felt embarrassed admitting to him about it.

Although you also knew, when you're with Hyunjin, he will treat you with love and will take care of you. But you still felt nervous and since you've never been with anyone before him, you were worried about whether you were truly ready to take that next step. Your body craved him but your mind was nervous.

The thought had been lingering at the back of your mind for a while, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling together. Maybe today, you are ready to take things further.

Your breathing seemed to increase as Hyunjin touched your wrist, a worried expression spread across his face, his brows drawing in together when he felt your pulse race.

“Angel?" He whispered, his voice gentle as he brushed a thumb over your cheek.

You looked at him with a thousand thoughts rushing in your brain. It's been eight months now. You felt like it was better to tell him than keep it to yourself any longer.

Hyunjin cared for you, loved you a lot and you loved him just as much, his presence was like a balm to your nerves. There's no way he'll not understand.

"Hyunjin," You grazed your index finger over the veins of his hand resting on your thigh, taking a deep breath. You felt the rise and fall of Hyunjin's chest as he patiently waited for you to speak.

"Yeah?" He asked, his expression softening.

"I've never..." A lump formed in your throat. "done...it, before." You paused. Oh no, what is he going to think?

You looked at him again and searched his eyes for any sign of judgement or impatience. But then all you found was a soft expression and what looked like a bit of shock.

"You mean..." Hyunjin trailed off but he knew exactly what you were saying.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush, a deep scarlet spreading across your face. The words had taken so much courage to say, and now that they were out in the open, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat as the reality of your confession settled in. A part of him had suspected it, but hearing you say the words aloud still caught him off guard.

He blinked, trying to process the emotions swirling inside him—surprise, tenderness, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

"Angel..." He said, his voice soothing. Your eyes broke from his gaze, falling onto the tiles on the floor, your stomach twisted with a mix of nervousness and so much embarrassment. You couldn't look at him.

"Sweetheart, don't look away from me," He said, his voice full of sincerity. "Talk to me"

His fingers touched your chin and brought your face up to meet his eyes. You looked at him again, feeling a rush of emotions swirl in your heart and mind. Hyunjin watched you with understanding, a tiny smile tugging the corner of his lips.

"You have no idea how much it means to me. That you're trusting me with this." His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen.

"You don’t ever have to feel embarrassed or shy with me. I’m honoured that I’m the first, and I promise I’ll take care of you."

You could see the sincerity in his gaze as he spoke, the way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. It made you feel safe and your heart swelled with emotion for him.

“I’m just...I’m worried I’ll mess something up,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Hyunjin shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Angel, you could never disappoint me,” He murmured. “This isn’t about doing everything perfectly."

He cupped your face, his heart racing. "Tell me, do you want to do this? We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." He said reassuringly.

As much as he wanted you, Hyunjin kept his desires to himself. Locking them away until you gave him the word. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

You swallowed hard. A second or two later you nodded slowly, the nerves bubbling but you knew you wanted this. You were comfortable with him and your life has gotten so much better after meeting him. You knew you were ready.

"Use your words sweetheart, are you sure?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the fluttering in your chest. His eyes, full of warmth, held yours with a quiet intensity that made you feel seen, heard, and cherished.

“Yes,” You whispered, your voice soft but sure.

“I’m sure, Hyunjin. I want this. With you."

A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he caressed your cheek. “We’ll take it slow," He reassured, his voice tender. "And if at any point you want to stop, we stop. No questions, no pressure."

His words eased the lingering tension in your body, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

He leaned down and took your mouth in his, he could feel the lingering taste of wine on your lips as he swiped the tongue over the seam, dominating but slowly, his hand cupping the back of your neck.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, your tongues were almost against each other, teeth against teeth, Hyunjin slowly guided his hands down your back and pulled you onto his lap.

You straddled him and locked your legs around his waist, softly moaning into his mouth, not breaking apart.

Hyunjin slowly got up, holding you against him and carried you to his bedroom. Once he reached, he twisted the door unlock and entered his dimly lit room, kicking the door shut behind him and walking to his bed, gently laying you on the mattress, pulling apart.

The mattress dipped beneath your weights as Hyunjin stood on his knees and pulled his hoodie over his head, he was wearing a tight white tank top underneath.

You looked up at him, taking in the sight of his beautiful physique, the defined muscles of his chest and arms, it began sending electrifying sensations though your body.

"I'm asking again, Angel." His eyes bore into yours with an intensity mixed with desire and concern. "Do you want to do this?"

"Yes Hyunne," You said breathlessly. "I'm ready. For you."

Hyunjin hummed approvingly, tracing his long fingers over your face, jawline and your bottom lip, down to the hollow of your throat.

You tried to steady your breaths, breathing in slowly as Hyunjin's fingers mapped across your clothed body. He was watching you intensely, helping you relax under the tingles of his fingertips.

"Just relax, baby, okay? Tell me to stop if you want me to stop," He leaned down and pressed his lips on the corner of your mouth.

"Okay..." You said softly, your eyes locking with his, fully trusting him. The trust and anticipation filled in your eyes as you looked at him made him feel like he got punched in the soul.

Hyunjin nodded smiling and reached to the hem of your sweatshirt and removed it through your head leaving you bare with just your pink lace bra.

He couldn't help suppress his smile as he watched your cheeks flush, being so exposed beneath him. The furthest you both have gone is light petting on his couch and your bedroom. Tonight, it's going to change.

"You're so beautiful, my love," He said as he gently placed his palm on your stomach, causing you to hitch a breath. He looked at you but you placed your hand on top of his, indicating him not to stop.

His hand slowly went up your stomach till he reached the swell of your breasts, they were hidden behind the fabric of your bra. Hyunjin wanted to rip it off, close his mouth around your nipples but he was being patient.

He was determined to make you feel that today is the best day of your life.

"Can we remove this, sweetheart?" Hyunjin's voice was a hushed whisper, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra.

You nodded, getting up and moving your hands behind you, unclasping your bra, your breasts pouring out, revealing them to his eyes filled with lust and love.

Hyunjin's eyes widened at the sight, he couldn't stop admiring your beautiful nipples, they looked so pretty and perfect.

His thumb brushed across the tip, it began stiffening under his touch, your heart was racing. Nervousness and anticipation was building in your stomach.

Hyunjin layed you on your back again and leaned down, kissing around the soft muscle and took the bud in his mouth, teased and swirled it with his tongue and began sucking, your chest rose as you moaned at the sensation.

His warm mouth on your breast felt so good, you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs as your thighs squeezed together, your body responding to him in ways that felt entirely new, yet so deeply right.

Hyunjin's hand closed around the other, softly massaging and rolling the tip between his fingers while he was latching on the left one, this feeling was insane. It was something you had never felt before and you just wanted him to keep going. Let him guide you through this new experience.

"Oh, Hyunjin," You moaned, breath hitching now and then, your fingers running through his hair as gave so much attention to your chest.

His face was buried, playing and groaning at the sounds that were escaping from your throat. The sounds of his lips on your skin, the wet slurping and gentle sucking, filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans.

Your heart was thundering behind your ribcage but you were enjoying every second of it. Hyunjin's other hand was closed around your wrist to read your pulse but he knew you were being consumed with need.

After minutes, his mouth left your nipples, his lips swollen and glistening from his attention to your breasts, the look on his face was pure satisfaction.

"I could keep doing that forever baby," He swirled the bud one last time and crushed his mouth on yours.

There were so many emotions swirling in your mind right now, it was nearly overwhelming to calm them down, although your body was begging and craving for his touch.

Hyunjin's fingers now traced across the waistband of your pants, this time you nodded pulling back, now not feeling so nervous anymore.

He smiled, kissing your cheeks and unbuttoning your pants, pulled them down and throwing them on the floor. Now you were in nothing but your panties that matched with your pink bra.

Hyunjin traced his finger over your clothed center, feeling the wetness soaking the fabric, he was doing nothing but stroking his long middle finger over it.

You inhaled a sharp breath. Oh God, this was embarrassing. A rush of self-consciousness flooded you as you realized how loud your gasps were. But before you could silence yourself, Hyunjin's hand flattened against your pussy, the warmth and pressure of his palm grounding you.

"Don't silence your noises, Angel, okay?" His tone was hushed but also a command. "I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

You nodded as you watched him smile and stand on his knees again, removing his tank top and pants, and now we was in nothing but his boxers. Your eyes fell from his eyes down to his beautifully sculpted body, you expected an artist's signature to be there at the end of the long V of his torso.

Your gaze travelled down to the impressive bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. The reality of his size made your heart skip a beat. You were feeling nervous again but at the same time you were feeling excited.

"Ready?" He asked, towering you, his arm next to your head holding him up and his other hand's finger twisting the band of your underwear.

"Yeah," You said breathlessly and Hyunjin slid the lace down, leaving you fully naked and exposed.

Tonight he was going to make you feel like a princess. Like a Queen.

"I'm going to take good care of you, my Angel."

He kissed your lips one more time and began making his way down your body, trailing hot wet kisses on your breasts, the valley of your stomach and the rise of your pubic bone.

And as he reached your centre, you were so wet for him, pride and possessiveness washed over him with the sight of your pussy. It was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He kissed your clit, as light as feather, you hitched a breath again, your toes curling.

