Bts Fic recs

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

While you’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every quarter the company sponsors an employee barbecue where everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though friendly, she has zero filter and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in certain situations where you found her topic of choice inappropriate. 

Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate instead of your measly Assistant means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started and is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply truthfully. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales Boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from Accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “That sounds unnecessarily smelly. He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue button-up. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you prompt, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. They rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs in disinterest. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask distractedly. A glance back to the coolers shows Jungkook is gone, and you don’t see him in the immediate vicinity.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy reminds you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching his athletic display across the grass anyway.

Monday morning—the start of the workweek, but also, rather depressingly, the end of the weekend. Everyone tends to be more tired and grumpy on Mondays (yourself included), and this is why your team considers it essential that you always stop by their preferred coffeeshop and bring in their drinks for a morning pick-me-up. You’re the lowest on the ladder, so you weren’t exactly sure how to refuse when you were asked one day if you would mind picking up some drinks for everyone, and then, after that, people kept sending you their orders like it was expected of you. The café is technically on your way to work and everyone always pays you back, but it’s still pretty irritating to have to forgo those extra precious minutes of sleep just so you can beat the long lines and get to work on time.

Today, you’re lucky enough to get ahead of the morning rush, but that means that you end up trudging into the building much earlier than you anticipated. You hope the coffee’s insulated cups do their job properly, because you really don’t have the energy to listen to Joy huff and puff about having to reheat hers.

Your trek to your cubicle slows when you realize that someone is already there, sitting in your chair and typing away on your keyboard. Their back is to you, swathed in an olive button-up, and it’s not until you get close enough to curiously crane your head to see their face that you recognize him. The guy from the barbecue last week—the one by the coolers.

He startles a bit when he sees you approach in his peripheral vision, eyes darting up at you in surprise.

“Hi.” You raise the tray you’re holding in an awkward greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

“That’s okay, _____,” he replies softly, wide eyes blinking a little from behind his round glasses. “I can get kind of spacey when I’m focused on something. I was just doing some updates on your machine and didn’t see you.”

“You…” Your head tilts curiously. “You know my name?” 

A small smile touches his lips as he points to your computer. “I’m updating your machine,” he reminds you.

Not to mention the fact that he’s literally sitting in your cubicle, you name tag clearly posted on the frosted glass that separates your space from Joy’s. An embarrassed chuckle leaves you when you realize your dumbass mistake. “Oh. Duh. Wow, that was a stupid question. Let me just get out of your way.”

“No, no, I’m clearly the one in the way!” His head shakes apologetically. “I couldn’t do this update remotely and I thought you didn’t clock in for another half hour—sorry about that.”

“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I tend to get here a little early so I can sort out everyone’s coffee order.”

A brow raises in surprise. “Do they really have you making coffee runs?” he asks incredulously.

You hmm in confirmation, moving to set the coffee on everyone’s desks. “Rite of passage, I guess,” you call over the divider as you work. Joy’s order today isn’t as over the top as you know she can be, but you were still rather embarrassed to order it (vanilla latte with oatmilk—one and a half pumps cinnamon, one pump hazelnut, an extra espresso shot and extra foam with honey drizzle). The barista had looked at you tiredly but hadn’t voiced her obvious judgement when she rung you up. 

“I guess,” you hear him say, but he doesn’t sound too convinced. 

Coffee distributed and hands finally free, you return to lean against your cubicle, hovering as he continues to quickly type and click. You look at him pointedly, a small smile creeping across your face. “Speaking of grunt work, I hear you’re the printer guy.”

His lips quirk. “I’m also the expert at updating Microsoft Word, just so you know.”

You laugh, and his eyes crinkle in amused response. “Oh, well excuse me, sir.”

“I’ll let it slide this once. Since you’re new.”

“And so are you. That’s why you’re the printer guy.”

He just lets out a puff of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. This close, you can now see the tiny holes that are trailing up his earlobe—he clearly has multiple ear piercings, not just the ones you saw at the barbecue. There is no jewelry in them now, though. 

