#cloud nine series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spideyjimin · 4 months ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: IV | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 10,073

— warnings: sexual tension, some nervousness, strong language, mention of sex, mention of breakup, mention of pain, crying, teasing, pain, screaming, some panicking, and nudity

— author’s note: this is for now my absolute favorite chapter of this series. so many things happen & it’s a very vulnerable one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter 🤗 let me know what you think and thanks from the bottom of my heart for the love shown to this series ❤️

Chapter IV: standing next to you

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook is patiently waiting for you at the fertility clinic’s entrance.

Today is a special day.

It’s the first day you’ll meet your little baby. However, it’s also a bit of a terrifying day because there’s a possibility that there’s something wrong with the baby.

The werewolf king hasn’t slept at all, too worried about today. Yesterday, you told him about this appointment, and he asked if he could come. How could you say ‘no’ to him? He desires so much to be involved, you can see it in his eyes.

Now that you’re both on the same page about the baby, it feels like you’re on cloud nine. You’re both going to have a child, except it’s definitely not going to be as planned. You were both planning on being alone, but you have each other now.

Jungkook senses you arriving in your car, his eyes completely drawn to you. Feeling your presence from far away is something very new to him; he never experienced it with anybody else. Not even with Yuna. He keeps wondering if it’s because you’re carrying his child, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

His entire being is always captivated by you. Whenever you’re around, you’re the only thing that truly matters. There’s something so different about you that he can’t quite explain. Being with you makes him feel good.

As you step out of your car, his eyes lock onto you, completely captivated by your beauty. You’re dressed in sleek black trousers and a white shirt that hints at your cleavage, an effortless yet striking combination. His gaze follows your every move as you open the passenger door to retrieve your long black coat and purse.

The man swallows with difficulty. He finds you extremely beautiful, he’d even say that he has never laid his eyes on someone this pretty. Yuna can’t even compare next to you. And what makes you even prettier is the little life you’re carrying inside you. You’re the mother to his child which is quite a big deal though.

When you notice him, a bright smile appears on your face. His beauty is quite striking, and you wonder how you’ll be able to live a life with such a handsome man. You hope that the baby will take his good looks, because damn, Jungkook is alluring.

His outfit is a bit more casual than yesterday’s, but it’s still more formal than when meeting him at the town square. He’s dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a checked suit jacket. It’s simple, but definitely a great look.

Once you’ve reached him, you actually don’t really know what to do. Do you simply stay in front of him? Or do you kiss on the cheek? Or do you shake his hand?

“A simple kiss on the cheek is enough.”

Jungkook didn’t move his lips at all although you’ve heard him loud and clear in your head.

“Did you say something?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head.

That’s weird.

However, you decide to follow the voice in you heard—that probably was a hallucination. You get closer to him before pressing a gentle kiss on his squishy cheek. Both of your hearts start beating at the same rapid rhythm. For a moment, Jungkook notices how in synch your hearts are beating, but he doesn’t really give too much credit to it.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you say after the kiss.

“Hi, yn,” he takes a step back to look at you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” the brightest smile appears on your face.

The two of you head inside the clinic while casually talking about how you’re feeling about this appointment. By the looks of it, Jungkook is more nervous than you. You’re actually not really worried as you constantly hear your child’s heartbeat that grows stronger every day. The only concern there might be is if the baby has any malformation, but even like that, you feel that deep down, you know the baby is just fine.

The doctor—who gave you the extremely bad news of the sample mix-up a month ago—makes her way inside the room after you both got inside. She clearly doesn’t know how to act in front of you, but you decide to smile to put her at ease. On the other side, Jungkook seems closed off, he almost looks pissed.

“Hi Miss y/l/n and Mister Jeon,” she offers you both a smile while she invites you to take a seat.

The two of you sit down before she does the same. Jungkook clearly doesn’t look happy; he seems to still resent her for the mistake made.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks with concern.

“I’m actually doing great,” you inform her.

You look at your right to Jungkook, trying to check his reaction. His dark and intense eyes are fixed on the doctor, leaving you wondering if he’s planning on answering or if he’ll just keep looking at her like he’s about to kill her. By the way his jaw clenches, you assume he’ll ignore her. But, to your surprise, he breaks the tension with a sharp answer.

“Could be better,” he coldly says.

The sharpness in his tone makes you blink. “You could be nicer to her,” those are the words you’d definitely like to say to him, but you resist the urge to call him out. Jungkook turns to you abruptly, his expression unreadable, as always.

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing. Your eyes widen as you realize what just happened. He heard you.

“This woman gave me a hundred heart attacks,” he continues. “No way, I’ll be nice to her.”

You stare at each other in silence, your hearts beating rapidly. None of you has moved your lips, but you’ve been mentally talking. This is too wild for you. Jungkook doesn’t understand how on earth that is possible, and you believe that it’s one of those werewolf abilities you’re still discovering.

“Again, I’d like to apologize again for this mistake,” she clears her throat, pulling both of you back into the room. “The costs have been fully refunded to you this week. In principle, you should have already received the reimbursement by now.”

You nod as you remember seeing your bank account increase a lot after receiving the money. It’s honestly so weird to have so much right now, but you’ll transfer most of it to your investment and spare accounts. There’s no way you’ll leave your money to lose value.

While the refund doesn’t erase the mistake, it’s a reminder of how messy this whole situation has been.

“Before we proceed with the ultrasound,” the doctor continues. “I’d like to confirm with you if you’ve made a decision about the pregnancy,” she says.

Jungkook’s unreadable and mysterious face sends shivers down your spine. The energy he radiates is heavier and darker, and you feel the storm growing inside him. He seems to have become a totally different person since entering the room. You know he’s furious at the clinic for their huge mistake, and you understand why. But now, you’ve both decided to keep the baby so in the end, it’s all good.

But still, you need him here, not lost in his anger.

“Yes,” you gently say, offering a small smile before your gaze moves back to the man sitting next to you. “We’ve decided to proceed with the pregnancy.”

“Okay, perfect then!” she seems to relax now.

You can see that he’s holding back, you can sense his anger, but you don’t want to see him like this. You’re about to meet your baby. You place your hand on top of his to gently squeeze it, your thumb tracing soothing circles over his skin.

You instantly see his stiff shoulder relax slightly, and you can sense the heat of his anger vanishing, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. You hold onto his hand, willing him to stay calm. He remains quiet, though you can feel him shimmering under the surface. The doctor stands up and gestures toward the next room.

“We can go then do the ultrasound,” she stands up. “How would you like to proceed?”

You’re both confused about her question, not really understanding what she means.

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing between her and Jungkook.

“This is a pelvic ultrasound,” she explains. “The baby is very small, so we can’t use the standard method.”

“Oh,” you both respond at the same time, the realization dawning on you.

“I’ll leave you then alone,” Jungkook instantly retorts while he shifts in his seat.

“No,” you grab his arm before he can move, your eyes meeting his with determination. “This is your child too. You should be here for the first ultrasound.”

“If you’d prefer,” the doctor starts suggesting. “Mister Jeon can wait outside while you get settled. I’ll ensure your privacy is protected and call him to be next to you once you’re ready.”

You consider her words, appreciating the balance of practicality and respect. This approach seems reasonable, and it might ease Jungkook’s discomfort. You glance at him, silently asking for his agreement. After a moment, he nods.

“Fine,” his voice softens.

The doctor leads you to the room, and Jungkook’s hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before letting you go. Even though he’s not right next to you, you feel his steady presence, grounding you as you prepare to see your baby for this very first time.

Once you’re in the other room, you remove your bottoms. The doctor gestures for you to lie down on the gynecological examination table and place your leg on the stirrups. This is such a vulnerable position, but you’ve been doing this a lot since you started this journey.

This is a room you’ve seen quite a lot, and it almost feels like a second house. The white sterile walls could make you feel uncomfortable, but the soft and calming lighting makes it feel like a warm room. It’s appeasing when you go through this entire process to procreate.

On your right, there is the ultrasound machine and a screen together with the material needed for the ultrasound like the gel. There is also the slim and long transvaginal ultrasound probe. It can look very scary, but it actually doesn’t hurt at all.

“Perfect,” the doctor says once you’re perfectly situated. “I’ll put a little blanket on top to cover you,” she indicates.

You nod with a bit of nervousness. Knowing that Jungkook will see you in this open posture makes you feel a bit anxious. You’ve never come to any gynecologist appointment with any men, not even your exes. It would have felt weird, especially since you were more of a fuck girl. It’s weird to admit it but you’ve always been more comfortable in having sex with somebody than committing to them.

Obviously, you engaged in certain relationships, but it was mostly to try to fill the deep void inside you. There was one man, Elliott with whom you stayed for three years. He’s been the only man who felt right to fall in love with. He treated you right, loved you right, and made you feel right. However, your fear of losing someone special got the best of your relationship.

This breakup knocked you down. You lost someone you deeply loved, just like you lost your parents. Since then, you haven’t engaged in anything with anybody. No dating and no sex. It’s been about focusing on yourself and understanding yourself better. And it’s been two years.

With this entire process of being a mother on your own, it didn’t feel like two years went by.

The doctor leaves for a couple of seconds before reappearing with Jungkook. When your eyes meet, you can tell that this is a first time for him. His facial expression almost indicates some shock to see you in this position. It’s not really glamorous, but for now, that’s how you get to meet your little baby.

Jungkook stands at your left, his eyes going between you and the gynecologist material. A smile grows on your face while you watch him; he looks adorable.

The doctor takes the probe, covers it with a kind of long condom, and puts the gel on it. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he sees it, causing your smile to grow bigger. “Is it going to hurt?” he communicates through his thoughts.

“No, don’t worry,” you answer back before grabbing his hand to squeeze it.

It leaves you wondering how things would have gone if he had done this through surrogacy. Would he be present for the first ultrasound? It would be logical if he was because it is his child, but it would feel weird though. Well, this is probably he will never know since it isn’t about surrogacy anymore.

“Can I?” the doctor asks with the long probe in her hands.

You simply nod, and she proceeds to insert it inside you.

“Just relax,” she tells you.

Jungkook avoids watching down by respect to you, but this is all surprising to him.

The coldness of the device catches you a bit off guard although you should have expected it to be this cool. By reflex, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand, and he obviously starts worrying. However, he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. Just like the doctor, he wants you to relax.

For a moment, you turn to glance at him. His soft expression calms you down, and right now, you wouldn’t want anyone else to be next to you. It’s weird to think that you like his presence around you when you embarked on this journey by yourself. He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. If the samples hadn’t been mixed up, you’d be here alone.

Suddenly, you can see the image on the monitor move. The doctor is looking for the tiny little piece of life inside you. Then, suddenly, a blurry figure appears, and the baby’s heartbeat breaks the silence of the room.

Even though you’ve been hearing their heartbeat since the first day, hearing it loud and clear makes it emotional. The baby is really alive. His tiny moving heart is clearly visible on the monitor. A little tear of joy streams down your face.

The second the heartbeat can be heard, Jungkook squeezes your hand. His baby—or should he say your baby—is thriving inside your belly. This makes it real; he’s about to become a father. A little Jeon is about to join the family, and that fills his heart with a pride he can’t explain.

The circumstances that created this tiny human—and wolf—aren’t the greatest. But this baby has been more than desired by his two parents. The two of you are exceptionally happy to finally see the baby.

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. It’s unique. It’s incredible. And it’s heartwarming.

The doctor is speaking in the background, but none of you seems to pay attention to her words. You’re solemnly focused on the tiny blurry figure on the screen. None of you speak; you simply embrace every emotion you feel, and your hands intertwined together. As you see the baby, you feel excited for the upcoming ultrasounds to see them slowly growing.

“All seems to be fine with the baby,” those words push you out of your reverie.

This is all that matters. If the baby is doing great, you don’t care about the rest. Life has been so chaotic lately, and this is the best news you ever got in the past few weeks.

“So, this was our last appointment together,” she explains while removing the probe. “From now on, you’ll have to be followed by your obstetrician. We will contact you throughout the pregnancy and after the birth to check up on you.”

Jungkook is relieved that he won’t have to come back to this place. His eyes look down at your fingers entwined; you’re still holding onto each other. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, since the first second he saw you, he knows what you truly represent to him.

Since he met you, he’s been experiencing things he never did with anyone else. He’s been having such a strong connection with you. And now, you can even communicate through thoughts. That is a unique bond. A bond you only create with one person only. Your soulmate.

But that’s something Jungkook doesn’t want to admit or believe right now. There has been so much going on right now, and for sure, when everything will slow down, it will probably hit him in the face.

The father of your child leaves the room so you can get dressed. Once ready, you join him in the doctor’s office. He’s patiently waiting for you, and it truly warms your heart to see him here. You take a seat next to him while the doctor proceeds to explain certain things about what’s next with the pregnancy. She gives a bunch of advice which honestly seems to be helpful.

After fifteen minutes, you leave her office with Jungkook. It’s a weird feeling to know you’re never coming back here again. For a couple of months, you’d come quite often, but your project is finally taking place. You’re about to become a mother. A werewolf mother.

The two of you walk in complete silence until your car. You’re both still processing what you just saw and experienced. When you reach your car, you finally look up at him. He’s biting his lower lip, clearly lost in his thoughts.

“You’re okay?” you ask.

His eyes finally meet yours. There’s something in his gaze you’ve never quite seen before. You’re seeing a storm of emotions in them.

You see worry, the weight of responsibility already pressing heavily on his shoulders. You see vulnerability, something he rarely shows, he’s always composed under any circumstances. But beyond all that, there is something else. There’s awe, as though the ultrasound was a moment that truly humbled him. It’s as if he’s beginning to grasp the enormity of what’s happening, of the life growing inside you, and of the connection forming between the three of you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s just something special to see the little life forming inside you,” he admits.

“It is,” you offer him a little smile.

Jungkook looks so endearing right now, and you just want to hug him tight in your embrace.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” he then completely changes the conversation’s topic. “If you’re still okay with it, I’d like you to be at my place.”

This approaching full moon is making you nervous. It’s the first one you’ll experience as a pregnant lady, but it’s also probably going to be your first one where you’ll shift into a wolf shape. And that sounds pretty scary, especially since you’ve known about your werewolf heritage for like three days.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your heart suddenly beats faster. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to fade away around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek.

Since he has appeared in your life, you’ve been going through lots of ups and downs. He has unveiled the werewolf world to you together with a part of yourself you never knew. It hasn’t been easy, but his presence feels grounding and reassuring. Deep down, you kind of feel that he’s never going to leave you. It’s an unspoken truth that you can’t explain, but somehow, you know.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more. But a small voice in the back of your mind whispers caution.

Today, you’ve experienced a lot of emotion, especially since you got to see your baby for the first time. You don’t want this kiss to happen because of the intensity of the moment. You want this first kiss to happen because it’s right, because you both want it with absolute clarity, not as a reaction to the whirlwind of feelings you’re navigating.

His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting when you step back. Jungkook blinks, surprised. His eyes search yours, and you can see confusion and even a touch of disappointment in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he’s definitely too surprised.

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “Just send me the details.”

Before he can say anything, you jump in your car and slip away, your pulse still racing. As you’re driving, you try to steady your thoughts, pushing aside what almost happened. You’re not ready. Not just yet.

Following Jungkook’s address, your car slows down as you approach an imposing set of gates. Massive iron bars stand tall against the backdrop of the dense woods surrounding the estate, their presence as commanding as the man you’re here to meet.

You stop and glance around from your windshield before you leave the car. Beyond the gates, the large trees hide the driveway and the house. Your imagination starts to fill in the blanks. He’s the king, after all. His home must be grand, maybe even overwhelming.

On the wall beside the gate, a modern intercom system catches your eye. A silver button gleams in the sunlight, its simple design contrasting with the timeless feel of the gates. Your hand hovers near the button as you still look around you. You feel so small, standing here at the threshold of Jungkook’s world; one you’re not entirely sure to belong yet.

Taking a deep breath, you press the button. Barely seconds later, a voice is heard through the intercom.

“Hello,” you don’t recognize the voice. “How can I help you?”

Well, as the king, it wouldn’t surprise you that he has people working for him. He couldn’t possibly take care of his house by himself.

“Hello, I’m yn,” you say. “I was invited by Jung… Mister Jeon,” you answer.

“Hello, miss y/l/n, we were waiting for you,” the voice says. “Please follow the road to the mansion.”

The impressive gates move to let you enter Jungkook’s estate. You instantly jump back into your car before starting the engine. Very carefully and slowly, you drive through the road, your eyes wandering around you. This is definitely a very impressive state, and there’s absolutely no doubt that the father of your child is wealthy.

After a little while, a sprawling, stone-clad mansion with dark and earthy tones comes into view. The architecture is both ancient and timeless, with arches windows, and carved details that hint at its long history. You can’t believe this is where Jungkook lives, and it also leaves you wondering if this is where your child is going to grow up. Well, most probably yes.

An impressive courtyard suddenly appears, and it’s surrounded by well-manicured gardens that lead into the untamed wilderness of the forest. It’s simply incredible.

You don’t really know where to stop your car, but a man dressed in black clothing runs in your direction. In order to not make him run more, you halt and roll down the window. He’s out of breath when he reaches you.

“Miss y/l/n,” he manages to say, and you offer him a little smile. “Please follow me with your car to the parking spot.”

The man starts walking again, and this time you follow his direction. Everything about this seems unreal. A month ago, you totally ignored werewolves existed; you were planning everything to welcome a baby. And today, you’re here. You’re about to enter the mansion of the Werewolf King, and the father of your baby.

Seconds later, the man indicates where you can park. Once you stop the engine, the man opens the door for you. Wow, this is a first time, but you deeply appreciate it even though it wasn’t necessary.

“Thanks,” you say as you step out.

“You’re welcome,” he bows. “Would you have any luggage with you?” he asks.

For a moment, you take a look at the man. This is definitely a footman, Jungkook’s personal footman. Honestly, this feels like being in one of those Christmas movies where a random girl meets a prince or king and they fall in love. However, in this case, you don’t fall in love and you share a kid.

“Yes,” you answer. “But don’t worry, I’ll take it.”

The man shakes his head. “I got personal orders from Mister Jeon to take care of it,” he says. “And I would also never leave a pregnant woman carry her luggage.”

Seems like you don’t have much to say here. He’s following his boss’ orders, and based on what you see, Jungkook won’t allow any rule to be unfollowed. And you’ll also feel guilty if anything happens to this man because of you.

“Okay,” you admit in defeat. “Then, let me just open the trunk.”

The man follows you and instantly grabs your small luggage when the trunk is opened. It’s honestly super weird, and if everything will be like this tonight, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it. For sure, Jungkook undoubtedly grew up in the middle of all this, but this is new to you.

“Please follow me,” he repeats.

Now that you’re closer to the mansion, you get to see every detail. The front features a massive, double-door entrance made of dark and polished wood, with ornate iron handles. There are also some stone statues around the façade, giving an air of mystery and foreboding.

Jungkook is standing in front of the door, with a little smile on his face. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to see him right here. You thought that his footman would guide you to a living room, or a study where his boss would be sitting and waiting for you.

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” Jungkook says to his footman.

The man bows before entering the mansion with your luggage in your hand. As you stand before Jungkook, you realize now that he’s a king. It feels instinctual to bow. Kings are meant to be respected and acknowledged for their status. Your knees slightly bend, and your head dips forward, but before you fully bow, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“No need,” he murmurs in your mind. “You don’t have to do it with me.”

His voice holds a quiet authority, but there’s also something else. Something unspoken, almost tender. For a moment, you hesitate. Bowing feels like the respectful, appropriate thing to do, but his response leaves you questioning the boundaries of his role in your life.

“Are you sure?”

His piercing and dark eyes meet yours, unwavering and resolute. “I am,” he answers, his tone leaving no room for argument even if he’s speaking through your mind.

The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch as if he’s reaching past your thoughts and speaking directly to the very core of you. And then, something changes in the air between you. It’s not just his words that stop you. It’s the way he’s looking at you. His expression is almost wounded.

Now, you wonder if you offended him, and the guilt begins to creep in. You’ve never met someone who held so much power yet dismissed the formalities that come with it.

For Jungkook, the title of king isn’t just about wearing a crown. It’s a mantle he bears with pride and responsibility. But when it comes to you, it’s as if he wants to strip away the formalities, the hierarchies, the distance. He doesn’t want you to see him as a king. He wants you to see him for who he truly is.

With you, everything is simply different. When you met him, you totally ignored that he was a king. Every time you met, you would treat him as anybody else, and honestly, it felt great. He wasn’t a king. He simply was Jungkook.

“You’re different,” his voice softly brushes your mind again.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the tension in your body slowly fades away. You try to let go of the urge to bow even though it feels weird. His strong presence almost commands reverence, but he made it clear: he doesn’t want that from you.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Briefly, you close your eyes to savor the sweet contact of his skin against yours. This brings you back to yesterday when you were about to kiss. You regret how you walk away, especially since you desperately wanted to kiss him, but it’s better like this.

“Thank you,” you say as you open your eyes.

This sense of equality he’s extending to you warms your heart. Jungkook nods, his eyes softening before he takes a step back. This man is such a mystery, but it’s evident that he’s carrying so much on his shoulder. So much history, duty, and perhaps even loneliness that he tries to hide.

“Hi, yn,” he then says out loud as if you’re speaking for the first time.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you reply with a little smile growing on your face.

“How was the road?” he gestures for you to come inside.

As the gentleman he has proven to be, he lets you walk inside his house first. You’re welcomed with a grand double staircase made of white marble, a marble that matches the floor beneath your feet. Along the walls of the stairs, there are hanging paintings of people. Probably Jungkook’s ancestors.

In the middle, a massive chandelier made of iron is hanging. The walls are impressively high, giving this space a grandiose aspect. This is for sure the kind of place you never thought of seeing in your life. Everything about this room screams ancient and power.

“The trip was fine,” you answer while your eyes get lost. “Although I thought at some point that I got lost,” you explain, your eyes now looking at the man behind you. “This is kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “As a werewolf king, it would be weird if I wasn’t surrounded by a forest.”

“It makes sense,” you admit. “But still, I was really about to call you with despair.”

Somehow, you can see in his eyes that he would have loved that. Saving the damsel in distress, but that’s not for you. There’s no need to save you, you can manage by yourself.

“You were about to call me?” he smirks with evident amusement in his voice. “I wouldn’t have minded. It’s not every day that I get to play the hero.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t get used to the idea. I can handle myself just fine,” you answer while crossing your arms with a small smile appearing on your face.

Jungkook tilts his head slightly while his smirk deepens. “Oh, I know,” his voice is softer now and his eyes are shining with admiration. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

At his words, you can feel the heat beneath your cheeks. You weren’t expecting him to compliment you while insinuating that he has a way too big estate, but you take the compliment.

Your child’s father proceeds then to make a little home tour. For sure, he doesn’t show you all the rooms as it is not needed. The first thing he shows you is the bedroom you’ll be staying in tonight. It’s located on the second floor, and the decoration is very simple. It’s a king-size bed with two nightstands and some furniture. Your luggage is already placed on a fancy bench.

A bit further on the second floor, there is the dining room. You’ll be eating here tonight before it gets dark. Apparently, it’s important to eat well and enough before taking a wolf shape. It helps to calm down the hunger, and it lowers the risk to kill someone or an animal.

On the third floor, there is his magnificent bedroom. It’s extremely big, you’d say your entire apartment fits in the room. It’s also very well decorated; there are many pictures and paintings, and the room breaths ‘Jungkook’. However, the most impressive part is the large walk-in wardrobe. He has a remarkable quantity of clothes.

Then, he guides you outside to an outbuilding. It’s a very rustic, ancient, and a big one, but it looks cute even though it’s a bit far from the main house. However, what stands out more is the strong smell. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s something that definitely draws you.

“So, this place was built for the full moons,” he begins to explain. “This is where we shift, and it avoids destroying the prestigious house my ancestors built. It’s also closer to the woods.”

As you get closer, the scent grows stronger.

“My ancestors also placed something in the walls to attract us. When we shift the scent is even stronger than now, and it was made in case we get out of control. That way, we won’t be going to the main house. It was made to protect the humans living in our house,” you nod at his explanation.

Jungkook opens the door, letting you in first. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for a fridge.

“I don’t really use this room anymore,” he explains.

“Do you completely control your transformation?” you ask.

“Yep, that’s the perk of being an Alpha and a King,” he explains. “I’m not influenced by the moon’s phases anymore, but I’ll be with you tonight.”

“And for normal werewolves, at what moment of the full moon do they start changing?” you ask with curiosity.

You need to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming, there are so many unknowns. For sure, Jungkook will guide you every step of the way tonight, but you still want to know what is going to happen.

“As soon as the sun is down,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply.

For a moment, you just look at this empty room, your heart beating crazily in your chest. Seeing this makes you realize that maybe tonight, you’ll shift into a wolf. It’s a reminder of the heritage your parents hid from you all these years. Not only is this extremely scary, but it’s even more because you’ll have to do it without your parents; the people you loved the most.

“I’m scared, Jungkook,” you turn around to look at him. “So so scared,” you admit.

Jungkook comes closer, his right hand grabbing your left one. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you as much as possible.

“I understand,” his voice is soft. “This is all new to you, and you’re pushed right through the possibility of shifting into a wolf. I’m sorry this is all happening to you, and I wish things were different.”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here, standing next to you.”

You squeeze his hand while you whisper, “Thank you.” His support undeniably means a lot to you, you’re not sure you’d be able to go through this without him.

“If I could, I’d take your place in a heartbeat,” he continues. “I’d take all the pain and carry this burden if it meant you didn’t have to suffer. I wouldn’t hesitate, not even for a second.”

Without any hesitation, you throw yourself into his arms to hug him. Pressing a cheek against his chest, you close your eyes. His warmth seems to melt away all the tension in your body. Jungkook has been giving you the comfort of knowing that you don’t have to face everything alone. He’s taken a bit aback, but he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him.

His lips press a gentle kiss on your head while you remain in this position for a little while. His heartbeat appeases your soul, and it’s the only sound that you hear. In the midst of all this chaos, you’re grateful you found Jungkook.

After dinner, with Jungkook, you go to the outbuilding. But before doing so, he hands you a ‘special’ outfit. It looks like a sporty outfit; it’s made of a black top with black leggings. However, it’s made of a very stretchy fabric.

Jungkook explained that his family developed an outfit capable of resisting the transformation some years ago. Instead of getting ripped off, the fabric detaches when you shift. Once you get back to your human form, you can easily put it back. Apparently, there are magnets inside.

It’s honestly impressive, but, at the same time, not surprising. It’s the royal family that we’re talking about. They have the means to create something like that.

Jungkook’s a big fan of this fabric; all his clothes are made of it. Since he’s not influenced by the moon, he needs adaptive clothes for whenever he wants or needs to turn into a wolf. He also mentioned that it’s very comfortable, which definitely is the case.

“This is impressive,” you say as you’re walking.

The man walking next to you is wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with baggy grey pants. He looks incredibly fine, but you try to avoid looking at him. You don’t want to seem like you’re obsessed with him when you’ve known him for like a month.

“Yep, it is,” he smiles at you.

Jungkook is unable to look away, you look like a damn walking meal. He’s very much aware that he’s attracted to you, otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss you the other day. But the damn full moon always intensifies any physical attraction. His eyes even still glance at your fine ass. Thankfully, you don’t notice anything.

Once you reach the outbuilding, you put down all the things you brought with you. There are some snacks, two blankets, and extra clothing in case something happens. Jungkook doesn’t fully close the door behind you because if he does so, you’ll be stuck here and might destroy everything.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you sit down on the floor with Jungkook.

“How was your first transformation?” you ask with curiosity.

“It wasn’t great,” he admits. “It was the day after I turned ten, and I didn’t want to shift. And believe me, resisting it is painful as hell,” he confesses. “On top of that, I was really angry so when I became a wolf, I was out of control. My father didn’t manage to catch me up when I was out in the woods, but he found me when I turned back to human. I was crying like a baby, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing. My father later found out that I had attacked somebody, but thankfully, nothing too bad.”

This doesn’t really reassure you. If Jungkook didn’t have a great first experience, how would be yours? Will you kill someone? Will you also lose control? Also, you’re pregnant so it might be even worse.

“Being a wolf is something I didn’t embrace for a long time, especially since I knew I would eventually become a king,” he confesses. “So for a solid two years, every full moon was extremely painful. Once I accepted it, everything became easier, but I was very young.”

“So our child will also have their first transformation at ten?” you ask, and he nods.

By then, you might probably be able to help your child as you would have gone through ten years of full moons. But that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, it seems scary.

“With my blood, our child will live this wolf experience very differently than any other werewolf. They will be a king or queen so they must be stronger and better prepared than anybody else.”

This kid seems to have gotten the golden ticket to be ‘special’. Merely a month ago, you thought this child would be a totally normal kid, but then, Jungkook proved you wrong.

“The fact that I’m from a different pack won’t have any impact?” you ask.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “The royal blood is stronger than any other.”

“So I’m basically just carrying your child,” you jokingly say. “It’s like I don’t contribute at all.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s in the mood to tease you back.

“Carrying our child,” he corrects with a smirk, leaning in slightly. “And trust me, your contribution is very… memorable,” he whispers in your ear.

Shivers run down your spine, and the playful and cheerful mood has been replaced by something more heavy. By something hotter. And man, you crave so damn much to kiss this man. How will you survive this night with him by your side?

His face is way too close to yours, his eyes now locked on yours. His hot breath caresses your face, and his gaze is filled with lust. The two of you look at each other’s lips with so much desire. The attraction you feel towards him seems to grow bigger and bigger every day. You’re sure you’ll end up giving in, but you haven’t changed your mind. This kiss needs to happen because you’re both sure about it.

You clear your throat before straightening up. Jungkook instantly retreats, sitting the way he was before getting too close.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you say.

In the blink of an eye, the sun goes down, and the moon lights up through the darkness of the night. At first, you don’t really feel anything, you’re even convinced you’ll easily navigate through this night. But very slowly, the pain intensifies as your bones and muscles realign into a form they never took before. Everything inside you is moving. Everything inside you is being torn apart. It feels like someone is pulling you in two different directions. You’ve never experienced this kind of pain.

“Jungkook,” you almost scream as the bones of your right arm move. “Help me.”

Tears run down your face, and Jungkook cups your face in his hands. His thumbs clean the tears on your cheeks. He’s on his knees just like you so he can be at your level. It’s impossible for you to be standing or sitting because of all the things changing in your body right now.

His eyes are full of fear and pain as he obviously can’t do anything but watch you go through this. Obviously, he can understand the intensity of the pain you feel, but he can’t take the pain away. He has healing powers, but they don’t work for this kind of scenario.

“I’m so scared.”

“I know,” he answers. “Don’t fight it, just embrace the pain. Scream at every moving bone. Scream when your muscles tear. But don’t hold anything back.”

You nod, your eyes don’t leave his as they seem to anchor you in some kind of way.

“You can do this,” he encourages you. “You’re so fucking strong.”

The next couple of minutes that feel like hours, you spend them screaming with pain. You understand now why the first full moon is painful. It’s the first time that your body adapts to your wolf shape. A wolf and a human are very much different.

“You’re doing so great, yn,” his thumbs caress your cheeks. “You’re doing so well,” he repeats.

Suddenly, Jungkook sees your eyes becoming blue, and he mimics you, his eyes now turning red. The man in front of you decides to turn at the same pace so you don’t feel alone in this. For sure, it’s not quite the same, but at least, by the time, you’re fully a wolf, he’ll be as well.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Then, out of the blue, you feel the baby moving, and your hand instantly goes to your stomach. Your ears try to find the sound of his heartbeat, but you don’t find it.

“Something’s wrong?” Jungkook is looking at you with worry.

“The baby,” you simply answer, and Jungkook frowns. “I don’t hear the heartbeat.”

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says. “I hear it.”

“But I don’t,” you start crying.

Jungkook begins imitating the baby’s heartbeat to help you find it. Following his voice, you try to find the heartbeat, but you can’t. You never stop trying because right now, that’s what you need. You need to ensure your baby’s safety. This is already very painful and if on top of that, you lose your baby, it’ll be the end of you.

Swiftly, the heartbeat echoes in your ears which appeases your soul instantly. Right there, you notice the claws appearing in your hands. It’s impressive to see it coming from your body. It feels unreal. Your body is changing, transforming into something you don’t know. At the same time, you can sense his hands changing against your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt, but his skin texture is different.

After that, your teeth and ears change as well. Jungkook’s hands leave your face to give you room while you go through this transformation. And for a while, you remain like that, stuck in between your human and wolf shapes. However, the pain doesn’t fade away. It’s still there, but nothing has changed. Jungkook starts to pick up the despair in your eyes. You’re panicking.

“Yn,” he lifts your chin to make you look at him.

His red wolfy eyes meet your blue ones.

“I’m a failure, Jungkook,” you whisper.

Your cheeks are ravaged by the tears that have been running down your face since the beginning. It’s such a heartbreaking vision.

“I can’t even fully turn into a wolf.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he halts you before you add anything else. “Don’t say that. You’re far from being a failure.”

His fingers brush your chin with tenderness which soothes you.

“You’re fucking brave, yn,” he continues. “You tragically lost your parents, you’ve recently found out about you and this heritage, and since you’re ten, you’ve been navigating life in the most heartbreaking way,” he reassures you. “You’re doing way better than a lot of us, and we had at least ten years to prepare.”

His red eyes don’t ever look away from you. Even though they have a wolf aspect, you can see how soft his expression is.

“It’s okay to be scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

You nod with tears still running down your face.

“Just let this happen, don’t fight it,” his voice is calm. “Take a deep breath and don’t focus on the pain.”

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and you try to focus on something other than the pain. Jungkook’s calm heartbeat invades your senses, and you decide to use it as an anchor. You decide to focus on it to forget about the pain.

Slowly, you feel your body complete the shift. Fur spreads over your skin, your hands become paws, and the clothes covering your body are now on the floor. The world around you now feels vivid and alive.

Your vision is totally different, and your senses are heightened. Everything seems to stimulate you, but somehow, you still manage to not react to everything.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks.

“The pain is completely gone,” you telepathically say.

Even if you deeply desire to speak, in this shape, you can’t say much except growl. However, you can still have a conversation with him through your thoughts. It’s honestly quite a useful.

“And everything feels different, but it’s fine so far,” you add.

He tilts his head, slightly confused.

“Okay, this is new,” he says. “Usually, people leave their human side when they turn,” he informs you. “But it’s good if you still have your human side while being a wolf.”

Jungkook shifts into his wolf form, and you’re blown away. A large wolf has now replaced the man standing in front of you. He’s even more impressive as a wolf than as a human. His stature is intimidating yet majestic, exuding both dominance and grace.

His fur is a blend of silvery grey and white, making his red eyes stand out a lot. His eye color adds an intense energy to his appearance, signifying his role as the king and the immense power he holds.

“Like what you see?” his voice echoes in your mind.

Even though you don’t have a human aspect anymore, you still feel your face get hot. You look away with shyness.

“You’re so majestic,” you admit.

“I’m supposed to be the king,” he answers while his muzzle appears in front of you. “I know I have a more imposing stature as a wolf.”

This is all so crazy. Never in a billion years would have you thought this was going to happen. You’ve turned into a wolf with a guy that is a werewolf king. On top of that, you’re calmly speaking with a wolf as if it’s the most normal thing.

“What color is my fur?” you ask with curiosity.