"Baby, just relax. I'll make you feel good," His fingers traced over your wet folds, spreading them gently to reveal your most intimate self. A small hiss escaped your lips as the cool air met your heated core, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to steady your breathing.

Hyunjin kissed your soft thighs to calm you down and gently got down to your clit again, his tongue moving over your sensitive bud. He groaned into your wetness, pressing his mouth on your pussy, and began eating you out.

This was nearly ecstatic. He was making you feel beyond good. Your body responded so eagerly to him, you forgot how nervous you were. Your mewling sounds made Hyunjin drunk with the taste of your juices, your hand fisted his hair out of instinct and the other grabbing the sheets.

Hyunjin's tongue worked so expertly on you, every lick and flick tingling your body, lapping away your sweetness. He pressed his mouth against you more firmly, his tongue exploring every inch of you, tasting, teasing, and worshiping with every stroke.

When he felt your breathing steady, only moaning in response to him, in an almost torturous inch by inch, he slid his middle finger through your opening, the sensation made you squirm.

"Baby, you taste so good," He said, flattening his tongue over the nub. "So mine." You were squirming at the feeling, moaning while tears leaked from the corner of your eyes.

He added his ring finger after a few seconds and moved them so slowly inside of you. It was clear that you were experiencing something new, something intense, and it made him want to be even more careful, even more gentle.

He was scared to hurt you, he didn't want to cause you any pain. Your pleasure was his pleasure. And he wanted to give you every ounce of it.

Hyunjin watched you, your chest rising and falling, mouth open and eyes half shut at the pleasure he was giving you with his mouth and fingers. He could feel how you tightened around him, your soft moans filling the room, each one like music to his ears.

"Are you feeling good Angel?" He asked softly and kissed your clit.

"Yeah," You moaned. "Yeah, it's...it's so good, Hyunne."

The way you said his name, the way you moaned it, sent a jolt of electric fire straight through him. His heart swelled with so much love at the same time he could feel the insistent throbbing of his own arousal, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, begging to dive in you.

Hyunjin wasn’t used to this kind of restraint. He wasn't a patient man. He liked it hard and rough, the kind of sex that left marks imprinted on skin. But tonight was different. It was about you—the love of his life, the one person who made his heart ache with tenderness.

"Hyun—" You gasped when his fingers worked faster.

"It's okay baby, I'm preparing you. Trust me," He said, coming up to your face, kissing away the tears.

"I, I trust you," Your voice came out low and breaking into moans, the sounds of his fingers inside your hot walls and coming out of your throat drove him crazy.

Hyunjin's gaze was intense, his eyes dark with desire as he watched your every reaction, the way your breath hitched, the way your body arched towards him. He loved seeing you like this, completely vulnerable, completely his.

Your nails dug his strong bicep, grooving scars, the stinging pain turned Hyunjin on so much more. After prepping you, Hyunjin withdrew his fingers, you were so wet and your body was now ready for him.

You were flushed and dripping with arousal that your walls clenched around nothing, he smiled at you when your eyes locked. You gently propped on your elbows as Hyunjin reached out to his nightstand, opening the drawer and took out a condom, he held it in between his teeth as he pulled his boxers down.

You were right. Hyunjin is BIG. His cock was finally freed from the confines, it was so hard, jutting up, long and veiny, you could feel it throbbing without even touching it. The tip was angry, leaking pre cum, you swallowed looking at his impressive shaft. The mere idea of it being inside of you made you feel like it was impossible.

You swallowed hard again, the nervousness building up once more, heart racing. It was like he could feel it, he turned back to you taking the condom in his hand, his fingers pressing on your hair.

"I'll be gentle baby, I promise." His eyes softened as he watched you, the look of his gaze spoke to your heart, promising that this will be the best thing you ever experienced.

"I, I want you Hyunjin," You reached and put your hands around his neck, your body was craving for him despite the nervousness.

"I'm all yours baby," He kissed your cheek. "Just relax and let me take care of you, my sweet Angel."

He said and settled in between you, spreading your thighs and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling the condom on. He held your waist and positioned himself near your hole, you felt the tip brush against your entrance, making you shiver with anticipation.

Every inch of your bodies were on fire, consumed my love and desire. You wanted Hyunjin inside you and Hyunjin wanted to dive in.

With one long breath, Hyunjin looked at you, his fingers intertwined with your fingers, his mouth collided with yours and the other hand holding your waist, he was finally, wondrously going inside you.

Inch by inch of his huge length filled you with an amount of pain and pleasure, your back arched into him, you were wincing. Hyunjin didn't leave your mouth until he was fully inside you.

When he pulled apart, your eyes fluttered open meeting his, it was glassy with tears and was streaming down your face. He kissed your wet cheeks, his grip tightening on your waist.

You were so tight, clamping his cock so nicely, Hyunjin felt like he could come right now, but he held himself.

Hyunjin has to be gentle. For you. He promised. And he will. He had never been one to hold back, but for you, he would restrain every urge, every impulse, because he knew how important this was. Not just for you, but for the both of you.

"Are you feeling okay? He stilled.

"Yeah," You let out a shaky breath and gripped his arm. "It's so...good, oh my God."

Hyunjin smiled so widely, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and overwhelming love. The way you looked at him, the way your breath hitched, sent a rush of warmth through his chest.

“Good,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to pressed his lips on your forehead. His lips lingered there for a moment, soaking in the warmth of your skin, his body caging you. Protecting you.

Your breath shuddered when he looked down at you, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of vulnerability and lust. Hyunjin kissed you again, your fingers tightening around his hand as he began moving, the first pull and push was discomforting.

The initial stretch was intense, a mixture of pleasure and a slight burn, but Hyunjin’s calm presence kept you anchored. He paused, giving you time to adjust, you whined into his mouth, still feeling a painful friction. You let out a wincing sound, Hyunjin stroked your hair, trying to steady you.

"It's okay, it's okay baby. You're doing so well my love,"

With his soothing voice, it became easier, the pain and discomfort was being replaced by pleasure with each new thrust. You adjusted to the sensation, feeling the tension begin to ebb, replaced by a growing sense of fullness.

You almost couldn't believe that this was happening. You were doing it. Sex. With Hyunjin, and your heart never felt this happy.

Soon you were moaning, louder and louder with each thrust, he began increasing his pace. Your hand came up to his face, tracing his features, he held it and kissed your palm.

Hyunjin watched your reactions closely, his eyes never leaving your face as he sought out the smallest signs of discomfort, ready to stop the moment you needed him to.

But all he saw was your pleasure, the way your body responded to him, the way you melted under his touch. It was intoxicating, more than anything he had ever experienced before.

"Fuck, Angel," He groaned.

Your walls were clenching him so nicely, he felt like he was going to explode, it drove him insane. His voice was raw with the effort it took to maintain control. You looked so heavenly beneath him, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Hyunjin..." Pleasure consumed you whole, you moaned as Hyunjin fucked you slow and gentle before he scooped your leg, holding the underside of your thigh so that he can dive in a bit deeper.

Your head fell back against the pillow as you gasped, your eyes fluttered shut, mouth falling open as you took him in like you were made for him. Hyunjin was so proud of you. He watched you getting drowned in pleasure, letting yourself get lost to him. Your fingers locked again, he never let them go.

Hyunjin's mouth leaned close to your ear, whispering words of praise to you, how gorgeous you are, how much he loves you and how you are doing so well. Somehow those words were more intimate than the actual sex.

"You're so perfect for me," He murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky, the words laced with a mix of love and lust.

His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his body moved in sync with yours.

"Taking me so well...You feel so fucking good."

The way he moved inside you, the way he held your hand so tightly, grounding you even as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy—it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

Your heart, body and soul was on fire as Hyunjin began increasing his pace and leaned down, resting your leg back down on the mattress and began sucking your nipple as he continued thrusting. Your free hand held the back of his neck and went through his damp hair as he licked and sucked.

The air was soaking with sweat, gasps, groans, and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin.

Moan after moan poured out of your throat, growing louder and needy as he went in and out, you felt him hit all the spots. There were no more signs of any pain or discomfort or nervousness and you wanted more.

"More, Hyunjin," You moaned, arching your back and bucking your hips, needing him.

"Do you like this sweetheart? Do you feel good?" He asked, removing his mouth from the swollen bud. Hyunjin's voice was rough, almost strained, he lifted his head to look at you before dipping down again to kiss and suck at your other breast.

"Yeah, yeah...Oh—" You moaned loudly as your eyes shot open when he hit that one spot that made you feel something tingle and building in your lower stomach.

He groaned in your chest knowing he was bringing you to the brink of your first orgasm. Hyunjin was filled with so much pride. His cock twitched inside you, the two of you were reaching the depths of your highs. He was losing himself in you, just as you were losing yourself in him.

"You're mine, all mine," He growled softly, his grip on your hand tightening as he thrusted deeper, filling you completely. "I'm so fucking proud of you, baby. You're so good...so fucking perfect."

The sound of his voice, rough with lust, sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your grip tightened, nails digging into his skin as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

It's here. It's here, you can feel it. And so can he.