“Jungkook, right?”

It’s his turn to look surprised, and you find yourself satisfied by the flush creeping up the back of his neck when he ducks his head in confirmation. 

“Us newbies gotta stick together,” you stage whisper behind a conspiratorial hand before leaning decidedly away. “Anyway, let me stop bothering you and go make some coffee.”

His eyebrows scrunch in clear confusion. “Didn’t you just bring some?”

“…Yeah, I am only just now recognizing just how bizarre this must seem,” you say sheepishly. “But none of those were for me—fancy specialty drinks aren’t really in my budget, so I tend to just brew a cup here.” 

“Did you say drinks?” a voice croaks, and when you turn your head, there’s Joy, walking towards the two of you. If her body’s sluggish movements weren’t enough to clue you in to the fact that she’s exhausted and possibly hungover, the designer sunglasses she’s wearing to tactfully hide half her face certainly do.

“On your desk,” you chirp as she walks past you without another glance. “Good morning!”

There is no response from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Jungkook frowns a bit, but you just give him a small shrug that translates to what can you do? before pushing off the wall to continue your trek to the kitchen. “You want one?” you offer. “I make a mean cafeteria coffee. Trial and error has taught me the exact temperature of tap water to use to make it taste less like sludge.”

His mouth smoothes back out at your joke, and though you wait for him to call you out on your ridiculous declaration, his gaze is already back on your computer. “No thank you,” comes his soft reply.

With a nod to yourself, you move to complete your task and leave Jungkook to work on his. When you return minutes later, newly-filled mug in hand, he’s already gone.

Today starts out pretty typically. After bringing everyone’s coffee, you settle into monitoring the company’s social media accounts. (When Joy first delegated this task to you, you were a bit confused, as social media is so vital to brands nowadays that handling it is technically a whole other full-time job. But it turns out you don’t have to do much above the intern level anyway—just answer customer questions and escalate issues if need be.)

Your manager has been out traveling for a week, but today she finally comes back to the office, and it makes for a nice change of pace when she hands you all of her scattered, hurriedly-scribbled notes and asks you to please transcribe them into something more cohesive and legible. Well, not nice, exactly (because at the end of the day, this is still busywork), but if you have to reply to one more Facebook comment with instructions that are clearly already on the product packaging, there is a pretty likely possibility you will scream. 

This is at least slightly less mind-numbing. Instead of copy-pasting things from a prewritten script, you get to try to make sense of what your boss had been trying to say when she wrote turkey club in the corner of a page filled with random numbers and dates. Was this important? Was it simply her plans for lunch that day? You and your fancy college degree have the pleasure of trying to figure that out while Joy and Alan, the web manager, get to actually do important things that are in their job descriptions.

Still, like every day, you try to dampen your frustration, try to keep a positive attitude. Because ultimately, this is an opportunity to grow your boss’s confidence in you, and that’s exactly what you want. Though you’re a little disheartened by all the busywork, you remind yourself it will all be worth it in the end. Your hope is that if you put in the time, you’ll eventually be trusted with more of the nitty gritty stuff. 

(You know…the stuff you actually got your degree for.)

But no matter how positive you are, things of course don’t go as smoothly as they should. After you’ve done a pretty fantastic job (if you say so yourself) of organizing and typing everything up, you send your manager the digital version. And, because you know the email may accidentally get buried in her inbox, you decide to print a physical copy for good measure.

You give the printer pretty simple, straightforward directions. One copy, double-sided (to do your part to save Mother Earth), the whole document typed in plain old black and white. But when you walk over, there’s nothing waiting for you in the printing tray. No humming to clue you in to the fact that the printer was working on your job. Nope. Instead, the admittedly ancient machine is quiet and still, and it stays that way for long enough for you to walk back to your computer to press the print button again, just in case you forgot to do so the first time. Still no dice. You frown, opening the paper tray to make sure it was full, then opening every other compartment that can possibly be opened to make sure there isn’t a paper jam somewhere.

Nothing.