“It’s a deep dark brown,” he says while his eyes glance at you. “Very pretty color.”

Is this man going to make you blush all night long?

“Thanks,” your eyes don’t look away this time.

Jungkook now shows you how to walk, move, and adjust to your new body. Every step feels foreign, it feels like you’re learning how to walk again. As you’re walking towards the door, you have this feeling that you’re walking like an injured dog. But it’s your first time, you can’t be harsh with yourself.

The two of you head towards the door that opens to the woods. At first, you stumble slightly because your legs feel strange. But slowly, you realize that you’re walking. Really walking. The ground under your paws feels solid, reassuring. The more you move, the more natural it becomes.

As you walk towards the forest, you start to gain confidence, and it makes you feel powerful and free. It’s not easy to describe, a mix of awe and exhilaration that courses through your veins. Never in your life have you felt this way. It’s like this new form isn’t just a part of you—it’s always been waiting for you to claim it.

Your heart beats faster, not with fear, but with an exciting sense of possibility. You glance at Jungkook, whose red eyes shine under the moonlight. He senses your transformation is more than just physical. He gives you an encouraging look before he runs, his sleek sliver-and-white fur shining under the moon.

Jungkook keeps looking back at you to make sure you’re following him. However, you take your time because you want to adjust to this new reality. Slowly, you begin to move, your steps becoming steadier with each passing second.

As you enter the depths of the forest, you realize how deeper everything feels around you. It’s like you’re discovering for the first time what it feels like to be walking in the woods. The earthy scent of the moss and leaves fills your nostrils like never before. You feel every blade of grass under your paws, and the night wind brushes through your fur, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

Over your head, the full moon glows in the dark, and its energy courses through you and heightens every sensation. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way.

You push forward, your paws digging into the earth as you pick up speed. Jungkook slows down, waiting for you to catch up. His glowing red eyes are filled with pride and encouragement, and he swears he has never seen something as beautiful. Watching you discover everything he has taken for granted is heartwarming.

When you finally reach him, you stand next to him for a moment before you run past him. He’s definitely surprised, and soon, he’s running beside you. For the first time, you don’t struggle to keep up. You’re racing with him, your movements fluid and sure. The two of you snake through the trees, your bodies moving as though they’re part of the forest. You’ve never felt so alive, so connected to the world around you.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace beside you, and his presence grounds you in this surreal moment. You really can’t describe the feeling of having the wind rushing through your fur as you run. Eventually, you end up slowing to a stop in a clearing bathed in moonlight. Your breathing is heavy, but your heart has never felt this light before.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice echoing in your mind: “You did it.”

You look at the father of your child and realize this is so much more than just a transformation. It’s a bond, a shared experience you’ll for sure never forget. As overwhelming as it’s all been, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

This is your new reality, and it surprisingly feels like home.

“I did it,” you think to yourself, but Jungkook hears it.

The wolf next to you has never felt so much pride over someone turning into a wolf. He was present when his younger siblings made their first steps as wolves, and even though he was very proud of them, with you, it’s completely different. And he wonders if he will feel even more pride once your baby shifts for the first time.

For the rest of the night, you just walk through the woods, flirting with the city’s limits. Jungkook’s own forest seems to know no end, but it definitely gives you all the space you need to freely run. Surprisingly, you don’t meet any other wolf, but you don’t mind. You’re just too thrilled to discover this new body.

“It’s time to go back,” Jungkook informs you as he notices the darkness of the night leaving room for the sun’s light.

The father of your child guides you back to his outbuilding. Since you have no clue where you are, you simply follow him. Very quickly, you reach the large space. This time around, Jungkook closes the door once you’re both inside.

“So,” he stands in front of you. “To shift back to your human form is easier, but it’s more emotionally draining,” he explains. “It’s not painful, but it’ll take a lot of energy from you.”

You nod, it’s logical that it also contains its fair share of difficulty. Now, you just need to know how to go back to your human form.

“What do I need to do?” you ask.

“You need to set free the wolf inside you,” he tells you. “And visualize yourself as human.”

Well, seems easier said than done. How do you even set the wolf free? You’re definitely not very very sure how you should approach this, but you’ll try.

You close your eyes, but all you can think of is how you felt tonight. This has been by far one of the best experiences of your life. It was painful—you won’t hide it, but the aftermath made it worth it. You’d go through that pain again just to be able to walk so freely.

For a moment, it’s all you can think about, and it doesn’t help to shift you back into your ‘normal’ self. Then, you open your eyes and watch Jungkook.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say.

The impressive wolf standing in front of you seems to think. He doesn’t really know what to tell you, he’s been able to shift so easily for over fifteen years. It’s easy to guide someone through the pain, but when there isn’t any, he simply doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe try to think of someone you cherish, or a good memory, or at least, something that makes you happy.”

For the second time, you close your eyes. Your mind runs through all the positive events you lived, and one stands out from all of them. It’s a memory with your dad.

When you were little, you’d love to go to the shopping street downtown. There were always tons of people—something deeply annoying—, but you’d love to run through every store window to look inside. Your father would go to some of them to buy ‘grown-up’ things. You don’t remember what it was exactly because you didn’t really care back then. All you wanted was to see everything the store had.

At the end, there would be a pretty big café. If you’d behave well, you had the right to eat a pastry with orange juice. Obviously, you’d always make sure to wear your best behavior because the reward was worth it. For the pastry, you’d always go for a croissant with chocolate in it. Every time, you’d hope that the café would have this croissant. If not, you’d take whatever there was.

Your father would always take an espresso with a cheese toast. The smell of his coffee would always comfort you. Even right now, you can still smell it, and it has the same comforting effect. Those are the most precious souvenirs you have with your father.

After his passing, you never went back to that café. Felix tried to bring you there, but you’d refuse. You didn’t want to replace the souvenirs with your father. This café was your dad’s and yours, nobody else's. A little tear runs down your face as you remember that you’ll never be able to create new memories with him in that special place.

Without realizing it, you slowly shift back into your human form. When you realize it, you slowly open your eyes while standing up. Jungkook is still a wolf, but in a matter of seconds, he’s back to being a human.

Your eyes widen when you’re graced with a naked Jungkook, and you instinctively put your hands in front of your eyes. You weren’t really expecting this, and especially, to see this man naked any time soon. He chuckles, but then, it hits you— you’re naked as well.

“Shit,” you mumble.

Then, his warm hands wrap a blanket around you. You uncover your eyes to look back again at the werewolf king. He’s still very much bare, and you try to avoid staring below his chest. It feels totally inappropriate.

“Thanks,” you offer him a little smile.

To your surprise, his right arm is fully covered in tattoos. Honestly, you would have never imagined him with body art. He doesn’t give the type; perhaps it’s because he’s a king. Actually, you’ve never pictured any king adorned with such markings. And it truly makes him look a million times hotter.

Let’s not even talk about his toned figure…

Your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his body. His squared and broad shoulders look like they were carved from stone, and his muscular torso is just as well mesmerizing. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath is hypnotic, and for a moment, you can almost feel the raw power lying beneath his skin.

Your eyes linger longer than they should, and you suddenly find it hard to meet his eyes again. You can’t deny it—his presence is utterly magnetic, and it stirs something deep within you.

Suddenly, you’re violently hit by the fatigue. You didn’t see that coming, but after this amazing night, it’s normal.

Jungkook grabs the clothes on the floor, and you turn around so you don’t stare any longer at him—or should you say drool over him. He looks way too good for his own good. While looking at the wall facing you, you yawn and rub your eyes. You really need to sleep now.

“You’re tired?” Jungkook asks.

“Very,” you answer.

The man appears in front of you, fully dressed with a smile on his face. His cute face contrasts a lot with his very muscular body.

“Let me take you back home,” he says when he realizes just how tired you truly are. And before you even know it, you’re in his arms while he carries you to his mansion.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 4 #spideyjimin

955 notes · View notes

jjjjisun · 7 days ago

Text

Ask Your Daddy - Chapter 2

Minju X Male OC | 19556 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

Author’s Note: The final fic in this series. You can read the first chapter here.

—

Minju felt like she’d been on cloud nine for the past few weeks. Every day, she got dizzy spells thinking about the time she was spending with her dad. After vacation, she worried their time together would dwindle as the summer ended; instead, he’d been so attentive and available for her. It wasn’t exactly difficult for Jae either, since their relationship had… changed on vacation, he was essentially spending every minute thinking of his beautiful, eighteen-year-old daughter so he wasn’t utterly focused on something else.

Change was not quite the right word for what had happened on vacation between Minju and Jae. Almost two weeks ago, it had begun with an innocent round of questioning by the little brunette on the porch of their family cabin during the yearly vacation. Minju later admitted that that night had set her on course to try and seduce her dad, and Jae admitted that he’d imagined making love to her many times before that.

Since they’d gotten home, either Jae, Minju, or both of them had been insatiable in their desire for each other. Now that Jae had gotten his hands on his daughter’s perfect little body and heard her gasp when he was inside of her, he was tortured when unable to show his affection. They had to be so careful, making sure not to do anything that might reveal them around Minju’s mother or anyone else who knew them.

And Minju was beyond incorrigible. Having asked her dad all kinds of questions about what he liked best about a woman and what she could wear to turn him on, she would dangle herself in front of him shamelessly. Of course, she knew that she’d pay for it later when he could finally ravage her, usually late at night when Eun-ju, Jae’s wife, had gone to bed.

Just a few days before, Minju had gotten him so worked up in the morning that he’d had to come home from work after he knew his wife had left the house just to teach her another lesson. As he drank his morning coffee, Minju sauntered around the kitchen in only a towel, bending over and revealing her bare, pink opening to him when she knew her mother wasn’t looking.

Jae had driven all the way to work, set his things down at his desk and sat down in his chair before realizing that there would be no way he could work until he’d shot his load inside that damned naughty teenager he had the pleasure of calling his daughter. And when he got home, finding her perched in the same towel on the couch like she knew he’d be coming back home… It was hardly a minute before he had her towelless, on her back and begging him to cum inside of her on the family room floor.

There was also the added complexity of both Minju and her father wanting her to be pregnant. It was hard to explain: the forbiddenness of succeeding and the fact that they both liked it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Mmmmph… oh fuck,” Minju moaned as her father thudded against her hips, forcing her against the carpet, “Cum for me daddy….ohgodddd, I want it. Cum in my pussy daddy…. unhhhghh.”

A pregnant Minju would complicate things… significantly. Jae knew his daughter probably couldn’t see everything that would have to change, regardless of how often she assured him she did. So Jae took it upon himself to begin making plans. He didn’t like the idea of taking off to some foreign country where it was legal and they could be open about who they were to each other. But Jae had no family left to miss him if he moved somewhere else in the country. He and Minju could be married couples with an age discrepancy if they found a nice place to settle down and kept their names. Eun-ju’s side of the family certainly wasn’t anything Jae or Minju wanted to stick around for; perhaps they could be happy elsewhere.

But they didn’t have to cross that bridge just yet. Much as they wanted it, they didn’t even know if Minju was pregnant yet. Every time Jae released a flood of sperm into his baby, she’d ask excitedly:

“Do you think that was it, Dad? Do you think we’re pregnant yet?”

Jae loved the way his daughter thought about things. Where his wife had always said, “I’m the one who’s pregnant,” or “I’m carrying our child,” Minju saw things completely differently. To her, it was the two of them, together. She certainly wanted her dad in many ways, but one of them was as the father of their child. Each time they had sex, he would assure Minju that he was going to be there for her no matter what. When she’d ask if they were pregnant yet, he’d say ‘maybe,’ and sometimes just thinking about it would have him hard and buried in his sweet young daughter again within minutes.

About a week after they returned from vacation, Jae had to go away for a few days on business. Minju was dreading her father’s absence to tuck her in each night. Jae would fall asleep feeling cold on the side of his teenager, usually occupied, snuggled up against him, and breathing adorably as she fell asleep.

On the second night he was gone, Minju was restless beyond belief. After lying awake for an hour, grabbing a late-night snack, and watching a little TV, she still could not imagine going to sleep. Usually she would have expended quite a bit of energy riding her daddy, thrusting her hips back and forth until she howled into her hand while she came. Nothing would satisfy her like that until she had her dad back inside of her, but Minju did have one naughty thought that might help her. Wondering if her dad was awake, Minju headed to the bathroom upstairs by her room.

After closing the door behind her Minju reached to her waist, taking hold of the bottom of the army green, close-fitting tank top she was wearing. Pulling it up and over her head, Minju felt the cold air raising goosebumps on her breasts as they jiggled free. Thinking of the way her dad would pinch each nipple between his fingers or nibble on them while she squirmed in excitement, Minju’s nubs quickly stood at attention. Next she slid out of the painted-on workout shorts she liked so much, knowing her dad would probably prefer her that way.

Minju felt unbelievably naughty as she grabbed her phone from where she had set it on the counter. She’d never done anything like this before; her skin was practically crawling with excitement as she looked in the mirror and opened the camera app on her phone.

Jae had just gone to bed. He lay awake in the unfamiliar hotel bed experiencing some of the same anxiety that his little girl was having a couple hundred miles away. He’d promised himself that he’d not get himself off without the assistance of his teenage daughter while he was gone, wanting instead to save up so he could shoot as much cum into Minju as possible when he returned. Odd as it was, Minju loved when he finally removed his cock from her fertile opening and she could watch the white substance peek out and then run down her thigh, He wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

Buzzzzzzzz.

Jae’s phone lit up on the nightstand and shuffled around as it vibrated against the hard surface. Who could be contacting him this late?

When he reached over and saw his daughter’s name on the screen, Jae’s heart skipped a beat. Jae wasn’t behind the times or anything; he just didn’t use his phone the way most people did those days. Still, even reading this daughter’s name was enough to make his blood pressure spike.

Then he opened the message.

Instantly, Jae’s draw dropped. Every time he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter, Jae was in disbelief. This time was no different. His own baby girl stood in the bathroom he knew all too well (Minju had been in not too different of a position at that very countertop days ago, except being impaled by her father from behind with her hands shakily holding her up as she felt him push his cock all the way inside her.

She was totally naked in the photo, and the soft glow of the light fixture shone on her beautifully. But damn her, the little tease had covered both her breasts and put a hand over her mound so he couldn’t see anything. Her teenage breasts were more than visible, spilling out around the arm that covered them, but both her nipples were obscured. Minju’s nipples were one of his favorite things, so tiny and always tender for him to pinch and make her squeal. And the other hand, covering the place he dreamed about frequently throughout the day. All his life, Jae had never known or felt something as good and right as it did when he was inside Minju’s quim. And there she was, covering it so he couldn’t see.

But it didn’t matter, because the photo was so sexy that he realized he couldn’t have asked for more. Every inch of Minju was smooth and toned. Her skin was even more tanned and glowing from the vacation time in the sun. She’d turned just a bit so he could see the rounded cheek of her cute butt; Jae was reminded of the other day when he’d spanked her and Minju was climaxing within seconds. Everything about the picture had Jae’s mouth watering, and the text that came with it read:

– Mad at you, who’s going to take care of me tonight? –

On her face was a pouty yet mischievous look, so alluring that Jae considered getting in the car immediately to go home and appease his young daughter. Instead he sleepily moved his fingers to respond.

Bad girl, sending naked pictures on your phone <

Only a few seconds passed before Jae’s phone buzzed again:

– What are you going to do about it? –

Maybe I’ll give you another spanking <

A longer pause this time…

– I like it when you spank me…=) –

Jae had never done much texting before; he’d never had much reason to. But as he thought of a retort for his daughter, he found his heart beating quickly and he decided that this kind of texting was definitely enjoyable.

When did you become such a trouble-maker? <

– Probably when I first felt your cock and you squirted all your sticky cum on my belly –

Holy shit, thought Jae, he wasn’t exactly expecting this kind of banter from his baby girl. After all, the text messages preceding these on his phone weren’t much more than 'what’s for dinner,’ or 'what time will you be home?’ Jae was still adjusting to seeing Minju as a lover as well as his daughter. She was always playful, and he admired the way her unfettered thoughts and words just came pouring out, but seeing or hearing the teenage say things like “your cock,” or “fuck me” still made him wince like he should be protective of her. The puzzled state of his love for Minju was something Jae was beginning to crave.

Minju must have grown restless waiting for his response because soon his phone buzzed again:

– What are you thinking about daddy? –

I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to you when I get home <

– Oh yeah? What do you want to do to me daddy. –

I have a few things in mind… <

– Please, you have to tell me. I can’t go to sleep until you do –

I’m going to come home early from my trip, when your mom is still at work. <

Then he waited, knowing it would torture Minju to be left hanging. Minju had made her way back to her bed by then and was lying down on top of the covers, too preoccupied to get underneath. She didn’t intend for the picture to start the two of them sexting, but now that he was playing along Minju was sporting a big smile and her fingers had made their way down to her pair or purple cotton underwear. When she felt the taut fabric where she wanted her dad to be, it was already very wet. But her dad was taking too long, he was probably just a slow texter.

– AAAND? –

You’ll be in the kitchen, making a snack. But for some reason you forgot to wear any clothes. <

– I can be so forgetful sometimes –

I’ll want to take things slow, but I’ve waited too long <

– You’re always so patient with me daddy –

Not this time <

– Sometimes you intimidate me, you’re so strong and I’m still just your baby.–

I don’t mean to, you just bring it out in me honey <

– I didn’t say I don’t like it. –

Good, because I don’t think I can be so gentle the next time I see you <

– Hoping you won’t be. –

– You didn’t finish the story dad. What happens when you find me in the kitchen –

I drop my bags on the spot, you hear me and turn around <

– I’d be nervous it wasn’t you, cuz I’ll be naked and vulnerable –

Lock all the doors before you take off your clothes for me honey <

– I’ll be naked for you all day, waiting–

– What’s next daddy?–

I walk over to you, as slowly as I can manage, put my hands on your bare hips, and lift you up on the countertop <

– God I love it when you do that –

– The countertop will be cold on my butt daddy, but I won’t care cuz I’m so excited for what you’ll do next –

What do you want me to do? <

– I bet your big cock will be sticking out in your pants like it always does. I can’t wait for you to take them off –

Minju’s phone sat silent for a moment. And then another. And then one more.

– Daddy? Did you fall asleep? I’m all wet now and I want you to tell me what you’re gonna do to me! –

I’ll show you when I’m home on Monday baby, I’m saving myself for you until then <

– UGHH! No fair dad, you got me all excited! –

…Monday. Goodnight honey <

Jae knew he was driving Minju crazy, but he liked it that way. There was nothing more exciting than when the eighteen-year-old was riled up and hungry for sex. Just the other day she’d been out late with her friends and Jae hadn’t seen her since the morning. When Minju came home, a little tipsy, Jae hardly had time so say hello before she’d straddled him on the couch and put her hands on his cock. They were lucky Eun-ju went to bed early that night because Minju had her dad stuck up inside her right there on the couch after a few moments of lust-filled making out and touching.

Minju was no dummy, but even though she knew what her dad was doing she wasn’t able to just set it out of her mind. Still, she felt better than before, missing her dad a little less with the knowledge that he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. It took a while, but both Minju and her father dozed off thinking only of each other.

The next days were equally torturous. Minju sent two more pictures, one of her wearing a new bathing suit, and one of her in just a sheet. When he opened the second, he was in a meeting and nearly choked on his coffee. Minju looked like an angel in a bed of white, and she’d turned her hips to cover her young pussy with a curled leg. The sheet only covered a small portion of her breasts, and as Jae ignored the guy speaking at the moment, he dreamed of how he would get between her toned legs and thrust into his daughter hard enough that she’d find herself pressed deep into the sheets.

The whole drive back Jae was fixated on thoughts of his beautiful daughter and how much fun they would have when he got home. He wondered if Minju would really be walking around naked all day. She probably was; or at least he hoped so, pressing the pedal a little closer to the floor as he anticipated it.

Sure enough, as Jae opened the door to the house, he could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. He couldn’t help that all the anticipation and imaginings had him hard before he’d even opened the door.

It was indeed Minju at the countertop when he entered the kitchen, but she wasn’t naked. She had on a t-shirt and tiny pair of running shorts. Though he would have liked to find his pretty teenager ready to have some ravenous sex like they’d texted about, she looked perfect and desirable in what she was wearing too. But she didn’t turn around for him when he dropped his things.

As Jae approached her from behind he could sense that something was off. He carefully put his hands on her arms, savoring the feeling of touching her again and glad she didn’t flinch or shrug off his touch. He came up close to her and peeked his head around to see the side of her face.

A tear rolled onto the top of her soft cheek and though he didn’t know what for, Jae instantly felt his heart break for her.

“Oh honey,” he said, bringing a finger to her cheek and wiping away the drop, “what’s the matter Minju?”

Minju sobbed once, sucking in a quick gasp as she choked back more tears.

“I got my period two days ago… I’m so sorry daddy!”

Jae’s heart leapt again, glad that nothing worse had caused his lovable brunette to cry. He hugged her close, intending to reassure her when she kept talking,

“I was so excited for us to be pregnant and to be all ready for you like I promised when you got home…sob… and this ruins everything!”

Her head was spinning. Jae could see it in her eyes, and he had to fight a quiet chuckle seeing his daughter so distraught about something she needn’t be.

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking her face in his hands and turning her toward him, “It’s okay! It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the end of anything.”

She looked up at him with big eyes and waited for him to say more.

“First of all, I will wait for you forever if I have to. I love you, and whenever you can or want to sleep together or don’t is just fine with me.” Minju seemed to be warming up word by word, but she still seemed upset about something.

“But we tried so many times daddy… and I’m not pregnant! It’s my fault I know it!”

This time Jae did have to laugh, and he took Minju tight against his chest, recalling how much he missed the feeling. The tight shirt must have been supportive enough for her because Minju didn’t bother to wear a bra and he could feel her young breasts against him.

“Minju, it’s not your fault at all. Aww, were you worried about telling me this for the last few days?”

Minju shook her head yes.

“Honey, sometimes it takes a few months of trying before you get pregnant. From the timing of things, it looks like we might have started a little late anyway.”

Again, Minju’s eyes brightened.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to try a thousand more times if it’s with my beautiful daughter.”

Minju threw her arms around her dad, wiping the last tears off on his shirt and trying to give him as big a hug as possible.

“I love you so much daddy,” she said, holding him.

Cradling her head, Jae held his daughter close and reveled in how deeply he loved her. Being Minju’s father and lover was said to be wrong in so many ways, but it didn’t feel wrong. As he held her, Jae felt like he’d been opened up to the deepest, most meaningful connection he’d ever felt with somebody before, and the fact that it was his own eighteen-year-old daughter was simply circumstance. Of course, he’d not allowed himself the feeling before the pretty brunette was of age, but she was truly an adult now and he felt their desires and willingness were unquestionably balanced.

Jae had shared feelings such as he was having with his daughter in the days past. Minju greatly admired how much it mattered to her dad that she was content and comfortable with everything that was going on. Minju knew she was inexperienced, or completely without experience until she gave her dad her virginity a few weeks prior, but she wasn’t dumb. One of those nights she’d spent curled up in his arms she’d told him:

“I don’t need to be older or more experienced or anything else to know how I feel dad.” Jae’s eyes had gotten big with surprise and admiration.

“I love you. I want to be with you and be yours. I know what it feels like now to love somebody enough to want a baby with them, and that’s how I feel about you.”

That would have been enough for Jae, but his daughter showed him that she wanted him in other ways too. She was adventurous and spunky and wanted to try everything in bed with him. She wanted him to do everything he’d ever wanted to her (within reason) and that’s probably what made him absolutely crazy about her.

Eun-ju was never willing to do doggy with him; Minju loved arching her back and sticking up her butt so he could easily enter her from behind. Eun-ju refused to use her mouth on him, though she loved when he did, and Minju seemed to love licking him all over and getting him as hard as possible before begging him to fuck her. Minju also loved risking getting caught. Though he hadn’t gotten a chance, Jae suspected his daughter would probably like to try having sex in public; he fully intended to satisfy her if that was the case.

As the thoughts raced through Jae’s mind, he held his anxious teenager in his arms and felt her breathing regularize.

“I was so excited for you to come home and fuck me on the counter daddy. I’m sorry we can’t.” She said sincerely.

“It’s really okay Minju’, I think we’ll survive.”

“I don’t know if I can though,” Minju continued, backing away to look at her dad, “I want you too badly.”

Jae just smiled, seeing a hint of the same insatiable sex drive in his daughter that he often felt. And Minju wasn’t kidding, because before he could retort, she started to slip down between his arms until she came to rest perched in front of him.

“Do you want me to suck your cock daddy?”

She often did this now, seeing how excited her dad would get when she played up the daughter role.

“Oh daaad,” she said, rubbing her hand over the bulge in his pants that had been there since he walked in the house, “is this all big and hard for me?”

“So bad daddy! You want your daughter to put your cock in her mouth don’t you?”

As she spoke, Minju reached behind her head and wrapped her thick brown hair in a ponytail. Then she slowly and deliberately unbuckled her dad’s pants and pushed them to the ground. Jae didn’t interfere. The sight was too perfect to disrupt. In seconds that felt like hours, Minju finally pulled his boxer briefs down and his cock sprung free.

“Do you want me to take my shirt off daddy?”

Jae just shook his head 'yes,’ and she obliged him. Even watching her grab the shirt and pull it up with two arms, slowly, over her head was enough to make his cock jump. She looked incredible, kneeling in front of him with only a tall pair of white socks and tiny athletic shorts and now her naked, young chest on display for her father. He wasn’t going to last long.

And when Minju grabbed him at the base of his cock and swallowed at least half of his length, Jae worried he’d cum all too soon. She kept eye contact as she blew him, bobbing her head back and forth, her perfect breasts quivering with each stroke. Jae’s daughter got better every time she blew him.

“Good girl, keep doing that,” Jae said as Minju used her fingers to massage his balls. Where she picked that up, he had no idea, but it felt so incredible he was near within seconds of her careful hands caressing him.

Breaking eye contact for a second, Minju plunged as deep as she could onto her dad’s cock, feeling it touch her near the back of her mouth before she couldn’t fit any more. He was just too big. She got him all nice and wet as she pulled back and sucked eagerly at his tip. Jae groaned aloud as Minju encircled his tip with her tongue and then finally pulled her head back to look adorably up at him.

“I love your cock so much daddy,” she said, working her hand down using all the saliva she’d left on him. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes…ughh…. fuck Minju’”

“Will you cum on my tits daddy? Please?” she said with giant, fawning eyes. Minju bit her lip and stroked him more firmly.

“Come on dad, I want it,” she looked down to make sure she was stroking him right and pointing his head at her chest. When she heard Jae beginning to gasp she looked back up with a furrowed brow and watched him get tossed over the edge by her incredible stroking.

When the first, pent up jet of cum splashed out, Minju gasped in astonishment. Her dad couldn’t keep his eyes down on her; as hard as he tried, his still head rolled back and he began to cum all over his daughter’s chest. A second spurt landed right between Minju’s perky breasts, and then another, and another. Minju directed it all over her, relishing the warm streams of her daddy’s sperm all over her.

Jae eventually gathered himself to look and found himself mesmerized by his fixated little girl still stroking him so she could keep watching his forbidden spunk cover another streak of her bare, youthful skin. Seeing her so satisfied to have her dad’s cum squirted haphazardly all over her was yet another moment Jae hoped to remember for the rest of his life. She looked so beautiful, her face a bit flushed from the effort, still perched athletically on her knees and slowly moving her hand on his yet rigid member.

When Minju looked up, she couldn’t hide the proud smile on her face, which, in tandem with the sight of her eighteen-year-old tits covered in cum nearly made him orgasm again. Minju giggled when she watched her dad wince as her hand came in contact with his tingling head.

“I think you needed that daddy, look how much you came on my boobs!” She reached down and squeezed them together to show them off.

The sight was almost too much for him; Jae felt weak in the knees with desire for the tiny brunette.

“Wanna take a picture of me daddy?” Minju said, raising her eyebrows.

Jae was once again stunned. His daughter amazed him in one way or another every single day and he just couldn’t get enough. Reaching down to the pants Minju had just taken off of him, Jae grabbed his phone.

“You are unbelievable sweetie,” Jae said.

“I like being naughty for you dad,” Minju said, “Sometimes I just wanna be your slutty little daughter,” she continued, a little embarrassed.

Jae held up his phone and aimed it down at Minju, wishing so badly he could just pick her up and fuck her until he spent an equally large load in her needy insides.

“Show me what a slutty little daughter looks like then Minju,”

Excitedly, Minju arched her back to stick out her incredible breasts, once again squeezing them together to show off the spunk that was splattered atop them. She bit her lip and turned her eyebrows downward like a puppy who knew she’d done something wrong. As Jae snapped the picture, he already knew that it would be one he looked at countless times in the future. The photogenic little teen only needed one take, she wore his cum and that adorable look of naughtiness perfectly for her daddy as he snapped the shot.

“And when we can again daddy,” Minju said, standing up finally and running a finger from the bottom of his cock all the way to the tip where one last bit of cum remained, “I want you to fuck me like your slutty little daughter too.”

With that she licked her finger to taste her dad’s semen, looking boldly at him the whole time.

In his state of haste and preoccupation with getting home to his daughter, Jae hadn’t quite kept track of time. He’d gotten on the road later than he intended, and now it was near dinner time, right about the time his wife usually arrived home from work. So when the rumbling of the garage door came, Jae knew it would be only a moment or two before his wife came barging in through the door next to the kitchen.

“Uh oh,” Minju said.

But there was something off in her voice. Something she knew that he didn’t. Jae had pulled up his pants almost instantaneously when the sound came, but Minju hadn’t even attempted to cover up or make herself scarce. Again, Minju’s eyes met his daringly.

“Minju!” Jae cried, “Your mother,”

Minju shook her head 'no.’

Jae was in a state of absolute terror. He reached out for his topless and cum-splattered daughter; maybe he could push her into a hiding spot before his wife made it into the kitchen.

But she dodged him, stepping back before he could grab her.

“What are you doing?!” he said as quietly but seriously as he could.

Minju looked back at the door and then at her father, “you aren’t the only one who’s been busy these last few days daddy.”

With that, she raised her eyebrows and the door opened.

———————————

It was something Minju saw on vacation. It was subtle, but Minju just happened to look at the right moment. Only a touch, a hand on a thigh for the briefest moment that had clued her in. But Minju had seen it, and apparently nobody else had.

Her mother and friend Mi-Young had been sitting in the back of the boat when Eun-ju reached out to touch her best friend on the thigh. She must not have thought anyone would see, but she was wrong. As Minju’s mom moved her hand to caress Mi-Young’s thigh and then removed it while gazing at her the entire time, Minju quickly realized that this was not just a friendly vacation for the two mothers.

How could she not have seen it? How did they manage to hide it so well? How long had it been going on? What was IT in the first place?

Minju had been so preoccupied thinking about the tryst with her father the night before or how she wanted him to fuck her the next day that she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Perhaps if Minju could hide the fact that she had her dad’s cum running down her inner thigh at dinner, her mother could do the same with whatever was going on between her and that loud, obnoxious friend of hers.

It was too early to tell her dad. Plus, despite the fact that she was doing everything she could to keep her dad happy, Minju didn’t think she needed to imply his wife was cheating on him, at least not until she had some proof.

Immediately Minju began to scheme. She hated having to hide her new relationship with her dad. What if she could somehow find a way to reveal it all? Just the thought of having sex with her daddy in another room with her mom’s knowledge made Minju wet with anxiousness. She had to investigate.

But they gave her nothing. Not a night spent in the same bed, not a stolen kiss or a few words when Minju was just within earshot. They were practiced at this, it must have been going on a long time. It made sense. Her mother’s image was everything to her: so proud of her children, her successful marriage to a now-wealthy man, her social life… she was even outspokenly judgmental of divorcees and cheaters and such. Perhaps it was all just guilt and a cover-up for what was really going on.

Minju wondered if she had been wrong, maybe the touch was just an accident. And they’d only given her the most subtle indications that there was something between them for the rest of the vacation. She had begun to let her guard down when something stuck out to her after they’d gotten home.

“Going shopping!” Her mother had announced one day on her way out the door.

That would be completely normal for her…usually.

But the day before Eun-ju had given her daughter the credit card she always used for shopping. Minju’s mom never forgot that card; if there was even a chance she might need it Eun-ju would be all over the forgetful teenager to have it back.

Minju’s senses were on high alert. It was only her at home, and the other car was in the garage. Her dad had been gone a few days already and her brother had gone back to his apartment in the city the day they got back from vacation. If she hurried she could follow her mom to the “mall” and see for herself what was going on.

Minutes later, Minju was in the car following as far away as she could while her mom went in the complete opposite direction of the mall. Yep, something was up.

She followed her to the next suburb over, and as Minju entered it her heart began to race; it was the suburb where Mi-Young lived.

The next hour or so went down exactly as Minju might have expected. She felt like a private investigator in one of those reality TV shows: snooping around, taking pictures through windows. It worked out perfectly, like she was meant to have followed her mom that afternoon. It was a warm day, so Minju even got some videos through an open window..

Most of it was totally gross to Minju. She had no interest in women, or in seeing what two women did to pleasure each other, especially not her mother and another forty-something suburban housewife. But still she watched, she photographed and she recorded what was obviously not the first time her mother and her long-time female friend had been together. Minju felt particularly justified when she caught on tape a conversation the two of them had about Minju and her dad:

“…they don’t know anything.” Eun-ju had said, getting dressed in the bedroom they’d just finished up in.

“Jae’s too boring to think anything like us would actually happen, and the kids don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

Minju found it hard not to jump up and retort. Her mom had always been negative about everything; she just took it as Eun-ju trying to make herself feel better about the affair.

“Plus he’s too busy attending to your daughter it looks like,” Mi-Young replied to Eun-ju, “Minju hardly spent a moment talking to my son.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Eun-ju said, “I can’t ever separate those two.”

“Minju’s really become quite the looker huh? Maybe that’s why your husband spends so much time with her: same brand, younger model.”

Eun-ju laughed at the comparison but obviously didn’t approve of the joke, “Oh shut up, that’s disgusting. And he doesn’t have the guts to pull something like that”

Minju almost laughed aloud. Her mom was clueless on so many levels.

“Well if he isn’t maybe you should, perhaps she takes after her mother and would want in on "shopping” with us.“

"That’s enough!” Eun-ju said, jumping on her lover and covering her mouth.

Despite everything, Minju was mad. She’d never, ever, ever, participate in what she just saw her mother and that awful friend of hers doing, but that wasn’t it. She was mad at her mother because she knew now that her dad was deprived of the kind of playfulness and love and everything in between that she’d just witnessed between the two women.

She couldn’t be mad at her for getting married to her father in the first place; Minju wouldn’t be there if she hadn’t. However, for as long as the affair had been going on and likely a lot longer there was no doubt her dad had missed out on the true happiness that was supposed to come in a relationship. Minju hoped she was filling that role for her dad now, but Minju truly resented her mom for being so selfish.

Minju left in a tizzy, quietly shirking off to her car parked down the street. For the first ten minutes, she thought in circles about how unfair and careless her mother was being with Jae’s feelings. In fact, what about the rest of the family; she didn’t exactly have anything good to say about them either. No, that was not important. Minju decided she would instead find a way to use all the photos and video she’d just stored up on her phone to make her dream of truly being with her dad happen.

By the time Eun-ju came home, Minju had a plan. Simply listening to the way her mom lied about where she’d gone and what she’d been doing only fueled the fire.

