fanfic writer | minsung

35th

As Jisung gradually surfaced from the depths of sleep, he found himself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth, the soft morning light gently coaxing him back to consciousness. With a languid stretch, he attempted to sit up, only to be met with resistance – a weight, heavy yet comforting, settled atop his chest, holding him in place.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Jisung's gaze fell upon the source of the weight – Minho. There he lay, serene and undisturbed, his features softened by the morning light, strands of hair falling delicately across his forehead. The sight tugged at Jisung's heartstrings, filling him with a curious blend of warmth and vulnerability.

Reality crashed upon him with sudden clarity – the events of last night were not a figment of his imagination.

What the actual fuck.

The tender moments, the whispered confessions, the stolen glances – they were all real. Jisung felt a surge of panic rise within him, mingling with the fluttering sensation in his chest.

As he lay there, pinned beneath Minho's slumbering form, Jisung couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the moment. He could feel the steady rhythm of Minho's breaths against his skin, a reminder of the connection they shared. Yet, intertwined with the warmth of their closeness was a creeping sense of uncertainty, a fear of what lay ahead.

Am I dreaming?

With each passing moment, Jisung's cheeks grew warmer, a telltale blush spreading across his features. He felt like an idiot, caught in the whirlwind of his own emotions – the exhilaration of newfound love mingled with the anxiety of the unknown. Silently, he mulled over the implications of their newfound intimacy, grappling with the weight of his own feelings.

As Jisung's fingers timidly ventured into the soft strands of Minho's hair, a rush of warmth flooded through him, igniting a firestorm of sensation within his chest. With each gentle stroke, he felt as though he was unraveling the mysteries of the universe, one delicate thread at a time.

His heart quickened its pace, a rapid drumbeat echoing in his ears, drowning out the soft sounds of morning. The sensation of Minho's hair beneath his touch was electrifying, sending shivers down his spine and causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Every movement, every caress, felt like a revelation – a silent declaration of the emotions swirling within him. With each passing second, Jisung's cheeks grew warmer, suffused with a rosy hue that betrayed the depth of his feelings.

It was as though time itself had slowed to a crawl, allowing Jisung to savor the exquisite sweetness of the moment. Lost in the tender embrace of Minho's presence, he found himself surrendering to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotion, his fears and uncertainties melting away in the warmth of their connection.

As the tendrils of consciousness began to weave their way through Minho's mind, he found himself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The rhythmic rise and fall of Jisung's chest beneath his own served as a gentle lullaby, coaxing him back to the realm of wakefulness.

With feigned reluctance, Minho allowed his eyelids to flutter open ever so slightly, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains casting a warm glow upon the scene before him. He could feel the soft strands of Jisung's hair tickling his cheek, the steady beat of his heart a soothing melody against his skin.

But instead of greeting the new day with open eyes, Minho decided to indulge in the blissful moment a little while longer. With a contented sigh, he snuggled closer to Jisung, relishing in the warmth of their embrace. He tightened his arms around him, pulling him closer still, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.