Irritated, you stalk back to your desk, your first inclination to check with Joy and see if she has been having any of the same issues, but you find her chair empty. Probably got pulled into a meeting that they don’t find it necessary to loop you in on, even though it will ultimately be you who does all the grunt work for any action items the meeting produces.

Positive, you remind yourself, falling back into your chair and drumming your fingertips against your desk in thought. Maybe it’s not the printer at all. Maybe it’s your computer. You search your desk drawer for the introductory employee contact sheet HR had given you when you first started, and there he is—Jeon, Jungkook.

For a second, you consider sending him an email, but the green dot that displays he’s online has you shooting him a message instead. Much less formal, but likely quicker for the both of you.

You Hey Jungkook! Sorry to bother you, but I can’t print for some reason You The printer over here is ignoring me, and I don’t think I’m set up to print by the art directors

Despite what you originally assumed, he doesn’t answer immediately, obviously focused on something else. Still, you only have to wait a few minutes before you hear the soft ding you were waiting for. 

Jungkook Jeon Hi, _____. You mean the large printer by the marketing department, correct?   You Yes! I tried a couple times, but I don’t think the job even went through You Thought it best to just ask the printer guy 🙂

There’s a pause, one long enough that you worry that he’s forgotten about your lighthearted exchange from this morning. Shit. That was stupid of you. You’ve probably offended him. Fuck.

But if Jungkook is upset with you, he’s professional enough that it doesn’t come across at all in his next message. If anything, he just seems a little preoccupied. 

Jungkook Jeon Hmmm, let me check it out for you. Mabel can be a little uncooperative. You Mabel? 

Silence again, this time for a good five minutes. You answer some emails so you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs. 

Jungkook Jeon Sorry, was running some diagnostics in the background to see if I could find the problem  IT kinda calls that printer Mabel because we’re pretty sure she’s worked for the company for longer than all of us combined. Seems fitting

You can’t help but snort at that. Cute, and likely not inaccurate. Mabel, it is.   

Jungkook Jeon One of these days Mabel’ll finally retire, but it won’t be today—looks like she’s running fine. Do you mind checking for me and seeing if you can access the marketing server? 

A few clicks, and when double clicking on the server icon doesn’t bring up the same list of folders it usually does, it confirms the conclusion the both of you have already come to—your computer is the problem, not Mabel.

You No dice 😕 Jungkook Jeon Got it. I think something went weird with your network connection after I updated your machine this morning. I can fix that for you! You Awesome! I appreciate it! Jungkook Jeon Of course! Can’t have my sparkling reputation as the Printer Guy tarnished so easily 😉 You LOL

You allow him remote access to your computer when a pop-up prompts you to, and he gets you up and running before your manager’s meeting is even over.

Lunch has always been an interesting—albeit potentially exhausting—part of your day. You learned early on that attempting to take the break you were legally entitled to at your desk did not stop anyone from continuing to ask you for things. Unfortunately, there weren’t many solutions to this problem—you didn’t get paid enough to be able to consistently eat your lunches out, and you lived too far away from the office to go home for lunch instead. So, you started taking your lunch break a little earlier than most of your other coworkers did, ensuring that the cafeteria was pretty empty and allowing you the space to decompress and eat your bagged lunch in peace. 

And as things usually went with this company, it didn’t take long for that peace to be interrupted. Once she noticed you disappearing from your desk, curiosity had Joy tagging along one day, and after that, it only took a couple weeks before both she and Wendy joined you. 

(Later, you would have the great idea to simply enjoy your bagged lunch in the park a few blocks away, but the weather wasn’t always great and at that point, the other two started to expect you to eat with them.)

So that’s exactly how you’re spending your lunch now—scarfing down the soup you made a few days ago that you’ll eat until it’s completely gone, while Joy and Wendy giggle and gossip to each other. As much as they apparently want to eat lunch with you, they tend to be pretty nonplussed by how you never contribute much to their inane conversations. 

And you’re fine with that. In the time it’s taken them to get comfortable invading your zen time, you’ve learned how to properly tune their tittering out. You’re good at nodding at the right times, at throwing in perfectly placed hums that indicate you’re listening, even when you’re not.