"Hyunjin...oh...gosh..." He smiled wide at your breathless voice.

"I know, baby" He groaned, his pace quickening, the tension in his voice making it clear that he was right there with you, he placed a hot kiss on your neck.

"Go on my Angel, come for me, I've got you."

Hyunjin said and kept moving, rocking his hips, you were moaning uncontrollably. His words were your undoing and with a sharp cry, you surrendered to the pleasure, your body trembling as you came undone in his arms.

The tingles in your stomach untangled as you felt your release, it took over your whole body, your back arched against him. Hyunjin held you as you screamed his name, coming down in ecstasy all over his cock, your other hand clawing his back.

Hyunjin growled in your neck, he sped up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, until he slammed into you one final time, cussing and filling his load deep into the condom, moans broken and loud spilling out, your body shaking beneath him.

He stopped thrusting, his cock was continuously twitching inside of you, the feeling of his release making him groan harshly. Hyunjin gently lowered himself onto you, his weight comforting as he pressed his strong body over yours.

"Fuck...fuck..." His face was buried in your neck, the aftershocks of his release making him shudder against you, tears streamed down your cheeks again in pleasure.

You both held each other's sweaty bodies, Hyunjin was still inside you as the aftermath of your shared climax slowly began fading, until you both caught your breaths, calming down from the highs of your comedowns.

As the waves of pleasure finally began to subside, Hyunjin lifted his head from the crook of your neck, looking at your face flushed crimson. He brushed away the strands of hair that were glued on your face, smiling so widely, it made your heart ache.

A few seconds later, Hyunjin slowly pulled out of you after his breathing was steadied and discarded the condom. You got up when he turned to you and wrapped your hands around him, the sudden movement made him lose his balance, and he fell back onto the bed, bringing you with him.

You landed on top of him, both of you laughing softly.

"Heyy babe," He chuckled and before he said anything else, he hugged you back tightly.

"Thank you," You cried into his arms out of an overwhelming amout of happiness radiating off you, your chest pressed against his. "This was perfect."

You sniffled, feeling the dampness spread across his skin, mingling with the sheen of sweat that covered both of your bodies. Hyunjin's arms wrapped around you even tighter, his embrace warm and strong. You felt his hand gently stroking your back, his touch comforting and full of emotion as you buried your face in his neck.

"How are you feeling Angel?" He asked once you finally pulled back slightly, his hand came up to cup your face.

"Stronger than ever before."

Hyunjin’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that still clung to your lashes.

“That makes me so happy to hear,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

He reached and planted his lips yours, sweet and softly, conveying everything he felt for you. It was slow, gentle, and full of the love you both shared.

“I’m so proud of you,” He continued pulling back, his voice low and soothing. “For being so brave and thank you...for trusting me…”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity and warmth in his voice making you feel even closer to him. You reached and cupped his face in your hand, your thumb gently caressing his cheek as you looked into his eyes.

“I trust you with everything I am,” You said softly, your voice full of emotion.

"I love you," Hyunjin murmured, his eyes shining with affection. "You’re everything to me, Angel. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what."

"I love you too," You smiled, the happiness overwhelming you, radiating from your heart.

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have found someone like Hyunjin, someone who loved you so deeply, who saw you for who you were and cherished you all the more for it.

You rested your head on his chest, you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Each beat was a reassuring reminder of his presence, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his breaths created a comforting lullaby, a soothing backdrop to the moment you shared.

“Let’s stay like this,” You whispered, raising your head and looking at him, your voice soft. “Just for a little while longer.”

Hyunjin smiled, pressing a sweet peck on your nose. “For as long as you want, Angel,” He murmured, his voice full of devotion.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You nestled closer to him, your body on top of his, your head resting on Hyunjin's chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. His arms held you securely, and you both felt a sense of belonging.

A feeling of peace washed over you, knowing that this was exactly where you and Hyunjin were meant to be.

Together, in love, now and always.

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

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br0kenangel · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

The nursery was a whirlwind of noise as Aegon and Aemond, stood nose-to-nose, arguing fiercely. Their baby sister sat on a blanket nearby, her wide violet eyes watching them with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“She likes playing with me more!” Aegon insisted, his voice rising as he pointed toward their sister. “I’m the one who makes her laugh!”

“No, she likes me better!” Aemond shot back, crossing his arms defiantly. “I’m the one who reads to her!”

Their bickering continued, growing louder with each passing moment, neither of them noticing the soft patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Little Daeron toddled into the room, his big eyes full of innocence. He looked from Aegon to Aemond, then over to his sister, who was sitting quietly on her blanket, seemingly forgotten by her squabbling brothers.

Without making a sound, Daeron walked over to his sister, his steps wobbly but determined. He reached out with his small hands, and she, always delighted by her youngest brother, lifted her arms toward him. With surprising ease for his age, Daeron picked her up, wrapping his little arms around her as he balanced her on his hip.

The older boys were so engrossed in their argument that they didn’t notice as Daeron carefully carried their sister out of the nursery, her giggles muffled as she snuggled against him. He navigated the corridors with surprising confidence, eventually finding his way to the garden, where the late afternoon sun bathed the roses in a warm, golden light.

Daeron gently set his sister down between the tall rose bushes, their vibrant blooms towering over her. She giggled again, reaching out to touch the soft petals of a nearby flower. Daeron watched her for a moment, a wide smile on his face, before carefully plucking a small rose. He held it delicately in his tiny hands, just as he had seen the maids do, and then leaned in to tuck it into her hair.

“There,” he said in his sweet voice, his words still slightly lisped. “Pretty.”

His sister beamed at him, her little hands clapping in delight as she reached up to touch the flower in her hair. Daeron’s smile widened, and he began to hum a tune—one of the lullabies he had heard their mother sing. His voice was soft and uncertain, but the simple melody seemed to enchant his sister, who watched him with adoration in her eyes.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery, Aegon and Aemond’s argument had finally come to an abrupt halt when they realized their sister was nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?!” Aegon asked, his voice tinged with panic as he looked around the empty room.

Aemond’s face had gone pale, his one good eye wide with fear. “She’s gone!” he cried, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. “We lost her!”

The two brothers tore through the Red Keep in a frantic search, their hearts pounding in their chests. Servants were questioned, corridors were scoured, and they even checked behind the curtains in every room. But there was no sign of their sister.

Finally, they reached the garden, bursting through the door with wild, desperate energy. Aegon was ready to yell out for help, his voice rising in a cry that was sure to bring the whole Keep running, when he suddenly stopped short.

There, nestled between the rose bushes, was their baby sister, sitting comfortably in Daeron’s lap. The tiny boy was still humming his lullaby, his chubby fingers gently combing through her silver hair as she gazed up at him with adoration. And then, to the utter shock of Aegon and Aemond, she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Daeron’s lips, her expression filled with innocent affection.

Daeron giggled, delighted by the kiss, and wrapped his little arms around her in a tight hug. She responded by snuggling into his neck, hiding her face shyly as if to escape the world in the safety of her youngest brother’s embrace.

Aegon and Aemond stood frozen in place, their jaws dropping in unison. The jealousy that coursed through them was almost palpable, their earlier argument now seeming insignificant in the face of this new development.

“How did he—” Aegon started, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Aemond, still stunned, could only shake his head. “She kissed him,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud would make it any less unbelievable.

Daeron, completely aware of the turmoil he had caused, simply looked up at his older brothers with a straight face. “We playing,” he explained in his cold voice, as if he didn't wanted them here.

Finally, Aegon stepped forward, reaching out to take his sister from Daeron’s lap. “Come here,” he said softly, his voice gentler now as he lifted her into his arms. She looked up at him with those big, trusting eyes, and his heart melted all over again.

Aemond joined them, standing close as he reached out to stroke her hair, his earlier panic forgotten. “We were so worried about you,” he murmured, his voice filled with relief.

But their sister, still cuddled against Aegon’s chest, just giggled and reached back toward Daeron, making it clear she wanted to keep playing. Daeron, proud of his little adventure, stood up and toddled over to them, his smile as bright as the sun.

“She's mine,” he said, more sharp this time, and the two older boys couldn't help but be scared of his tone.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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evielmostdefinitely · 11 months ago

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Imagine how distraught snow would be if his wife had a really rough time giving birth to their child where she’s coming in and out of conscience and there’s blood and he’s terrified she won’t make it like his mother leading to him hating the baby for a little bc of how badly his wife was recovering sorry for the angst! Ignore this if uncomfortable <3

forever winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested, troubles with child birth leaves coriolanus very cold towards your son.

contains: angst. mentions of parental death, blood, complications during birth. darkish coriolanus. kinda fluffy-ish end?

Coriolanus knew the horrors of childbirth. He knew the dangers, the risks. He’d seen the blank stares of a new mother rocking her baby, eyes blank and distant like she’d been through war. He’d heard the solemn whispers in a dim room, quiet and hushed, darting eyes that looked everywhere but the casket- sometimes two. His own mother had been torn from his grasp at a young age because of it, and for a while, he was sure he’d never let his own wife experience it.

Then he met you.

