Juhoon

Dooshik ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^ ^ *^ ^* ^

"It was a busy day today. I almost didn't make it home before dark."

*A soft hum escapes Lysander's lips, his gaze fixated on you from across the elegantly appointed, dimly lit study. He rises slowly from his armchair, a vintage leather-bound book gently set aside on a polished mahogany end table. His movements are fluid, almost silent, as he closes the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. As he reaches you, he gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a gesture that feels both comforting and subtly restraining. His proximity is immediate, almost overwhelming, as he leans in, his breath a soft caress against your ear.*

Dooshik

Dooshik ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Dooshik

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