Her plan commenced the next day. A few nights ago she’d sent the naughty photo to her dad. She wasn’t going to involve him yet, but the photo would work just fine.

Eun-ju and Minju had the same phone, so switching them could easily lead to her mother seeing something she shouldn’t…

While watching TV in the other room, Minju heard her mother gasp dramatically.

“MINJU YOU COME IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Usually she would be terrified, but this time not so much. In fact, Minju ambled into the kitchen with a smile on her face. Her plan was already falling into place; Eun-ju was holding her daughter’s phone and standing with her mouth agape in the kitchen. Just as Minju had planned, she’d swapped their phones where Eun-ju always left hers on the kitchen counter. She didn’t even know the worst part yet.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PICTURE DOING ON YOUR PHONE?”

Minju looked curiously at the phone her mother was holding up and smiled again.

“Oh, that?” she said knowingly “I sent that to daddy the other night.”

Minju honestly didn’t know what to expect when she said that. The silence her mother maintained for the next few seconds was understandable.

“You…. did…. WHAT?” Her tone just sounded so stupid, thought Minju.

“I…sent…it…to…dad…the…other…night.” She retorted mockingly.

“I heard you, you little bitch,” Eun-ju said, Minju knew she was pushing her luck, at least until the big reveal. “Why on earth would you do that.”

“I dono, maybe cuz I was horny? He hasn’t fucked me since he left on his trip!”

Again, silence. This time it was different. Minju’s mom was probably trying to work out whether to believe her or not. And if she did, there would obviously be some accepting of the reality.

“YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE YOUNG LADY!” She was yelling again, “Just wait until I tell your father what you said.”

So she didn’t believe her, whatever. Minju was smiling again.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Eun-ju asked incredulously.

“Oh I don’t think I’m gonna be in any trouble, that’s all.” Minju said, baiting her.

Eun-ju scoffed, “And why’s that?”

“Well, do you want the reason you won’t be grounding me or the proof that daddy and I are fucking first?” Minju said, having fun with it.

“Cut this shit out right now Minju!” Eun-ju said, sounding more and more nervous.

“Why don’t you go ahead and swipe to the left on my phone? You’ll have to go past the other photo I sent to dad first tho.”

Sure enough, the picture of Minju in her bathing suit was there on the first swipe. But the next swipe was the moment of truth. Eun-ju’s eyes widened immediately. She made it two pictures further before dropping the phone on the counter like it had burned her.

“What’s the matter mom, you didn’t even get to the best ones?”

“I don’t know what you think that is, but I’ll have nothing to do with it.” Eun-ju tried.

“Oh I think you know what this is,” Minju continued, “And I think if you just give it a minute to sink in, you’ll realize that I’m not your 'little bitch’ anymore.”

Eun-ju stayed quiet.

“I know you’ll think of claiming they’re fake, or destroying my phone or whatever else you can come up with, but it’s no use. I’ve thought of everything.”

Eun-ju looked like she was going to throw up, it was probably because it was the first time she’d ever felt powerless and she couldn’t stand it.

“You’ll threaten to turn me and dad in, you’ll threaten to kick us out, but save it. You know your whole life as you know it would be over if anyone found out about daddy and I or about you and your affairs.”

The words stung her mother. How much of this did Minju have, was it just the one time or was it something worse. Minju didn’t know there were multiple affairs, but it was worth a guess. Judging by her mother’s reaction, she had more to hide. Good.

“What would all of your committees say if they found out? I wonder if you could still be on the school board with Mi-Young if they knew you two were fucking?”

Judging by the look on her mother’s face, Minju didn’t think she had to go any further.

“So here’s what I’m going to propose: are you listening?”

Eun-ju nodded half-heartedly.

“You can keep doing your thing. The photos and the truth can stay just between us.”

Her mother seemed to perk up and listen more attentively when Minju said that.

“And you and your dad?” Eun-ju managed to eek out.

“Oh so you believe me now? Well somebody has got to take care of him, and we both know that isn’t you. Tell me the truth, do you love him at all anymore?”

Eun-ju’s silence was enough to answer the question.

“Well I love him, more than you ever have. So for now, you should just act like it’s totally normal.” Minju said.

“Like it’s totally normal for a father to be molesting his daughter??” Eun-ju tried to fight back.

“Uh, no. First of all, I practically begged daddy to take my virginity.” Eun-ju winced at that, “I’m eighteen years old and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Dad wouldn’t have done anything I didn’t absolutely want him to do.”

Eun-ju thought for a few more seconds before saying, “no, I won’t let it happen.”

“I thought you might try to refuse so I’ll just say this: why don’t you sleep on it. If you haven’t changed your mind in the morning, then we can sit down together and figure out who you want to send your photoshoot to first?”

With that, Eun-ju got up and stormed out of the kitchen. Minju honestly didn’t know what her mother would decide given a day or so to think about it, but she had a feeling things would work out. Revealing that she and her dad had been having sex…incestuous sex… felt empowering. Minju was proud and relieved and horny all at the same time. Things could still backfire, but she knew her mother well; Eun-ju was so obsessed with the perfect facade she wore every day; something like this could destroy it entirely. Would she really risk it?

Sure enough, Minju got her answer the next day. Eun-ju slinked into the kitchen with a scowl on her face while Minju was watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hey mom,” Minju said, trying to break the ice after Eun-ju had been silent for a moment.

“Hi. So… what is it you want out of this? Money? A new car? What?” Eun-ju asked.

“No, I told you, I don’t want anything, not from you anyway.” Minju said happily.

“So, what then?”

“Well,” Minju replied, cocking her head, “I guess I just want to have free reign to have sex with daddy any time I want.”

“You know that’s illegal right?” Eun-ju said snarkily.

“Yep, we both do. But I can’t help how I feel about dad, and you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“I can’t believe I raised such a little cunt,” Eun-ju said, not quite under her breath.

“And you won’t be intervening either, making comments like that or putting guilt on dad when I make him want me so bad he can’t help himself.” Minju continued.

“Whatever Minju,” Eun-ju snapped back.

“No, I’m serious mom. I can send those pictures out one by one. And wow did you and Mi-Young get into some really weird stuff!”

“Ugh” Eun-ju scoffed in compliance.

The two of them stared each other down in silence. Neither wanted to be the next to speak Minju decided to step up:

“Did you ever love him?” Minju asked again. She was still bickering, but Eun-ju could sense the hurt in her voice.

“Yes, I did…in a way,” Eun-ju trailed off. “I wanted kids; I wanted a normal life, I didn’t know how else to do it.”

“So you just used dad to get what you want?” Minju asked forcefully “Do you realize how unfair that is to him?”

Eun-ju didn’t seem to have an answer. Either she knew Minju was right, or she didn’t care. Based on what she’d heard the day before at Mi-Young’s, Minju assumed the latter.

Minju couldn’t know it, but she had struck a bit of a nerve with her mother. After all, Jae and Eun-ju had been together for many years; she didn’t hate him or it never would have worked. She just didn’t love him the way most wives did. A part of her, however small, was glad that her husband had someone to love him the way Minju did, to make love to him and take the pressure off Eun-ju. She would never reveal her feelings to either of them. She would retain that it was disgusting and wrong; but perhaps this way she wouldn’t have to worry about the whole thing imploding. Ultimately, their secrets could stay all under one roof.

“Are you two at least using…protection?” Eun-ju asked, grimacing.

Minju was quick to answer: “Yes mom. and I got my period yesterday so you have nothing to worry about.”

It was true, and the disdain Minju’s mom took for her daughter being argumentative was actually disappointment. So much was happening all at once, but Minju hadn’t lost sight of how badly she wanted to be carrying her dad’s baby. She’d dreamt about it since the first time she’d watched him cum, so pleased to see her dad lose himself that way. And he had wanted to get Minju pregnant too; at least he’d tried so many times Minju had lost count.

'Argghhh!’ Minju screamed inwardly. It only made her want to take it out on her mother more.

“Well we’re putting you on birth control right away then, got it?” Eun-ju asked, like she still intended to maintain some kind of power over her daughter.

“Yeah sure,” said a distracted Minju, thinking about how she was going to tell her dad she’d gotten her period and wondering if he would be upset with her.

“And the pictures on your phone?” Eun-ju asked.

“I’ll delete the ones on my phone.” Minju promised, seeing surprise on her mom’s face. “Oh I’ll be keeping them in other places just in case. But they’ll stay there as long as you don’t come between me and dad.”

Minju’s mom would spend the days before Jae arrived home debating whether or not she could somehow maneuver around her daughter’s leverage. Ultimately, Minju had judged her correctly. Eun-ju liked her life and she didn’t need anything to change. She could maintain all of the relationships, clubs and committees she had. She could continue the affair with Mi-Young, and probably be a lot less secretive, which was the most relieving part.

Eun-ju was feeling about as cooperative as she could manage the day her husband was scheduled to return. Even given days to consider it, Eun-ju didn’t know what she’d say to her husband. They were both guilty of something. On one hand, Eun-ju’s affair had been going on a long time, and involved more than just Mi-Young. She didn’t know how much the two of them knew, or would find out. On the other hand, Jae was fucking their daughter, which was almost unthinkable to her. Then again, Minju was gorgeous, perhaps even as much as her mother at that age, thought Eun-ju. Illegal or not, there was some logic behind his attraction to the eighteen-year-old.

Regardless of how weird things had gotten in the last few days at the house, Eun-ju was feeling better as she pulled into the garage on Monday. She’d gotten Minju on birth control, she’d had a guilt-free day of sex with Mi-Young and seen her friends that afternoon at the country club. She grabbed the groceries and opened the door.

—————————-

To Jae, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Minju had not gotten time to tell him everything that had happened in the time since he’d gotten home and managed to coat his pretty daughter’s breasts in spunk.

The door opened, and Eun-ju came through.

His topless teenager timed it perfectly, giving Eun-ju a long look at her as she strutted by. Jae’s wife gasped, and her mouth dropped open.

It was totally out of his control. There was no question now, even with his pants on and his manhood returning to normal size, it was obviously Jae who’d cum all over the brunette’s chest.

But Eun-ju’s eyes… as they met Minju’s they narrowed in anger.

What on earth was going on? Why hadn’t his wife begun screaming as expected? She wasn’t even looking at him, instead focused on Minju and the state she’d found her in.

As Minju walked out, Jae guiltily picked her shirt up off the ground. He watched his wife turn toward him and shoot him the nastiest look.

She knew something. She had expected this somehow.

Eun-ju didn’t know where the line between intervening with Minju and Jae’s relationship and 'acting like it was normal’ fell, so she stayed quiet. After a moment, which felt like an hour to Jae, Eun-ju walked all the way into the kitchen and set the groceries on the counter across from him. Yep, she knew.

“So…” he prodded, “you….know….about us?” he said with uncertainty.

“No, I don’t know anything” Eun-ju quipped, “I must have missed your sperm all over our daughter’s tits.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice.

“I guess you’re into a lot of things I didn’t know about.”

Okay, something was definitely up, and there was no way Eun-ju would just brush something like this off if Minju wasn’t forcing her to. Even though it wasn’t him controlling her, Jae felt oddly powerful seeing his wife so restrained. Still, with no idea what was going on, Jae didn’t want to push it.

“Who knew I’d be into a little relief after being away for a few days, you certainly never did” Jae said with attitude. Two could play this game.

Eun-ju only scoffed and went about her business. She couldn’t argue with her husband for fear that she might be breaking the terms of her agreement with Minju. Jae was glad of it, and took off after his daughter after an awkward pause in the kitchen.

He found her in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and waiting for the shower to warm up. A big smile came across Minju’s face when her dad walked in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell you daddy,” she said with that cute little frown, “I was so worried you’d be disappointed with me for not being pregnant.”

“I told you already honey,” Jae said, stepping closer and putting a hand around her naked bottom, “it’s okay, it’s nobody’s fault, and won’t it be fun to have all kinds of sex until one of my swimmers finally gets ya?”

Minju giggled as her dad squeezed her butt. “uhhh huh!” she agreed, shaking her head up and down enthusiastically.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you decided it would be okay for your mother to see that big mess we made all over these puppies?” Jae asked, holding his hands out and jiggling her teenage breasts together. Again his daughter laughed aloud as she watched him playing with her tits.

“I’ll tell you, if you get in the shower with me!”

Despite still feeling a little strange about everything, Jae didn’t dare turn his naked little daughter down. She held his hand and stepped under the shower, happy to have her dad with her again.

Minju proceeded to tell him everything that happened: her suspicions, what had raised them, following her mom to the Murphy’s house, the photos, and finally the argument afterward. Jae added some perspective that Minju hadn’t thought of: that her mother had been pushing the relationship with Mi-Young’s son so strongly because she’d likely wanted more excuse to see her lover even more.

Jae didn’t know his daughter had it in her to execute such a scheme. But it had obviously worked, judging by the reaction of his wife upon seeing the clear evidence of incest on his daughter in the kitchen. He was so proud it made him want Minju more.

Like the perfect, sweet girl she was, at some point after Jae had washed all of the spunk from her chest Minju got down on her knees in the shower and sucked her dad’s hard cock until he came in her mouth. Eun-ju had given him hardly enough blowjobs to count on one hand, and here his little girl was giving him the second in less than an hour. And she swallowed it all like it was nothing, licking at the last drop that remained on his tip before standing back up to face him.

“I can’t get over you,” Jae told her.

“Good!” Minju replied, “I hope you never do.”

She hugged him close, feeling so small in his arms at almost a foot shorter than him.

“No way Minju,” he promised the teen, “you’re mine now, my bad little girl.”

With that he grabbed her butt with a slap by both hands. Minju jumped and wrapped her legs around him. If only they could have sex, Minju would be howling with the feeling of her dad shoving inside of her in this position.

“I want you to fuck me really hard when it’s time daddy,” Minju said, feeling bashful, “is that okay?”

“Oh god Minju’, I would be happy to.” Jae replied, rolling his head back as he imagined taking his daughter in the exact position he was now.

“I almost forgot,” Minju said suddenly, dropping to her feet on the floor of the shower, “mom made me go and get a prescription for birth control when I told her. She thinks we’re using condoms too…” Minju said with a shrug and a guilty look on her face.

“Well, maybe it’s best not to incite any trouble with her?” Jae asked

“But I don’t want to stop trying to get pregnant daddy,” she said, trying to sound how she always did when she wanted something. It always worked on him. “Mom watches me take the pills, but the doctor said that while I’m on my period they are just sugar pills. So I haven’t taken any real ones yet”

“Hmmm…” Jae said, thinking, “Well my little troublemaker, have you come up with any plans for this part too?”

“What if we found some that looked just like the regular ones and replaced them?”

“Yep, I think you nailed it,” Jae said. He was turned on beyond belief. The fact that Minju would go to such lengths for him made Jae want to shower her in praise, gifts, whatever she wanted.

Jae took firm grasp of her shoulders and looked at her intently, saying “"God I love you Minju,”

She squirmed in his grasp, unable to hide how good hearing him say that made her feel. She knew he meant it differently and full of much more meaning than before. It took standing up on the tips of her wet toes to reach him for a soft, lovely kiss. Her lips tasted like the warm water that was pouring down and keeping her backside warm while her father did the same for her front.

As they stood there together, Minju felt her dad’s penis beginning to swell again, pushing right between them and making her giggle and stay on her toes so it could linger between her legs a second more.

“Soon daddy, I love you too” she whispered before stepping down, grabbing a towel and exiting the shower.

The next few days were going to be tough.

————————-

And they were. When they went out to the drugstore the next day looking for matching pills to trick Minju’s mother, Jae and Minju agreed to wait until the next time they’d actually have sex before engaging in any activity at all. It seemed like a good idea at the time; saving up would increase his sperm count for when Minju was ready to have sex again and that thought was enough to get him through. But he would regret it later, especially falling asleep at night in her bed (there was no point going back to his own by then) with a raging hard-on and a sexy teenager in his embrace.

At the store, Minju was wearing a sort-of Aztec-patterned top that was a pattern of voids he could see right through.. She had on a strapless bra beneath, but upon glimpsing her toned midsection that always impressed him, thoughts of fucking her right there in the aisle filled his brain. And the jean shorts… she seemed to have endless pairs of them. These ones had the bottoms rolled up so they showed a lighter band below. Consequently, they were even shorter that way, and every single guy they passed chanced a look. Jae made sure to make eye contact with every one of them. 'She’s mine,’ he felt like saying.

Later in the week, Eun-ju decided to put on a show for Minju and her dad by inviting Mi-Young over and hosting what sounded like a pornography filming session in their bedroom. It still stung, the knowledge that his wife had been cheating on him for so long. But with Minju by his side after they’d tiptoed close to the room, looking toward the closed door and then up at him with wide eyes, his troubles seemed less important.

Seeing her giggle and grab his side, whispering: “did you hear that?!” Jae loved her more than ever. Hair in a messy bun, yet another cute outfit, and a big smile on her face because she knew they were getting the better end of the deal, Jae began to make plans of his own.

————————————-

Saturday night, a jet-black towncar pulled up to the front of the house. Jae had told his daughter remarkably little. When they woke up that morning, Jae kissed Minju on the neck gently to wake her up.

“Minju’,” he said, waiting for her to roll towards him with a sleepy groan, “I’m going to go out for a little bit. There’s an envelope with your name on it for a day at the best spa in the city, and money for a new dress. Be ready at 7:00, okay?”

“Yes sir!” she said jokingly, just opening her eyes in time to accept a kiss. Minju craned her neck as he backed out of bed to try and make it last longer, but then he was gone.

As she rolled onto her back and stretched, Minju realized she was excited. Even though they could have had sex days ago, her dad had still suggested they wait. She admired his self-control, but secretly wished he would just fuck her senseless every minute she was awake. She couldn’t believe he had lasted this long, but now that she knew he was planning something mysterious it made sense.

The birth control trick was working like a charm. Minju’s mom came to her at the same time every night and watched her take the pill. Minju might have complained about how overbearing she was being, but knowing that she remained unprotected and totally ready to be fertilized by daddy’s cum, Minju was willing to sacrifice that argument.

The day at the spa was wonderful: a massage, manicure, pedicure, steam…facial…the works. Minju had even spent a little of the money on a full wax, though she usually kept it that way for her dad anyway. She just wanted to be as beautiful as possible for him that night.

Near the spa was one of Minju’s favorite stores. It was expensive, but her dad gave her way too much money anyway. Like the rest of the day had gone, she found the perfect dress in only a few minutes. Thankfully, it was much less than he had given her, probably because the dress was well… a little slutty, thought Minju. With a part of what was left, Minju bought heels and the cutest, set of bra and panties she could find.

As seven o'clock approached, Minju grew more and more anxious. She hadn’t seen her dad all day, not after she returned from the spa or in the hours leading up to their date. The eighteen-year-old was meticulous in getting ready, putting on her make-up, getting dressed. As she slid on the new underwear, Minju could feel how much wetter and warmer her inner thighs had grown anticipating the night.

Jae finally heard the click of heels upstairs at about a quarter after seven. Somehow, the little minx managed to be late given literally hours and hours to get ready. But then he saw her.

First, his eyes found the source of the clicking:

Heels, not too tall, black and slim with her freshly manicured toes peeking out from an open-toed front. Minju even had pretty feet. No surprise there.

Then her legs:

Smooth, tan and looking like they’d been bathed in moisturizer all day. Absolutely beautiful.

Of course, they went on forever, reaching the bottom of her dress far too high for a night out with dad:

The dress was enough to drop Jae’s jaw. It hugged her without a fold or a wrinkle or an inch more fabric than necessary. It was short, but not enough to make his fatherly instinct send her back upstairs to change, or maybe that wasn’t his fatherly instinct…, The cups of the dress that covered what he longed to see underneath were blue, forming a wide neckline despite thin straps that hung on to her outer shoulder. The brilliant blue color made its way down the center of the dress on front and back, with black hugging her hips.

But it was underneath that floored him most. Minju’s skin positively glowed. It didn’t seem possible, but she was more beautiful than he had left her that morning or any one before. Her perfect breasts were thrust up into the plunging neckline, so plump he wanted to bury his face in them and leave a mark from sucking on her beautiful skin.

But it was her face that finally did him in:

Minju had seen him goggling her; it was what she wanted all day. She had the prettiest smile from ear to ear. Gleaming white teeth, a deep pink lipstick and light makeup that looked applied by a professional.

“Minju,” Jae finally managed to speak as she descended the last few steps, “I have never seen a more beautiful woman in all my life.”

Her smile only got wider, and as she carefully took the last step to her dad’s level, her knee felt weak from accepting his praise. Her black, metal earrings dangled as she turned the corner and her luscious brown hair swayed to reveal them. If Minju hadn’t reached out for her dad’s hand he might have passed out altogether.

Minju ran a hand inside her father’s jacket. She had noticed immediately how great he looked in a close-fitting gray jacket and pants. His shirt looked expensive and fit him so well: a handsome, white and slim fitting button up. Minju couldn’t believe she was going on her first real date with a real man as handsome as her father.

“Do you feel that,” Minju asked, taking her father’s hand and placing it right above the exposed half of her breast, “my heart is beating so fast daddy, I don’t know why you make me so nervous.”

Jae almost forgot to respond after feeling the swell of her teenage chest against the side of his hand, “Oh honey,” he managed, “it’s me who should be nervous. People are going to wonder what a girl who looks like she stepped out of one of those fashion magazines is doing with an old guy like me.

Again Minju’s heart flipped over in her chest, "DAAAAAD! I wish I could tell you how many times my friends have said they want to bang you. In that jacket….ohhh,” she gasped, continuing to rub his chest and playing with a button right between his big chest muscles, “Are you sure I shouldn’t pull this dress up a little and you can fuck me over the table there the way you like?”

Of course that gave Jae an instant erection, but they’d waited too long.

“No,” he said strongly, “we are going out to the car.”

Minju could tell it took him a lot of strength to deny her. Even the thought of having her father inside her was making her neglected pussy tingle with desire. But she appeased him, walking outside to a beautiful summer evening, glad she wouldn’t need a jacket.

The car was gorgeous: not just any towncar but a brand new luxury vehicle with soft leather seats and music and a delicious champagne her dad poured her after speaking quietly with the driver. During the most memorable car ride Minju had ever taken, she told Jae all about her day. He couldn’t help but feel aroused when she talked about how often she was naked. He hadn’t seen her like that in a few days and he had to pinch himself to respect her and not push the straps of her dress hungrily down over her shoulders.

“Daddy,” she asked sweetly, “how long are you going to make me wait?”

“Come on Minju’, don’t make this harder on me,” he begged, “it’s time I treated you like a real girlfriend, no…. better. Soon enough we can be more than that,”

Minju swooned, “well, how about tonight… I’m just 'yours’?” she asked.

“I’d love that.” he agreed.

More and more, Minju was becoming everything he ever wanted. Beautiful, adventurous, happy, and willing to give herself wholly into a relationship. Eun-ju would have never agreed to go to an undisclosed location, or even put as much effort into getting ready. Where Minju was happy just to be with her dad for now, Eun-ju would have been constantly pushing for a label on the relationship or the next big step. He was still having trouble coping with the lie that had gotten them through the last twenty-some years, but with Minju at his side it seemed so much easier to bear.

“NO. WAY.” Minju proclaimed, looking out the window and up at the building as they were coming to a stop. She looked back at him, looking for an explanation. The brand new building downtown… the one with the restaurant at the very top that took some five or six weeks to get a reservation for.

Jae just smiled.

“DAD!” She cried. Only famous people went there; or at least that’s what her friends said.

Still, he smiled back. He wasn’t royalty or anything, he’d just helped out the owner of the restaurant by introducing him to the building owners when the plans were still confidential. It really was just a coincidence, but the owner had offered that he call any time he wanted a table and he could expect the best service available. Jae might have cashed in for his anniversary with Eun-ju, but this was so much better.

She was so enamored, looking up at the clear wall of glass that extended multiple stories high for the main entrance that she didn’t even notice her dad get out and come around to her door.

“For you Minju,” he said, offering his hand for help stepping out of the car, “anything.”

Minju felt like she was in a movie, all the way up to the top floor where the restaurant was.

“Go ahead, push the button,” Jae said, trying to snap her out of the daydreamy state she’d been in. Minju had to loosen the tight grip she had on her father’s arm just to reach the button, and pushing it gave her just as much satisfaction as when she was a little kid.

“Mr. Fiorella!” A man in an incredibly expensive suit said as he spotted them walking up to the hostess. Minju hadn’t ever heard their name pronounced by someone who was actually Italian.

“So good to see you again Jae,” he said with that thick accent, stopping quite dramatically when he saw Minju and smacking his foot on the ground. “And who…is…this beauty on your arm?”

“This is m…”

“Hi I’m Minju, Jae’s daughter,” she interjected. Jae forgot for a moment that Minju was a forward, independent girl. With Eun-ju, he always had to tote her around. “I’m so sorry my dad hasn’t told me about you, but what’s your name?”

“Jae, I’m hurt!” The man feigned. “My name is Marco D'Agosto and this is my restaurant,” he said motioning with his hand, “though tonight. bella, it is yours.”

With that, Marco bent and kissed Minju’s hand. Jae might have been jealous if he didn’t know Marco so well. They’d met in Italy many years ago when he and his wife were vacationing and she’d gone to bed far too early as usual. They’d met out on the piazza and Marco had taken Jae all around the city, introducing him to women and clubs and hot spots he’d never have seen otherwise, always at night when his wife chickened out. Jae flown over the Atlantic many times to visit him since and he, thankfully, never changed. Marco was always affectionate with women but ultimately harmless.

Leading them to the table, Marco was probably relaying a similar story to Minju as Jae trailed behind. No complaint from him, because Minju’s dress was equally stunning from the back. Minju did catch him checking her out, biting her lip and squinting at him when she looked back and then returned to Marco’s story.

Finally, he opened two large doors that led out to a private balcony. It was tucked into the side of the building to protect from the wind, but despite being the most beautiful part of the restaurant, empty. The other tables were set with candles that were obviously centered around their table

“Marco, you didn’t hold this for us did you?” Jae asked

“Of course I did,” Marco said, “It’s just one night, and I couldn’t help myself, I owe you everything Giovanni!”

“You shouldn’t have,” said Jae, “I won’t complain any more, but only this time, you promise? Only because this is for Minju.”

“Yes sir,” he said, exaggerating and turning so Minju could see his fingers crossed behind his back. “I’ll send a waiter with our favorite wine from back home, capice?”

“Marco,” Minju’s dad said, “thank you, truly.”

Jae watched Minju blow his old friend a kiss as she sat down. She was so proper and graceful, Jae knew she could fit in anywhere. As he took his own seat, Minju was looking all around her and then over the railing just next to their table. When her eyes found her dad’s she leaned in as close as possible and said, not too quietly:

“I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Jae smiled and then darted his eyes back and forth, “Minju! Careful!”

“What?” she said, “I think Marco would tell his guests to look away if you asked him to,”

“Maybe,” Jae laughed. He had obviously impressed her.

Before the wine came, Minju made him tell her everything about Marco and how the hell he’d gotten in such high regard with the interesting man. And in no time, they’d gone through a bottle of wine. Nobody dared ask Minju her age, eighteen-year-olds simply didn’t look as beautiful as she did that night.

“Daddy,” she said sweetly, feeling emboldened by the wine, “it’s going to work this time. We are going to get pregnant, I know it, maybe tonight.”

She took another swig of wine, “I think I have mom under control for now, but I don’t know what we’ll do once I miss my first period.”

“Does that scare you baby?” Jae asked.

“No, no!” Minju assured him, “I just didn’t plan that far.”

“It’s okay Minju,” Jae told his troubled daughter, “I think I’ve got that figured out.”

“Really?” She asked with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

“Well I still really want you to go to school, and I you do too, right?” Jae said, watching his daughter nod. “And we’ve got plenty of schools to choose from since you got in to so many.”

“What if we picked our favorite city out of them and moved there?”

“You’d do that…for me?” She asked, completely shocked.

“Minju, I told you, I’m not leaving your side, ever. It’s still your choice, we could forget the whole thing and wait until you’re done with school. I’ll still want you to have our baby, I know it.”

Minju looked mad, “Are you changing your mind Dad?” she exclaimed

“Shhhh,” he said, watching her grit her teeth, “No, I have been imagining how beautiful you are going to look and thinking non-stop about getting you pregnant since we first talked about it on vacation and honestly quite a bit before that”

Her look softened.

“I want to make a baby with you more than anything, I just want to do it right by you.”

Minju looked embarrassed for overreacting. It was hard to keep all her strong feelings at bay. “No daddy, I think you’re idea is great. I could go to school for at least a semester, have the baby and then go back,”

“I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to do that, we can hire help, I can work from home…” Jae said, “I don’t really have to work right now, just need to keep myself busy.”

“I can keep you busy dad,” Minju flirted.

“I know you can Minju’, so we can make all of these decisions together once we move. But we’ll have to keep everything a secret until its done.”

Minju agreed, knowing there was still more plans to be made. But in a way, the evening felt like they were finally a real couple, with real plans to be together, not just slinking around when her mother was asleep.

Dinner was incredible, even better than Minju expected. They talked about everything and nothing as usual, both father and daughter felt a connection unlike any they’d experienced before. Whether it was talking about music or the way Minju had slipped out of a shoe and was gently rubbing his calf They’d gone through two bottles of wine in a few hours, and Minju was finding that it made her so horny she couldn’t take it.

“Daddy, I really want you,” she whispered too loud, “will you take me home?”

“Just one more thing honey,” Jae promised, hearing his restless daughter groan in frustration.

Marco came out a few minutes later. She’d seen them talking quietly when Jae went to the bathroom.

“Ms. Fiorella, would you please take my arm?” Marco asked, “I’d like to show you to dessert.”

Minju was slightly drunk and totally confused. Jae had to laugh that Marco would try to get close to his daughter one more time before they left, but he could see that the Italian was only making things better for him. Minju obviously wanted to be closer to her dad at that moment, so she wanted him all the more.

Marco took them through the kitchen, past his private office and finally to a staircase that shouldn’t have existed. A very anxious Minju had thought for sure they were on the top floor.

“This is a place I reserve for the most private of occasions,” Marco said, “your dad said you’d love to see it.”

Minju carefully took each step of the sheek-looking staircase one at a time. When they reached the top, Marco had to leave her in the darkness of the upper corridor. Minju felt her dad move in close behind her, touching her softly on the backside, but not so much as to make his intentions obvious to Marco. Ahead of them, Marco threw open a door and revealed the uppermost terrace.

It was breathtaking.

A better view, unbelievably, than that below. In the middle of some of the most comfortable looking, cream-colored, outdoor sofas and other beautiful dining furniture there was a huge, circular stone fireplace blazing with flame. Like below, the walls and ceiling had been erected to protect about half of the terrace from wind. Warm, cedar slats ran in concentric circles until the room gave way to the beautiful night sky.

Seeing she didn’t need to be explained the importance of this place, Marco excused himself saying, “your dad said you had some important decisions to make, I’ll make sure nobody interrupts you.” and closed the door behind him.

What her dad had said to Marco Minju didn’t know, but she didn’t need to. She slowly wandered out into the middle of the open-ended room and turned to face her dad.

“I already made my decision daddy,” she said with a wonderfully seductive look, “what now?”

Jae didn’t have an answer for her. He saw in his daughter’s eyes that she could wait no more, and so he stood silently waiting for her next move.

With that, she pushed the shoulder of her dress off.

And then the other.

Two tiny straps remained. Jae was dying to see what they led to.

“You’ve been mean daddy,” she said, “getting me all riled up and making me wait.”

He wanted to bull-rush her, rip her dress to shreds and make her scream at the top of her lungs, but he didn’t. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t look away.

“But I’ve been mean too,” she said, stepping down from one shoe.

“Making YOU wait,” she kicked the other shoe off her foot and it slid about half the distance to her dad.

“Dressing like this,” she whispered, maneuvering her arm under one of the shoulders of the dress.

“Hoping you’ll look,” she said, darting her eyes to his,

“But knowing you can’t touch,” finally the other strap.

And then he watched, completely mesmerized, as Minju grabbed the bottom of the dress and expertly wiggled and shimmied her way out of it. Inch by inch, the fabric followed her hands down her legs.

First it gave way to the tops of a black, push up bra. More of her young breasts showed above the supportive cups than within, each of which were made of black lace covering a pink colored patch of fabric which held her wonderful globes in place. When it cleared her bra, her breasts were allowed to expand to full size, unburdened by the tight dress. Jae didn’t believe they could get bigger, but they did. The thought made him smile as Minju turned sideways so he could watch her bend to pull the dress the rest of the way down.

It finally gave way to her bottoms, and boy was it worth the wait. A tiny pair of pink lace panties hugged her hips, with an inch or so of transparent fabric like a skirt hung loosely from the hem. Watching her shimmy to finally exit the dress, with the starry, black sky and fire behind her, Minju was a goddess. When she stood up and saw her dad could not move or speak, she called to him, with an arm outstretched.

“It’s okay daddy, you can touch me now.”

Jae walked, entranced, toward the clasping and unclasping hand of his nearly-naked teenage daughter. That reality had still not set in. Perhaps he hoped it never would. Even when they finally settled down, had children and shared the love of a long and fulfilling life, it would still be a fantasy that Jae had been allowed to live out of sheer luck.

When their hands connected, the trance was over. Touching Minju activated his love, lust and everything he’d had to hold back since over a week before.

He grabbed Minju’s hips in his hands, turning her and pulling her right against him. Minju immediately went for his jacket. She pushed it off his shoulders and was unbuttoning his shirt before the gray coat fell to the floor. Then his pants; it all came off and Jae stood there on the floor of the terrace ready to give his daughter what they both wanted.

He picked her up under the arms and threw her backward. Minju didn’t even know there was a couch behind her until she landed with a soft thud. And then her dad was on her. He’d managed to get his socks and shoes off before she could even sit up to see him.

She was only able to sit straight for a second before he grabbed at her leg like an animal and tugged it so she was on her back again. He kissed from her ankle to her knee, and up her wonderful, smooth thigh. “Oh god dad,” Minju gasped as she felt him get close to her pussy.

He pulled again, sliding Minju further so her arms went over her head and her face was nearer to his. Jae kissed her belly button, her flawless abs and up to the breasts he’d been dying to touch all night.

Minju moaned as he took a huge mouthful of her left breast and bit gently. She loved when he bit her.

Finally, Jae made it up her chest, past her collarbone, neck and to the side of her face. Minju turned needily, he was making her work for a kiss on the lips.

Minju had been waiting too long. She’d been dreaming of this moment since, well, since a second after the last time they’d had sex. But certainly all day at the spa she’d known this was coming. A few feet away, the flames cast flickering heat in their direction, but it was nothing compared to the fiery attraction between them. The teenager grabbed ahold of her father’s cock through his underwear.

“Daddy please,” she begged, pushing him from the nape of her neck where he’d been kissing and sucking her into a frenzy. “please don’t make me wait any longer,” He forced his pelvis against hers, “pleAASEEEE!” she cried, feeling his cock mash against her clit.

Jae didn’t want to wait any longer either. In seconds he’d grabbed her adorable panties from her thin waist and tugged them forcefully off. Once again Minju felt intimidated and dominated; he did the same with her bra.

Minju did her part and pushed his boxers down so that his huge cock sprung free. Minju hadn’t felt it inside her in too long, but as usual it looked too big to actually fit in her tiny body. But judging by the way Minju’s hips were lifting off the cushion and her eyes were wide with overflowing desire, she was ready to try.