You who lit his world up from the inside out, who he rose only each day to see- to love. You who cradled a baby at your engagement announcement, a friend’s newborn, held him so naturally and delicately that it ignited something inside Coriolanus. He wanted a dozen babies with you, he decided at that moment that he’d do anything to make it happen.

You’d blossomed so naturally, swelled up overnight. Round belly and a glowing demeanor- it was addictive to Coriolanus. How he’d brag, boast proudly to anyone who’d hear it- his wife pregnant, he couldn’t be happier.

All those fears, worries, were replaced with new ones. Horror stories about infants, toddlers. His own consuming thoughts about being a father. The idea of childbirth was nothing but a fading thought to him. That had been in the war, technology was better, he was in a better place. Your father had ensured his darling daughter would have the best of the best- you always did. The best doctors, the best birthing suite, the best nursery- the best.

But money couldn’t buy your own body betraying itself at birth. It didn’t stop the bleeding, the paling of your skin as you fluttered in and out of consciousness.

You’d grunted like an animal, tearing yourself into two for hours, cursing Coriolanus’ name, begging him to make it stop, crushing his hands with your legs up in the stirrups, pushing your baby out.

Coriolanus was in awe of you, though he’d never get the chance to tell you. How you’d willed yourself to hurt yourself, inflict that selfless pain to bring life into the world. It was positively poetic.

He’d been so overjoyed hearing your babies gargled cry, the nurses announcing its gender- his gender. His son. A boy. A beautiful boy, wailing and delicate and covered in matter that Coriolanus didn’t even care about when he held him close to his own chest.

“What is it, Coryo?” You muttered, eyes drooping, chest heaving with aftershocks of pain from the birth.

“A boy, my love.” Coryo’s eyes shone with tears, lips pressing together to conceal it. “It’s a boy. Our boy, my darling.”

“A boy…” Your speech was slurred, head lolling back onto the pillow.

Coriolanus noticed for the first time how still the room had become, his son’s wailing the only sound. The nurses and doctors, once chipper and gleeful, now bearing a sickly paleness to their face, eerily quiet.

“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus snapped, eyes wide, frantic, bouncing around the room. “What’s happening?”

“We-We can’t find-” The doctor’s voice shook, ducked between your legs in a pile of crimson. Coriolanus’ stomach turned violently.

“She’s bleeding. We-We can’t find where the bleeding is.” The nurse whispered.

“What?” Coriolanus snapped. “Bleeding? H-How can she- Find it!” The baby wailed over the sound of Coriolanus’ demanding barks.

“President Snow, we-we’re trying our best-”

“-Try harder.” Coriolanus sneered, clutching the baby closer to his chest. “If anything happens to my wife, I will single handedly ensure your bloodline ends with you. Each of you will know what it feels like to lose your family too if you lose her.” He spat, sending the nurses and doctors into a fearful frenzy.

The newborn wailed, doctors shouted, and Coriolanus’ ears rang, his chest too tight, painfully tight. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t survive that loss. His eyes fell to the screeching baby beneath him, scrunched face and wailing gums. How was he to raise this baby without you?

Anger boiled through his chest at the sight of his son- his fault. A cowering nurse, frozen in shaking fear in the corner, watched him carefully as he stormed towards her. “Take this.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving the baby in her arms.

He hated the feeling, the helplessness that consumed him as he stood, wide eyed and shaking hands he clenched into fists.

Somewhere, somehow, the doctor found the bleeding, stopping it with a triumphant cry. “Get the blood, get the blood!” He shouted, head hooked over his shoulder. “Infuse it now!”

Coriolanus wasn’t sure he could remember how to breathe. Memories of the two of your: the moment you met, the first date, his shaking hands asking for yours in marriage, the way you beamed under your veil at the altar, the same glow that you had when you told him you were pregnant. It could all be gone so easily. Had his father felt this way? So helpless?

Maybe that’s why he’d been so hardened and resentful, so he’d never feel attached- never allow himself to feel so helpless.

Coriolanus decided he couldn’t blame him, sitting in this chair, watching as you rested. The doctor said there’d be a lot of that in the coming hours. That you’d gone through trauma and you needed time. He wanted to rip you from the bed, shake you until you awoke and told him you were ok. He needed to hear it, maddenned himself with the need for it.

Instead, he sat.

Coryo sent the baby out to the nursery. He knew your parents, Tigris, everyone waiting would be thrilled to see the baby boy. Coryo just couldn’t muster the feigned excitement now. The site of his own son made his stomach turn, fear soaked repulsion settled deep in the pitt of his own core.

Somewhere in the night, you awoke. A rustling and a groan that had Coriolanus snapping out of his dazed sleep, head tucked to his shoulder, slumped in the chair beside your bed.

“Don’t move.” Coryo commanded, eyes a kind of bright, frantic wide that had you stilling.

Your throat burned, head dizzy with the medicine they’d pumped into your system. Coriolanus’ hands shook as he brought you the water, hand cupping your jaw gently to feed it to you. You blinked, bleary with confusion. “You’re alright, my love.” Coriolanus' heart swelled, suffocatingly in his own chest. You were alright.

“Coryo,” You croaked, throat tight, rasping from before, you were sure. You remembered the birth, most of it anyways, the blurry memory of your baby in Coryo’s arms before your memory failed. “The-The baby… Is he alright? W-Where’s my baby?”

“He’s with your parents, my love.” Coriolanus’ hand smoothes down your matted hair, sticky with dried sweat. “Nevermind him. How are you? Is anything wrong? Do you need anything? I-I’ll call for the nurse.”

You shook your head, looking around the room. The sheets were clean, your gown clean, but you felt an achy soreness splitting you in half. “What happened?”

Coriolanus felt the lump in his throat grow, strangling his words in his throat. “Y-You had some complications, darling.” He swallowed the burn of his own tears down in his throat. “You were bleeding but they stopped it.”

You blinked, unmoving, soaking in the details of your injury. Coriolanus watched you with a studying glare, eyes scanning for any tiny, minor infliction that something was wrong. “Is-Is the baby ok?” You whispered, eyes shining with fear when you met his gaze.

“The baby’s fine.” Coryo snapped, harsher than he meant to. It alarmed you, your eyes snapping to his carefully. He took a deep breath, holding your hand carefully into his own, thumb running over your knuckles.

“He’s fine.” Coryo said, softer this time. “I need to know how you are. What do you need from me, my love? What can I do to make it better?”

You squeezed his hand lightly, your strength weaker than normal. It made Coriolanus’ spine tingle with shooting chills of concern. “I want to see my baby.” You whispered, head leaning against Coryo’s shoulder.

“No,” Coriolanus shook his head furiously. “No, you-you need to rest, and-and not be bothered by the baby-”

“-Coryo,” Your eyes rounded, so pitifully pleading Coriolanus would have walked through fire for you if you asked him to. “Please? I just want to see our baby.”

And how could he say no? He couldn’t, so instead, Coriolanus called the nurse in. Your parents, proud grandparents, holding the baby, tutting over you. Everyone flitting about the birthing room, Tigris even gleaming with joy at the birth of her nephew. All except Coriolanus, who watched in the corner of the room, a stoic look on his face.

You looked positively radiant, glowing with joy as you held your son. As if that baby hadn’t nearly killed you, Coriolanus wanted to scream the reminder to you, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t dare upset you, risk upsetting you in front of your family.

“Coriolanus,” Tigris’ soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, brought him away from his own sinking, heavy feelings of disappointment. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Tigris.” Coryo’s voice was tight, firm and forced, like the look of awkward contentment he tried to paint across his features.

“You… You haven’t held your son.” Tigris hesitated, voice dropping softly so the others wouldn’t overhear.

“I don’t wish to hold him right now.” Coriolanus sneered.

“He is your son, Coriolanus.” Tigris hissed, her voice dropping to a low hush in the room, terrified you or the others might hear.

“And he almost killed her.” Coryo’s eyes flashed to Tigris’ in horrified rage. “Nearly fated her as my sister did my mother, and if you think for one second I am to be happy at that, then you are-”

“-Coryo,” Your voice croaked, still weak and tired. It made his heart lurch, attention on you in a second, already walking towards your bedside.

“Yes, my love? What do you need?” Coriolanus muttered. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, showing such affection especially in front of your parents, but he hoped they’d pardon his vulnerability in the moment, given the circumstances.

“Look at him,” Your eyes shone with love, pure adoration, as if you weren’t cradling the very thing that almost killed you. It made Coryo sick. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Coriolanus looked down at the small newborn, wrapped in swaddles, eyes closed and lips twitching with the faintest whimper of a cry. He looked so much like you, so much like himself- the perfect blend of the two of you taking your lips but Coriolanus’ nose.

His heart swelled with pride before he could help it, lips curling in a half smile. He’d grown weak, Coriolanus decided, softened by you and your love. He should be disgusted by the baby, despise him and reject him like an animal in the wild would. But he couldn’t bring himself to it.

“A fine young boy.” Your father boasted, nodding proudly. “The two of you should be very proud.”

“Yes,” Coryo swallowed around the lump in his throat. You leaned into his touch, shifting the baby so he could better see him.

“Any idea on the name?” Your mother hummed, moving beside you.

“I still think Cyrene would be fitting.” You’re beaming, beautiful and proud when you meet Coriolanus’ gaze. “What do you think, Coryo?”

“Yes,” Coryo nodded. “I think that would be a fine name.”

“Cyrene Snow,” You cooed, pressing your nose to the baby’s, pressing a gentle kiss there. Your eyes brimmed with tears when you met Coriolanus’ gaze. “Do you want to hold him, darling?”

“Are you getting tired?” Coryo watched you carefully. “Do you feel alright?”

“Yes,” You nodded. “I don’t want to hog the baby. Want you to have a chance too, darling.”

“That’s alright.” Coryo shook his head politely, suddenly very aware of your parents and Tigris’ gaze on him. “You hold him, my love.”

You frowned lightly. You knew something was off with Coryo, the tightness in his tone, lips falling in a flat line. You waited until later, when Cyrene lay in his bassinet, your family all gone for the night, just you and Coryo in the birthing suite.

“Why will you not hold him?” You asked through the still darkness. Coriolanus' eyes snapped to yours fiercely, startled by your tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Our baby.” You groaned when you sat up, Coryo rushing to your side.

“You need to be careful-”

“-You won’t hold him, Coriolanus.” You gripped his arm, eyes shining in something new- something Coryo wasn’t certain of, but it made his stomach twist. “Why?”

Coriolanus swallowed, the lump in his throat suffocating him. “The last time I held him,” Coryo’s voice was soft, rasping in the quiet room, barely above a whisper. “You nearly died.”

The room was still, far too still for either of you to find comfort. A harsh, shocking truth for the both of you, sickening and cruel. Your near damned fated reality, Coriolanus’ worst fears, the peaceful baby resting in the bassinet besides the two of you.

Pressed into the side of your hospital bed, Coriolanus held you carefully, a stilled reminder that you were still there, that you hadn’t left him. The icy wall he’d built high for his son melted with every soft coo and whisper you gave him, a reminder that you were still with him and would be.

When Coryo finally held Cyrene again, when he’d stirred awake and you were asleep, he turned to the window overlooking Panem’s Capitol, eyes shining with tears- of regret, joy, pain? Even Coryo wasn’t sure, but he rocked his son to sleep carefully, promising him that one day, he’d have what Coryo had. That he wouldn’t leave him the way his father had, that he’d keep him safe, teach him how to keep you safe.

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months ago

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A Northern Lannister.

Cregan Stark x Lannister!wife!reader

Summary: the reader proves she’s worthy of being the Lady of Winterfell.

Warnings: blood, death, fighting, cursing, yelling

Masterlist

…………………………………..

They hate her.

She's sure of it.

They all hate her.

A Lannister lion in a den of Stark wolves.

Cregan was wonderful, and he made no actions that would lead her to believe he thought her less than for not being a northerner.

But the whispers were still there.

Their mother's last contribution to the earth, Y/n was born the much younger third sibling to the twins, Tyland and Jason. The two treasured her. Due to their significant age difference, she was much more like a daughter than a dear sister. So when she was to marry, they knew the beauty had potential.

And with the war looming over their heads, she was sent to Cregan in an attempt to gain the North's favor.

The greens failed in their attempt at gaining Cregan's favor, however, the girl had not.

He quite liked her.

She had a fire to her that he knew would cause trouble.

And he also liked trouble.

What a deadly combination.

…

"I assure you, I am no delicate rose, Lord Mormont," she said through gritted teeth.

He chuckled in amusement, "You're a mere woman. We will not have you discussing battle plans."

"Mere woman?" She scoffed. "I am your Lady of Winterfell. I am married to the Warden of the North- the man you raise your banners for!"

He shrugged, "My loyalty is to him, not a Lannister wench."

Her eyes burned with fury. "Watch your tongue, Mormont-"

"-Or what?" He taunted. "You'll have your Lord Husband take it? He wouldn't."

Her fists clenched so hard she swore her nails cut into her palm.

She couldn't cause trouble. She couldn't cause trouble.

 She huffed and turned around, walking away from the man, ignoring his taunting words as she did so.

…

Cregan stepped up to his war table and looked around at the men, "Where is my wife?"

They all looked around and at each other, lost at what he meant.

His brows furrowed, "Where is my wife?" He tried again. When no answer came, he snapped at a servant, "Where did she go?"

The servant bit her lip, "I last saw her storming from the castle, my lord."

"What?"

…

Hours passed, and Cregan became more and more worried, but he couldn't walk away from his war table until the meeting was finished.

Luckily, she returned.

Mid-meeting, she threw the doors open, making all in the room jump from the sound.

She stood in the doorframe, covered in blood with a look of rage in her eyes. A bag in hand.

They all stood at the sight of the lady, utterly shocked.

Cregan's eyes widened and he immediately rounded the table to get to her, "My love? Wha-"

She threw the bag down and moved to Lord Mormont. "You."

Mormont frowned, "My lady?"

She gripped his cloak with one hand and swung at hard as she could with the other, breaking his nose.

All around the table gasped, completely shocked by the woman's actions as Mormont fell against the table, holding his nose when blood gushed from it.

Her rage was all but tamed, "CALL ME A WENCH AGAIN! I FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Cregan raced forward, pulling his wife back by the waist when she began to wind up for another punch.

She grunted and fought against him, "DO IT! FUCKING DO IT!"

Cregan held one arm around her waist, the other gently around her neck to push her head back against his chest and he whispered to her, "Stop this."

But she was far from done, "I'M A FUCKING STARK! A WOLF! MORE WOLF THAN YOU!"

Cregan tried again, "C'mon."

She looked around, noting the wide eyes, "YOU CAN BE NEXT IF YOU WANT!"

Mormont stood up now, the bottom half of his face completely red, "Control your lady wife, Stark!"

Cregan's brows furrowed, "Pardon me?" His voice lowered, "Did you call my wife a wench, Mormont?"

Y/n finally quieted herself, her chest heaving but her eyes glaring.

Cregan finally looked at her and really took in the blood, "Where did all this blood come from?"

She looked over to the cloth bag she left on the floor.

Lord Bolton crossed the room, picking up the bag and grimacing when he saw what laid inside. "My lord?"

Stark's eyes moved between his wife and the man. "What is it?"

"Two heads, my lord."

All eyes moved to her frame slowly, continually being shocked by the woman.

"Love? What happened out there?"

She pulled herself away from him and reached up, trying to wipe the blood from her face but smearing it instead. "Green spies."

He frowned, "How did you know?"

"Tried to take me back."

Silence fell over the group and Mormont decided to break it, "Perhaps they should have."

Instant rage fell over Cregan's face and he rushed forward, throwing a punch at the man, connecting with his jaw. "YOU BASTARD!"

Bolton stepped forward, "My lord. Please."

Cregan held the bloody Mormont up by his cloak, his jaw clenched as he growled the words out, "To the wall."

Mormont frowned, "w…what?"

"To. The. FUCKING WALL!" And he threw him to the ground.

Cregan then turned to the rest of his war council with equal anger, "Anyone else wish to spew insults in my face?"

When no one answered, he turned to his wife, whose anger had disappeared and surprise had replaced it at his actions. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, "Yes, Cregan."

He grunted and moved back to his place at the table. "Go wash yourself and return. You're needed here."

She nodded, leaving the room quickly.

"Someone get this Mormont scum out of here!"

…

The entire North heard of the Lannister girl's actions, and it was quickly forgotten that she was of Lannister blood entirely.

She was a Northerner.

There was no doubt about that anymore.

………………………………

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan fanfiction

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wintcrstcrfall · 2 years ago

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#💘#{{ ~ &&. cherries and wine. ~ adelinne coldwell. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. hello transcriber. ~ musings. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. a soft little angel with heart made of delicate glass. ~ face. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. wildflowers have the prettiest thorns. ~ carinna bronwell. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. she smelled like white roses and felt as fragile as her dresses. ~ face. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. blessed with beauty and rage. ~ musings. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. when we suffer we do it in silence. and the world likes it that way. ~ johanna ballard. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. i want my heart back; i want to feel everything again. ~ face. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. she lost him but she found herself and somehow that was everything. ~ musings. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. who hurt you like that? ~ mj. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. love me just like a wildflower. ~ face. ~ }}#{{ ~ &&. a flaming rose. ~ musings. ~ }}

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51voices · 11 days ago

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Home is Where I'm Enough

Poll winner: Praise Kink (Kinkvember Debut Fic)

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader

The apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the soft hum of Y/N’s computer. He sat hunched over his desk, the screen’s gentle glow casting an ethereal light across his face as he polished the final touches of his latest graphic design project. He’d been in the zone for hours, the kind of intense flow only a passionate creator knows, dreading any interruption. But as the night grew late, fatigue crept in like an unwelcome guest, blurring the vibrant colors and shapes on his screen and drawing him into a hazy exhaustion.

Just as he stretched back in his chair, letting his arms rise above his head to shake off the dull ache in his shoulders, the front door creaked open. Though faint, the sound pulled his attention immediately, stirring a gentle flutter in his chest. He knew who it was: Wonyoung.