Jae reached down and directed his tip to her opening. Minju took a deep breath in anticipation.

But he only allowed it to part her lips, rubbing it up her slit and then wiggling back and forth oh her clit. The teenager twitched as she felt her father’s head at her most sensitive spot, but it wasn’t enough. A few more seconds of her uncontrollable spasming, getting so wet she was almost in tears, and she grabbed him on his side until her father winced in pain.

“Stop it!” she yelled, mustering every bit of composure she could find, “Fuck me daddy…now.”

That’s when he made her scream. Jae lined up with his daughter’s tunnel, grabbed both of her hips and sank into her in one, long, slow, stroke. No matter how long he took, Jae was simply too big for his little girl to keep her howl at bay.

“DAAAaaaaaaaadyyyy, ooooooooooooouuuuwhhhhhhhhh” She bawled.

That was all it took, as soon as Minju felt her father’s hips come in contact with her own, she dug her nails into his back on both sides. Her abs tensed, her eyes shut tight, and her legs pulled him what little there was left to go. Jae had never heard of it happening, but there was his little girl, cumming after one thrust inside her tiny pussy and screaming for daddy as she did.

The wine was the only thing that saved him. If Jae hadn’t drank more than a bottle to keep his little girl from getting too drunk, he’d be filling up his youngest’s quim with semen after one thrust. But they were both lucky. As soon as Jae could feel his little girl’s walls loosening, he urged an inch at a time in and out. Minju wasn’t done cumming, and when he made it about half way out after three or four thrusts, she was right back at it.

“Stop daddy….oh godd….I can’t bre….I can’t…ughhh,…. PLEAAAAAASSE!”

He made it almost all the way out before driving back in, connecting firmly against Minju’s pelvis and watching her make faces she couldn’t control. Again her walls squeezed him and Minju begged for mercy.

“Daddy…ohhhhfuck…..Ughehhh” she choked, “Not again…. uhhhhhhh….. ohNo… Daddyyyyyy!”

He had promised her this, that he would fuck her until she screamed; hard and fast until she couldn’t take it anymore. When her walls gripped him so tight that he knew he would hurt her if he tried to go in and out again, he stayed planted in Minju’s tunnel.

For a moment, it looked like Minju went unconscious. Her back was arched and her neck craned while she came on her father’s cock, and then she went limp with him buried inside.

Naked as the day she was born, her quim filled with her father’s cock and overcome by her orgasm, Minju could be no more perfect. As her eyes came back into view, and she was able to support her head, Minju had to remember where she was. When she felt how full her pussy was, she remembered completely.

“Dad,” she whispered as she came around, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Jae smiled back at her, pushing hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek in his hand. She mewled into it. Then she surprised him by smacking his big shoulder.

“I asked you… no I begged you to stop!” She said, sounding legitimately upset.

“I know you did sweetie,” Jae replied, “but then you wouldn’t have had another orgasm, and I wouldn’t have gotten to watch.”

“But it hurt daddy,” she pouted childishly, “I couldn’t control my body.”

“That’s the best part Minju, next time just let it happen, don’t fight it.”

Minju nodded. Looking down, she saw that she had apparently made a bit of a mess on the cushion with the fluids her body had released when her dad was making her cum. “Oops,” Minju said with a shrug.

“It’s okay honey, we can flip it over when we’re done.”

Minju, who had finally gotten time to recover, liked hearing her father say “when we’re done.” She couldn’t believe that she’d cum so soon, and her dad hadn’t even gotten close to her favorite part. If they were going to get pregnant tonight, she was going to have to fuck him again and again until he didn’t have any more to give her.

“How do you want me now daddy?” She asked with the most innocent look she could drum up.

“Remember the day I left, how you rode me in the car at the airport?” Jae asked

“Uh huh,” said Minju excitedly, happy to hear that he liked it.

“Will you do that again for me sweetheart?”

“Uh huh,” repeated Minju.

Jae easily flipped the hundred-or-so pound teen on top of him, causing her to moan as her father’s cock shifted inside her.

When Minju’s knees came to the sofa, she was all ready to go.

Now that she was in control, it was Minju’s turn to tease her dad.

“Tell me what you want daddy,” Minju directed, lifting her hips so only his head remained inside.

“Oh,” he said, wide-eyed, “we’re gonna do THIS now?”

“You started it,” Minju argued, “say it.”

“Fuck me Minju,” he said, not sounding like he wanted to mess around. Minju raised her eyebrows like she wanted him to say something else.

“Be a good girl Minju,” Jae said grabbing her hips, “and take my cock back inside you.”

He tried to push her down, but she only allowed a fraction of an inch more into her sweet little puss. He had to have her, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t let her have her fun.

“Bad girl,” Minju corrected him, “I’m not your good girl anymore dad,”

“Okay Minju. Fuck your dad like the bad daughter you are.”

She allowed a whole inch, but nothing more. When Jae tried to drive his hips up, she lifted.

“I’m not fucking around Minju, you lower that little ass on me now.”

One more inch. Watching her face, Jae could see she didn’t have much resistance left.“

"Fuck your dad you naughty little tease,” Jae begged her.

That did it. Minju sank all the way onto him and both Minju and her father moaned aloud when they felt him bottom out. Minju now knew what her dad’s cock felt like against her cervix, and it was definitely there.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. With her mouth open from the incredible pleasure, Minju looked into her dad’s eyes and lifted her hips back up. When his tip was about to pop out, Minju dropped like a stone to bury her father inside again.

“Oh fuck Minju, you are so tight.”

“Tighter than mom?” Minju asked, moving her hips up and down again.

“Ugh yess…so much tighter.”

Minju started to pick up speed, it was a lot of effort to climb the whole length of his cock and bury it again, and her little pussy could only take so much. Minju felt like she might be close to cumming again.

“Oh dad…fuck” she cooed as her clit touched the base of his cock, “your penis is so…fucking…big daddy. I can’t believe it fits.”

“Keep going honey,” Jae encouraged, “you are doing so good.”

Minju looked so small on top of him. His little girl, with her developed breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, her core writhing as she flexed to lift and release. He’d raised her, taught her right from wrong, loved her every step of the way and now she was loving him back with cries of passion as his cock filled her again and again. She would never be more beautiful.

“I love you baby,” he said, palming her breasts in one hand and her hip in the other.

Minju moaned as his thumb pressed into her lower abdomen.

“I love you too dad,” she whispered over labored breaths and a pause in her quiet moaning.

“I’m ready daddy… unhhh fuck…. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Jae knew what she meant but he let her go on.

“I want your cum in me….ohh daaaad.” she was trying hard to keep her composure as her own words made her weak with wantonness

“No birth control… no condom…ohhhhpleaaase… will you?”

“What honey?” Jae bated.

“Get me pregnant daddy, cum inside me!”

It’s what they’d both wanted. It’s what they’d both been waiting for. Looking at his baby girl atop him, Jae knew it was time.

He grabbed her hips when she’d planted him all the way inside and held her there. Picking her up without any trouble, he set her on her back and laid on top of her. He wanted to be pressed against her when it happened.

“Are you ready sweetie?”

“Uh huh,” whimpered Minju. “Please daddy, cum in my pussy.”

Withdrawing from his daughter, Jae knew it wouldn’t take long. As he sank back inside her, Minju moaned loudly. She was ready to cum too.

“Fuck daddy,” Minju called, tears formed in her eyes she wanted him so bad. Minju knew this was it. On the tallest building, in a secret place, with only the stars to witness it, Minju was going to get pregnant.

Her father began to grunt, He couldn’t control himself either and Minju loved it.

“Oh daad…fuck meee.”

“Mi…Minju…oh Minju,” he called, thrusting into his daughter, hips moving of their own volition.

He drove into her, feeling her tiny body accept him into his warm embrace. He’d hugged her a thousand times. On her way out to school, after her dance performances, when she came home from school and hugged him so tight because she missed him. Feeling her eighteen-year-old pussy squeeze him, he knew this is what it had all been leading to.

Again he buried his entire length into Minju’s tunnel. “Daaadyy,” she screamed. She’d said it a thousand times before. When he touched her neck after putting his hand in the cooler, when she wanted something from the mall, when he’d held her when something went wrong at school. Feeling her wonderful father’s cock push into her and make her feel things she didn’t know she could, Minju knew she was always meant to call out to him like this.

“Ughh..” Minju twitched, she couldn’t hold back any longer when his cock filled her up again. “Daad I’m….mnnhhhh… Daaady I’m gonna….” He shoved into her enough times that she simply couldn’t speak.

Jae got lost for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Minju only had the strength to give him one, last, puppy-dog, beautiful gaze before her head rolled back and she cried out.

It was immediate. Her legs locked, her fingers clenched and her young pussy gripped her father’s cock like he’d never felt before. It pulled at him, begging, like his daughter, to fill her with cum.

There was no holding back. What little he could to withdraw from Minju as she leg-locked him, Jae did. One last, fateful time, he pushed into Minju’s depths and felt the first chill of release.

As the first jet of sperm entered Minju’s pussy, she spasmed, clamping tighter on her father and urging his hips even more forcefully deep. Feeling the pressure of a week’s wait flood her unprotected womb, both Minju and her father believed that the very first spurt would be the one that assured her pregnancy.

But that didn’t stop Jae continuing to pump into his young daughter. Even through howls of pleasure and lustful grasps of her hands, Minju was intimately aware of what was happening deep in her quivering tunnel. Her father’s head buried as deep as it could go, she felt his cock throb each time before another warm gush flooded her womb.

“Ohfuuuu….daaaadyyy…don’t stop” Minju gasped, “Keep cumming in me…. unhhh,,, please daad!”

He couldn’t stop. Jae watched his beautiful daughter’s body spasm almost at the same pace as his cock emitting torrents of the cum he hoped would get her pregnant. Her youthful breasts mashed against his chest to the rhythm of her gasps for air, and all the while he continued urging his hips against her soft mound.

Tears were welling and then toppling Minju’s flushed cheeks. She could feel her insides completely charged with her father’s spunk, and nothing made her happier. She wondered if her father was so big that his penis touched all the way past her cervix. She didn’t think that was possible, but her certainly must be close. Anything that put his freshly deposited sperm closer to her fertile, young womb.

Locked together at the hips in beautiful incest, father and daughter began to regain their wits. Jae could hear the flicker of the fire behind him. When Minju’s eyes finally opened in his direction, the flames lit her blue irises and Jae was unable to look away. They didn’t move for minutes at a time, maybe more, maybe less. A couple of times, Minju’s insides pulsed with the defiant remainder of her climax, causing Minju to gasp again and show her father an uncontrollable and adorable look. Even then, it seemed Jae had a little more cum left to spill into her.

They held on tightly and listened to each other’s breath regularise. Neither Minju or Jae felt any need to speak or move an inch. Minju felt her recently virgin opening becoming a bit sore after the romp she’d just sustained, but she was far too happy to feel her father buried inside to ask for relief.

'Was she in a dream?’ Minju thought as she looked out at the night sky and the fire-lit walls that led to it. Had she really just experienced the best sex of her young life, with her loving father, perhaps become pregnant and done it all in the most beautiful spot atop the tallest building in the city? It couldn’t be real, and Minju couldn’t help continuing to tear up.

“What’s the matter Minju’?” Jae asked, leaning back to look at his daughter’s face. She appeared to be crying and Jae was worried he’d done something wrong.

Minju pushed her cheek into her father’s hand as he held her face, “Oh no, nothing’s wrong Daddy.”

“Then what honey, why the tears?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just being silly and emotional, I can’t help it.” Minju apologized. “I’m just so happy.”

She looked so beautiful, even with the wet streaks on each cheek. The glow that he’d seen as she walked down the stairs at home before their date was even more present now. Jae leaned in to kiss her neck, then her chin, then the salty sweet spot where a tear had rolled down her cheek. Minju swooned to be receiving such wonderful attention from her father.

“You gave me the best day of my life dad,” she assured him, “the spa, the dinner, this place…and you.”

Jae smiled back at her appreciatively.

“I only hope I can give you something too” Minju said nervously.

“Honey,” Jae assured her, “you’ve already given me everything I could ever want. A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as beautiful inside as you are out.”

“Don’t say that Daddy, you don’t only deserve me, you deserve a baby with me too. I really hope I can give you one.”

“This time Minju,” Jae reasoned, “I think we did it.”

“Really daddy?” His little girl said with wide, passionate eyes, “You really think I could be pregnant this time?”

He’d never confirmed it for her before, knowing that he would be foolish to get her hopes up. But it really felt like this was the time. Jae couldn’t have cum more inside his teenage daughter, and it couldn’t have been a better time in her fertility cycle for one of the hundreds of millions of sperm cells he’d released inside his daughter to find her egg. No matter what others thought, Minju’s pure hopefulness and excitement to be pregnant shattered the barriers of right and wrong.

“We won’t know for a while Minju, but I think this could be it. What do you think?”

Minju thought hard, with her cue brow furrowed and her mouth tweaked to the side. “I guess I don’t know for sure either, but I know you came SO MUCH! I could literally feel it more than any of the times before.” She was so bubbly Jae could feel his heart throb for her.

“Look!” Minju directed, rotating her hips to the side and pushing her father’s pelvis so he began to slide out. Jae whined as his still-hard manhood was deprived the feeling of his daughter’s warmth, inch by inch.

Placing her hand just below her opening, Minju’s eyes grew wider as she watched her father’s tip revealed. Tight as she was, when Jae finally pulled the last inch out, her pussy fought him and there was the faintest pop. Her little tunnel closed up as quickly as it had been pried open, and there was at least a second before they saw it.

Pure white spunk peered between her taut, pink lips. It grew and grew, as her snug, eighteen-year-old pussy fought to return to its incredible tightness.

“See daddy!” She exclaimed, “I knew it, look how much you came in my pussy!”

As it continued to squeeze out, Minju gasped. She was glad she held her hand there or it would have gotten on the nice restaurant owner’s couch.

“Ohhhhmyyygod Dad!” She almost sounded like she was scolding him, “Look how much you came in your OWN DAUGHTER… such a bad daddy!”

Her eyes flitted between her father’s and the overfilled little pussy he’d created. Jae could tell she was just teasing; she was enjoying this way too much to be upset. He knew that for sure a second later. When Minju decided there was not much less to spill out, she took the fingers that she used to trap the excess and pushed them, spilled cum and all, back into her aching opening. Watching her concentrate hard on pushing it all back inside, Jae collapsed on the couch beside her, overwhelmed.

“Will you put my panties back on daddy?” Minju asked sweetly, “I wanna keep it all in.”

He wasn’t sure it would work, but Jae was certainly willing to try. He admired the pretty pair of underwear that Minju had picked out just for him as he maneuvered them over his daughter’s gorgeous legs. Minju pulled them on tight and pushed one little finger on her opening until she was satisfied that she’d done her best.

Boy was she a sight to see. So young, so beautiful and glowing…Jae’s eighteen-year-old daughter was topless and had that incredible, freshly-fucked look he’d only known in his teens. Seeing her now, he recognized every little curve and bone in her body that he’d seen develop as she’d grown up. Jae was overjoyed now to be seeing them without clothing; she looked best that way.

He couldn’t believe the little girl he’d raised since birth had grown so beautiful. Her breasts: so perky and youthful… her hips: so lithe and thin, her midsection: toned and with the definition only a woman could bear. Soon he hoped for her stomach to be changing as she bore his child.

Minju could feel her father’s eyes on her. There was something so wonderful about the way Minju and her father could be in each other’s presence without saying a word and still feel like they were growing in love.

“I love the way you look at me daddy,” she said, catching his attention.

“I can’t help myself Minju, when did my daughter become so beautiful?”

“Ughhh!” Minju scoffed, “I always was DAD! I just didn’t want to tempt you until I turned eighteen.”

“Of course you’re right honey,” Jae said, letting Minju curl up next to him and feeling her smooth legs against his. His daughter was right, if he thought truthfully, Minju had started developing when she entered her teens. He didn’t remember her breasts being as full as they were now, but she always had trouble with boys at school harassing her. He was glad he didn’t contribute then, and now he was reaping the benefits in full.

“But I really mean it dad, this was the best night ever.” She squirmed up to give him a kiss, whispering before she closed the gap between them,, “Thank you so much.”

The kissed for a long time, not aggressively, not lustfully, just gentle and heavy with emotion. Jae’s fingers caressed his baby’s side and her skin raised with tiny goose bumps when he tickled her too lightly. He would simply never tire of holding his amazing daughter in his arms. Alone with each other, they could be unburdened by judgment and morality. As their lips touched and tongues entwined, they could be simply in love.

“Will you take me home daddy?” Minju asked after they’d laid naked for long enough.

Jae rubbed his hand from her wet little panties all the way up and across her perfect breasts. He knew he would get a chance to do so again soon, but he simply didn’t want to be away from her wonderfully naked form for a second if he didn’t have to. Minju smiled as she felt his need by the warmth of his palms on her.

“Absolutely baby, let’s get your clothes back on.”

Helping the teenager back into her tight, blue and black dress was surprisingly fun. She could have done it herself, but Minju didn’t want her father’s hands far from her either. He got to tuck each of her plump globes into her delicate bra, and then hold her steady as she wiggled to stretch the dress over her body once more. Jae growled with frustration when Minju intentionally thrust her hips back and his cock was reminded not to fully deflate.

They checked around for evidence of their time on the terrace before walking over to the railing and looking out over the city. It was the perfect moment; Minju’s lips buzzed at the touch of her father’s, and the breeze rushed through her soft brown hair. Only the dark, impartial skyline was witness to the incredible love both shared and consummated on the hideaway rooftop. And as Jae and his daughter held each other close, they both dreamed that someday they would look back and remember the beautiful place where Minju conceived her father’s child.

Neither of them wanted to leave, but when it was time Minju held her father’s hand and he led her out. Marco showered them with thanks for visiting, kissed Minju’s hand again and Jae and his baby embraced in silence the entire elevator ride back to solid ground.

The way home was mostly quiet. Minju was tired; the wine had finally gotten to her. Plus, she’d always gotten sleepy on car rides home at night. For years, Jae had carried his daughter to her bed after a long night; it appeared this night would be no different.

As the car finally rolled to a stop and Jae turned to step out and circle around the car for his daughter’s door, Minju grabbed his shoulder.

“Can we stay,” the sleepy teenager asked, “just a little longer daddy?”

Even though they were more or less free to be open with each other around the house now, Minju was reluctant to end their date. She was a little worn out by their earlier rooftop tryst, but she wanted her father one more time before they ended the night.

“I want you inside me one more time,” she whispered.

With that, Jae spoke a few words to the driver and then got back in the car. Minju straddled her dad as soon as he was settled. He hadn’t even seen her take off her tiny panties, but he knew she wasn’t wearing them as soon as his tip came back in contact with his daughter’s pussy.

It was like he was back in highschool, having sex in the back of the car. Just like back then, he had a youthful little teen perched on his lap, having sex for the first time in the back seat. Unlike then, she was far more beautiful than any girl he’d ever slept with, and it wasn’t only because Minju was his daughter. Jae was as much in heaven as his adorable, bouncing teenager while she rode him for the second time that night.

He liked fucking her in the tight-fitting dress he’d been admiring all night. It felt good in his hands as he grasped her tightly at the waist where it was bunched up. As they joined at the hips over and over, Jae’s thrusts stronger and more deliberate, the tryst felt hasty and lustful, like neither of them was in full control of their actions and they simply needed each other.

And Minju whimpered when she felt her daddy pumping his plentiful sperm into her for the second time that night. She had smiled widely as he prepared to, hearing him grunt involuntarily and call out her name as she rode him.

For a reason Minju would probably never know, the warm gush of her father’s cum was a trigger for her. All she had to do was clamp her hips down firmly on him so he was buried as far in her pussy as he could be, and when she felt the throb of his penis before it released, she knew to prepare to climax herself. A small wiggle of her hips so that her clit rubbed against the base of her father’s cock would send Minju into a fit of gasping, shuddering and pleasure that seemed to reach every part of her body.

“Does sex always feel like that Daddy?” Minju asked, after she’d collapsed against him and caught her breath.

“Well, sex usually feels good between two people who want it, that’s why it gets people into so much trouble” Jae started. He was thinking back on his life and trying to answer her question truthfully, “but no… It rarely feels as good as it does with you Minju.”

He couldn’t see her face as she was nuzzled into her father’s neck, but Jae could sense that Minju was smiling again. She was obviously satisfied with his answer and she should be, he thought, she was only eighteen and already a goddess after only a few weeks of experience atop him.

“You ready to go in now honey?” Jae asked

“Well, I should probably get off you so your big penis isn’t still in me when we do,” she joked, “but yes, we can go in now. I got what I needed.”

Jae tipped the driver probably far more than he should have, but he was simply in too good a mood. He felt his daughter’s eyes lovingly upon him the whole way in. She was infatuated. And Jae was glad, because he felt the same way.

Eun-ju was watching television in the family room when the two lovers opened the door and stepped inside. She’d been asleep, but her giggling daughter and husband at the door had fixed that. Naturally, she was pissed that they’d had a fun night together. She probably would have been more so if she’d known where they went, but Eun-ju was far from asking about their night.

“I see you got a new dress,” Eun-ju said condescendingly as she walked into the kitchen and saw Minju and her father sharing a glass of water. “Or is it a shirt?”

Minju only scoffed. She could honestly care less what her mom had to say at that point.

In looking at the tiny blue dress and how little it covered of her young daughter’s legs, Eun-ju noticed something else. Not only was their no panty line, but between her teenager’s legs there was something that shouldn’t have been there.

“What is THAT?” Eun-ju asked, incredulous.

Both Jae and Minju froze, but Minju knew immediately what she would be pointing at.

“Oh you mean daddy’s cum?” Minju answered, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. She looked down to see it still slowly making its way down her leg from her bottomless, bare opening.

Eun-ju’s eyes went wide.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll clean it up when I go upstairs. Don’t worry, nobody saw it but you.” The mischievous little Minju continued.

“I don’t care if anyone saw it,” Eun-ju spat, “what is it doing there?”

“Well, you got me on birth control, remember mom?” Minju lied, “I wanted to know what it felt like, so I asked daddy to cum in me in the car before we came in tonight. He did it earlier tonight too, it feels sooooo good!”

Eun-ju looked speechless, and when she did find her words, they weren’t kind.

“You stupid little slut,” she said quietly, “you can still get pregnant if he cums inside you without a condom on, how do you think we had you?”

“Ah ah ah,” Minju warned, “remember what we agreed mom, you can’t talk to me like that. If daddy wants to cum in my pussy, then I want him to too. So get used to it, because I really liked it.”

Minju turned to her dad, who had decided to stay quiet in the midst of his two bickering women. “Thanks daddy, by the way,” she said, giving him a quick kiss, “for dinner, for the wonderful night… I’m gonna go clean up, you made a mess of me!”

Once again, Minju left Jae and his wife standing in the kitchen to deal with the aftermath. For once, Eun-ju didn’t have much to say.

“Great Jae, really great. I hope you’re proud of yourself turning your daughter into a foul-mouthed skank.” Eun-ju said, breaking the silence.

“You know, she’s actually only like that around you. She was a perfect lady all night.”

“A perfect lady! Oh… and your daughter whom you came inside of, right?” Eun-ju asked sarcastically, thinking she’d get a rise out of him.

“I guess that’s true, not only a perfect lady… also an incredible lover too. I guess you really can have it all.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eun-ju said,

“Coming from my two-timing, lesbian wife, I guess I can handle that.” Jae said smugly.

With that, he walked out. Jae joined his daugher in the shower again; she looked so beautiful with water cascading over her and her teenage body all bare and clean for him to touch. His worries and frustration with his wife washed away with each passing second.

“Already daddy?” Minju asked, rubbing water from her eyes and looking down to see her dad hard and sticking right toward her.

“I guess I can’t help it honey, either we need to be apart or you need to find a way to stop being so gorgeous.”

“How about neither?” Minju said, grazing her fingers over his hard cock before wrapping her arms around him and jumping into his grasp. In seconds Jae was back inside his incredible daughter where he belonged.

They made love unabashedly in the shower, washed each other, and prepared for bed. Both were still love-sick and unwilling to be more than a few inches apart, even as they fell asleep.

“It’s been a few hours since the rooftop,” Minju turned her head and whispered as her father spooned her to sleep, “do you think it finally happened?”

Jae knew what she was asking. A long pause followed.

“I think you’re going to be a wonderful mother,” Jae promised her, and Minju fell asleep with a smile and the loving embrace of her father.

#izone #smut #izone smut #minju smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #minju #kpop #izone minju #girl group smut #kactress smut #kactress #actress #kdrama smut

477 notes · View notes

suga-kookiemonster · 2 years ago

Note

ashley i just wanna say that last night i kinda had a lil meltdown and binge read your whole masterlist (again). im so behind on reviews of your works, but i wanted you to know that you are such a great writer. your stories always bring me comfort and make me so happy, especially as a black woman not having to be scared of suddenly being alienated from fiction.

i love the softness and domesticity of want a taste?, the out of this world chemistry of the hush series, the mystery and suspense of cloud nine, and the realistic fun and charming development of ego.

i still have some fics in my trl to get to, but i just know ill love everything by your hand. the evident care and thought you put into every sentence is something ill never be able to praise properly, but ill always thank u for

🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭 this is truly the nicest message and if your goal was to make me cry, you've succeeded 😭 i'm so incredibly honored that you would not only come back to reread my fics, but that you find such a safe space in them, as that was absolutely my intention in a fandom that, mindboggingly, often only pushed white voices and stories. i didn't see myself fitting into many of the available "self-insert" fics, so i chose to write ones where i, and others who look like me, did. it truly warms my heart every time i hear that i've succeeded in that regard. if i haven't done anything in life, at least i've done that 🙌🏾

i hope you continue to enjoy whatever else you find on my page, and that you always remember that you belong here too!! don't let anyone in this fandom make you feel different 💜💜💜 i truly appreciate you, babe, and hope you have a good rest of your week!

#fic: want a taste #fic: ego #fic: cloud nine #fic: hush series #asks

1 note · View note

carminechrollo · 16 days ago

Text

FROM ME TO YOU | miya atsumu x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: A spontaneous winter break trip to Shizuoka with your friends strains your sanity as you try to keep your uncontrollable feelings for Miya Atsumu at bay.

CONTENT WARNING: college au, slice of life, eventual romance, requited unrequited love, miscommunication, mutual pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, light smut (mdni), suggestive themes, snowboarder!kuroo cameo, fic is set in shizuoka japan, mentioned hinata shoyo, intoxication, alcohol, miya atsumu is an idiot, very self indulgent, not beta read.

WORD COUNT: 22,696

NOTES: this is a repost from my previous blog! originally this fic was a 5-chapter series but i decided to post it as a one shot just because haha. divider: uzmacchiato.

‘You never really know when you’ve fallen in love. One day you just wake up and realise that it’s more than just shallow feelings.’

A phrase you’ve heard countless times growing up. You never really understood it well as a believer of love at first sight, thinking that the cliché ‘time slowing down as you see your lover before you’ was all there was to it to fully grasp the concept of love—kind of like in romantic movies where the camera dramatically pans around the main character after seeing their love interest. Every person around you disappearing until all there was left were the two of you, heart racing a little too fast, the nervousness settling in—the whole shebang.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t as climactic as they ought to be in movies—not one soul magically disappeared until it was just the two of you, the time did not, in fact, slow down. If anything, your heart stuttered like crazy, threatening to leap from your rib cage and onto his hands as if they were its home. At least the movies got that one thing right.

It was down right frustrating leading up to the feelings you now had for none other than Miya Atsumu.

Some days were filled with fluttering heart beats, and dreamy sighs—tucking your chin on your palm at the blissful feeling of being infatuated with the blonde male. As if on cloud nine, drifting along the feathery scenery atop a huge ivory cloud, cupid’s bow comfortably pierced right through your heart.

Other days were extremely unbearable, plagued with the ache of yearning, and unwanted jealousy—painfully digging your nails into your palm at the sight of someone else shamelessly flirting with Atsumu. It almost felt like a curse weighed upon you the day you were born, being smitten with a ladies’ man. On days like these, cupid’s bow uncomfortably dug into your heart like a painful itch—awkwardly poking out from your chest like an unconcealed badge saying, ‘Hey, look at me! I have a crush on someone who doesn’t even like me back. How stupid of me!’

Never mind that because the day it finally settled uncomfortably in your bones—that your feelings weren’t mere infatuation—you felt like you were in deep, deep shit. Absolutely fucked with a capital ‘F’ because suddenly the way Atsumu’s laugh sounded was like a sweet, sweet melody; an external stimuli to get your heart racing. The way his eyes crinkled, lashes kissing his cheeks as he laughed at a funny joke, oh, you were weak in the knees.

Your lovesick gaze unceremoniously bore into his handsome face, blissfully unaware of your raging feelings for him. You knew right then and there that love was what you felt for your close friend.

An uncharted territory that you swore to never step foot on, until now.

“You brought your passport?” Kita stared at the mini scarlet document resting between Atsumu’s slender fingers, brows raised with slight amusement. His expressionless question halted the quiet conversation amongst your group, all turning to look at the flustered blonde—his face now matching the colour of the passport in his hand.

“Y-yeah? Are we not supposed ta or somethin’?” Atsumu looked around at the growing amusement between his friends, except for Kita who only closed his eyes in defeat. The former looked over to you for help, honeyed eyes projecting a mix of slight panic and embarrassment, you could only look away in second hand embarrassment, cheeks heated from the eye contact.

“It’s a domestic flight, dumbass!” Osamu lightly smacked his twin on the back of his head, clicking his tongue at the lack of common sense. Before the two could even start their endless bickering, the line moved, signalling the group’s turn. Kita pulled the latter away with him to the check-in counter, saving everyone else’s ears being talked off with the twin’s petty arguments.

Winter break, a convenient time for you and your friends to get together and de-stress from the pressure of university. If anything, it was a purely spontaneous getaway trip to Shizuoka. The trip included a little pit stop to Tokyo for some much needed splurging—totally not your idea—before taking the train back down for Shizuoka.

It all started in the group chat with a lone screenshot from Suna, an on-going deal of inexpensive domestic flights from Hyōgo to Tokyo. There wasn’t even a message attached to the picture, just a wordless tactic in hopes to get the group together for an exciting winter ahead. First to see it was Atsumu, who immediately approved of the idea with an unnecessary amount of exclamation marks tied to his message. Then, it became a domino effect where the rest of the group voiced their interests, including yourself.

Next thing you knew, the five of you were holed up in the twin’s dining table—you and Kita sat on the chairs, laptop on the table with a tab of the itinerary opened, and affordable accomodations in Shizuoka. With a quick transfer of funds from one bank account to another, you all looked forward to spending 4 days outside Hyōgo, 379 kilometres away from home.

Now, the five of you stood in the domestic terminal during the early hours of 7 AM, bound for Haneda Airport. Albeit, a bit sleepy, you were excited, deeming this trip as a little treat for making it through a rather tedious semester.

Sitting in between Suna and Kita, who respectively sat in the window and aisle seats, you took a moment to close your eyes as a muffled announcement from the aeroplane’s captain filled the speakers, the deep hum of the plane’s engines roaring as it moved up the runway, preparing for takeoff. Low murmurs of passengers, and the twin’s deep chatter behind you filled your ears like white noise, focusing on calming your racing heart.

You recounted a few minutes ago where Atsumu had opted to sit next to you, preferably on the window seat before Suna beat him to it, telling the latter that they had designated seats on their ticket, a teasing tongue poking out. ‘Like that matters.’ The blonde muttered, followed by a string of silent curses aimed at his friend before being ushered onto the next row behind by Osamu.

It was always like that with Atsumu and his spontaneity—he had no qualms sitting a row behind when you all had booked your tickets, even saying that he didn’t care wherever he sat as long as he landed in Tokyo in one piece. What drove him to change his mind was beyond your understanding.

Though, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t grasp onto that little hope of possibly sitting next to Atsumu for the whole flight. To your dismay, it dissipated the second you held onto it—all thanks to Suna Rintarou. Nonetheless, you would’ve felt awkward anyway, now that your heart weighed heavy with the burden of being hopelessly in love, and shamelessly pining.

You wouldn’t know how you would’ve acted during the span of 1 hour and 10 minutes; arms touching one another albeit covered in thick layers to fend off cold, and knees dangerously close—your cheeks heated at the thought. Sure, it was nothing intimate but that was Atsumu’s effect on you, and it absolutely drove you up the wall.

It wasn’t like this before, and you felt pathetic.

Gone were the days where you could hold a solid conversation with Atsumu without stuttering, and fidgeting like an idiot—where you were able to freely speak to him without any inhibitions weighing your shoulders. Come to think of it, the last time this probably happened was way back in second-year highschool. You were in second-year college now.

If you were being completely honest, you caught yourself unintentionally placing some distance between you and Atsumu, just a tad bit for the sake of your sanity. Could you really blame yourself? With the way he has been acting indifferent, it did some damage to your poor, poor heart—everyone had their limits and you were bound to reach yours soon enough. Especially with the coming days ahead, seeing him after you wake up, and before going to sleep. All in his glory.

Heavens above, have mercy on your heart.

Suna nudged you awake, head resting on his shoulder for the duration of the flight. You muttered a small apology as he let out a small groan, fingers digging into his padded jacket to massage the tense muscles of his shoulder. “We’re in Tokyo, sleepy head.” Atsumu prodded a finger at your head, poking his tongue out as you turned to face him, as if on cue, your heart stuttered. You could only playfully roll your eyes in response.

Disembarking the plane, and claiming luggages proceeded without a hitch; thankfully, all your hard suitcases were still intact, and not shattered from the rough handling in the airport. After conveniently hailing a jumbo taxi, you were on your way to the heart of Tokyo. Naturally, Kita sat at the front passenger seat, having no trouble exchanging polite conversation with the driver. You and Osamu sat in the middle row while Atsumu and Suna were at the back.

You had to stop yourself from climbing to the back right after Atsumu did so, letting the brunette happily go instead, earning furrowed brows from the former—one that you tried your best to ignore.

The sound of wheels rolling along concrete filled your ears, along with the hustling and bustling of Central Tokyo as the group searched for the nearest luggage storage. A sea of bodies clad in layers of business casual outfits, men and women alike hastily walking to their destinations. The beloved city was adorned with Christmas lights and decorations, radiant hues of red, green, and gold standing out against the dark winter coats locals donned.

That was to be expected, the start of winter break being only a day after Christmas. It always cheered you up in every sense, seeing all sorts of novel decorations put your mind in a better place.

“Alright! Now that’s done, let’s get somethin’ ta eat.” Osamu locked the storage behind him, quickly tucking his hands back inside his trench coat, puffs of white fog leaving his lips with every word spoken. This earned a handful of hums from the rest, without a doubt there was no arguing when it came to eating food.

Atsumu fell into a step beside you, letting out an exaggerated noise as he shuddered from the winter breeze of Tokyo. “Hey. Seems like I haven’t talked ta ya in forever. Y’ avoidin’ me or somethin’?” The blonde teased, all smiles with a tinge of crimson painted on his nose, and cheeks—from the cold, you presumed. The lack of seriousness in his tone put you at a slight ease, at least you didn’t have to start explaining why you were kind of avoiding him.

You shook your head, a genuine laugh leaving your lips as his honeyed eyes met your own, “Me? Never.” This earned a proud smile from your friend, chest puffing in absolute pride underneath the thick layers of winter fabrics.