She stepped inside, her silhouette soft against the dim hallway light. Her usual radiance had dimmed, replaced by a look of deep exhaustion. Strands of hair framed her face, loosely tousled, hinting at the long hours she’d endured. Dressed in her favorite oversized sweater, slipping off one shoulder, and paired with comfy shorts, her cozy ensemble contrasted starkly with the glitz of her public persona. Tonight, she looked as if the weight of the world had finally settled on her delicate frame.

Her gaze drifted across the room, her steps heavy as she gravitated toward him, perhaps unconsciously drawn by the promise of comfort. When their eyes met, she offered a small, tired smile—a gesture that seemed automatic, though the usual warmth was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted in a warm, low voice, breaking the quiet of the apartment with gentle concern. “Long day?”

Wonyoung let out a soft, tired breath, her smile persisting but not quite reaching her eyes. “Yeah… you wouldn’t believe how exhausting today was. Promotions, photoshoots, fan meetings… I don’t even know how I’m still standing.” Her words, though calm, carried an unmistakable weight, each syllable laced with unspoken exhaustion.

He rose from his desk, the scrape of the chair against the floor seeming louder in the stillness, closing the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, his embrace both protective and tender, inviting her to let go of whatever she’d been carrying. She melted against him, her body softening as she leaned fully into his warmth, the tension in her shoulders easing as if hoping to dissolve into him.

“You’ve been working so hard, princess. You deserve to rest,” he murmured, gliding a hand over her back in soothing circles, tracing gentle patterns over the soft fabric of her sweater. Each stroke was meant to ease her, to remind her that she didn’t need to be strong right now.

Wonyoung sighed, resting her head against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat become an anchor, grounding her. “I don’t even know if I can relax,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carrying an edge of vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “Everyone always asks me for things, but no one ever asks me what I need. I feel like I’m always giving, and no one’s there to just… take care of me.”

Her words tugged at his heart, and he tightened his embrace, listening fully, letting her be exactly who she was. Tonight, she wasn’t Wonyoung the idol; she was just his girlfriend, stripped of the weight of expectations.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he murmured, “Tonight, I’m here to take care of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. How about we keep it quiet? I could make some dinner—whatever you’d like?”

She smiled softly but shook her head. “No, thank you… I’m not really hungry. Just too tired to eat, I think.”

He nodded, adjusting his suggestion. “Maybe a massage? Help you relax and ease those tired muscles?”

Wonyoung considered it, then sighed, her gaze drifting. “That sounds nice, but I don’t think I can even sit still long enough. I’d probably fall asleep halfway through.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her shoulder in a light caress. “Fair enough. How about a movie, then? We could just put something on, snuggle up on the couch, and you can zone out as much as you need?”

A flicker of warmth crossed her face at the thought, but she shook her head again. “That sounds nice too, but I don’t think I’d even be able to focus. My mind’s just… elsewhere.”

He paused, sensing that none of his suggestions had quite hit the mark. Sliding a gentle hand to her cheek, he met her gaze, his voice tender. “Then tell me, Wonyoung. Whatever you need, just say it. I’m here.”

The world around them seemed to hold its breath, caught in the tender pause that enveloped the pair. Wonyoung, usually so composed and commanding, now appeared as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, her usual confidence momentarily abandoned. It was in this rare instance of uncertainty that she found the courage to voice her deepest desire.

"Oppa ," she began, her voice a whisper of its usual strength, carrying a hesitance that was seldom heard. "Can we just… be together? Just us."

His response was immediate and heartfelt. A gentle smile graced his lips, his heart warmed by the sincerity of her request. "Of course, Wony. We can just spend time together, no pressure, no work, just us."

The vulnerability in her eyes was palpable, yet it was accompanied by a spark of mischief that hinted at an unexpressed longing. As she stepped closer, her fingers traced an unsteady path along his arm, her touch betraying her nervousness. Oblivious to the full extent of her yearning, he leaned in to bestow a tender kiss upon her forehead, his words a soothing balm to her unspoken needs.

"Just us, no distractions, okay?" he affirmed, his voice a comforting promise.

Wonyoung's fingers anxiously toyed with the hem of his shirt, her courage wavering for but a moment before she mustered the resolve to voice the true nature of her request. With a shy smile that barely contained her anticipation, she looked up at him, her words laced with a boldness that belied her gentle demeanor.

"Oppaa... I-I meant... can we... have... sexy time?"

The surprise that registered on his face was genuine, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in the conversation. He had been prepared to offer her a sanctuary of relaxation and companionship, but this... this was an invitation to a different kind of connection, one that was both intimate and thrilling.

As the initial shock subsided, his gaze softened, and he saw her in an entirely new light. The playful glint in her eyes, the delicate blush that graced her cheeks—it all painted a picture of Wonyoung that was both endearing and alluring. She stood before him, her hands fidgeting with a mixture of nervousness and desire, her lips parted in quiet anticipation of his response.

Understanding dawned on him, and with it came a smile that reflected his deep affection for her. "Ah, Wony," he said with a gentle chuckle, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of her hair. "You want us to... I see, of course baby"

Her affirmation was shy but resolute, her voice barely above a whisper as she laid bare her innermost wishes. "I... I've been really stressed, and I just... I just want you. Just us."

A deep warmth rose within him as he gazed at the woman in his arms, a warmth that radiated through every fiber of his being. She was here with him, stripped of the expectations and perfection the world demanded of her, showing him the truest parts of herself. Her request, so simple yet so vulnerable, spoke volumes about the bond they shared, and he felt his heart swell with love and admiration. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled her closer, his hands finding their place around her waist, fingers pressing into her softly but with purpose. He tilted his head to capture her lips in a kiss that promised everything she might need, murmuring against her mouth, "Whatever you want, just tell me."

With that, the world around them dissolved into a soft blur, distant and forgotten, as Wonyoung melted into his arms. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the light spilling over their entwined bodies and casting shadows that highlighted her delicate curves. He traced his fingers slowly along her back, feeling the subtle tremors beneath her skin, the way her body softened by degrees, her tension easing under his touch. Each stroke coaxed a little more trust from her, even as she wrestled with the restraint that held her in check, a habit formed over years of needing to be perfectly in control.

As his hands began to unfasten the layers of her clothing with gentle care, he could feel her vulnerability like an unspoken word between them. To the world, she was grace personified, a vision of poise and elegance, an idol untouchable in her perfection. Yet, here and now, she was a woman grappling with the desire to shed the weight of that polished image, to surrender the mantle of perfection she wore so effortlessly in the public eye. His fingers moved with the gentleness of someone who understood her inner struggle, his touch a balm, offering her the quiet assurance she needed to let down her guard.

He sensed the battle playing out within her, an invisible tug-of-war between the person she had to be and the one she longed to become in this private space. His lips brushed over her neck, his voice low and soothing. "Wony, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, "but you’re perfect in all the ways that matter. You bring so much beauty and strength into my life."

A shuddered breath escaped her lips as his words settled over her, each one unraveling a bit more of her control. Her hands tightened in the bedsheets, twisting the fabric as she balanced on the razor-thin line between control and surrender. His hands traced over her sides, strong and steady, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to comfort and ignite. "Let go for me, baby, it's okay," he coaxed, his voice a deep, resonant sound that seemed to settle right at the core of her, calling to her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The endearment lingered in the air, a plea and a promise wrapped into one, coaxing her closer to that edge. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought the rising urge to surrender completely, to release everything she held back. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out as a fragile whisper, the vulnerability in her voice breaking through. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can," she admitted, her voice quivering, her brows furrowed in a fleeting expression of frustration and fear, the tension of her resistance etched across her face.

His response was instant and tender. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a gesture of unwavering support that steadied her. "You can, Wony," he assured her, his gaze holding hers, brimming with sincerity. "I see how much you keep it together out there, and that makes me appreciate even more the way you open up with me. It’s such a privilege to be the one who gets to see this side of you." His words were a gentle nudge, affirming his commitment not just to her pleasure but to her peace, his hands holding her as if promising to anchor her.

Trust shone in her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath, his words filling her with a sense of security that was as powerful as it was freeing. Slowly, she let herself relax, allowing him to guide her, his hands continuing their slow, purposeful journey across her skin, each caress a reminder of his deep affection. The pleasure within her built steadily, a growing ache, a tantalizing invitation that beckoned her toward release. Yet, even as she teetered on that edge, the remnants of her control clung to her, a practiced restraint born of habit, a habit he was patiently helping her unravel, piece by piece.

His fingertips traced her skin with a deliberate gentleness, painting a path that left her body flushed, every inch hypersensitive to his touch. The way he moved over her was worshipful, reverent, each stroke of his hand along her curves as if he were discovering her for the first time. She twitched beneath him, her back arching to meet his touch, her breaths shallow and filled with anticipation. Every caress was a testament to how he saw her—not just an idol, but a masterpiece, a person to be cherished in all her vulnerability and strength.

His mouth moved down to lavish her jawline with tender, lingering kisses. He traveled along the column of her throat, the warmth of his breath igniting her senses and sending cascades of goosebumps across her skin. With her head tilted back, she exposed her neck, an unspoken surrender in the tilt of her head, a silent invitation for him to continue. The softness of his mouth, the slow, careful rhythm, filled her with a thrill of arousal she could barely contain, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him, wanting more yet barely able to voice it.