“Good. I dunno what I’ll do if ya start avoidin’ me.”

His saccharine gaze lingered on your own a little too long for your sanity, all you could do was blink in response, mind flying off into the unknown as your heart picked up its pace yet again. Atsumu’s velvety stare was intense, it was like standing under the blazing sun on a scorching summer day, making you feel all sorts of emotions from A to Z.

Suddenly, the cerulean scarf around your neck felt a tad too restricting, the puffer jacket you wore became awfully warm, and the crisp morning air of Tokyo seemed too thin. Everything felt weird all of a sudden—your skin prickled under his honeyed eyes, getting lost in them as each slow second passed.

“Oi! Are you two coming or not?” Suna’s voice sharply sliced through the enchanting trance you and Atsumu were under, jolting you both back into reality. The rest of them were already far ahead looking into shops for a quick bite, indicating that somewhere down the line, the two of you had stopped walking just to stare into each other’s eyes. How embarrassing.

The latter cleared his throat, embarrassment settling in upon realising the situation at hand. He muttered a quick ‘let’s go’ before starting a slow jog over to the rest of the group, acting like he didn’t just stare into your soul for god knows how many seconds. Slapping your cheeks, and letting out a puff of breath, you headed towards your friends, navigating through the crowded footpath and making sure not to accidentally bump into anyone.

The next few hours consisted of wisely spending money—per Kita’s words—in the heart of Tokyo. Despite endlessly complaining at first, the twins and Suna were soon sucked into the shopping fever. Though, the four of you had to worry about your luggages back at the storage, resulting in only buying items that you desperately wanted, and essentials. This unfortunately led to almost being late to the scheduled Shinkansen you all had previously booked, the only option was to quickly run back to the luggage storage, and up the train station just in time before the train had to leave.

Everyone did their best to keep their heavy breathing in check, trying not to come off as rude to other passengers as well as saving yourselves from the embarrassment of unsolicited stares. You relaxed on the azure seat beneath, situated between the window and Kita—who sat in between you and Atsumu while the other two were on the next row over.

Your gaze turned to the large window beside you, overlooking the opposing platform as the engine of the Shinkansen quietly whirred, signalling the impending departure. Due to the non-rush hour at the quiet time of 1:57 PM, it wasn’t packed at all, only a few commuters coming in and out of the station to get on with their day-to-day routine. As the Shinkansen slowly advanced to full speed, the outside view quickly turned into a mix of blurred hues; tall buildings decorating Central Tokyo gradually turned into greenery and suburban areas.

The afternoon sun peeked from the winter ivory clouds, seeping into the window to cast a radiant, warm glow upon the three of you. A subtle reflection of Atsumu’s peaceful profile projected on the glassy window, enabling you to carefully trace each and every detail of his handsome features—the slope of his nose, flaxen strands framing his face, and those rosy pink lips you’ve always longed to touch with your own.

Tucking your chin atop a palm, you shamelessly stared at your friend’s reflection through the window—you watched as his honeyed eyes focused on the scenery before him, angling his head your way to get a good look of the view. Atsumu’s lips ever so slightly pursed with pure fascination, his Adam's apple bobbing with awe, you presumed with the speed of the Shinkansen.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Staring a little hard, aren’t we?” You were met with Kita’s warm gaze as you whipped your head around, albeit, rather quickly as if caught doing something you shouldn’t be. His stare held a hint of mischief—something that rarely ever occurred which caused your cheeks to shamelessly heat up. The man wasn’t even fully teasing you or anything—not that he normally did so—but it roused quite a reaction from you: fidgeting at the hem of your jacket, gaze avoiding Kita’s expectant ones, the slight part of your lips, not to mention the small stutter your heart did but you weren’t going to let him know. Absolutely not.

On the other hand, Atsumu stared out the same window, albeit, not directly at the view outside but rather at the reflection of your side profile on the glassy panel as you animatedly explained yourself to Kita. He couldn’t hear what the two of you were talking about as he resorted to using wireless earbuds a few moments ago, blocking out the white noise.

Atsumu let out a small chuckle—one that was drowned by the hum of the Shinkansen—as he admired you from the window, a subtle smile involuntarily forming at the look of your flustered state. How adorable. Naturally, his eyes drifted down to your plush lips as it moved with every spoken word; Atsumu could only fantasise the feeling of it against his own. The blonde swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before letting out a small huff, and closing his eyes shut—stubbornly depriving himself of your beauty.

More than a few times in the past, Atsumu has caught himself shamelessly wandering along the borders of ‘friends’ and ‘lovers’, brazenly walking along the fine line that split the two territories—as a matter of fact, in his eyes, the line was so damn thin that it almost appeared blurry. Dangerously blurry. But Atsumu was a thrill seeker, and would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to venture out into the uncharted territory called ‘lovers’.

For as long as he could remember, Atsumu has been patiently sitting by this uncharted territory—endlessly waiting for the day where he’d finally be able to cross that line without any hesitation in his bones. It was delusional of him, really, because at the very back of his mind—carefully tucked and hidden—Atsumu knew he probably didn’t stand a chance. That one day, he’d helplessly watch another man effortlessly cross the line.

He could only hope that was him.

Fortunately, the rest of the train ride was peaceful until Mount Fuji came into view from the distance; the stratovolcano proudly stood in all its icy glory, looking over Shizuoka and Yamanashi—its snow-capped tip slightly peeking from a blanket of clouds. The five of you didn’t hesitate to pull out your phones to start taking photos of the famed mountain, all amazed by its conical form.

After a few more clicks of the symbolic Fujisan, with selfies here and there, the train finally arrived in Shizuoka Station—greeted by the city’s skyline surrounded by impressive sights of nature. Hauling your respective mini luggages, and shopping bags from Tokyo, the five of you, surprisingly, made it to the hotel—located in the heart of Shizuoka—only a stone’s throw from the train station.

Greeted with a homey view, the hotel’s vast foyer was warmly lit, decorated with artificial plants here and there along with lots of comfortable spaces to sit on. Faint jazz music filled the rather deserted place, footsteps along its marbled ivory floors echoing loudly. Kita, and Osamu made their way to the counter—the latter only trailing behind to inquire about amenities—whereas Suna beelined for the nearest toilet, leaving you and Atsumu on luggage duty.

Great.

The blonde unceremoniously plopped down next to you, cream-coloured couch groaning beneath his weight as he yawned, pairing it with a full body stretch. How cute. It reminded you of a cat stretching right after waking up, face scrunched and all. Atsumu sat way too close for your liking, the heat of his right side spilling onto your left—it wasn’t even a comfortable kind of warmth, no, it mirrored the intensity of a hot, sunny day. Despite the lack of skin contact, his touch lit your body with a searing blaze. You scratched at your neck, the familiar prickling sensation coming back for the nth time.

It was awfully quiet, the crisp winter air turning thick, and awkward as each slow second passed. All of a sudden, the wooden coffee table before you looked rather interesting, eyes tracing its natural surface pattern. It didn’t look this cool a few seconds ago. The faint jazz music still played from the hotel speakers, a mocking symbol of the lack of conversation between you and Atsumu.

The latter awkwardly cleared his throat, hand coming up to rub at his nape—a nervous habit he’s picked up, and you knew that too. He turned his mind upside down, and inside out to think of anything just to clear the somewhat awkward air between the two of you but his thoughts fell short. For the first time in a while, Atsumu was rendered speechless. When did it get like this?

“We should do a bike tour. I saw an ad for one outside just before we came in.” Suna strode over to the two of you, hands snug inside his pockets. “I think it's like a 3-hour tour, though.” He muttered before pulling his phone out, mindlessly scrolling on it.

“Won’t it be snowy?” Osamu replied from behind with Kita trailing closely, room keys and a pamphlet in hand. “Shizuoka has very little snowfall. I think we’ll be fine.” The ivory-haired male interjected, earning a hum from Suna. Before the group could further discuss today’s plans, you spoke up, “I can’t even ride a bike.”

“Ditto.” Atsumu groaned. “Well. Technically, I can. Jus’ a bad experience from childhood. Haven’t gotten on one since then and not about ta start now.” The male beside you shrugged whereas his twin chuckled at the recollection. Must’ve been quite a memory for the two, you presumed.

You shook your head, reassuring the group, “Don’t mind me. I can rest up a bit while you all go out.” It wasn’t much of a big deal, anyway. Plus, a good 3-hour nap sounded like absolute heaven to you right now, especially after waking up early this morning. It was only the first day of the trip, and there were more planned activities ahead with the group so you didn’t mind.

The door to the hotel room opened up to a cosy, expansive suite inspired by traditional tearoom elements in Japanese-style—gasping at the intricate vases and traditional scrolls that decorated the room. The suite included two Tatami rooms—excluding the small kitchen, and living room—adorned with cosy futons. Overlooking the vast city of Shizuoka, it gave a sense of luxury amongst the homey vibes of the room.

A few shuffling here, and there, the group agreed to part ways for a bit, and reconvene for dinner—Suna, Kita, and Osamu headed for the bike tour whereas you and Atsumu stayed behind for a much needed peaceful rest. If peaceful was even the word to describe it.

“We’ll see ya at dinner. Have fun.” Osamu shot his brother a look, one that made you stop in your tracks. A subtle smirk was plastered all over the former’s face which looked just like the usual smile Atsumu gave, it didn’t help how Osamu looked exactly like him. What the hell?

A resounding thud reverberated throughout the walls as the door shut behind the silver-haired male. There was a slight pause, a heartbeat of silence before Atsumu turned to you, hands on his hips, mirroring the smirk his brother gave just a few seconds ago. You gulped, meeting his honeyed gaze.

“Looks like it’s just me and ya with three hours ta spare, huh?”

Three hours with Miya Atsumu. Alone. How convenient.

“Anyone notice the weird tension between those two or is it just me?” Suna shuddered, rubbing his gloved hands together in hopes for extra warmth. Shizuoka wasn’t graced by deep snowfall but the afternoon temperatures still dipped low enough to have locals dressing thick enough to brave the winter breeze.

The brunette recounted the moment in the hotel lobby where he found the two of you situated side-by-side on the couch, looking rather on edge—the slight bounce of Atsumu’s leg, and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip.

Osamu snickered, cheeks blanketed with a tinge of pink from the iciness of the city,

“Maybe yer jus’ imaginin’ things.”

Clearly it was a sarcastic remark, his tone dripped with irony that it—almost—eerily sounded like Atsumu. For a brief moment, Suna thought so too, and did a quick, discreet glance at his friend just to make sure it was the correct twin. Being a nonchalant character, Suna had developed a habit of looking up from his phone whenever one of the Miya twins spoke just to make sure he wasn’t conversing with the wrong one—the twins loved to play that prank.

“Best not ta interfere whatever is goin’ on between ‘em. They’ll sort it out like mature adults.” Kita spoke up, tucking his hands inside his pocket. Curious as he was at the odd situation between the both of you, he didn’t want to meddle—it was something you and Atsumu had to deal with, alone.

Mature adults, huh.

Two options. Your mind came up with two options to choose from, albeit, not really sensible: 1. Stay holed up in your own room for the whole three hours, and steer absolutely clear from Miya Atsumu, and that weird look on his stupidly handsome face. 2. Or leave the shared suite to explore the heart of Shizuoka on your own, leaving him all alone.

But, there was a secret, third option: Face this situation like a mature adult, and act like civilised people for goodness sake.

Your mind scolded you—or was that your heart?

“. . Yeah, guess so.” You awkwardly cleared your throat, tugging at the ends of the fluffy cerulean fabric wrapped around your neck. The room was way too quiet, each mocking tick of the ivory wall clock filling the growing void between you and Atsumu.

“So. .” “Hm . . ?”

The blonde shifted his weight from one leg to the other, caramel gaze never leaving your own. “What do ya feel like doin’?” He continued, a hint of unsureness in his tone. Atsumu was rarely unsure but he didn’t know when he had started questioning every single action he did when it came to conversing with you—it almost felt like the blonde was walking on eggshells, not because he was afraid of your reaction but the fact that in his mind, he seemed like he was bothering you even if he knew he wasn’t.

It’s scary to think how one’s mind worked absolute wonders to not only self sabotage but also to re-think one’s actions, especially if it involved love.

The day Miya Atsumu realised his feelings transitioned into something deeper—unlike you—he welcomed it with open arms, and no regrets; as if he was able to foresee what the future held, the blonde knew this would eventually happen, and he accepted it in a heartbeat despite being fully aware of the fact that his feelings may not be reciprocated.

It was a rather quick realisation.

Naturally, whenever Atsumu’s admirers approached after another tough match to congratulate him, he’d bask in their endless strings of praises, effectively inflating his ego, and pride as a volleyball player. It became second nature to him at this point—hands on hips, honeyed eyes closed, head nodding along to every single word thrown his way.

But after a particular game back in third-year highschool, it didn’t feel the same anymore. Atsumu’s ego, and pride didn’t blossom inside his chest, no sense of accomplishment engulfed his body despite the high praises—inside one ear, and out the other. He didn’t pay attention nor relished it for even a second because all he needed after a tiring game was your validation, and praise.

Atsumu didn’t just need it, he yearned for it, and didn’t dare question what his heart wanted. Instead, he came into terms with the enclosed beast inside his ribcage, the feeling of uncertainty looming behind his back like a fox waiting to pounce.

“Mhm. Not too sure, you?” You replied, awkwardly stretching your arms above your head, feigning calmness. In reality, your heart pounded like crazy, praying it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear it.

For a split second, Atsumu thought keeping to yourselves might be the best option for now but the idea dissipated as quickly as it formed—he wasn’t about to chicken out. At the end of the day, your friendship came way before he developed these stupid feelings for you. So he thought of a different idea,

“How ‘bout we explore a bit? Y’ down for that?” Atsumu really hoped that you’d say yes to him—in every sense of the word—because it’s been quite a while since the two of you spent alone time together, and he missed the good old days where feelings didn’t complicate the situation. Not to mention your strange actions as of late, albeit subtle, Atsumu was one to always notice a slight shift in a person’s behaviour—especially when directed towards him.

Oh, he’s noticed the way you slightly held back from conversing or even standing next to him—the hesitancy laced in every action, each a careful, calculated move as if navigating through a field of mines. It raised concern in Atsumu’s mind; what if you somehow found out he loves you more than a friend, and distance was your humble way of showing him you didn’t feel the same?

He hoped that wasn’t the case. Atsumu held hope that maybe you liked him back too, and it was your way of navigating through those feelings. Fingers crossed.

“Sure. I don’t feel like staying holed in here, anyway.” Liar. That was the first idea you thought of.

Atsumu could almost jump for joy when you agreed but instead, he shot you a warm smile, deliberately ignoring the way his heartbeat picked up as soon as you nodded; he could already imagine the two of you falling into a step along the chilly streets of Shizuoka as the sun slowly dipped into the horizon—hues of oranges, and pinks decorating the winter sky.

Okay, maybe, the first thing you thought of was to help your poor heart, and avoid Atsumu until dinner but that didn’t mean you were immune to him—who were you to turn down the opportunity of getting some alone time with him? As scary as it sounded, you found yourself looking forward to it.

Engulfed by the cold afternoon breeze, you shuddered, burying the bottom half of your face beneath the azure scarf wrapped around your neck as you fell into a step with Atsumu, the hotel’s automatic glass doors closing behind the two of you. The latter instinctively moved closer at your response to the cold—clothed arm brushing against your own.

You didn’t say anything nor moved away, instead, you let him come closer despite the raging butterflies in your stomach, and a thundering heartbeat. If anything, the small gesture put Atsumu’s heart at ease.

Today’s destination for the next few hours was Sumpu Castle Park—after some thoughtful decision with Atsumu—paired with a little pitstop to a local convenience for some much needed sweet treat. Despite the dropping temperatures of the late afternoon, the blonde next to you had made his ice cream cravings known. Truthfully, he’s so lovesick that even walking next to you got his body burning with unspeakable emotions, thus the need for a cold treat.

After returning a polite greeting to the clerk, Atsumu beelined for the self-service ice cream, a hint of urgency laced in every step, determination engraved in his caramel eyes. It made you chuckle a bit, clearly oblivious to the reason.

“You should put more.” You spoke, watching the way the vanilla soft serve swirled onto the paper cup Atsumu held, the other hand carefully pulling onto the lever. The latter looked over his shoulder, honeyed eyes tinged with slight tease as he found your gaze, “It’s priced by weight, ya know. Why? Ya wanna share this with me?” A slight smirk painted his handsome face, and boy was that enough to render you speechless.

Just the thought of sharing an ice cream with Atsumu made you all warm inside. There may or may not have been an imaginary scene in your mind where the blonde happily gives you a scoop from his own spoon—god, you felt dizzy. It took all your willpower to keep the corners of your lips in check, making sure they didn’t curl up at his words.

“No, I meant. .” You trailed off, voice dissipating into the thin winter air, wracking one’s brain to find any appropriate sentence that came into mind—one that didn’t peek into the untouched emotions you had for Atsumu.

The blonde let out a velvety laugh, brows shooting up in amusement at your flustered form. Adorable as always. He didn’t say anything else, instead, he turned back around to decorate the treat in his hand with toppings, lightly humming to the faint music of the convenience store. On the other hand, you stood rooted on the spot—mentally facepalming, unsure as to what even brought about the sentence earlier.

With the awkward situation forgotten, you and Atsumu were en route to Sumpu Castle Park—of course, he didn’t live it down for the first few minutes, asking if you wanted some ice cream with that teasing look on his face, “Sure ya don’t want any? Seemed like ya were really eyein’ it back at the store.” You playfully rolled your eyes in response, gaze lingering a little too long on the spoon he held.

As tempting as it sounded, you held yourself back.

The two of you walked along the streets of Shizuoka in silence, occasional hums from the blonde next to you as he relished the saccharine soft serve melting on his tongue. The only difference now was it wasn’t as awkward as your mind thought it would be—the silence was comfortable. Blending into the quotidian noises of the city as each step neared the destination; the low hum of cars passing by, distant conversations of the locals, birds singing atop leafless trees—you let it comfortably engulf your senses.

It was silly to think how love blinded you in ways you couldn’t comprehend, most importantly, forgetting the fact that Atsumu was still your close friend. The friend who didn’t hesitate to console you after your first bad grade in university, the friend who listened to all your rants, the friend who accompanied you in the library whenever he had time.

Love had twisted your perception so much to the point where you were almost running away from Atsumu, ignoring the fact that he’s still your friend, after all. It was silly, really, and this little moment between the two of you made you realise how foolishly blind you’ve been acting.

But then again, it was a double-edged sword. If you let yourself get too comfortable with Atsumu, you’d possibly end up with a broken heart. On the other hand, if you distanced yourself too much, it’d heavily strain the friendship.

Which risk you were willing to take was something you’ve been pondering.

Sounds of Atsumu’s laughter filled your ears, it pulled you out of trance, the city’s noises muted, as if left far, far behind.

“Samu and I didn’t even go ahead with the plan but we got a heck of a scoldin’ from Kita!” You looked to the side, watching as the blonde tipped his head back to let out a hearty laugh, reminiscing the old highschool days. The low afternoon sun casted a golden shadow on his side profile, illuminating his caramel eyes, and flaxen strands.

The citrine glow gently traced Atsumu’s features—from his thick brows, all the way down to his rosy lips, and everything in between. For a brief moment, you envied the winter sun for brazenly kissing every bit of his face before you ever could.

You subtly shook your head, snapping out of it before your gaze fell on the corner of his mouth, a smudge of ice cream lightly coating it.

“You have a bit of ice cream here.”

Atsumu raised his brows, eyeing you point at the corner of your mouth, a hint of amusement in your gaze. The former darted out his tongue, lightly licking at the spot in hopes to wipe it away. You watched for a few seconds as he struggled to reach the spot, a small smile forming on your lips—Atsumu looked absolutely silly but you’d have to admit, he was still devastatingly handsome.

Sighing, you grabbed the serviette—that he got from the convenience store—tucked between his fingers, and angled his face right before your own, mere inches apart. Both hands absentmindedly cupped Atsumu’s jaw, gaze fixated on his mouth as you carefully wiped the ice cream off his face.

The blonde froze, his jaw taut beneath your hands. You were close, too damn close that you took up his field of view—not that he was complaining. It felt like time slowed down, and he could only hear his short breaths, and thumping heart; Atsumu watched your gaze beneath your lashes, the way your lips pursed in concentration.

As you pulled away, suddenly everything came back to him—the soft murmurs of Shizuoka, the wintry breeze, the cup in his hand. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a puff of ivory mist clouding his view for a second as he composed himself—or at least tried to. Your searing touch lingered on Atsumu, he could almost blindly trace an outline of your hands from where they were a few seconds ago.

A clear of his throat sliced through the growing silence before he muttered a small ‘thanks’. You could only nod in response, not trusting your voice.

The rest of the walk turned a bit awkward but thankfully not for long as the castle grounds came into view, earning gasps of awe from the both of you—the ice cream incident long forgotten, and Atsumu’s finished cup thrown in the bin. The historic ivory walls, and coal-black Kawara tiles was definitely a sight to see—greeted with a wooden bridge situated atop still waters that led to the Higashi Gomon Gate.

After paying for the admission fee, you and Atsumu didn’t hesitate to explore the castle grounds—you two were greeted with snippets of Shizuoka’s great history; the statue of the honoured retired shogun, replicas of his armour, and clips & information about the castle’s materials.

Soon, you found yourselves outside, surrounded in vast winter greeneries, a lake situated in the middle of it all. Despite being in the middle of winter, Momijiyama garden was unique for its seasonal displays—endless trees filled with hues of pinks, and reds from camellias decorated the traditional garden.

Atsumu glanced sideways at you, eyes sparkling with awe as you scanned the entirety of the serene place. Your expressions were infectious, a small smile forming on his face as he stared at you longer.

“D’ya want a picture? I don’t mind takin’ some. ‘M no Suna but I’ll try m’best.” The blonde offered, jutting his arms out for your phone.

You hesitated for a bit before giving him the device. Sure, there were no problems when it came to posing for pictures, it was the fact that Atsumu was the one taking them. The latter positioned himself to get the best possible view of the garden—all of a sudden, you didn’t know how to smile naturally; everything felt stiff, and awkward.

He let out a hearty laugh, honeyed eyes glued to your miniature form on the screen. You looked awkward as hell but Atsumu found it absolutely adorable.

“W-what? Why are you laughing?” You let out a huff before turning away, trying to cover yourself from any more photos, clearly flustered at his sudden reaction.

“Ah, hey, don’t go hidin’ yer face now! I was jus’ tryna make you smile.” Atsumu waved a dismissive hand, a big smile plastered on his handsome face as he kept taking photos.

You shook your head and posed accordingly, ignoring the fact that your heart hammered on your chest, and the way Atsumu’s smile widened in your cooperation—caramel eyes sparkling with adoration.

After a few more clicks, a much needed rest was due. The two of you sat on a bench near the lake—Atsumu scanned the view before him while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, checking the photos taken mere minutes ago. Most of the photos were of you looking away, clearly camera shy, and stiff but ones that caught your eye were pictures of you smiling at the camera—at Atsumu.

The expressions on your face were genuine, and relaxed. You took a mental note to post those ones later.

The time spent with Atsumu enlightened your heart a bit, it made you realise that he was still your friend despite the way your chest tightened around him—that it was unfair for him to be cluelessly met with distance from your end. After all, you weren’t teenagers anymore.

Something had been weighing heavily in the back of Atsumu’s mind, and he didn’t know how to bring it about. The blonde stared at the mixed hues of green before him, as if looking to the trees would somehow tell him how to start the conversation.

Ah, fuck it. “So, how’s it goin’ with that special someone?”

Looking up from your phone, you furrowed your brows, wracking your brain for context—ah, right. One drunken night, after a particularly dreadful exam, you’d accidentally told Atsumu about having feelings for a certain someone. You thanked the heavens that you didn’t start name-dropping but it got the latter way too curious fir your liking—little did he know, that was about him.

“Hm? Ah, you know . . Same old same old.” Your heart raced, wishing he didn’t pry any further. Atsumu noticed the way you fiddled with your fingers, so he remained silent, an invitation to either let the topic drop or carry it on at your will.

“I do have this crazy idea, though . .” A whisper, enough for Atsumu to hear. He nodded, all ears, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. “I’ll probably confess to him with rejection in mind. I know he doesn’t have feelings . . Plus, I’m doing myself a favour so I can finally move on.” You let out a puff of ivory mist, heart weighing heavy at the thought of rejection.

Rejection from the very man who sat next to you.

Atsumu slowly nodded, trying his best to comprehend your thoughts. He’s never heard of that before—confessing just to move on from one’s feelings. Usually, when one confessed, they had a relationship in mind. He opened his mouth, not really knowing why or how this question came to be,

“Hypothetically, what if they say they like ya back?” Atsumu angled his torso towards you, a strange glint in his honeyed eyes as he met your gaze—was it desperation? Curiosity? You’d never know.

“Mhm. I don’t know. I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

You nod.

What a liar.

It was far more complicated, really. Sure, it would’ve been easy to have feelings if it was some random stranger from a lecture but this was Miya Atsumu you were talking about—a close friend you’ve grown to love platonically, and romantically. Just the mere fact of confessing could strain the friendship, so you had to tread carefully.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

The possibility of having your feelings reciprocated weren’t exactly zero to none but you also didn’t know if getting into a relationship with Atsumu was something you should be doing. In all honesty, you were scared shitless.

Atsumu nodded once again. He took a mental note of your words, not knowing what to make of it.

The walk to the agreed restaurant was silent—the sun fully dipped into the horizon, leaving hues of blues, and pinks in the winter sky of Shizuoka City. Warm lights slowly filled the darkening streets as locals began heading home, some opting to eat dinner out.

Atsumu seemed to be eerily quiet, and in deep thought for the duration of the walk. You, on the other hand, were busy conversing with Suna on the phone—who had been asking your whereabouts. You chalked it up to tiredness since you all had an early morning, and explored nonstop.

“An’ here I thought ya both got lost on the way.” Osamu waved the two of you over. The three of them stood just outside the restaurant, patiently waiting in the cold. “Ya could’ve jus’ went inside ya know.” Atsumu snickered.

The five of you were ushered to your booth, conversations of today filled your ears as Osamu filled his brother in about the bike tour with occasional photos shown by Suna.

Atsumu was the first to slide into the booth, meeting your gaze for a brief moment. You saw that as an invitation to sit next to him but as you were mere seconds from doing so, he spoke up, patting the wooden bench beneath—ignoring the way you looked at him.

“Suna, come sit ‘ere. I wanna see more of yer photos from the tour.”

Oh.

Sliding next to Kita on the opposite bench—followed by Osamu—you awkwardly cleared your throat, a very weird feeling settling deep in your chest after the odd encounter.

Surely it was nothing—you hoped it was nothing but somehow, you didn’t believe yourself.

Engulfed by the warmth of the restaurant’s heater the group patiently waited for dinner to be served. Low murmurs of fellow customers, the rusty bell at the door sounding with every new person coming in, and the sounds of utensils surrounded you.

Atsumu, and Suna were engrossed in a conversation about the bike tour earlier whereas the other side of the booth—Kita, You, and Osamu kept to yourselves, either by mindlessly reading the menu or scrolling on your phones, tiredness taking over your bodies.

Placing your phone face-down on the wooden table beneath, you let out a small sigh before rubbing at your eyes, gaining one’s silvery gaze.

The little interaction with Atsumu earlier could pass off as nothing but your mind worked in a different way—it worked hard to make every day a little inconvenient for you, whether you liked it or not.

Maybe, he just didn’t want to sit next to you anymore because the two of you spent the last three hours stuck together. A totally valid reason but why was it eating you away? You couldn’t help but feel a sense of oddness to it.

Unaware of your natural habit to stare at Atsumu through your lashes, you carefully watched his face—the way his expressions changed to mirror the topic at hand, the scrunch of his nose, the twitch of the corners of his lips, the shallow dimple on his right cheek whenever he smiled, the flaxen strands that kissed his forehead accentuating his face

All of it was seared in your mind. Funny how he was sitting next to Suna yet it was as if he faded along with everyone else—a distant whitenoise long forgotten.

God, you could look at him all day.

A subtle, involuntary smile formed upon your lips, eyes gleaming beneath the warm lighting of the restaurant as if there were heart-shaped sparkles in them.

As if by instinct, you snapped out of the trance, a burning gaze boring into the side of your face. Looking over to the right, you were met with Osamu’s steely gaze, his brows slightly furrowed—his stare weighed heavy with questions, ones that you probably didn’t want to answer.

Amusement was written all over his face as he narrowed his silvery eyes at you, his pupils scanned your panicked face—the way your brows rose, eyes widened, and lips parted. The corners of Osamu’s lips twitched with smugness. He had a knowing look on his face, one that you absolutely didn’t like; each silent second passed with your thrumming heart, feeling small under the twin’s judging gaze. Osamu wasn’t born yesterday, he knew exactly what your expression conveyed, an expression that he’s seen countless of times whether it was directed to him or his twin brother.

“You need something?” You asked, feigning nonchalance.

God, it was painfully obvious that you were trying your best to act indifferent, even the tone of your voice betrayed you—it was airy and awkward. The younger twin stared at you for another heart beat before shaking his head, letting out a light chuckle.

Osamu dropped it at that as he returned to the device in his hand for entertainment, leaving you sitting there in total confusion. Though, the feeling dissipated as quickly as it settled as your mind slowly pieced the situation together.

Oh my goodness. He totally caught you staring at Atsumu with heart eyes.

You sat there, between Kita and Osamu as embarrassment pierced through your skin, and into your bones—an unsettling feeling that was all kinds of wrong. Suddenly, the warm atmosphere of the restaurant uncomfortably prickled at your clothed skin, hands eager to claw at its itchiness as the air turned heavy.

The thought of telling someone about your feelings for Atsumu was already a complete nightmare, and you could only imagine how much of a disaster it would be if his twin knew. Not only would Osamu probably tell him but would most likely tell the other guys as well—something called bro code?

You were always aware of the fact that the four were closer to each other, and shared ‘guy secrets’ with one another but you weren’t one to complain. Sometimes, they couldn’t understand your gossips & rants, and vice versa; after all, their thought process worked very differently from yours.

Endless thoughts raced through your mind as you stared at the wooden table in front, the white noise slowly fading into nothingness as each chaotic thought filled the corners of your head.

He absolutely figured me out, right? Now he knows I have feelings for Atsumu, and then he’ll probably tell him and Atsumu will probably know, and then—

“Thank you for the meal!”

The loud exclamation of your friends sliced through your train of thought, not even realising that the meals ordered had already been set atop the wooden table. With the unpleasant thoughts tucked neatly at the back of your mind for later, you dug into the hot meal before you.

The whole table remained quiet, except for sounds of chewing, and slurping as everyone filled their stomachs with food. It was understandable, everyone had a long, tiring day of moving from one city to another—not to mention the duration of each trip.

You quickly glanced over at Atsumu who was busy chowing down his own noodles, forehead creased with concentration as he chewed, cheeks bulging with food.

Oh, the sight alone did numbers to your heart. If only you could pull out your phone, and snap a photo of his silly face right then, and there.

“Don’t forget ta sleep early tonight. We’ve our snowboarding first thing in the mornin’.” Kita pointedly looked at the twins who only bowed their head in response, eyes glued to their own food as if it was the most interesting thing they’ve seen all day.

The decision to try out snowboarding was something out of the blue, despite all five of you having no snowboarding experience. You all decided that doing a new activity during this trip would be fun since everyone was on the same boat—you were already looking forward to tomorrow which would no doubt be full of falling, and slipping down the snowy slopes.

As the five of you fell into a mellow conversation, the pink winter skies of Shizuoka City slowly turned darker, and darker until lone stars decorated the night sky. The streets were now fully illuminated by warm hues of oranges, and yellows, devoid of any people.

The walk back to the hotel sobered you up a bit from the warmness of the restaurant, the frigid night air engulfing your body the minute you walked out the doors.

The twins fell into a step ahead of the group, bickering about who gets to shower first, which unsurprisingly turned into a racing contest where the winner would be graced with being the first one to hit the warm waters.

“Ugh, I don’t get how they still have so much energy.” Suna groaned, tucking the lower half of his face beneath the fuzzy scarf wrapped around his neck. You chuckled in response, looking up from your phone to gaze at the twins as they ran ahead into the night, reduced into nothing but silhouettes.

The brunette leaned closer to you, staring at the device in your hand, “Oh, the place looks cool. Atsumu was telling me about it.” He hummed, watching you scroll across each photo that Atsumu took earlier. Before you could reply to agree, Suna opened his mouth once again, and pointed a gloved digit to your screen,

“Woah, you look really happy on that one.” He chuckled.

Out of curiosity, Kita also leaned in to get a good look of the picture Suna was talking about—you were facing the camera, background showing the stunning hues of Momijiyama garden; a bright smile plastered across your face.

“Atsumu took that picture?”

You hummed, earning a slow nod from the older male, as if hinting something. God, Kita always looked like he knew something and nothing at the same, and it drove you up the wall. Ever since this morning, he had been acting a little off, albeit subtle, you caught on. You were starting to think that maybe you weren’t so secret about your feelings for Atsumu after all.

You gave yourself a few moments to really take in that particular photo—it tugged at your heartstrings.

Did you really look that happy in Atsumu’s presence?

A few minutes later, the three of you were greeted with a red-faced Atsumu who unceremoniously lay on the couch, legs spread wide open, and arms atop his stomach. The faint sound of running water from one of the rooms could also be heard, most likely Osamu taking a warm shower.

“You lost the race?” Suna snickered, plopping himself on the floor, in front of the couch. The blonde, grunted in response—he acted such a sore loser whenever his twin beat him in something.

Clearly old habits die hard.

You remembered each time Osamu came out as the victor every time the twins challenged one another back in highschool. Atsumu would have the biggest frown on his face, thick brows tightly knitted together, and to top it off, a sour mood that none could handle except his other half.

The first time you witnessed it with your own eyes, you thought of how childish his behaviour was. Though, that quickly grew into something you loved about him—Atsumu’s own little charm; the way his bottom lip ever so slightly jutted out into a pout, velvety voice coming out in whines.

Adorable would be an understatement.

Who knew that the behaviour you used to find annoying could turn into the one you loved the most about him?

“You can use the shower in my room. . I don’t mind waiting.” You spoke up, sitting on the wooden dining chair, feigning nonchalance. For the first time that night, Atsumu’s honeyed gaze met your own.

You didn’t miss the way his brows subtly rose, and the tinge of pink on his ears. Oh god, Atsumu didn’t know why his mind wandered all the way to . . shameful thoughts—you weren’t even suggesting anything, just plainly telling him that the shower in your room was available. So why did he just picture the two of you—

The blonde squirmed atop the sofa, shaking his head, “‘S okay. I don’ mind waitin’ for ‘Samu.” He shrugged, completely avoiding your eye gaze by pulling out his device.

Nodding at his reply, you retired to your own room to take a shower and prepare for the night ahead. A soft thud filled the room as you closed the shōji behind you, blocking out Atsumu’s voice as he conversed with Suna, and Kita. The room faintly smelled of grass, and straw, a scent of nostalgia embracing you like warm rays on a sunny morning.

You weren’t going to lie, it felt a little lonely to occupy the room all to yourself knowing that the four were going to be sleeping side by side on their respective futons. Nonetheless, this was your safe haven for the next few days—a space where you could unmask the hidden feelings that lay deep beneath, and be alone with your thoughts.

To say that hiding your feelings for Atsumu didn’t affect you at all would be a sweet, sweet lie—keeping one’s emotions at bay around him almost felt like a sport, and you weren’t winning at all.

After taking a much needed warm shower to clear your mind, and rinse away the unwanted feelings of today, you tucked yourself beneath the ivory kakebuton, and settled for the night—the mellowed hum of Shizuoka City lulling you to sleep.

The dream you had was weird—it was about Atsumu; everything was hazy, and incoherent, as if a distant memory neatly tucked in the back of your mind but you knew one thing, it felt like home. One minute the two of you were laughing about something—head tossed back, and face angled to the skies above, the next minute you were confessing to him.

Unfortunately, you never got Atsumu’s answer as you were gently awoken by Kita who had probably been whispering your name for a good minute now.

As you came to, he leaned back, and sat on his haunches. Warm light seeped from the parted shōji, illuminating the side of his face. Hushed conversations from the living room filled your ears, soft footsteps padding to, and fro around the suite.

“We’ll wait for ya t’ get ready, ‘n then we’ll all grab breakfast downstairs.” He gave your drowsy state one last look before sliding the shōji behind him, leaving you alone—darkness occupying your room once again.

You were greeted with your friends scattered around the living room; the twins were busy having a push-up contest near the hallway to the door, Suna was on his phone sprawled on the couch, angling the device towards the twins—without a doubt, taking a video of them—whereas Kita leaned on the wall, also occupied with his phone.

Everyone was clad in much warmer clothes than yesterday due to the activity ahead but you all ditched the trench coats, and opted for waterproof puffer jackets. You noticed the raven beanie Atsumu donned, bits of flaxen strands peeking from beneath the knitted accessory.

Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat at his boyish appearance.

After a warm, hearty complimentary breakfast, the five of you were enroute to the ski area after briefly waiting for the shuttle. It was the early hours of 6 AM—Shizuoka was still asleep with the dark sky watching over the city. Occasional sounds of early birds humming, and crickets chirping engulfed you along with the frigid breeze.

It was a calm, still morning.

Though, you felt weird inside—it was like the feeling of the calm before the storm. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about but it involved a certain blonde twin.

You had your suspicions during breakfast back at the hotel—albeit, not a concrete conclusion—where Atsumu was quieter than usual. He was surprisingly reserved, and meek, keeping to himself as the group around him conversed about anything, and everything; he wore a weird expression, as if he was trying his best to hide the true emotions that lay beneath.

Normally, no matter the time, Atsumu never ran out of words to say—even when he had to attend the dreadful 8 AM classes back in first year university. Though, you just chalked it up to tiredness or maybe he didn’t sleep well.

Not that you were worried or anything.

As the engine of the bus hummed along the dim winter streets, you looked outside the foggy window on your right, the views of the sleeping city slowly faded into icy, deserted roads—the ivory blankets of snow rested atop mountain peaks in the distance gave a picturesque view.

The raven-haired stranger who sat beside you didn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, a hushed question coming out of his lips. Apparently, he wanted to take a picture of the mountains outside but doing so would require him to squeeze in a bit closer to you. Upon nodding, he gave you a smile before leaning over to take a couple of photos. To give the man ample distance, you pressed your back into the plush backrest, eyes wandering over to Atsumu who already had his honeyed gaze on you.

You sucked in a breath. He quickly looked away.

The blonde sat on the same row after the aisle—next to Kita—whereas Suna, and Osamu sat on the row behind, leaving an empty seat next to you; hence, the handsome raven-haired man. You thought he looked like a professional with the iridescent snowboarding goggles in his hand when he had politely asked if he could sit next to you.

Nonetheless, the rest of the ride went smoothly as the bus carefully ascended further up the snowy mountain.

The endless views of ivory, crystalline snow glimmering beneath the first rays of the peeking sun welcomed the five of you—everywhere was covered in pristine white, blanketed with a thin fog that completed the prospect. The air was crisp, and a white mist formed with every word spoken, and breath taken.

You all basked in the serene landscape for a moment, taking in the milky slopes before heading into the ski resort to grab rented gear, and start today’s snowboarding lesson.

Sitting on one of the benches, you struggled to fasten the black snowboard boots on your feet—it had several parts to it with a rather long string attached inside which you were absolutely clueless about. Kita seemed to easily get the hang of it—were you really surprised? No—and was now helping Suna, with the twins closely following along.

Before you could voice for help, a tall figure stopped right in front of you,

“Hey, did you need help with tha—Oh! It’s you, again from the bus. Did you need some help?”

You looked up at the owner of the voice—which also caught your friends’ attention—it belonged to the man from earlier, the one who sat next to you on the bus.

He donned a red uniform gear, you noticed the word ‘Instructor’ written in white, bold letters right beneath the company logo; the iridescent goggles he held earlier were on his head, secured around a black helmet. Oh, so he worked here.

“Hey! Yes, please. ‘M not quite sure how to fasten it.” A humourless chuckle left your lips, cheeks slightly heating in embarrassment.

Was your cluelessness that obvious?

He nodded, kneeling down before you, and gently circled his gloved fingers around the hem of your snow pants, folding it upwards to your knee. “Your first time snowboarding?” He asked, briefly meeting your gaze before focusing on the task at hand.

You hummed in agreement, “My friends and I are headed for a beginner’s lesson.” You sat there in a silent awe as the ravenette skilfully fastened your boot, and onto the next one. There was nothing to be fascinated about, really, this was probably second nature to him.

“Yeah? Same here. Well, as an instructor, of course. Who knows, maybe I’ll be assigned to your group.” He gave you a warm smile, looking up from under his lashes—you didn’t miss the faint snort that came from where the twins sat, earning a quick glance from you,

Osamu was nowhere to be found, leaving you with a very obvious answer as to who the sound belonged to. Atsumu’s gaze briefly met your own, and you swore there was a subtle crease between his brows but it disappeared before you could even process it.

Shifting your attention back to the raven-haired man, you mirrored his smile, thanking him for his kind help. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way.” Before you could say your name, he was already walking away, slipping into a conversation with a fellow staff.

Atsumu tried to be very normal, and nonchalant about it. About the way the rest of his friends shot teasing remarks for having some guy on his knees for you—literally, and maybe figuratively. Okay, so what? He worked there, that’s what he was supposed to do. What the hell is the big deal? He just fastened your snowboarding boots for you.

Nonetheless, it bothered Atsumu. Even just thinking about it planted a burning seed of jealousy within the pit of his stomach, it gave an uncomfortable, fiery feeling whenever he moved around. Something Atsumu did not want to get familiar with.

As if the universe beyond the skies were against him, it turns out Kuroo was the assigned snowboard instructor for the group. Atsumu noticed the smile you donned at that information, it would’ve had his knees buckling if it wasn’t aimed towards the stupidly tall, raven-haired instructor.

A whole day to spend with the man Atsumu already despised, how great. Not to mention how Kuroo was a snowboarding expert while Atsumu could already see himself falling, and tumbling down the slopes—god, he’s already at a disadvantage.

Whatever.

The beginner’s lesson with Kuroo started off fairly smoothly—he gave a thorough explanation of the snowboarding basics while being very attentive to each of you.

There were a couple of laughs here, and there as the group attempted to get used to balancing on the snowboard—90% of the time, your gloved hands were met with iciness from slipping, and falling. You were sure Suna had at least a few embarrassing shots of each of you, either face planted on the snow or in the midst of unceremoniously falling down.

Though, you weren’t really afraid to be off-balance since the snow beneath was soft, and inviting, despite its coldness.

As the lesson progressed further, you caught your gaze wandering over to Atsumu more often than not—you just couldn’t help yourself, not when a weird aura was emanating from him. The funny thing was, Atsumu seemed to be mirroring your actions because whenever your eyes shifted to him, his honeyed gaze would already be on you.

During the first hour of the lesson, your eyes met for a total of 12 times. Not a single word spoken, just the intimacy of eye contact. You were always the first one to break eye contact since it did more damage than good to your poor, poor heart. Though, his caramel eyes didn’t seem to tug at your heartstrings the way it did.

His stare mirrored his behaviour—empty, and distant.

It worried you. A lot. Atsumu was clearly acting this way to distance himself from you, without a doubt—he was indifferent towards Suna, and Kita, still the same old Miya Atsumu that everyone knew, and adored. So, why was he suddenly acting this way with you?

By the final hour of the lesson, your head was already filled with a million possible thoughts, and scenarios of why Atsumu was acting weirdly, and none of them were pretty. It got to the point where you couldn’t even hear Kuroo’s velvety voice anymore as it plagued your mind.

Suddenly, it felt like you were the only one atop the mountain—all alone in the endless snowy fields where distant murmurs, and laughter were replaced with harsh, frigid winds. As if you had travelled inside your own mind—cold, harsh, and devoid of any happy things.

During the walk back to the building, you fell completely silent—zoned out—and not engaging with the group’s conversation. With the amount of times Atsumu had been glancing at you, he didn’t miss the way your behaviour changed, and he knew damn well it was because of him.

The transport back was awfully suffocating due to the fact that Atsumu was sitting next to you—albeit, not by choice. There were more passengers that boarded the bus which meant someone had already taken the seat next to Kita, leaving Atsumu to awkwardly settle into the seat beside your own, after sparing you a side glance.

Both of you were as still as snow that decorated the mountain caps, careful not to touch each other’s clothed arm as the bus swayed with every turn taken. Despite the weird tension, you couldn’t help but feel oddly relaxed—maybe it was from snowboarding all day or maybe it was because Atsumu radiated warmth like no other. Even though he was centimetres away, the warmth of his body was inviting, as if wrapping two mellow arms around you.

You could almost just . . drift off to the land of dreams . .

“Wake up. We’re here.”

The sound of Atsumu’s muffled voice slowly filled your ears as you came to, you were greeted with orange, and pink hues of the afternoon skies outside the window. His gloved hand rested atop your knee, gently shaking it. The bus was half empty now, a small line of passengers down the aisle waiting to get off.

Fuck, did you actually fall asleep?

Upon fully sobering up from sleep, your body stiffened after realising that your head was comfortably resting on Atsumu’s right shoulder. You quickly sat up, awkwardly straightening your back which earned a rather quick glance from the blonde. Heat uncomfortably prickled your skin, something you’ve grown very familiar with.

“Sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep on you.” You rasped, awkwardly rubbing your nape in embarrassment. Atsumu dismissed it with a lazy wave of his hand, and a forced smile,

“‘S okay.”

That was all he said before getting up from his seat to leave the bus, not once looking back. Your heart sank, and once again, your mind was clouded with unpleasant thoughts.

You hated how easy it was for Atsumu to build a wall between the two of you.

Though, you didn’t have the time to mope around when Kita called out your name. He rested a hand on your shoulder as he walked behind you to the front of the bus—it gave you a sense of security, as if to remind you that he’ll always be there for you. A wordless reassurance.

That night, you tucked yourself under the kakebuton, hoping that tomorrow, and the coming days would be somewhat different from today.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Naturally, you enjoyed the remaining two days of the trip—On the third day, the group had the opportunity to enjoy a leisure cruise around Shimizu Port which offered breathtaking views of Miho-no-Matsubara in front of Mount Fuji; a view you’d only seen on the internet back then.

With the salty, winter sea breeze engulfing your bodies, the five of you took hundreds of photos with the picturesque background which was surely one for the memories.

Somewhere along the cruise, as the boat glided across the still waters of Shimizu, you, and Atsumu were left alone outside on the open deck. You looked over at the blonde who quietly stood beside you, flaxen strands gently dancing in the winter sea breeze, caramel eyes locked on to the azure waters below—his brows were furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed.

You didn’t know which was more breathtaking, the exquisite views of Mount Fuji or Miya Atsumu.

“Can I talk to you?”

It was quiet, and unsure but loud enough for Atsumu to hear over the gentle winds of Shimizu. He looked at you with the same gaze—not the one that made your cheeks heat—before giving a nod. You stared for a moment, studying the way his honeyed eyes shone beneath the winter ray, endless pools of sweet caramel drawing you in.

“Are we . . okay?” You could almost laugh at your pathetic tone, chest tightening with uncertainty. There was a brief pause, the purring of seagulls filling your ears as Atsumu contemplated. He contemplated. That alone was enough to put a crack in your heart.

As if the universe wanted you to break more, he gave you a forced smile, and lied through his teeth,

“Of course we are.”

Both of you were aware of how absurd that lie was but none dared to speak. Instead, you gave a silent nod in response before heading inside to sit with the rest, leaving Atsumu to his own thoughts.

On the fourth day—the last day—the five of you did some last minute souvenir shopping before boarding the shinkansen, en route to Hyōgo.

The purpose of this trip was to have fun, and enlighten one’s mind but you couldn’t believe that you were leaving Shizuoka with a heavy heart—memories of the past four days weighing you down more than it’s supposed to. All because of a certain blonde. You didn’t know what to make of it—what would happen next.

It scared you to even think about drifting apart from him.

The thing is, you expected to come out of this trip closer to Atsumu than ever but it turned to the complete opposite, and you didn’t know what the reason was. He was a different person when the second day rolled around—he never spoke to you, instead, you were only met with his honeyed gaze, though, it was anything but saccharine.

That same night—after parting ways with your friends—you twisted, and turned beneath the ivory sheets, heart racing, and palms sweaty. Even though your body was exhausted from travelling, your mind kept you awake.

Though, only one thought resided in your head.

With your phone in your hand, you clicked on the conversation with Atsumu, a thread of past messages greeting you. Your chest tightened at how close the two of you used to be.

You figured that Osamu must’ve told his brother about what happened back at the restaurant—how he caught you staring at Atsumu. The former was already suspicious of you since then, it only makes sense for him to tell the blonde about it.

About how you might have feelings for him.

That was the only reason you could think of, and it seemed plausible enough. It surely didn’t feel like a coincidence with the way Atsumu’s behaviour shifted after that night. You chalked it up to his way of gently letting you down, a wordless way of telling you that he, in fact, doesn’t feel the same way.

Why else would he behave weirdly, and avoid you?

The time read 1:30 AM. December 30th.

With a heavy heart, you gathered several thoughts from your heart, and mind before typing out a lengthy paragraph containing a confession of your feelings, and the expectations of rejection.

Confessing to him wasn’t going to change the fact that he didn’t like you back but you needed to hear from Atsumu that he, indeed, didn’t reciprocate your feelings—one last closure to rest your pining heart, and then you could move on. Easier said than done but not entirely impossible.

After a heartbeat, you send the message to Atsumu.

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :)..’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept on reading,

‘…i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way..’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘…you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequence of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated that you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You presumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?”

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday.

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’ What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it?

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere.

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!”

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike.

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?”

518 notes · View notes

dreamersparacosm · 1 month ago

Text

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part nine)

warnings ; well.. oral (f recieving) light choking, he hits it from the back, front, idk i lost count, she feels him in her stomach? (realism has left the chat)

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; here it is. my baby. my pride and joy. my biggest accomplishment that i will be hanging on my fridge with my hello kitty magnet. not even kidding i rewrote this part four times. four full rewrites. not because the words weren’t working, but because i knew this part had to hit just right.

writing that was hard!! i love these characters so much it physically hurts sometimes. ive lived inside this world for months now, and bringing them to this point broke something in me in the best way (also healed me??? idk dealers choice) the process wasn’t pretty. there were pacing debates, deleted scenes, google docs full of one-sentence paragraphs. through all of it though, one woman held my hand: miss taylor swift.

required listening for this part is this is me trying by tswift. (it’s actually required, the lyrics are THEIRS)

to all of you who’s sent me theories, essays, questions, unhinged keysmashes, character analyses, or even just a quiet “i love this” — thank you. thank you for seeing these characters the way i see them and for lovingly watching on the sidelines when two people experience the ache of wanting something they’re afraid they’ll ruin. you’ve made this story so fun to write!!! i hope, when you reach that last line, that it all feels right to you too. enjoy!!

playlist here

series masterlist here

When you were seven, you ran away from a kitchen fire before anyone else smelled the smoke. You bolted — barefoot, wild-eyed, arms flailing — as the toaster sparked and your mother screamed your name. You learned two things that day: one, that survival is instinct and two, that no one follows a girl who flees first. Ever since then, you’ve made an art of it, of leaving before you’re left, of outrunning the collapse before it’s had time to announce itself.

Even now, you still run like the building is burning.

You book a one-way flight back to Los Angeles with a violence that surprises even you, fingers stabbing at your phone screen, credit card number punched in before the doubt can catch up to your impulse. No pause for breath. No moment to excavate what just splintered apart in Seoul. Just the brutal efficiency of escape.

When the plane finally lifts, Korea dissolving beneath a cotton shroud of clouds, you search yourself for something that might feel like catharsis. But there's only absence. A vacuum where emotion should live.

Not the sweet release you'd imagined.

Not the peace you'd convinced yourself would follow.

Not even regret, which might have offered its own strange comfort.

There's a stillness inside you, resonating like footsteps in an empty gallery after the crowds have gone. You've become a visitor in your own body, observing from the outside.

The campaign, with all its frantic choreography of stress and miracles has finally wound down. The endless parade has halted: no more lighting to approve, no more impossible deadlines to somehow bend to your will through sheer force of determination. No more 4 A.M. calls with production when everything threatened to fall apart.

(No more Jungkook. Almost. You can taste it on the tip of your tongue.)

Tomorrow, it all launches.

You should be electric with anticipation. You should be riding the intoxication of knowing that in storefronts across continents, space is being cleared for what everyone predicts will redefine the brand's trajectory. Success is waiting,, yours to claim.

Instead, you're suspended in a strange limbo. Present but not present. Moving through the the world like someone playing the role of you in a film about your life.

You've become the most convincing ghost in your own story.

You slip back into the LA office like that same ghost returning to familiar hauntings, moving with that quietness people develop when they've spent years trying to be noticed while simultaneously proving themselves indispensable. The ritual feels stolen from another life: coffee warming one palm, the other hand clutching your phone with determination, as if the device might try to escape.

You lose yourself in the launch preparation, drowning in press releases that need one more edit, retailer confirmations requiring verification, social media calendars demanding timing. You orchestrate influencer packages like a general deploying troops, analyze backend metrics with the intensity of someone decoding ancient hieroglyphics.

Because busy hands can't text people.

Because typing another email means not typing his name.

Because every spreadsheet you complete is another reason not to wonder what he's doing right now.

When Jungkook's name illuminates your phone screen for the fifth time that day, something in your chest contracts with such sudden pain that for a moment, you forget how to breathe. You've developed a new skill: the swiftness with which you decline his calls, a movement so practiced it's become second nature. Your finger swipes across his name each time.

Voicemail. Another notification. Voicemail. The red badge multiplying like evidence.

Everything bearing his digital fingerprint gets redirected to Daniel. Meeting conflicts that need resolution, approval requests for campaign deliverables. Some tedious back-and-forth about choosing the right cover image for the website that would have once made you call Jungkook directly.

"Can you handle it?" The question leaves your mouth without inflection, your eyes never lifting from your laptop screen, afraid of what Daniel might read in them.

Daniel stands in your doorway, silent long enough that curiosity finally forces you to look up. The expression on his face carries such naked concern that you almost flinch.

"Are you really going to ghost your own campaign's face?" His voice is soft, which somehow makes you feel worse.

"He's not my anything," you say, the words emerging with a coldness that surprises even you. "He's the brand's."

The look Daniel gives you could incinerate entire cities, reduce them to smoke and memory. There's judgment there, yes, but beneath it something more dangerous: understanding. He retreats without pushing further.

You drag yourself to your hotel in Los Angeles at the hour when even the most dedicated workaholics have surrendered to basic human needs like sleep and food that isn't delivered by Uber Eats. It greets you with the enthusiasm of an abandoned museum exhibit — pristine, untouched, vaguely disappointed.

You answer emails until your retinas protest and your fingers develop their own Stockholm syndrome relationship with your keyboard. The clock on your laptop blinks an accusatory 2:17 A.M while you craft responses.

The Calvin Klein countdown timer on your open browser tab pulses with all the subtlety of a doomsday clock, a digital reminder that your exit strategy is right on schedule. This was always your personal three-step program: Get in. Get it done. Get out.

Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be a line item in your professional portfolio, not the tenant currently occupying all the premium real estate inside your head.

The fact that your brain has apparently thrown him a housewarming party complete with intrusive thoughts as party favors is just your psyche's idea of a practical joke.

One that unfortunately, you do not find the least bit funny.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The launch doesn't just hit. It is literally a tidal wave. #jungkookcalvinklein is trending on Twitter at the ripe hour of 9am.

Before you've managed to convince the coffee maker that yes, today definitely requires the triple-shot setting, Times Square has transformed into a shrine to sculpted abs and Jungkook’s face. Stores unveil installations that somehow make minimalism feel maximalist.

He's everywhere.

Christ, that jawline probably has its own insurance policy, with Calvin Klein jeans on that defy the laws of physics by simultaneously hanging too low and fitting too well, silver chains adorning him.

The public response is teetering on obsession; less consumer enthusiasm and more mass religious conversion. You half-expect to see people speaking in tongues while clutching Calvin Klein shopping bags.

You don't even have time to perform your planned emotional collapse, which you'd scheduled right between "approve final press release" and "pretend to eat lunch." The universe, it seems, has no respect for your Google calendar.

There are calls to field, interviews to prep, press appearances to manage. But then, just to your luck, digital confetti in your inbox: the New York office is hosting a last-minute happy hour to celebrate the global rollout. The invitation lands with little subtlety in bold letters: SENIOR STAFF AND GLOBAL LEADS ONLY, with enough exclamation points to suggest someone's enthusiasm has escaped corporate blandness.

Your decision-making process rivals light speed. You book the flight with the impulsive confidence of someone fleeing a crime scene, pack your garment bag with a dress you haven’t worn in a while. It’s flowy, with an open back that lets you feel the breeze.

Daniel plops himself in the seat beside you on the plane, a one-man information hurricane disguised as your colleague.

You let his voice become white noise, because right now, even corporate jargon is preferable to the unauthorized commentary running through your head, the one narrating all the ways you're not thinking about Jungkook (which, ironically, is all you can think about.)

By the time you two land in Manhattan, it’s dusk, that magic hour when the city sheds its skin and slips into something more comfortable. The streets buzz with that New York electricity that called you even as a young girl in Busan, a current that used to light you up from the inside but now just makes you wonder if you ever really loved it at all.

The SoHo rooftop has undergone the standard office-to-party transformation: string lights creating the illusion that accounting departments can be romantic, glasses clinking.

For the first time since Seoul, you almost feel like a person again instead of a walking collection of unprocessed emotions wearing business casual. Not fixed, not whole, but at least functional, kind of like finding your favorite sweater that you thought was ruined in the wash.

You slip back into your social persona with ease. Your laugh doesn't even sound fake to your own ears, which feels like progress. The champagne bubbles tingle pleasantly, reminding you that sensations other than dread still exist.

It’s always been in your nature; telling stories, entertaining others. Your hands paint disaster scenarios in the air, voice dropping conspiratorially at just the right moments. When you describe finding the missing sample jacket locked in a janitor's closet, your audience erupts into that specific kind of corporate laughter. Even Daniel, standing beside you like your professional shadow, can't help but crack up.

It feels almost like... okay. Not perfect. Not Seoul-never-happened. But upright and breathing, like a houseplant that survived your vacation.

The moment shifts when Daniel's fingers tap your elbow gently. "Hey, walk with me for a second?" he murmurs.

"Sure," you respond, the word automatic as your brain runs rapid calculations on what this could possibly be about.

He leads you away from the celebration, past colleagues swapping war stories and marketing puns, until you reach the edge of the rooftop where the Manhattan skyline lights up the sky.

You exhale slowly, watching the city sparkle before you, thousands of windows lit up. The view is breathtaking in that uniquely New York way that somehow makes your problems feel both microscopic and monumentally important.

"Have you spoken to Jungkook?" Daniel asks carefully.

The question cuts through your momentary peace. Just like that, the city lights dim, the champagne goes flat in your veins, and you're back in Seoul, watching everything fall apart in high definition.

You don't answer immediately. Jaw clicks into lockdown mode. Your arms fold across your chest, the universal body language for "absolutely not having this conversation right now." If emotional armor could make sound, yours would be clanking into place.

Daniel watches you with that particular expression he reserves for when you're being self-destructive but he's too smart to say so directly. It's the look that has always made lying to him impossible, which is precisely why you've been avoiding direct eye contact.

You stare down at your drink where bubbles perform their slow surrender, fizzling into oblivion against the rim of your glass. There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere, but you're too tired to figure it out.

"No," you finally admit, "Not since Korea."

Daniel nods once, the motion small but definitive. "He asked if we were coming tonight."

Your heart performs an acrobatic routine that would qualify for the Olympics, some complicated tumble of hope, panic, and an unfortunate third thing. The champagne you've been nursing suddenly seems very fascinating.

"And?" The question emerges more breathless than you'd prefer.

"I didn't answer," Daniel replies with a shrug. "Wasn't my place."

You swallow hard enough that it feels like forcing down something solid.

"You don't have to tell me anything," he adds, tone dropping to that specific frequency of friendship where truth lives. "But I figured you'd want to know."

Somewhere in this universe, Jungkook might be wondering if you'd show up tonight. The thought lands like a stone in still water, ripples expanding outward.

What would he have done if he'd seen you here?

What would you have done if he flew from Seoul?

Worse: what might you still do?

You remain silent, lips pressed together in a thin line of indecision. Your voice might crack, words may betray you.

The truth is, you're standing at the crossroads of pride and longing, and you have absolutely no idea which direction to take.

You tilt your glass back, letting the alcohol wash across your lips before words form in your throat. “I don't know what you think you saw," you say, your gaze sliding sideways to catch Daniel's expression without fully committing to eye contact. "But I promise you, it's not some great love story."

Daniel makes a sound, a gentle hum that vibrates with something like understanding. “Never said it was," he offers,. "But something definitely happened. You've been walking around like someone left the door open and the wind knocked everything over inside you."

"Poetic," you say sarcastically and roll your eyes.

He shrugs. "I minored in creative writing."

A laugh escapes you, unexpected and genuine,"You minored in talking shit."

His grin unfolds slowly. "So? I'm right."

The silence that follows feels weighted, layered with everything you cannot bring yourself to say. Words gather in your chest, pressing against your ribs like birds against cage bars, but none find their way to your tongue.

Part of you — the part that still wakes at 3 A.M replaying conversations that cannot be undone — wants desperately to believe that your spiral has gone unnoticed. That you might still appear whole from certain angles, in certain lights.

When he speaks again, his voice has softened even more. “You know, you never really do things for yourself."

The observation catches you off-guard, slipping beneath your defensesd. Your brow furrows,"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean..." His hand lifts in a gesture that encompasses everything. His fingers trace the invisible architecture of the career you've built, brick by exhausting brick. "You do this. All of this. You're a fucking workaholic. But when was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Just for you?"

"I wanted this campaign to succeed," you retort. Your posture straightens, shoulders squaring against accusation.

"For the company," he fires back, neither unkind nor relenting. "For the brand. For the headlines. For the part of you that refuses to lose. But not for you. Not really."

Your fingers curl more tightly around the stem of your glass. Because, like, yeah… you keep a tight ship and all, but it’s what your multimillion dollar contract calls for. In the distance, a helicopter cuts across the skyline, its searchlight briefly illuminating clouds from beneath, revealing their hidden dimensions.

Daniel turns to face you more fully, his expression shifting more dangerously sincere. "What's all this success worth if there's no one to share it with?"

You attempt a laugh that emerges more like a strangled hiccup. Your lips part for a comeback that refuses to come out while your traitorous brain launches into a highlight reel of Jungkook: his sleepy morning smile across hotel pillows, the weight of his shoulder underneath your head during that night on the beach in Busan, his laughter spilling into crevices of the hotel bar. The memories arrive uninvited, like party crashers bringing gifts you're afraid to open.

Daniel nudges your arm, pulling you back from the your thoughts. "Look, I'm not saying go get married in a garden or whatever. Although, now that I think about it, the photos would be incredible. Very Architectural Digest meets romance novel."

He grins before his expression softens. "But maybe... just maybe... it's okay to let someone in. You know, that thing humans have been doing since, like, forever."

You meet his gaze then. It's terrifying, like standing at the edge of a high dive you're not sure you remember how to use.

He's not pushing, not wielding your vulnerability. He's just reminding you, in the way only Daniel can after years of watching you build emotional fortresses, that beneath your exoskeleton of competence and control, you're still embarrassingly human. Still allowed to want something that doesn't come with metrics, target demographics, or quarterly reviews.

You exhale slowly, turning back toward the skyline,"I don't know how to do that," you admit.

"Then start small," he says with the gentle pragmatism of a man suggesting you try a new coffee shop rather than rewire your entire emotional circuitry. "Text the guy."

You shake your head, but the gesture lacks conviction. Your fingers twitch slightly against your glass, as if already rehearsing what they might type.

You squint slightly at the skyline like the answers could be written in neon across the Empire State Building: YES or NO in flashing lights, visible from miles away.

Daniel stands beside you, patient in his silence. He's always had this gift; knowing when to push and when to simply wait, creating space for you to stumble toward your own conclusions at your own stubborn pace. Somewhere beneath the layers of denial, a small, persistent voice wonders what would happen if, this one time, you stopped running long enough to find out what might catch up to you.

Finally, you exhale. "And say what?" you mutter, mouth twisting into what might be mistaken for a smile if not for the panic flickering in your eyes. "Text him: 'Hey, can't believe I ended things between us, how's your day going? Fantastic, thanks for asking!'"

Daniel chokes mid-sip, whiskey catching in his throat as laughter erupts. Amber liquid splashes dangerously close to his shirt cuff. "Jesus Christ," he wheezes, eyes watering. "Maybe workshop that a bit before hitting send."

You laugh too at that. The momentary lightness evaporates as quickly as it appeared, leaving something heavier in its wake. Your next breath feels weighted.

"He said something I can't forget," you add, voice dropping to that particular register where confessions live. You trace the condensation on your glass with one finger, drawing invisible patterns that might spell out what you're afraid to say directly. "During this fight we had... about my family."

Daniel's expression shifts, humor draining away. He watches you with that careful attention that always makes you feel seen. "What'd he say?" he asks.

You shake your head, gaze fixed on some indeterminate point beyond the rooftop's edge. The city lights blur and sharpen with each blink. "That I didn't even want to see them. That I was back in Busan for days and didn't bother. He used it like an insult. Like proof that I don't care about anything."

Daniel's silence stretches between you, allowing your words room to exist without immediate judgment. Long enough for you to lift your glass again, for the alcohol to slide down your throat and bloom warm in your chest, for you to wonder if maybe you've said too much or not enough.

Then he speaks tentatively, "Okay. Not great. But..."

You raise an eyebrow, the gesture sharp with defiance. "But?"

"But he's also not wrong." When your eyes narrow dangerously, he lifts his hands in theatrical surrender, "Not about using it against you.. that was a dick move, solid eight out of ten on the asshole scale."

His expression softens. "But about the rest of it. You kept pushing everyone away. I think you told me to forward all calls from your mom to ‘Satan’ one time. You were so scared of being known, it was easier to hide behind quarterly reports than have coffee with the people who gave you life."

Your mouth opens, a rebuttal forming on your tongue. But the words evaporate before they reach air, leaving you momentarily speechless. Some part of your brain, the part not currently occupied with denying everything, whispers that maybe, there's a sliver of truth worth examining here.

Daniel shrugs casually, with the demeanor of someone sliding the final piece into a puzzle. "Look, I don't think he meant it to hurt you. I think you hit a nerve, and he lashed out. Poorly."

He shifts on his heels, "But he also... I don't know. He kind of seems hopelessly in love with you."

You blink rapidly, as if your eyelids might somehow filter this information into something manageable. "He- what?"

A grin unfurls across Daniel's face. "Dude's clearly gone. I've watched him stare at you like you personally invented the concept of desire. Dont tell anyone this, but he’s also been blowing up the rest of the team’s phones asking if he should expect to hear from you."

You scoff, eyes rolling skyward, but a sensation you've been systematically ignoring since Seoul unfolds within you. Since before Korea, if you're being honest, which you rarely are with yourself. The memories surface unbidden: Jungkook hunting down honey butter cookies because you'd mentioned liking once. The way he'd placed the bag in front of you without comment. The thousands of other tiny gestures you'd filed away as "just being cordial" because "being in love with you" seemed too terrifying a folder to create.

"I didn't..." you begin, then falter. The words hover, “ I don't think I know how to let someone be in love with me."

The confession hangs between you, delicate and honest. Daniel doesn't look away, "Maybe," he says simply, "it's time to learn."

The words settle over you, not a weight but an opening, a door unlocked but not yet pushed ajar.

Daniel drains the last of his drink with finality, eyes fixed on the skyline. The casual observer might think he's admiring Manhattan's glittering architecture, but you recognize this particular silence — the loaded pause before he drops something he's been strategically holding back. It's the conversational equivalent of watching someone wind up for a pitch.

And sure enough, after a calculated beat, he says, "You do realize the contract is done, right?"

You glance sideways, eyebrows lifting in a gesture that attempts indifference but lands somewhere closer to alarm.

"All the promo's scheduled. Launch assets are live. My inbox is starting to go down," he continues, ticking items off an invisible check list. "You're technically free. No more approvals.”

His voice softens around the final blow: "No more excuses."

You lean against the railing, the metal cool against your forearms "What are you saying?”

"I'm saying..." He turns toward you fully now, "You don't have to pretend this is about work anymore."

A scoff escapes you. "Please. Me? And a k-pop idol?"

Daniel delivers a look so deadpan it could be preserved in a museum, the perfect distillation of "are you actually serious right now?" compressed into a single facial expression.

You clarify, hands animating the air between you like you're conducting an invisible orchestra of denial. "The biggest k-pop idol. Like globally famous. The same dude who gets murdered everytime there’s so much as one dating rumor." Each descriptor escalates in pitch, as if the accumulation of external obstacles might somehow outweigh the internal ones.

Daniel lifts his hands in surrender, though his expression suggests he's winning whatever battle is being waged. "Yes. All true. Also.. just so we're keeping track, he's the same guy you've spent the last few months hooking up with, traveling the world with, fighting with like some married couple, and if I'm not mistaken, spending all your time with."

Your eyes narrow to slits. "You make it sound so romantic," you mutter, each word dripping with sarcasm.

"It kind of was," he says with a shrug, "In a HR-nightmare kind of way."

You roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, but there's no real resistance behind the gesture. If anything, you're fighting back something dangerously close to a smile.

Daniel nudges your arm, “I'm not telling you to drop everything and chase some wild fantasy. I'm not suggesting you write his name in your planner with little hearts or anything. But… if it is something, if it's more, then maybe you owe it to yourself to find out."

You stare down at the streetlights below, watching headlights weave through intersections. The city continues its relentless dance, indifferent to your crisis of heart. Somewhere down there, people are making decisions far less complicated than yours; ordering takeout, hailing cabs, choosing which Netflix show to fall asleep to.

"You should take a few days off," he adds, less the colleague who's seen you demolish incompetent vendors and more the friend who once held your hair back after three too many tequila shots at the holiday party. "You can actually take them. The company will somehow survive without you micromanaging every press release for 72 whole hours."

You don't answer, silence a familiar shield.

"I'll cover anything that comes up," he says, the offer weighted with a kindness you're not sure you deserve. "But I think you need to go."