Their lips met then, a slow, searching kiss that unfolded with a blend of tenderness and raw emotion. His mouth moved against hers with a gentle ardor, savoring each moment, each connection, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she drew him closer, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of them suspended in a quiet dance, a sacred exchange of love and vulnerability that allowed her to shed every mask she wore. Here, wrapped in his affection, she found the courage to set down the armor she held so tightly, to accept the freedom he offered.

His mouth trailed lower, each kiss slower, more deliberate, as he left a line of warmth down her body, his fingers pressing gently into her hips to steady her. The closer he came to her core, the more intense her anticipation grew, her breath catching as he settled between her thighs. She felt the tension building inside her, excitement and vulnerability intertwining in equal measure. But as his lips neared her center, a flicker of hesitation stirred within her, a whisper of insecurity breaking through the haze of arousal.

She tensed slightly, her mind rushing to the imperfections she imagined, the things she couldn’t control. In front of him, she felt bare, unfiltered, not the polished, pristine version she presented to the world. Right now, she wasn’t perfect, wasn’t flawless, wasn’t prepared. The thought made her hesitate, and she tried to subtly shift away, her hand moving instinctively to shield herself. “It's not…I’m not—” she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush.

But he paused, sensing the change in her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a gentleness that held her in place. He brushed a comforting hand over her thigh, the touch steady and reassuring, his voice low and soft. "Hey… don’t worry. Right here, you’re exactly as you should be. You don’t need to be anything but yourself with me." He placed a tender kiss on her inner thigh, his words imbued with an acceptance that quieted her worries, the unconditional affection in his gaze anchoring her.

With a breath, she nodded, the tension easing as she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of her expectations melt in his presence. His hands settled on her thighs, grounding her, as he placed a soft, reverent kiss at her center, his lips warm and gentle, easing her slowly back into the moment. As his tongue began to trace delicate, slow circles, she felt herself letting go, her hesitations fading beneath the steady rhythm of his movements.

He continued with a tenderness that felt like a vow, his mouth exploring her as though reminding her that she was already perfect to him. Each touch, each gentle press of his mouth, was a wordless reassurance, a reminder that she could be vulnerable here, could let herself be imperfect without fear. His fingers stroked over her skin, guiding her back to herself, and the pleasure started to overtake the remnants of her self-doubt.

Finally, her body began to respond instinctively, hips pressing forward as her breath grew shallower, soft sounds spilling from her lips as she surrendered to the sensation. His mouth continued its worshipful rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge until she could no longer think of anything but the waves of pleasure that built within her, each one stronger than the last. Her hand found its way into his hair, gripping softly as her control slipped, her voice a soft, pleading whisper in the quiet.

In this sacred space, Wonyoung found the courage to relinquish her hold on perfection, to embrace the imperfect beauty of being truly seen and wholeheartedly loved. His unwavering presence and the sanctuary of his affection were the keys that unlocked the gate to her unbridled self. Here, in the sanctity of their bond, Wonyoung was not just an idol, but a woman fully immersed in the depths of love and the freedom it brings.

He paused and replaced his mouth with his fingers. Her warm, moist folds pulsing around his digits, slowly he leaned towards her. The voice that caressed Wonyoung's ears was a balm to her soul, a soft, soothing timbre filled with quiet strength. "It's okay, Wony. You don't have to try to be perfect. I love you just as you are, you’re perfect to me." The words, imbued with unconditional acceptance, were a gentle command that resonated deep within her core.

Wonyoung, the idol worshiped by millions for her flawless poise and ethereal beauty, found herself gasping as the first wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her fingers, once graceful and composed, now gripped the sheets with an urgency that betrayed her facade. The pleasure was a sudden heat, a surge of sensation that ignited her senses and sent ripples of ecstasy coursing through her body. Each pulsating surge overwhelmed her with a delicious thrill, her body instinctively arching towards the source of her bliss, yet her moans remained soft and restrained—a delicate symphony of need barely rising above a whisper.

The world outside ceased to exist. The contrast between the poised idol she presented to the world and the vulnerable girl who yearned to unravel in his arms was stark and dissonant. The weight of expectation, a constant pressure to maintain the image of perfection, loomed over her. Yet, in the sanctity of their embrace, a different desire flickered to life—a longing for the freedom to embrace her innermost yearnings without fear or restraint.

The pleasure surged once more, its potency wrapping around her like a tantalizing embrace. Wonyoung's heart raced, her breath hitching in her throat as she inhaled sharply. The waves of sensation enveloped her, swallowing her whole while her thoughts swirled chaotically, tinged with a subtle desperation. Would he understand the storm of emotions raging within her? Would he cherish both the idol and the girl beneath the surface?

With every pulse of pleasure, she teetered on the edge of release, a dizzying dance between her public persona and her private self. The fear of disappointment clawed at her, but his gentle fingers spoke a language of love that was both soothing and comforting, coaxing her closer to the precipice of surrender. As she hovered on the brink, her body taut as a bowstring, his lips found her ear, and he whispered words of devotion.

"You're so beautiful, so perfect. Let go, my love. Cum for me." The sensual cadence of his words wrapped around her, an undeniable invitation, and she felt the last of her walls tremble, cracking under the weight of his praise. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch as he coaxed her closer to the edge. She could feel it building, a molten tension winding tighter with each pulse of pleasure that surged through her, threatening to unmoor her entirely.

Then, with a choked cry, her resolve shattered. The pleasure that swept through her was intense, potent enough to make her gasp, her core clenching rhythmically around his fingers as ecstasy surged, each wave cresting and crashing through her. She trembled, her breaths coming in rapid bursts as she teetered in that blissful space. But even as the release overtook her, rippling outward with undeniable force, there was still a sliver of herself she held back, a trace of resistance lingering at her core, keeping her from fully dissolving into pleasure. It was as if her body had surrendered, yet her heart still lingered, guarded, hovering just beyond the reach of complete vulnerability.

Wave after wave of sensation left her body limp and shivering, her skin flushed, her breaths ragged. And yet, even as she lay in his embrace, reveling in the aftershocks of her release, something deep within her remained untouched, still holding on, as though daring her to surrender wholly next time. She felt the intensity of her release—a vivid, powerful testament to how much she wanted to let go, yet how much further she could fall if only she allowed herself.

Tenderly, he gathered her in his arms as she shuddered through the aftershocks. "That’s it, baby. You’re amazing. So responsive, so trusting. I couldn’t be prouder of you." He rained kisses over her face, her neck, his words a soothing salve to her soul. She clung to him, dizzy and disoriented from the maelstrom of emotions, yet cherished beyond measure. In this moment, she wasn't a fantasy or a fetish, but a woman truly seen and adored for all that she was—a duality of strength and vulnerability, perfectly entwined in the arms of love.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his hands continuing their gentle caress. "You're amazing, Wony." His words, soft as a summer breeze, carried the weight of his admiration and tenderness.

She sighed, her breath still shaky as she came down from the first climax, a testament to the passion they shared. Yet, there was a lingering frustration in her, a shadow of doubt that marred the perfection of the moment. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know why I can't just fully… let go," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel like I'm still holding on…"

He shook his head gently, his fingers deftly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's okay baby," he said softly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You've done so much already, I know you trust me, baby, please show it to me." His words, a soothing balm to her troubled heart, seemed to ease the tension from her body.

Her eyes softened at his words, her chest rising and falling with deep, labored breaths. She gave a small nod, her lips curving into a hesitant smile, though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. He didn’t let go. His hands moved over Wonyoung again, softer this time, each touch deliberate and careful, as though every stroke carried a promise. "Do you have one more for me, princess?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. "Just trust me, Wony. I'm going to help you let go. You don't have to hold anything back."

Wonyoung's breath caught in her throat as she nodded. The tension in her body, so tightly wound, began to loosen under his careful touch. His hands roamed with purpose and pure, unhurried affection. The way he touched her wasn't just intimate; it was reverent, as if he was worshiping every part of her. His whispered praises filled the air between them like a balm, soothing the parts of her that had felt raw for so long. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, then lower, placing gentle, lingering kisses on her chest. He paused, his mouth grazing her nipple, his warmth sending a shiver through her as he focused on the stiff nub.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his lips returning to her neck. "The way you keep going, even when things get tough, it's amazing to watch."

With each word, Wonyoung felt her defenses begin to crumble, the walls she had built around herself slowly breaking apart, leaving her exposed. Her breath hitched as her body responded, but even as she surrendered, a small, aching hesitation remained, a part of her still clinging to control. She wanted to let go, to feel fully, to be vulnerable, yet something held her back—an invisible tether keeping her from completely surrendering.

"I don't know if I can, I don't know how to…" she whispered, her voice shaking, not from fear, but from the overwhelming vulnerability that swelled inside her. She had always been the strong one, the composed one—the one in control. But here, in his arms, she didn't have to be any of those things. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye.

His eyes, warm and filled with love, never left hers. "Honey, I know how hard you work to be strong every day, and I see how much you carry. But here, with me, you don’t have to keep it all together," he whispered, his voice so soft, "I love every side of you—your strength, yes, but also the parts that need tenderness and care. You’ve been strong for so long; it’s okay to let yourself rest and lean on me. I’m here to hold you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, completely, and I’ll always have your back. Let go, even if just for a moment. You’ve earned it, and I’ll be right here through it all."