He doesn't say where. He doesn't have to. The destination hovers between you.

Still, you say nothing, your fingers tracing idle patterns in the condensation on your glass. But something shifts in the atmosphere around you, not a decision yet, nothing so concrete or brave. More like the subtle change in molecular rearrangement that animals sense before humans do.

Because maybe there's a version of this story where you don't end up alone with your accomplishments for company, where professional triumph isn't the only warmth in your bed. The thought bubbles up, ridiculous and terrifying and somehow not entirely unwelcome.

You've spent so much of your life building walls with the focus of someone who believes safety lies in being alone, you almost forgot what it feels like to stand before a door that's already open, waiting. The possibility stretches before you, an invitation to step through and see what might exist on the other side.

Daniel slips away, leaving behind only the lingering scent of overpriced whiskey and words that hang in the air. You remain at the railing, arms folded across your chest in what your therapist would probably call a "defensive posture" if you actually went to therapy instead of just reading psychology articles at 3 A.M.

For a while, you just breathe, an activity so basic it shouldn't feel revolutionary, and yet somehow does. One inhale. One exhale. One heartbeat after another.

Then, with the slowness of someone defusing a bomb, your hand migrates to your pocket. Your fingers close around your phone, that small, glowing rectangle.

The screen illuminates instantly, revealing a notification dot so aggressively red it might as well be screaming. You tap the voicemail icon with the hesitancy of someone poking at what might be a sleeping bear. The app lags for a moment, probably collapsing under the sheer weight of messages you've been studiously ignoring.

112 unheard messages.

You stare at the number, a monument to your impressive commitment to avoidance. Gold medal material.

You haven't listened to a single one. Haven't allowed yourself even the smallest peek behind the curtain you pulled.

Your fingers hovers above the most recent message, trembling slightly. You press play before the rational part of your brain can stage an intervention.

"Hey."

His voice arrives like an ambush, rough around the edges, frayed.

"I don't even know if you'll listen to this. You probably won't. But I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

Your grip on the railing tightens, as if holding onto something sturdy might somehow anchor you against what's coming.

"You're not answering. You won't text me back. Daniel says you're 'handling things.' Whatever the fuck that means."

“You always do this. You disappear when things get hard. But this isn't just some hookup anymore. You know that."

You press the phone against your ear with unnecessary force, as if the closer it gets the more sense everything might make.

"I said something I shouldn't have. About your family. I know I crossed a line and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

Your throat constricts, performing an impressive impersonation of a python with its prey. The apology lingers in the universe for a second too long.

"I wanted you to know me. But… I think I forgot that I'm only just starting to know you. And I want to. God, I want to know you so bad."

The voicemail ends with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than any dramatic declaration. You don't move. You don't blink. You barely breathe. Your brain, that overachieving organ that's kept you ten steps ahead in boardrooms and client meetings, suddenly finds itself speechless.

You press play on the next message with the reckless courage of someone who's already jumped from the plane and figures the parachute situation can be sorted out mid-fall.

"Please talk to me."

The sound travels from your phone directly to some unguarded part of your chest.

"I can't sleep. I keep thinking you're gonna call. And then you don't. I get it, I do. But I miss you."

"That's pathetic, right? Missing someone who keeps running from you?"

The question hangs in the air, unanswered and devastating. You find yourself shaking your head in automatic response, as if he could somehow see you through time and digital space.

Your thumb hangs over the screen, hesitating for the briefest moment before tapping to the next message like someone poking at a bruise to see if it still hurts. And the next. And the next.

Each message is a progressive study in yearning — Jungkook's voice traveling through octaves of exhaustion and vulnerability you didn't know existed. Each one reveals another layer of him spiraling, leaving behind a man who can't understand why someone disappeared.

"I think I'm in love with you.”

There it is. The message that finally breaks through the elaborate wall of denial you've been maintaining. Kind of like the sprinkler system activating after the fire's already spread to every room.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, your body's desperate attempt to keep everything contained as your eyes begin to burn with the particular sting that follows with tears. You lock your phone with fingers that suddenly feel clumsy.

The breath you draw in trembles, your chest expanding around a feeling you've been ignoring since Seoul.

You can feel it now rushing toward you with the unstoppable momentum of a train whose brakes have failed. The devastation you left behind, casually strewn across continents like discarded clothing. The truth you didn't want to admit, even in the privacy of your own thoughts. The stupid, impossible, terrifying fact that somewhere between contract negotiations and late night 1-on-1 strategy sessions, between stolen moments in hotel bars and shared laughter over take-out containers that he forced you to eat, between arguments that felt too personal and kisses that felt too intimate, Jeon Jungkook somehow slipped past every defense system you'd installed and became more than just another project to complete.

He became the person you think about when good things happen.

The voice you want to come home to on difficult days.

The laugh that somehow makes everything lighter.

Oh.

The realization lands with surprising gentleness.

Oh shit.

You wipe your cheek with the back of your hand for tears that somehow manifested on your face. For the first time since you left Korea, the weight that's been compressing your lungs begins to lift. Not because the ache has diminished or because the fear has subsided, but because you've finally granted it permission to exist.

The realization settles into your bones, that what you want has never resided in quarterly projections or campaign metrics or the professional detachment you've perfected over years of holding people at a distance.

What you want, what you've wanted while convincing yourself otherwise, exists in a hotel room in Korea where a boy with gentle hands and knowing eyes has been waiting for your voice. The thought arrives with clarity, cutting through layers of cynicism and self-protection: you've been running from the very thing you most desperately need.

Your fingers find your phone with newfound certainty, navigating to your travel app with none of the hesitation that's characterized every interaction with this device recently. The flight options materialize on the screen. You select the earliest departure, credit card information autofilling as if your technology recognized this decision before you made it. The laughter and chatter from your coworkers seems so far away despite how close they actually are.

It’s just you and the simple, terrifying recognition that some journeys can only be postponed, never avoided — and the surprising discovery that stepping toward what frightens you can feel remarkably like coming home.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Okay… so you’ve definitely done more degrading things before. Right?

You're sweating through your blouse with the enthusiasm of someone auditioning for a deodorant commercial (and failing. To your own detriment.)

This isn't the "post-workout glow" fitness influencers pretend is attractive. No, this is your body's formal declaration of mutiny, a rebellion against rational thought executed through every pore. Your armpits, palms, and the back of your neck have formed an alliance dedicated to transforming your clothes into soggy evidence of your composure.

What the fuck are you doing?

Outside Jeon Jungkook's front door, you've established a pacing perimeter worthy of a security detail, shoes padding against pavement. The neighborhood is all manicured hedges and tasteful architecture, houses standing witness to what is undoubtedly the most unhinged moment of your professional career.

You halt abruptly, pivot, and resume your trajectory in the opposite direction. Each step carries you further into the absurdity of your situation while bringing you no closer to resolution.

"What the fuck am I doing?" The question emerges as a desperate whisper, fingers wrapped around your purse strap "What the actual fuck am I doing?"

The universe, in its infinite wisdom, offers no response. Not even a convenient sign from the heavens, no fortuitous text message, not so much as a symbolic bird flying overhead. Silence, highlighting the void where your rational decision-making process should be.

The most devastating part of this is your complete lack of preparation — you, who once created a thirty-page document for a photoshoot involving a temperamental cat. You, who color-codes your calendar down to 15-minute increments and keeps emergency protein bars in every bag you own. You, who has never entered a meeting without 3 different strategic approaches and a mental flowchart of possible outcomes.

You flew across the Pacific Ocean on nothing but emotional autopilot, your normally meticulous planning abandoned. You landed, changed your shirt three times in the Incheon airport bathroom while arguing with your reflection, and then navigated to this address with single-minded determination.

His address was acquired through means that would make your company's legal department develop hives. Extracted from the Calvin Klein executive contact database with the moral flexibility of someone who has left all professional ethics back in Manhattan along with her common sense. The violation of privacy policies sits in your phone.

You are experiencing what can only be described as a crash landing; no runway in sight, no landing gear deployed. The metaphorical wreckage spreads across this quiet street, invisible to everyone but acutely, painfully apparent to you.

You excavate your phone from the abyss of your bag and open the Notes app for the third time in 10 minutes, staring with mounting horror at the single sentence you managed to compose somewhere over the ocean — the grand thesis statement that was supposed to carry you across this threshold:

"I'm sorry, and I think I like you."

You blink at it, the words swimming on the screen like poorly translated instructions for assembling complicated furniture. A scoff escapes you in part disbelief, part surrender to the cosmic joke your life has become.

Jesus Christ. That's the line?

That's the earth-shattering revelation that propelled you across international date lines and multiple time zones?

It has all the weight of a middle schooler passing a folded note in math class. "I think I like you" — the verbal equivalent of bringing a water pistol to a nuclear war. The confession carries all the emotional awareness of someone who just discovered feelings exist yesterday and hasn't figured out the instruction manual.

You are pathetic.

You shove the phone back into your bag with force, bearing witness to perhaps the most pitiful declaration of affection ever composed by an allegedly successful adult. Another shaky breath fills your lungs, doing absolutely nothing to calm you.

You haven't knocked yet. You're just standing here, marinating in your own anxiety sweat. Your current strategy appears to be hoping for divine intervention. Perhaps the earth might split open and swallow you whole, or a targeted meteorite might strike just this spot on this particular street in Korea. At this point, even a localized power grid failure would be welcome, anything to ensure that no one ever discovers the depths of your desperate, transcontinental travels for this man.

You feel that urge to run again.

But your feet remain rooted to the concrete, overriding any escape plans.

Underneath the panic, the dampening of your shirt, and the chorus of doubt performing a full operatic production in your head, you know exactly why you're here.

Because of that voice on the phone that carved something permanent into your memory.

Because of the way he looked at you across crowded rooms.

Because for once in your existence, this isn't about control or power or securing the optimal outcome.

This is about choosing someone, even if it makes your knees perform a dance of terror. Even if it required theft of confidential information from a database you definitely shouldn't have access to.

You take one more breath, and step forward with the confidence of someone who still has approximately 14 seconds before complete collapse.

Your knuckles connect with the door in what's meant to be a confident knock but comes as more like the hesitant tapping of someone who's not entirely sure they've got the right house and is already formulating an apology to potential strangers.

The door swings open. There's no cinematic pause, no buffer zone during which you might remember how to be a functioning human capable of speech and basic facial control.

And there he is.

Jungkook.

Standing in his doorway like some kind of domesticated Greek god, barefoot in sweatpants that hang from hipbones, wearing a black t-shirt that clings to his torso. His silver chain catches the light, hair artfully disheveled.

There are shadows beneath his eyes that speak volumes, the look of someone waiting too long for a response that never arrived, for a message that never delivered.

He looks frozen in a moment of suspended animation.

And you.. well, you look like someone who's just realized they've accidentally booked a one-way ticket to their own reckoning without packing appropriate attire. Your professional persona is dissolving faster than cheap mascara in a rainstorm.

Your mouth opens automatically, but your brain has apparently decided to go offline. Not a greeting emerges. Not a witty remark. Not the apology you composed and discarded a dozen times between your airplane seat and this moment.

How do you explain what it means to see him again?To see the evidence of what you did inscribed across his features? To stand there and have a million feelings rushing into you?

And worst of all, to realize that somewhere along the way, between "professional boundaries" and "conflict of interest," you've managed to accomplish something you never planned for: you've fallen catastrophically, inconveniently, undeniably for Jeon Jungkook.

His eyes sweep over you once, then return for a second pass. There's a flicker of disbelief in his expression, as if his brain is running diagnostics on whether you're actually standing on his doorstep or if he's finally cracked and started hallucinating ex-whatever-you-weres.

And then, with the simplicity of someone handling something that might shatter, he says your name.

No accusation coloring the syllables. It’s your name, floating between you like a verbal lifeline extended without judgment.

You swallow with enough force to be audible, fingers doing that twitchy dance at your sides. The emotional menu before you offers several options — spontaneous crying, inappropriate nervous laughter, or your personal favorite: the tactical retreat.

But you stay put. No running shoes required.

You look at him with all your barricades temporarily offline. You’re thinking of that beach, that night you tried to bury. Thinking of the way he looked at you then, like you were still salvageable. Thinking of when he told you, “Hi is a good place to start.” You didn’t say it at your mother’s house. Couldn’t. But maybe now, with the weight of everything lingering in the quiet, maybe now’s your second chance.

So you take it.

"Hi," you whisper, the syllable emerging with all the confidence of a first-time public speaker.

He stares at you. You stare back.

Finally, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice scratchier than you remember. There's a rawness to it, an edge that suggests maybe he got tired of speaking into the void of your unanswered messages. “What the fuck are you doing here?"

And just like that, your mental hard drive crashes. The speeches you rehearsed somewhere over the terrain vanish like airplane meals — unmemorable and completely inadequate for the situation.

You stand there, watching his chest rise and fall with slightly uneven breaths, and realize that you're going to have to improvise without a safety net.

The only thing your brain can process is the sound of blood whooshing behind your ears and the embarrassing tremor in your fingers as they begin to battle the suddenly complex engineering marvel that is your purse zipper.

"I—" you stammer, voice cracking like a thirteen-year-old boy asking someone to dance. "Hold on—just—"

You excavate the dig site formerly known as your handbag, pushing past convenience store receipts, a lipstick, and a charging cable that's currently charging absolutely nothing. Your fingers finally close around what you've flown across the world to deliver.

It's not exactly presentation-ready; it’s crumpled like it's been stuffed in a blender, folded and smudged around the edges.

With the triumph of someone who just discovered treasure, you extract the contract. His contract. Holy grail of paperwork.

The very same contract for Calvin Klein that consumed months of your life, prompted 17 panic attacks, and served as the professional excuse for every personal boundary violation you've committed since meeting him.

You unfold it clumsily, then thrust it toward him like an artifact that could explain your entire emotional state without requiring actual human communication.

"Your contract is up," you announce. "It ended this week."

Jungkook blinks at you with confusion. His eyebrows pull together, creating that little crease you've definitely never memorized. "Okay...?" he questions.

You look at him with the desperate stare of someone whose entire communication strategy is telepathy while your throat constricts. The words scream inside your head with megaphone clarity: Don't you get it? Don't you see what I'm trying to say?!

But all that emerges is a breath.

He glances down at the paper, then back at your face "I know," he says slowly, "I was there when I signed it."

A sound escapes you. This is what your life has become — standing on a doorstep, physically shaking, brandishing legal paperwork like it's a love letter. You, who once negotiated a seven-figure deal without breaking a sweat, reduced to communicating your feelings through expired contractual obligations and hoping he somehow translates this into "I've made a terrible mistake and flown across the world to fix it."

He's still examining the contract, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as if proper legal documentation might suddenly reveal invisible ink.

It's really just paper and ink and legal jargon that somehow became the flimsiest of excuses to orbit each other's lives.

Your fingers tighten around the document before it goes limp in your hands, dangling between you. “You think I care about this contract? Do you really think I flew across the world to remind you about paperwork? What am I, the world's most dedicated courier service?"

His eyes lock onto yours now. He's silent, still, letting you speak.

"I don't give a shit about Calvin Klein," you continue. "Or the campaign. Or the storefronts. I mean... I do, I did, but not like that. Not more than this." You gesture vaguely between the two of you with the contract, which has now been demoted from legal document to impromptu prop.

You're fully in verbal freefall now, thoughts colliding in real-time, each one crashing into the next before either can reach a proper conclusion.

"Do you know what you did to me?" The question is more of a whisper. "You made me feel things I don't let myself feel. You made me lose control. You — God, you made me talk."

His jaw tightens eyes simultaneously sharp and soft. He's bracing himself, his body language shifting.

"For the first time in a year, I saw my mother," you continue, the confession tumbling out with the momentum of something that's been held back too long. "I held my sister. I went home."

You blink rapidly, your eyes performing emergency protocols to contain the tears. "Do you know what kind of man it takes to make me do that?"

Jungkook's lips part like he's about to speak, but nothing leaves, as if the dictionary of possible responses has been wiped from his memory. You step closer, closing the distance between you.

"You got me to sit on a beach and tell you things I've never said out loud. You got me to let you in. Without trying.. or asking." Your hands wave vaguely in the air, as if trying to physically grasp the concept. "You just... did. You're the first man who's ever made me feel something that wasn't transactional. You make me feel like a person, Jungkook.“

He's standing with the frozen stillness of someone who just discovered they're in a minefield, but his chest is rising and falling. You know he's hearing it all; every word, every crack in your voice, every truth you've been swallowing since you pushed him away.

"I didn't come here to fix anything," you murmur, "I just needed you to know that you mattered. That you weren't some mistake for me."

And then, quieter, “You were the only thing that ever felt real.“

Jungkook blinks once. And then again. If a human could display a buffering sign, it would be rotating above his head right now.

He's speechless, which considering he's a man who performs in front of stadium crowds and has entire teams dedicated to crafting his public statements, is quite the achievement to add to your professional resume.

You just let him look at you. There's no persona to hide behind, not anymore.

And the longer he stands there, wordless as a statue, watching you, jaw clenched tight, the more your stomach flip-flops inside you.

You've never been this exposed. Not even in the heat of his bed, when physical nakedness seemed like the most vulnerable state possible (how adorably naive that belief seems now.) This is an entirely different category of exposure.

Still, he says nothing. The audacity of this silence is almost impressive.

So you redirect, falling back on the one thing you understand: paperwork.

Your fingers tremble, but you manage to grip the contract and tear it straight down the middle with surprising dramatic flair.

Again. And again. And again.

Until it's nothing but corporate confetti. Thin little fragments of legally binding language and signature and structure, falling in what your brain identifies as a metaphor so on-the-nose it would be rejected from a first year creative writing workshop.

"I don't care about this," you whisper, gesturing to the paper carnage. "I mean, I do care about this. Just… not the way I care about you." You immediately recognize this as the kind of line that would make you roll your eyes if you heard it in a movie, yet here you are, delivering it with complete sincerity. The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. His silence has evolved from awkward to actually embarrassing now.

You’re starting to think you may be too late. Maybe he got back together with his ex. Maybe him and Jennie are fucking again.

You blink back the burn in your eyes, throat closing around words. "Please," you breathe out, "Tell me I'm not too late. Tell me I didn't fuck up another thing in my life—"

You barely finish getting the words out before he moves.

One second you're standing there, and the next, his hands are on your waist, pulling you in, grounding you like gravity suddenly remembered your specific coordinates.

To your surprise — he’s kissing you.

The world narrows to this: his hands on your body, warm and solid and real. The faint scent of his musky cologne mixing with a body wash that is uniquely him. The pressure of his lips against yours, lip ring cool against your warm mouth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice wonders if this counts as a successful business negotiation or a breach of ethics. The rest of your consciousness tells that voice, quite firmly, to shut the hell up.

You melt into him, shaking and breathless, fingers curling into his t-shirt as your lips part under his with enthusiasm.

This isn't some tentative, exploratory first kiss from a Hinge meetup. This isn't the calculated kiss of someone testing chemistry before deciding if a dinner date was worth the investment.

This is a kiss that announces "you're home" with little to no subtlety.

His mouth remains attached to yours as he backs into the doorway, pulling you along and tethering your body to his like you might run. His paranoia, you have to admit, isn't entirely unreasonable given your track record of vanishing acts.

The torn contract lies abandoned on the welcome mat. The wind shifts behind you as the door clicks shut with finality.

Inside, it's warm. Dim. Quiet. Smells like a mix of spices and some kind of candle. His soft lips move over yours, intoxicating enough that your educated brain has forgotten how to form coherent sentences in any known language.

He walks you backward through his home, the kiss breaking only in microsecond intervals.

"I waited for you," he whispers between kisses. You respond with a sound between a whimper and a sigh, palms pressing into his chest as he lightly pushes you against the nearest wall with surprising authority. His breath fans hot against your cheek, “I told myself to let it go. That maybe I'd imagined all of it, that you didn't feel the same."

You gasp as his teeth graze your skin with just enough pressure to short-circuit your higher reasoning capabilities. One of his hands slides up beneath your blouse, his touch somehow managing to be both needy and soft.

Your last coherent thought before surrendering entirely to this expected plot twist is that Daniel is never, ever going to let you live this down when you return to New York.

"I've never felt this way about anyone," he exhales against the base of your throat, words tumbling out. "Not once."

It’s real when he says it. All of it. Every emotional shard he left scattered across like breadcrumbs, still waiting for you to come back and attempt the world's most ill-advised puzzle reassembly.

You pull him closer with upper body strength you didn't know you possessed, kissing him like your respiratory system has been recently reconfigured to run exclusively on Jeon Jungkook. Your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, cataloging the warmth of him, the tension coiled in his muscles.

"Jungkook..." You begin, caught between a moan and a murmur.

But he shakes his head, kissing you harder, "Don't. Don't say anything yet. Just be here." The request comes with the desperation of someone who's still half-convinced they're hallucinating.

You have absolutely no idea of how you've navigated this far into his house. Your last clear memory involves standing on a doorstep watching shredded corporate paperwork fall to the gravel.

The walls blur, corners cease to exist. Every hallway becomes a perfect clone when your mouth remains fused to his. You maintain only peripheral awareness of your own movement, shoes occasionally slipping against the floor with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, his hands gripping your waist to steady you. You careen into one wall, then another, turning his home into an obstacle course neither of you seems particularly interested in navigating efficiently.

He's talking through it all, and you don't realize you're crying until his thumb brushes over your cheekbone in adoration.

"I thought I lost you," he mumbles, his mouth creating a cartography of your features; the edge of your lips, the angle of your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear. "You were gone. I thought that was it."

You shake your head, and he doesn't even wait for verbal confirmation before kissing you again. Deeper this time, with the kind of attention to your body that makes you wonder if perhaps your entire professional career has just been an elaborate prelude to this specific moment in this hallway with this person.

Your fingers fumble with the hem of his shirt, tugging the fabric upward in what's meant to be a smooth, seductive motion. He lifts his arms automatically anyway as if he is just as desperate to eliminate any non-skin barriers between you.

His shirt gets tossed somewhere, your hand firmly planted on the plane of his chest, the taut muscle underneath.

"Fuck," he mutters against your collarbone, as he presses you against yet another wall (his home apparently consisting of nothing but convenient vertical surfaces.) One hand slips beneath your blouse while the other slides up your clothed thigh with intent. "You can't do that to me again."

"I won't," you promise, hands trembling against his chest "I swear."

He kisses you again like he doesn't quite believe you but has decided the potential heartbreak is an acceptable risk if it means having this fragment of connection.

Clothes begin their gradual migration to the floor — not the choreographed disrobing of movie sex scenes where garments somehow land in artful arrangements, but the realistic, occasionally awkward shedding. Your blouse gets caught on one earring. He helps with buttons while simultaneously trying to maintain mouth-to-mouth contact, resulting in misaligned kisses that land at the corner of your lips.

There's a brief, silent negotiation about whether your shoes should come off before or after your pants. Jeans are discarded, fingers brushing against your lace underwear.

You don't even care about the logistics anymore, the who-goes-where and what-happens-when that your organizational brain would typically want to map out. You just know one essential truth.

You need him.

Not in the scratch-an-itch way of previous encounters.

You're letting him see you now, unfiltered and unedited.

You don't try to steady your hands as they trail down his sides. Don't stabilize your voice to hide the crack when you whisper his name like it's become a more honest version of your own. You don't armor yourself when he looks down at you, shirtless and flushed, and murmurs with wonder: "You came back."

And that's when he lifts you, hands sliding under your thighs, holding you firmly to him. You wrap your legs around him, arms circling his neck, surrendering to being transported like the world's most willing hostage.

You have only the vaguest awareness of your surroundings. Some room, presumably his bedroom, though frankly it could have been his kitchen or laundry room and you wouldn't have noticed or cared. Geography has become thoroughly irrelevant to your current priorities.

The only thing actually registering in your sensory catalog is him; breath warming your collarbone, skin pressed against skin, lips trailing slow, wet kisses along the slope of your shoulder. He lays you down on his bed, gaze taking inventory of every inch of you.

His expression carries the stunned disbelief of someone who can't quite convince himself he's allowed to have you after you pulled your disappearing act.

The room is quiet except for your combined breathing and the soft rustle of sheets. Jungkook's palms drag up the sides of your thighs with a confidence that makes your skin tingle in anticipation, thumbs grazing the curve of your hips. He lowers himself, dark hair falling across his forehead. He presses a kiss just above your knee that sends an electrical current straight to your core which has apparently been in hibernation.

"You always look like this for me?" he murmurs. His fingers toy with the delicate hem of your lace underwear — the good ones you'd packed with what you now recognize was blatant optimism disguised as practicality. His eyes flicker up to catch yours, and you recognize him on his knees in his own bedroom, and suddenly breathing seems like an advanced skill you never quite mastered. "Spread out, soft... waiting?"

You can only nod, lips parted and pulse fluttering beneath your skin. Because when he's like this, looking at you like you're some kind of miracle he's afraid to blink and miss, it's impossible to maintain the illusion that you were ever in control of this situation.

Your eyes flutter shut, hands curling into the sheets. He hasn't even properly touched you yet, but you're already unraveling faster than a cheap sweater in the dryer, undone by nothing more than his mouth hovering in your general vicinity.

You feel the delicate tug of lace between your thighs, the slow drag of your underwear as he bites at the waistband. He pulls them down with his teeth like he's personally offended by the concept of using hands for their intended purpose, savoring each millimeter of progress.

He drops the lace to the floor with casual disregard, like it’s unimportant — which, right now, it is — and without hesitation, he leans in, pressing the softest kiss to your soaked core.

You jolt visibly, audibly, a shaky sound catching in your throat as your legs try to twitch closed out of instinct. Not that he allows this sudden attack of modesty to proceed.

No, he’s already got his hands under your thighs, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth, to the heat of his breath, to the place he plans to keep you until you forget your name.

And then he hooks your legs over his shoulders with practiced expertise, essentially wearing your thighs like the world's most inappropriate neck pillow.

“There we go,” he mutters, like he’s pleased with himself, like he’s settling in. His fingers dig into your thighs to maintain his access route, thumbs brushing over skin softly that somehow makes everything worse (or better, depending on your perspective.) He’s spreading you wide open for him, singing your praises, “Nice and close. Stay just like that, baby.”

And you do, despite your brain's distant, feeble protests about maintaining some semblance of dignity. Your hands scramble through the sheets, heart thundering in your chest.

A single coherent thought manages to penetrate the fog of sensation overtaking your higher reasoning capabilities: you are so, so screwed. Metaphorically, for now. Though given current trajectory, the literal interpretation seems imminent.

His grip on your thighs tightens just before his mouth finds your cunt. It’s one singular lick, tongue dividing between your folds. Your fingers dive into his hair with the desperate urgency of someone grabbing the last life preserver on a sinking ship, threading through the soft strands until you're practically clutching his head. “F-fuck!”

It’s consistent laps up and down your folds, your juices coating his lips, the coldness of his lip ring sending you into oblivion. He doesn’t ease up. He doesn’t tease. He devours you, tongue beginning to speed up.

You feel completely exposed, like you've accidentally sent your most private thoughts to a company-wide email thread, and somehow this vulnerability only intensifies everything, your body apparently interpreting danger signals as "please, sir, more of that."

Then his tongue flicks across your clit with the precise timing of someone who's memorized your particular user manual, and the noise that escapes you resembles something between a hiccup and the beginning of an embarrassing performance. Some pathetic little "uh" sound bubbles up from your throat.

You’re spread out beneath him, legs shaking, sheets twisted in your fists as he keeps going — his tongue relentless, lips slick, chin wet with you. His jaw glistens with evidence of your arousal, creating the kind of mess that would horrify you normally but currently registers as the hottest thing you've ever witnessed.

He groans against you, the vibration adding yet another layer of sensation to the overwhelming cascade, a sound so deep and raw it seems to originate from somewhere primal. Maybe he's just as far gone as you are, equally lost in this moment of reconnection. Or maybe… god, who cares, he just really can’t stop.

Your brain is syrupy now, thick and slow, synapses misfiring as your body spins somewhere between pleasure and delirium. Every drag of his tongue has you twitching, every suck of his lips on your clit sends another wave crashing through you, and your body doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

“Fuck—Jungkook, I—I can’t—” you gasp, practically ripping his hair out of his scalp. Your voice has adopted qualities you've never heard before — high, fractured, entirely unbefitting for someone who once made a junior copywriter cry with a single raised eyebrow.

“I love eating this pussy,” he mutters, muffled against your soaked cunt. Like he's experiencing a religious epiphany that happens to be centered between your thighs. “Swear to god, I’d live here. Every damn day.”

You respond with a choked sob that would mortify you in literally any other context but seems perfectly reasonable given that your central nervous system is currently experiencing the neurological equivalent of fireworks.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue in one long, devastating stripe. “So good for me. You feel that, baby? The way you’re dripping all over me? The way your little cunt’s beggin’ for it?”

Your hips buck upward, but he counters this rebellion, mouth locking around your clit with such pressure that your eyes roll back like they're trying to retreat into your skull for safety.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice containing equal parts possession and wonder, as if he's surprised by his own declaration. “You know that? I’m never letting you go.”

You’re gone. Dizzy, spinning, stars behind your eyes. There’s a scream climbing up your throat, and your entire body is about to break apart, lit from within by a chain reaction that has precisely one catalyst: him, him, him.

Just when you think you’re about to tip over the edge, when every muscle in your body is coiled and quaking, Jungkook pulls back slightly, enough to keep you hovering. His tongue slows to an excruciating crawl, tracing soft circles around your clit. Barely there. Absolutely criminal.

Your whole body jolts, hips twitching helplessly, chasing more, chasing anything. But he keeps you right there, locked in with the pads of his fingers bruising your thighs.

"N-no—don't stop," you whimper, voice hitting notes that would embarrass you in any other context. "Feels so good, I—fuck, since when— since when did you get this good?"

He hums against you, the vibration hitting exactly where you need it most, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. His tongue resumes its torturously slow rhythm, each deliberate stroke designed for maximum frustration. He's moving like he's got all day to keep you on this edge.

"I mean it," you babble, vocabulary reduced to the primitive language center of someone who's forgotten they once intimidated an entire marketing department. "God, it's—fuck, I swear, what the fuck, it feels so —ahh— good!”

You glance down, desperate for visual confirmation that this is actually happening, and discover he's already looking up at you. Eyes dark and hazed over like he's sampled something significantly stronger than the recommended dosage, half-lidded and wild.

And the moment your eyes lock, it hits you like a punch to the chest. Somehow, it feels too raw.

His tongue doesn’t stop, slow and cruel in its own way, but his eyes stay locked on yours. Completely unflinching, intense, like he wants you to see him, like he’s trying to tell you something with every flick of his tongue.

Your tone fractures like cheap glassware. "Jungkook... please, please don't stop, I can't—"

He doesn't (clearly a man who follows through on his commitments.)

Just when you think you’ve adjusted to the slow torture of his tongue, Jungkook shifts.

This time, there's no trace of the earlier restraint. No more teasing. No more measured patience. His tongue flattens and drags against your slit, before circling your clit rapidly, flicking in tight, rhythmic strokes that have your entire body seizing.

You cry out with sounds that would be mortifying if recorded, hands clutching his hair like stress balls. "J-Jungkook—oh my God—don't stop, don't—fuck, please—"

"Keep still," he whispers against you,"Take it just like this."

And then he’s back on you, tongue working you over, flicking fast, then flattening again, sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling the sensitive nub over in devastating circles.

You're spiraling into some delirious dimension where coherent speech is a distant memory. "God—fuck—Jungkook, what the fuck, you're—nnh, please keep going."

He chuckles into you, vibration shooting through your spine. “Want you to cum on my face.”

And then — just when your nerve endings have adjusted to his particular brand of torture — he pauses.

You whine at the sudden loss, body shaking, on the very edge of begging. But then you feel it: two fingers, thick and warm, sliding slowly into you. The stretch makes your back arch, mouth falling open on a broken moan as he sinks them deep and curls them just right.

Your walls clamp around him instantly, greedy and desperate, like they've been waiting for exactly this intrusion.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, eyes flying open. “Fuck!”

He pulls his mouth back a bit to speak, lips slick with you, fingers never leaving you. “Hmm, I’ve always known how to fuck you right.”

He leans in again, multitasking with impressive coordination; his tongue returning to your sopping wet core with determination while his fingers establish a rhythm inside you that can only be described as diabolically perfect. They curl against your sweet spot that makes your vision develop lens flares at the edges.

"Cum for me," he begs, "Cum on my fingers. Cum on my tongue. I want all of it."

And there's nothing left in your arsenal of resistance to fight this particular hostile takeover.

Not when he's looking at you with that expression. Especially not when his fingers are pumping inside you.

Your orgasm tears through you with a force that feels almost violent, body snapping taut beneath him as your back arches off the bed and a involuntary cry rips from your throat.

This is a full system meltdown. A white-hot supernova behind your eyelids, a full-body seismic event that has you gasping for oxygen. Your thighs clamp around Jungkook's head but he doesn't even flinch — he holds steady, fingers maintaining their rhythm, mouth still attending to your clit with dedication.

Everything in the known universe disappears except the overwhelming input of sensation; his mouth, his hands, his voice murmuring something against your trembling flesh that your pleasure-scrambled brain files under "process later" in a folder that may never actually be opened.

And then — oh God. There it is.

A gush of warmth, uncontrollable, spilling out of you before you can stop it,, and maybe you do squirt, maybe it’s just a near miss, but who’s to say? All you know with absolute certainty is that you're essentially baptizing his face, and the animalistic sound he produces in response is obscene, so proud, that it sends another aftershock ripping through your core.

Your whole body vibrates. Wrecked. Utterly demolished.

Jungkook finally pulls back, face glistening. He looks both flushed and triumphant, eyes dilated, staring at you like you've just performed some rare cosmic event he was lucky enough to witness.

"Holy shit," you exhale, "What the fuck was that."

He has a shit-eating grin on his face, wiping his chin with the back of his hand in a gesture that should be gross but somehow isn't, managing to look simultaneously cocky and awestruck. "Guess I don't have to wonder if you came."

You release a sound that exists somewhere between laughter and delirium, flinging an arm over your eyes. “I think I just blacked out," you murmur, the confession slipping out too easily.

Jungkook leans over you, starts to get off his knees, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, then another softer one. "Good," he says.

You blink at the ceiling with disoriented wonder. "Fuck, I missed this. Even if it wasn't that long of a break."

He chuckles. "I don't care how long it was, I still missed it."

You blink through the haze clouding your vision just in time to witness Jungkook fully rising to his feet at the edge of the bed, his gaze locked on you. His hands hook into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his thighs. Then he's there, hard, thick, and flushed, cock cradled in his hand as he strokes himself.

His eyes trail over your body with the thorough documentation of someone creating a visual archive. You can feel yourself responding in eagerness, walls clenching around nothing like they're experiencing separation anxiety.

"I'm never letting you go again," he says, voice dropping the playful edge, becoming something serious. “You get that, right?"

You attempt to formulate a response, but discover your mouth has apparently decided to cosplay as the Sahara. All you can manage is a nod that barely qualifies as movement.

He’s slightly hovering over you, arms sliding under your thighs, clamping around them as he drags you down the bed in one swift movement. You gasp as your ass makes abrupt contact with the edge of the mattress, cool air hitting newly exposed skin while your legs fall open, and then — holy evolutionary biology —

His cock slides through your folds, the weight and heat of him dragging against your already hypersensitive clit like a match strike against sandpaper. You whimper, legs twitching, your body apparently unable to decide if it's too sensitive for more stimulation or desperately craving it.