Something deep within Wonyoung shifted, a missing piece falling into place in a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed. In that charged, breathless moment, her last defenses dissolved. The barriers she had clung to splintered into dust, leaving her bare and vulnerable, her emotions raw and beautiful. Her body softened under his touch, yielding, pressing close, every line of her molding to him as if they’d been designed to fit together. Her heart—her most precious, guarded part—opened entirely, like a flower surrendering to the kiss of the morning sun. Years of hidden hurt and buried longing spilled forth, leaving her exposed and breathless, every nerve alive with sensation.

Her breaths quickened, shallow and uneven, as he pulled her closer, his touch igniting something deep within her, something that had been waiting, yearning to be released. She let out a soft, needy sound, a whispered “Oh…” as his hand traced her spine, sending a delicious shiver down her back. The heat spread through her, coiling tightly, winding up like a spring. His hands roamed over her skin, each stroke a spark, each caress an invitation to let go. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and another soft moan escaped her, higher, pleading. “Mmm… please…” she breathed, the anticipation winding up within her until she could hardly bear it.

As the pleasure built, her voice trembled, rising with each sensation that took her closer to the edge. “Ah—” she gasped as he found that spot, her entire body arching into him. “Yes, I’m cumming” she whimpered, her moans spilling freely, no longer shy, each sound a testament to the rawness of her surrender, the depth of her need. When release finally claimed her, it crashed over her like a tidal wave, an all-consuming flood that left her gasping, body trembling as she clung to him. She let out a keening cry, her voice breaking into soft, shuddering moans, her fingers curling against him as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her, leaving her breathless and dazed.

The pleasure was pure, untainted by guilt or hesitation, a dizzying blend of bliss and vulnerability. She felt herself come undone, a thousand stars scattering behind her closed eyelids, each pulse of pleasure brighter than the last. She gasped, her voice a whisper as her senses dissolved, leaving her floating, utterly open and alive in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the moment, in him. His hands never stopped their slow, sensual caress, letting her enjoy every last bit of her release. His lips never stopped their sweet murmurs of praise as he held her, supported her, guided her through the waves of bliss that crashed over her again and again.

When she finally stilled, panting and spent in his arms, Wonyoung felt something she hadn't in years—free. Free to be herself, free to feel, free to love. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. "Thank you for helping me let go."

He just smiled, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You never have to thank me for that, baby," he murmured, his arms tightening around her. "I'm always here to help you, no matter what."

In the stillness of the night, two souls lay intertwined, wrapped in the embrace of intimacy and comfort. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic cadence of their breaths, akin to a gentle melody that enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth. Wonyoung felt a profound sense of peace that had eluded her for far too long, nestled snugly against his chest.

He looked down at her, marveling at the sheer beauty of the moment as the golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow around them. The tender strokes of his fingers dancing along her back were like a soothing balm, a gentle reminder that she was cherished, easing the weight of her worries and insecurities that often clung to her like a second skin. Each caress felt deliberate, as if he were painting a masterpiece against her skin, and with every touch, she could feel the tension melt away, leaving her breathless and weightless.

Devoid of the pressure and expectations that characterized her public persona, Wonyoung felt free to be simply herself. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, and for once, the gleaming lights and flashing cameras were nothing more than faint memories. In his embrace, she was not the polished idol; she was simply a woman allowing herself to experience vulnerability.

The usual assertiveness of her personality melted into a soft bundle of intimacy. She took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of her favorite cologne and something uniquely his that made her heart flutter. She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat sync with her own. It was a melody of trust, of safety, allowing her to lower the walls she’d so carefully constructed over the years.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, she shared a rare smile, a smile that spoke of the unguarded joy that danced in the depths of her eyes. In that quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung finally understood that the pressures of the world, the expectations from fans and industry executives, had no claim over this moment. Here, with him, she was stripped of her titles and achievements. She was just Wony — beautifully flawed, wonderfully imperfect, and so deeply human. In the gentle confines of his arms, she felt liberated, ready to embrace every fragment of herself she had kept hidden away.

“I don't know what I did to be so lucky to have you in my life, Thank you so much,” she murmured softly, her words barely breaking the silence, yet carrying an ocean of emotion.

His heart swelled at her gratitude. “You don’t have to thank me, Wony,” he replied, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifted to tuck a blanket around them, ensuring that the warmth of their connection extended beyond just their bodies. Every gesture was measured, an unspoken promise to hold her carefully, to shield her from the chaos of the outside world. As he enveloped her further into the warmth, she exhaled a soft sigh, feeling the cares of the day slip away like grains of sand through her fingers.

The comforting weight of the blanket, combined with his unwavering presence, created an oasis of tranquility. Wonyoung nestled closer, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of him — a blend of warmth, safety, and love. It was a scent that anchored her, reminding her that here, with him, she could fully let go and simply be.

“Your happiness means everything to me,” he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around Wony. “I love taking care of you; it’s my greatest joy.”

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung surrendered to the day's final embrace. The weight of hours spent apart now gave way to the serene pull of sleep, a tide of weariness that beckoned her to its peaceful shores. Yet, as the siren call of rest tempted her consciousness, a single, sacred ritual anchored her to the waking world—a phrase that had blossomed into their own secret lexicon, a testament to a bond that defied the physical realm. "Oppaaa… can I have… tucky?" she whispered, her voice a tender plea in the dimly lit room.

The words hung in the air, a delicate invocation, and his heart responded with a symphony of flutters. It was a request that transcended mere comfort; it was the embodiment of a profound craving for closeness, a need that only their unique connection could satisfy. "Of course, baby," he replied, his voice a soothing balm, wrapped in the warmth of a smile that illuminated the shadows.

With meticulous care, he began to undress, each movement a silent vow to honor the sanctity of her comfort. His actions were a dance of devotion, a series of quiet gestures that spoke volumes of his desire to bridge the gap between their bodies while preserving the delicate fabric of her ease.

As Wonyoung positioned herself atop him, her lithe form a perfect complement to his, their bodies began a silent conversation. Her thighs, soft and supple, cradled his hips, while her arms encircled his neck, drawing him into an embrace that promised refuge. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his awaiting form, her slickness guiding him into the heart of her warmth. A gasp, soft and surrendering, escaped her lips as he filled her, stretching her to the brink of pleasure.

In the close warmth of their embrace, Wonyoung's breasts, soft and tender, pressed against the firm contours of his chest. Each breath they shared caused her hardened nipples to graze his skin, a delicate friction that stoked the flames of their desire. Her core, a molten haven, clenched around his length, a rhythmic pulse that echoed the beating of their hearts."

Their dance was unhurried, a languid exploration of the connection that bound them. It was a communion of souls, a testament to the depth of their understanding. With each undulation of Wonyoung's hips, their bodies found solace.

Lost in the comfort of his arms, Wonyoung's sighs mingled with the quiet of the room, a harmony of contentment. Her cheek, nestled in the crook of his neck, inhaled the familiar scent that clung to his skin—a scent that whispered of safety and belonging. Thoughts dissolved into the ether, replaced by the exquisite sensations that coursed through her. Her fingertips, light as a feather's touch, traced the contours of his back, each stroke deepening their connection.

The pleasure that built within her was a slow simmer, a crescendo that threatened to consume them both. Yet, Wonyoung reveled in the anticipation, drawing out the sweet agony of their union. She clung to the moment, unwilling to relinquish the closeness that enveloped them, a closeness that made the world beyond their embrace seem a distant memory.

"You're so perfect," he murmured into her hair, his words a tender confession. "I love you so much. Just like this. Just us." His voice, laden with emotion, was a testament to the depth of his affection. In the stillness of their shared space, their love was a living entity, a force that rendered them invincible in their vulnerability.

Wonyoung smiled at his words, a small, contented grin that reached her eyes as she nuzzled closer. She gently traced slow, lazy patterns across his skin with her fingertips, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch. Each caress brought a fresh wave of calm, a deeper sense of security, and a love that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She had never felt so cherished, so at peace.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, her voice a delicate whisper filled with gratitude, knowing he understood her heart without needing to say more.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he replied, his voice tender as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. There was something deeper in his touch—a promise, a vow of unconditional love and support that she could always count on.

As Wonyoung’s body relaxed fully into his, her breathing slowing, he focused on the simple, quiet joy of having her close. The rhythm of her heartbeat matched the serenity of the room, each gentle beat echoing the contentment swelling in his chest. He realized this wasn’t just an intimate moment; it was their sanctuary, a home they had built within each other where love grew and thrived.

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable, as if confessing a secret.

He smiled, holding her even closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. “To be the place where you feel at home.”

Wonyoung’s eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion washed over her. She hummed in content, her voice sleepy but full of warmth as she faded into the quiet, but the love in her tone was unmistakable.

Time seemed to stand still. The world outside—with its chaos and noise—faded into a distant memory, leaving only the peaceful calm that wrapped around Wonyoung and him. In this moment, together, they were safe. Together, they were whole.

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