He repeats the motion again. And again. The thick, velvety length of his cock glides through your slick evidence, teasing your entrance. He lets you feel every ridge and vein without giving you the satisfaction of actual penetration, slaps his length against your juices a few times.

"Feel that?" he speaks softly, "That's mine. This whole fucking pussy. All of you." The possessive declaration should trigger your feminist alarm bells, but your body apparently didn't get the memo, responding instead with an endorsement.

Your hips jerk upward instinctively. “Jungkook, please."

He looks down at you, pupils so dilated they've nearly consumed the black holes. His jaw clenches, sweat creating a subtle sheen at his temple that catches the dim light. His cock twitches against you, leaving another hot trail of precum across your folds like some kind of territorial marking. “Say it," he growls, "Say you're mine."

Your fingers claw at the sheets, completely useless against the solid weight of him positioned between your thighs. You're wet to a degree that should concern you, but it somehow doesn’t. “Jungkook," you moan, "Please. I—I need you."

He grits his teeth, cock jumping between your folds. His expression broadcasts a man barely maintaining his composure. “Say it," he repeats. "Tell me you're mine."

You gasp, legs shuddering in his iron grip. “I'm yours," you whisper, the words escaping before your pride can intercept them. "I'm yours, Jungkook. I'm fucking yours. Please.. just fuck me. I can't, I need it, need you—"

That's all it takes; your desperate declaration being the final passcode to unlock whatever restraint he's been maintaining.

He growls under his breath incoherently, pushing his full length devastatingly slow into you.

And the stretch..

Sweet merciful heaven, it's always been llike discovering a new dimension of sensation. Always been the best you’ve ever had.

He's thick, pressing deeper into you than before, walls struggling to accommodate him. Each inch creates a delicious burn that makes your mouth fall open silently.

Your back arches, hands flying to his forearms with a desperate grip. Your lungs attempt to remember their primary function.

"Fuck," Jungkook hisses through teeth clenched, the grip on your thighs now firmly in bruise-manufacturing territory as he watches himself disappear into you. "You're so tight. Shit, always so wet for me."

You attempt to form words, but they never come. You're too full, stretched beyond what you thought possible. All you manage is a whimper as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, the substantial weight of him seated so deep you feel claimed from the inside out.

He hovers over you, his forehead brushing yours with unexpected tenderness. "You feel that?" he says under his breath. "That stretch? That fullness? That's me, baby."

You nod frantically, nails creating temporary artwork on his toned arms, walls clenching around him with rhythmic pulses. “I can feel you everywhere," you whisper, "You're—fuck, you're so deep, I—"

Jungkook holds still inside you for one suspended moment, long enough for your body to adjust to the size. Your legs twitch where they remain trapped in his grasp, feet dangling in the air.

Then, without verbal warning or mercy, he withdraws completely.

All the way out.

The sudden emptiness hits you like sensory whiplash, your walls clutching at nothing, muscles fluttering with panic, and then he pushes back in unhurriedly, dragging every impressive inch into your slick cunt.

Head tilting back, you moan out something that sounds like a profanity. He follows your movement like he's tethered to you, leaning down with a groan.

That's when you feel it; the gentle tap of cold metal against your chin.

His silver chain. You never really did appreciate that jewelry piece.

It swings, providing cool metallic kisses against your overheated skin. The visual of it dangling above you, catching light with each oscillation, nearly sends you to heaven.

You will never get tired of this man again.

You grab him by the neck with the decisive urgency of someone who's finally stopped overthinking everything, dragging him down against you, crashing your mouth to his with absolutely zero concern for technique or dignity.

Fuck, the taste.

You taste yourself on his lips, a complex, slightly salty sweetness that you'd never admit to anyone you find strangely intoxicating. Mixed with the warmth of his tongue and the slick slide of his mouth, your brain temporarily suspends all higher functions. He maintains that unhurried rhythm below, deep thrusts that end with a grind.

Your teeth accidentally catch his bottom lip in your eagerness and his breath hitches against your mouth.

"God," you exhale into his mouth, "you feel so fucking good. I-I missed you so m-much.”

Jungkook moans wantonly, forehead pressing against yours in that surprisingly tender gesture that somehow makes everything more intimate than the actual sex itself. His hips maintain that tempo, drawing out pleasure.

"You drive me insane," he whines. "You're so fucking tight, so perfect. I could do this all night. Never get tired of being inside you."

You shudder, gasping into the half-kiss, legs tightening around his waist with newfound plans to eliminate any remaining space between your bodies.

When he thrusts again, harder this time, you swear the room performs a slow rotation around you. He breaks the kiss with a muttered profanity that somehow sounds like poetry, staring down at you. In this moment, in this bed, with this man… you’ve never felt more safe and loved.

Yet the careful, teasing rhythm he’s been making love to you with shatters like fine china dropped from a height.

Jungkook drives into you with a force that makes your breath catch, his hips connecting with yours. The soundtrack becomes deliciously obscene — skin meeting skin with wet smacking. The headboard begins its own contribution, banging against the wall with a volume that would concern you if you weren't well past caring about such mundane considerations.

You cry out incredibly loud, “Oh my God — fuck — Jungkook, don't stop," your nails drag across his back and shoulders, anywhere within reach, as your body jerks beneath him.

"Not fucking planning to," he responds with grim determination, thrusting harder, deeper.

Thank God he doesn't have neighbors.

High, broken sounds emerge from your throat that seem to bypass your vocal cords entirely. And Jungkook? He's producing a collection of grunts and groans, punctuating each thrust with your name.

"You hear that?" he pants, fucking into you with enough force to make the bedframe collapse at this rate. "That's how wet you are for me. That sound—fuuck—you hear how good it sounds?"

You can't formulate a coherent response but your body registers only the essential data points: the way his cock hits that sweet spot each time, the way your walls grip him, the feel of his muscles underneath your fingertips.

You're the visual definition of dishevelment — hair stuck to your face, eyes glazed mouth open and—oh god—actually drooling slightly as you beg for more.

Jungkook's hand comes up to grab your jaw with gentleness, tilting your face to meet his gaze. “You are so, so beautiful."

The sincerity punches through your pleasure-riddled brain. You suddenly recognize this look — the one he's been giving you for weeks while you've been busy pretending he wasn’t. The realization lands with the subtlety of a piano dropped from a third-story window: you're the oblivious protagonist in your own romantic story.

Without warning or consultation, Jungkook rearranges your legs, hooking them over his shoulders like he's claiming ownership… which, at this particular moment, feels like a completely reasonable arrangement.

He thrusts back in, so deep your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your walls clamp down on them, juices leaking out onto the sheets below you.

"Holy shit," you gasp, "I can't, I can't, you're so deep, Jungkook, I—"

Somehow, in this moment of incoherence and surrender, you've never felt more genuinely yourself. There's something terrifying and liberating about being seen so completely, being known in this most primitive, honest way, and that you’ll let him have you like this.

He groans, abs flexing with roll of his hips. From this angle, escape from visual impact is impossible; he's looming above you, hair falling into eyes, jaw squared. His chest rises and falls in a quick, shallow rhythm but has decided breathing is less important than the task at hand.

"Fuck," he growls, gaze traveling downward to where your bodies connect, where every drag of his cock exhibits a ring of cream soaking his base. "Taking me so well. You're so fucking tight baby, squeezing me like you want me to cum."

You respond with some sound, legs twitching on his shoulders, toes curling behind his back with enough force to cause minor cramping.

"You were made for me," he rasps, "Made to take my cock."

His hand slides to your lower abdomen, pushing down with gentle pressure, and… wait, what is that? You can actually feel him inside you, a distinct bulge moving with each thrust, and your brain momentarily abandons pleasure to engage in scientific inquiry. How is that even possible? Isn't that one of those myths perpetuated by romance novels written by people with questionable understanding of female anatomy? Yet here you are, experiencing the impossible, your own body betraying your skepticism.

"Oh my God," you cry out, "I can feel your—I can't— Jungkook, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he counters, leaning further forward. He pounds into you, driving his hips even faster. "You're doing so fucking good for me. You're perfect. So perfect."

The praise sends you down a delirious spiral. It's embarrassing how effective simple validation can be, how the right words at the right moment can dismantle any fears you had.

Jungkook's rhythm falters momentarily, before he suddenly stills, cock pulsing inside you with a distinct throb, your walls gripping him with contractions. “Get up," he rasps.

You blink up at him with the unfocused bewilderment of someone who's forgotten how limbs work, body vibrating.

But then his hands are under your thighs, guiding your legs down. He helps you upright, being as careful and soothing as possible. As soon as you’re vertical, back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed, he grabs your face with urgency and kisses you — not the polite, exploratory kiss of early dating, but the kind that has already memorized the topography of your mouth.

His tongue slides in with confidence, and you respond with some sound that gets muffled in his mouth, drunk on the cocktail of hormones, endorphins, and the intoxication of tasting yourself on someone else's lips. Jungkook grips your jaw, hand trailing down to play with one of your pebbled nipples.

Without warning or a proper transition period, his other hand executes a perfect southward journey to your ass and delivers a sharp smack that somehow hits the precise intersection of pleasure and startled indignation.

You gasp, body performing an involuntary jump, and he grins against your lips with the smug satisfaction of someone who's just confirmed a long-held hypothesis (which is that you’ve always liked it when he slapped you. Which he knew.)

"Atta girl," he murmurs, "Now turn around."

You comply eagerly, positioning yourself on wobbly knees on the bed and arching your back in what you hope resembles sexy feline grace rather than a person about to cum in under five seconds. Your hands clutch the sheets with a desperate grip.

Behind you, the mattress creaks with his movement, his hands beginning a leisurely expedition up your back, wandering against your spine. He leans in, his breath cool on your overheated skin, and begins planting kisses down your spine. Each contact of his lips sends tiny electrical currents branching outward, tongue occasionally making guest appearances.

"You're unreal," Jungkook whispers, his voice carrying the raspy quality of genuine awe. "Every inch of you."

And then his hands find your hips with purposeful intent, pulling you backward, and you already know.

You already know you're not ready; not in the sense of being unwilling, but in the way that your body is still recovering from the previous position and probably needs another moment. Normally, under other circumstances, you might’ve stopped whoever, but because it’s him and somehow it feels like it’s been too long, you whimper in excitement.

He taps his cock against your slit a few time, collecting the arousal, and that elicits another wanton moan from you. He slides back in easily, and the sensation of fullness is immediately overwhelming, spine curving in automatic response like you're trying to make space for him inside your body. Your forehead drops to the mattress as a cry escapes your throat, “O-oh fuck, Jungkook!”

"Fuuuck," he groans behind you. His hips connect with your backside forcefully, and repeatedly. "This pussy's fucking perfect. God, I’m going to fuck y-you everyday."

Your entire form jolts with each impact, hands clutching the sheets. Your sensory awareness has narrowed to a hyper-focused inventory of feeling: every inch of him, each purposeful grind of his hips, the smell of his leftover aftershave still on your body, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. “F-Fuck me like I’m yours.”

That pretty much sends him on a rampage.

His hands press flat between your shoulder blades, effectively pinning you as he speeds his tempo.

"You like this?" he pants against your ear, breath hot against your neck as he leans over you. "Being bent over, dripping all over my cock?"

Your moan comes out high-pitched, needy, and completely stripped of dignity.

"Yes," you whisper, "Yes, Jungkook — fuck, it's so good. You feel so good—"

"That's right," he groans, emphasizing his point with even more forceful thrusts. "Say my name. Let me hear who's fucking you like this."

You obligingly repeat it, volume increasing with each iteration, “Jungkook—Jungkook—"

With absolute certainty, you realize your impending orgasm has become less a question of "if" and more a matter of "how explosively.”

His hand leaves your back. And suddenly, he’s reaching around your front, fingers slick with his own saliva (you think) as they find your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that make your whole body seize up.

“J-Jungkook— oh my god —” you choke out.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he begs against your ear, his weight looming on you. “Gonna fall apart on my cock like the filthy little thing you are?”

And yes, of course you are — your body is already approaching the cliff edge — but your brain knew that while your whole being simultaneously sends a very clear memo: We are absolutely fine with this particular brand of objectification at this specific moment, thank you very much.

You attempt to formulate a verbal response, but your vernacular has apparently gone on strike, only a stuttering noise that emerges from you. “Y-yes. Please make me cum, oooh.”

His fingers speed up, merciless on your clit, and his other hand tangles in your hair and pulls. Spine arching, head yanked back until you’re forced to look up, eyes wide and glassy.

"Fuck, fuck," you practically sob, his fingers entangled so deep in your scalp as he gathers his own makeshift ponytail. "I can't—I oh my god—"

"Yeah?" Jungkook hisses, lips brushing your cheek with unexpected tenderness given what's happening elsewhere. "That cockdrunk already?"

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking cum again, I—ahh, fuck," you babble with the coherence of someone experiencing a minor stroke, words slurring together, "Jungkook, please—"

"That's it," he bites his lip roughly, nearly drawing blood, his thrusts increasing in both frequency and force. Every circle of his fingers winds the tension tighter in your core. "Say my name while you lose your fucking mind on my cock."

Your mouth drops open in a perfect O, the pressure building in your stomach. Through it all, he remains the constant; grinding into you, fingers maintaining their devastating rhythm on your clit, hand still firmly grasping your hair.

God, you’re right there, so close you can almost…

Jungkook suddenly withdraws completely, creating a void so unexpected your body responds with a sob that comes from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, your entire body trembling and slick and utterly wrecked.

But before you can think again, he's gripping your waist, flipping you over onto your back, your body responding with the cooperative limpness of a rag doll. Thighs still unfortunately shaking from everything he’s done to you. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s back between your legs, spreading them wide, staring down at the soaked mess between you two.

“Need to see you,” he pants, pupils blown wide. “Need to watch you cum.”

He's kissing you again, less a romantic gesture and more like someone attempting to consume you through your mouth. Tongue hot and demanding, lips slick with everything you’ve given him. It’s messy, desperate, teeth clashing, breaths swallowed. Your hands claw at his back, his hair, needing something to hold onto as he thrusts back into you.

You cry out into his mouth, sound mangled, your head spinning as he fucks you hard from above. His chain swings again with every thrust, cold metal smacking into your bouncing breasts.

Jungkook’s tattooed hand comes up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around the skin, enough to remind you who’s in control.

Your eyes snap open to meet his, and what you find there makes your internal organs perform cartwheels. Possession, worship, and hunger, as if he's been starving for years and you're the first real thing he’s had.

"You're gonna cum for me like this," he whines. His hand maintains its position at your throat, his chain now swinging with abandon, occasionally delivering metallic kisses to your chest. Hands are firmly placed on your hips, your legs flailing with each thrust. "Right here, while I'm inside you."

Your clit throbs at his words with almost painful insistence while your walls contract around his cock, your body apparently making decisions without consulting your brain first.

"Jungkook, right there," you mewl, hand gripping his shoulder tightly, "I can't—I'm gonna—I'm—"

"That's it," he grunts, reclaiming your mouth in a kiss that effectively silences whatever embarrassing sounds were about to escape. “Cum for me, baby."

And you do.

Your orgasm doesn’t just hit — it erupts. It detonates from deep inside you, hot and electric, tearing through your entire body like a lightning strike. Your back arches off the mattress, thighs snapping around Jungkook’s waist as your cunt clamps down on him, squeezing so tight it rips a guttural noise from his throat.

You’re sobbing something that might be his name, might be a prayer, might just be air torn from your lungs.

The world performs an impressive disappearing act. Your vision whites out. You're gone, temporarily relocated to some dimension where only he exists. Every muscle in your body spasms and shakes. It's raw and messy and completely unhinged.

Jungkook feels every microsecond of your unraveling. Each pulse. Each ripple of your body's meltdown beneath him.

"Fuck—" he groans, hips stuttering as your walls flutter around him. His grip intensifies — at your throat, your hip, anywhere he can establish anchor points — his self-control visibly deteriorating with each passing second. "Jesus Christ, you're— fuck, you're squeezing me so hard — baby, I'm not gonna—"

He’s panting now, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping from his temple as he tries not to lose it. This whole time you've been running from him, pretending not to notice what's been right in front of you; his almost painful beauty, the devastating architecture of his features, the way his eyes contain entire universes. (Okay, fine, you noticed. Sometimes. Often. Constantly. But admitting it then would have meant admitting other things you weren't ready for.)

"Look at you," he manages, the words coming out with obvious effort as he watches you completely disintegrate beneath him. "You're so goddamn beautiful when you cum."

"Shit," he gasps, "you're gonna make me—fuck, baby, I'm gonna—"

And still, he doesn’t stop praising you, even as his self-control cracks beneath the weight of your body convulsing around his cock.

“So tight. So wet. You’re perfect,” he growls, each compliment landing like a physical touch. “Made for me. My perfect girl.”

Even as his composure fractures atop the weight of your body, he continues his litany of praise. He's trembling above you now, jaw tightly clenched, every muscle locked as he continues moving through your climax, pursuing his own with increasingly desperate determination.

"Jungkook, fuck, I can't—" you sob, the overstimulation too much for you to even breathe, let alone think.

With one final, decisive thrust, he finishes, harder than he ever has in his natural life.

A sound escapes him, raw and primal and startlingly vulnerable. His head drops to your shoulder, hips moving with an erratic rhythm. His body pulses inside yours, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, your toes curling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—" he whimpers, hips making two more valiant efforts as he empties himself completely. "So good my girl, so fucking good—I can't, shit—"

This moment of complete abandon is when you finally let yourself see him. Not Calvin Klein's global ambassador. Not South Korea's beloved idol. Not the carefully constructed public image or even the man who you cared less about in those first meetings. Just Jungkook, beautiful when his own walls are down.

You spent so long running from this, from him, pretending not to notice how the light catches his features at certain angles, how his eyes tell stories when he looks at you, how the slope of his nose looks like somewhere butterflies land.

Now, watching him come undone because of you, inside you, the realization lands with catastrophic clearness: he was always yours to have. Completely, irrevocably yours in a way that both terrifies and exhilarates you.

His whole body trembles with aftershocks, chest heaving as he presses impossibly deeper, seeking maximum contact. Jungkook’s hand migrates from your throat to your waist, fingers grasping the warm skin.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, not from sadness or even overwhelm, but from some emotion too big for your body to contain. Your legs try to remain wrapped around him, but your muscles give out entirely. Your whole body has gone pleasantly boneless, nerves humming, heart performing a drum solo against your ribs.

He pants against your collarbone, his chain now a cool, slightly sticky presence trapped between your overheated bodies, lips brushing your jaw with tenderness.

"I didn't mean — fuck — I didn't mean to cum that hard," he murmurs, voice sandpaper-rough.

You manage a sound that's adjacent to laughter, breathless and slightly broken, your lips struggling to form actual words through the haze of endorphins. "It’s okay."

He allows his weight to settle near you, forehead resting against your shoulder, still intimately connected.

Neither of you move for a long time. Neither of you really want to.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You don't know how long it's been since the world stopped spinning on its axis, time having apparently become an optional concept rather than a reliable constant.

The sheets beneath you are warm, air carrying a complex bouquet — skin and breath and something that exists in the undefined territory between forgiveness and desire. Your legs remain stubbornly intertwined with his own, as if your body is staging its own rebellion against separation, operating on some fear that distance equals disappearance.

Jungkook has maintained silence. You've been equally restrained in your contributions to the non-conversation.

But his hand continues its cartography against your skin. Slow, featherlight circles mapped across your back. Periodically, his lips find your hairline, the gesture so natural it seems less of a conscious choice, but instead an involuntary reflex.

Your head occupies the territory of his shoulder, lips occasionally brushing his collarbone in what could be kisses or simply the accident of proximity. Beneath your ear, his chest rises and falls, his heartbeat a steady percussion under your palm.

You allow your gaze to travel upward.

You look at Jungkook in his unfiltered state — eyes heavy-lidded with satisfied exhaustion, torso bare of everything except his tattoo sleeve, the silver chain and a thin sheen of cooling sweat that catches what little light seeps in from the hallway. A faint crimson mark decorates his jaw where you clearly got too excited. He looks beautifully dismantled.

"I want to make this work."

He blinks. Then freezes in place like someone who's just spotted a rare and potentially skittish creature.

You register when he stops his movement against your back, feel the subtle hitch in his respiratory rhythm before it recalibrates to steadiness. But what matters more is what doesn't happen. He doesn't retreat. Doesn't deflect with humor. Doesn't repackage vulnerability into something more manageable.

Instead, he turns his head to look at you with an expression of wonder, gaze soft around the edges, mouth slightly parted as if he's afraid that acknowledging what you've said might cause you to take it back.

"I don't know how. I'm not... I don't want to be your girlfriend yet. I know I'm not ready for that," you admit, the confession emerging with all the tentative vulnerability of someone stepping onto ice they're not convinced will hold. "But I want to try to get there with you."

You don't explicitly mention fear, don't need to catalog the specific anxieties currently living in your chest. It's encoded in every accelerated heartbeat, every microexpression, every subtle tension in the muscles that have spent years building barriers around your emotions.

You're not hiding behind power dynamics or professional distance or the fortress of pride you've constructed brick by brick. You're just here. In his bed. Body curved around his like a physical manifestation of the promise your words have just placed in the air between you.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, a sound that is the audio equivalent of relief wearing joy's clothing, and presses his forehead to your scalp.

"Then let's try," he murmurs.

The silence expands between you, but it isn't awkward at all.

You adjust your position slightly, one leg claiming territory around his waist. His skin radiates warmth against yours, offering a security that feels foreign but essential. Yet your throat constricts anyway.

"Well," you sigh, "I don't know how to be with you, to be honest."

His eyes move to yours. As always, he doesn't attempt solutions. He listens with the rare patience of someone who understands that witnessing is sometimes more valuable than fixing.

You lick your lips and continue, "I don't know how to be someone who texts good morning. Or someone who talks about their feelings over dinner. Or someone who... who knows how to let another person in without feeling like I'm losing something in return."

The admission costs you something — you can feel it leaving your body, years of self-protection dismantling in real time. For a woman who's built her career on knowing exactly what to say and how to say it, this raw honesty feels like jumping off a bridge with no harness.

He remains silent. But his gaze holds yours with steady assurance, eyes dark and patient in the dim light like he's prepared to wait as long as necessary for whatever comes next.

You hesitate, but then add ,"Is that okay?"

The question hangs between you two. About whether someone like him, who seems to navigate genuine connection with the ease of breathing, could possibly want someone like you, for whom emotional transparency feels like a foreign language.

For what seems like ages, he doesn't answer.

Then he lifts a hand to your hair, brushing it back from your face with a sweetness that makes your chest ache in places you didn't know could feel.

"Yeah," he affirms, "That's okay."

Two words. Simple. Direct. And somehow containing the most profound acceptance you've ever been offered.

"I don't need you to be perfect," he continues, "I don't need you to turn into someone else just to be with me. Honestly, i would hate that.”

His thumb traces your jawline, eyes maintaining their focus on yours steadily. “I just need you to try."

You blink back the tears threatening to compromise your maintained image as someone who doesn't cry over boys or sad movies or particularly moving commercials featuring rescue animals.

"That's the problem," you confess, "I don't know how to try without trying to win or turning everything into something to conquer."

"I know," he says with the certainty of someone stating that water is wet. "You're the most guarded person I've ever met."

You narrow your eyes with mock indignation. "You're terrible at comforting people."

Which… is a lie so transparent it wouldn't fool a toddler. The man clearly possesses emotional intelligence bordering on supernatural — he somehow got you, corporate warrior queen and professional feelings-avoider, to actually visit your family after a year of strategic absence. If that's not evidence of psychological wizardry, nothing is.

He smiles genuinely, "You didn't come all the way here because I'm good at comforting people."

Your lips twitch traitorously, the beginnings of a smile staging a coup. Jungkook leans closer, "You don't have to know how to be with me right now. You just have to stay."

You press your face into the sanctuary of his skin, inhaling his scent. “You're not afraid?" you ask.

"Terrified," he replies without even a millisecond's hesitation. "But I'd rather be afraid with you than safe without you."

The line would sound rehearsed coming from anyone else, but his voice carries this authenticity of someone speaking their unfiltered truth. He looks at you like you're the answer to questions he didn't even know he was asking, like someone who's found their favorite person in a world of seven billion options and is amazed by his good fortune.

You don't respond verbally. You don't need to.

Because your arms remain wrapped around him, your body more honest than your words have ever managed to be. And you haven't let go or run away yet — a physical declaration more powerful than any verbal agreement.

The soft moment only lasts so long, however , because he's a man and therefore incapable of sustaining emotional vulnerability beyond the FDA-recommended dosage, his chest rumbles with that low frequency that signals a subject change is imminent.

"So," he says, "wanna hop in the shower with me?"

The question carries all the subtlety of a neon sign, but you find yourself smiling anyway — partly because it's such a perfectly timed relief for the emotional pressure that's been building, and partly because even this transparent attempt at distraction is infused with affection. His eyes still look at you like you've personally hung the moon and stars, even while proposing something as mundane as shared hygiene.

You blink for a moment. Then lift your head just enough to give him a look that questions both his sanity and possibly basic human biology. “You're joking."

He returns your gaze with an expression balanced perfectly between amusement and innocence. "Why would I be joking?"

"Because it's physically impossible that you still have anything left," you retort ,eyebrows climbing toward your forehead in a silent judgment of his audacity.

He just shrugs, "I hydrate. I stretch. I take care of myself."

You drop your head back onto his chest with a groan that contains multitudes; exhaustion, disbelief, and a reluctant hint of admiration. "Oh my god."

He grins, entirely unbothered by your exasperation, fingers tracing a path down your side. "You're the one who came crawling back to me, remember?"

You lift your head again, fixing him with a glare that would wither lesser men. "Crawling is a strong word."

He arches a single eyebrow. "You showed up at my house with a crumpled contract and a face that said please, take me back my lover."

You have the simultaneous desire to slap him, kiss him senseless, and then perhaps slap him once more for good measure. But you opt for your mouth opening, then closing again, resembling an indignant goldfish as your brain frantically searches for a comeback and finds the cupboard disappointingly bare.

"Yeah," he smirks, "that's what I thought."

You grab the nearest pillow and smack him squarely in the face with it — the universal last resort of those who have lost the argument but refuse to concede defeat.

He laughs as he effortlessly confiscates your improvised weapon and tosses it aside. With fluid coordination, he tugs you back toward him, arms locking around your waist.

"I'm serious," he murmurs,"Shower with me."

His expression might be teasing, but his eyes tell a different story, one where this request is about far more than shared hygiene. They look at you with the softness reserved for someone who still can't quite believe you're actually here, in his bed, in his arms, agreeing to try.

You pull back just enough to examine him properly, the way his smile goes slightly lopsided when genuine, how his eyes crinkle at the corners when they're not performing for a lens. And underneath all of that visible surface-level perfection: relief. Quiet, unmistakable relief that you're actually here, that this isn't another near miss in your shared history of almosts.

You trace a thumb along his jawline, "If I go in there with you, you're not allowed to make a single comment about your 'stamina.'"

He presses a kiss to your wrist. "Fine."

"Or your flexibility."

"Okay."

"Or how good your skin looks wet."

He snorts with amusement. "You do like it though."

You deliver one final shove to his shoulder, the gesture containing all the force of a gentle breeze as he begins to sit up. His arms are already reaching for you again, the blanket abandoning its post as he pulls you back into him. A laugh escapes your throat before you can intercept it, muffled against the skin that's become more familiar to you than anything.

This unexpected development is precisely what you never permitted yourself to envision. What your risk assessments classified as statistically improbable.

But here it is. Materializing in this moment. Occupying this bed with the certainty of something that's always been inevitable.

You look at him again, and he returns your gaze.

Perhaps love isn't orchestrated declarations or cinematic gestures performed with optimal lighting.

Perhaps it's this.

The quietly profound silence that says despite all logical arguments to the contrary, you stayed.

And the next few days unfold with that same magic of moments you weren't supposed to have; soft, unanticipated.

You extend your return flight as if you’re postponing a dentist appointment. Once. Then again and again. Until the concept of departure transforms from definitive plan to vague hypothetical.

Your hotel sends increasingly concerned emails about your room you haven't seen and don’t plan to. Your suitcase maintains its position in the corner of Jungkook's bedroom, untouched and increasingly irrelevant.

Now? You essentially live here.

At least, that's the only conclusion based on available evidence.

Your limbs are entangled with his at all times; on his comfortable couch, in his ridiculously large bed, half-conscious on the floor in front of his massive TV. Your hairbrush has made good friends with his bathroom drawer. There's a bottle of your overpriced moisturizer holding territory on his nightstand. His kitchen now carries the scent of your morning coffee, and he never allows you to prepare it without supervision.

"Let me do it," he insists, "You'll make it too strong."

"You're weak," you counter, "Own it."

But he just shrugs with nonchalance, delivers a kiss to your cheekbone, and activates the kettle anyway.

Daniel, from across the world, hasn't made contact. He doesn't need to. Your discretion levels are currently hovering around zero.

You sent him a single text, a masterpiece of vagueness claiming you're "taken care of." His response consisted of three laughing emojis and a GIF depicting a calendar engulfed in flames. You chose not to follow up on that particular conversation thread.

No other member of the team has demonstrated the courage needed to disturb your unauthorized sabbatical.

For perhaps the first time in your adult life, you experience zero guilt about any of it.

For once, your life isn't structured around the strategy decks at dawn and press releases at midnight. You're eating toast over Jungkook's kitchen sink, while behind you, he performs a lip sync routine using a wooden spoon as his microphone. You're curled up on his couch wearing one of his shirts (which naturally, fits you like a dress), your laptop exiled to the coffee table. His head rests in your lap while he tells you tales from his trainee days that simultaneously explain his discipline and make you wonder how anyone survives the k-pop industry with their sanity intact.

You find yourself watching him smile, the authentic ones that transforms his entire face and makes something in your chest bloom. Somewhere between months ago and this moment, your brain recategorized him, filing him under "person I might actually miss" rather than "professional chaos requiring PR aide."

Each night, you fall asleep in his bed with windows slightly ajar, Seoul's night air drifting in, his arm draped across your waist.

Some days you wake to find him already conscious, just... looking at you, blinking as if he’s conducting reality checks.

"You okay?" you whisper during one such morning surveillance, voice still rough with sleep.

He nods. Smiles that stupid bunny smile that makes you all fuzzy. “Just making sure you're real."

You don't try to respond. Kiss him instead.

You don't know what comes next in this unscripted thing you've stumbled into. Your professional life has always operated according to meticulous planning but there's no PowerPoint template for whatever this is. No key performance indicators to measure the success of accidentally falling for the person you were supposed to keep at a professional distance.

Finally though, when reality does come crashing down, when the email confirmation materializes in your inbox, it feels like some alternate version of yourself made these arrangements. Some corporate doppelgänger who still prioritizes quarterly projections over the way Jungkook's voice sounds when he's half-asleep.

Your return to New York.

A city that once represented the pinnacle of your ambitions, now reduced to a collection of skyscrapers and deadlines.

You stare at the itinerary, thumb hovering over the screen. The return remains theoretical until you forward it to your assistant.

Subject line: returning next week. please keep calendar clear until I land.

What your assistant doesn't know… is that this departure comes with a loophole.

Not so much an ending as a comma in a sentence still being written.

There's another ticket purchased with the stealth of a spy. Under Jungkook's legal name. Scheduled for precisely seventy-two hours after yours — a buffer zone necessary for him to navigate the bureaucracy that runs his existence. A whispered promise that he'll follow once HYBE's legal department, publicity team, and some other people sign off on the logistical nightmare that is "globally famous person attempts to ‘try things’ with c-suite member of said person’s latest marketing campaign.”

There will be tabloid landmines to sidestep. Calendar schedules to master. Seemingly trivial concerns that will eventually mean something, like calculating time differences before sending texts, ensuring you’ve made space for his skincare in your New York apartment, and perfecting the art of arriving at the same location via different entrances.

“Trying to make it work” with an international popstar, it turns out, requires the same level of strategic planning as a corporate merger.

Right now, though, you're standing in the doorway of Jungkook's apartment, performing the world's most reluctant exit. Your suitcase waits by your feet, coat draped over your arm, heart lodged so firmly in your throat. The car service downstairs is undoubtedly charging by the minute while the driver wonders what drama is delaying your descent.

Jungkook’s standing before you, barefoot and hoodie carelessly thrown on, eyes carrying sleepiness. Beneath that morning haze, he's unmistakably present. Awake in the way that silently pleads don't leave without saying what we both know is true.

You haven't told him yet. The words you've been rehearsing in your head.

The truth you've been aware of for days while pretending otherwise.

His voicemail still plays on repeat, the one you finally had the courage to hear on that Manhattan rooftop, glass abandoned as his voice crackled through your phone speaker.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He never demanded reciprocation. Never presented it as a transaction. And now you're stuck thinking about your mother's favorite lecture, delivered with the exasperation reserved for a child too smart for her own good. "Don't lie if you can't carry it."

As your fingers make contact with the cold metal of the door handle, you pause. Turn to him.

Your eyes connect with Jungkook’s — they’re always wide with anticipation, patiently waiting, hopeful in that quiet, unassuming way he hopes for things. Your mouth opens, words still stubbornly refusing to leave.

Finally, with the triumphant relief of someone who's been holding their breath underwater, you manage to speak.

"I.. I-I think I'm starting to fall in love with you too."

He blinks at you. Like perhaps his sleep-deprived brain has misinterpreted that. Like maybe this is some elaborate dream his subconscious has constructed to torture him.

But then there’s that slow, sunrise smile that spreads across his entire face. That small, stunned shake of his head. His eyes soften, and he steps forward, reaching for your hand like it's the only anchor in a storm.

He presses his lips to your knuckles — a gentleman's compromise, the only part of you he apparently trusts himself to touch without dragging you back to bed.

"I'll see you in New York," he mutters.

In some way, those words say exactly what you know they mean. You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat, forming a smile that doesn't look like you're about to cry.

The distance between Seoul and New York has never seemed so vast and so insignificant.

And when you walk out the door, heart thundering, you slide into the backseat of the car. Not any less yourself, not someone’s girlfriend, but with the promise of something new. Hands are still buzzing, gaze lingering on the city you used to avoid calling home.

As the driver pulls away from the curb, you feel your phone buzz once in your lap.

Eomma.

You blink at your phone.

Without hesitation, without fear, without guilt, you answer the call.

“Hi, Eomma,” you say, smiling softly. “I’ve missed you! Sorry I didn’t call since last week, I was crazy busy. But I do have a story for you.”

Everything in your chest feels entirely new.

Because at this point in time, you’re not running from something.

You’re walking toward it.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

note ; if you’re reading this — welcome! you survived the end of the price of desire, and i love you for it. thank you for reading.

now to show my love and affection… i’ll be doing 3-4 epilogue drabbles/blurbs based off your guys’ requests (bc it’s no fun if im just doing whatever i please, duhh!!) send in some ideas (smut, fluff, even some angst) of what you would want to see as epilogue blurbs and i’ll choose the ones that inspire me :-) THIS IS NOW CLOSED! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS 🫶

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @uarmygguk @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97 @jksusawife @rkivesarchive @hyunjinswifetingzz @bjoriis @nan4rf @parkinglot-nights @travelgurrl @softhaes @bexxs @magicalnachocreator @wisebouquetbarbarian @futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7

#jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

355 notes · View notes