Today, it’s a sudden, uncharacteristic pause in their chatter that prickles against your diverted attention.   “That’s weird,” you hear Wendy mutter, and that officially throws you out of you mentally making your grocery list. The intrigued way she’s looking behind you makes you reflexively turn, and that’s when your eyes set on Jungkook.

He hadn’t been there when you first sat down for lunch, but he is now, sitting alone a couple tables away. He’s the only other person in the cafeteria, but from the AirPods in his ears and the way his eyes are focused on his phone screen, you doubt he’s even noticed this fact.  

Joy’s lips downturn slightly into a puzzled frown. “Hmm. IT guys never come down voluntarily from their tower.” 

Your head tilts as you mull over that. That isn’t exactly true. You have only seen Jungkook in passing a few times over the last couple weeks, but those few times prove IT aren’t exactly the antisocial specters the two women in front of you keep painting them as. You have even exchanged the short pleasantries with him that are socially expected when crossing paths at the coffeepot.  

“Wonder what he’s doing here?” Wendy says, not nearly quietly enough in your opinion. Embarrassment  flashes hot through you, inwardly chastising yourself for continuing to associate with such casually judgmental people. You’re already mentally preparing to apologize for your lunch mates when a covert glance out of the corner of your eye shows that Jungkook’s still paying your group no attention, taking distracted bites from his sandwich as his head bobs slightly to whatever is playing through his headphones.

“Whatever,” Joy says with a dismissive shrug, and then just that easily, the two are back gossiping about Cindy in HR.

From then on, you notice that Jungkook continues to eat lunch in the cafeteria at the same time as you. Sometimes, he beats you there, already at his designated table and munching on whatever he brought that day. If your eyes meet, he’ll send you a small smile in greeting before immediately dropping his focus back to his phone. If you’re there first and throw him a wave of acknowledgment, he always returns it, as is polite and expected of two coworkers who don’t know each other beyond their forced proximity.

And you think nothing of it, too busy being your department’s errand girl, the person who gets assigned all the tasks no one else wants to do. The amount of interaction you and Jungkook have is only marginally higher than what you have with Namjoon in Finance, who periodically reaches out to you for any missing receipts for charges on the Marketing department’s credit card.

This slowly starts changing as you begin to have more and more technical problems. You being assigned to put together multiple PowerPoints and research whatever market trends tickles your boss’s fancy means you constantly have an ungodly amount of tabs and applications open. This means you’re not really surprised when your computer—an older model that is definitely on its last leg—starts freezing and giving you pop up errors. A force restart seems to fix the problem, but a new one emerges—now, no matter how many times you hit the print button and walk over to your designated printer, nothing awaits for you to pick up. Even scrolling through the printer’s print history shows no record of your jobs being in the queue. It’s bizarre—you even make sure to confirm you’re connected to the servers, and that doesn’t seem to be the issue this time.

Frowning, you make your way back to your desk and scroll down your chat messages until a familiar face appears.

You  Hey Jungkook! I can’t seem to print—think something weird is going on with my computer today

A soft sigh of frustration escapes your lips, fingers drumming irritably against your desk. It isn’t even noon, but the day is already looking to be a long one.

Resigned, you settle in to wait for him to answer you in the chat, but the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing never pop up. Instead, you’re surprised when movement in your peripheral produces Jungkook himself, slowing in approach of your desk, though his focus is still on his phone screen. He must have gotten your message in the midst of doing something else. 

“Oh! Hi,” you greet him eagerly. “Just the person I was looking to see.”

He looks up at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, a small smile touching his lips as he stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. “Just the person I was looking for,” he returns. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“Mabel is being a bitch again,” you say with an irritated sigh. “Every time I try to print, nothing is happening.” 

Jungkook snorts, amused, and it’s only then that your brain registers exactly what you just said. Swearing at work is unprofessional so you make it a point not do it, but that one slipped out so casually. “Oh—sorry.”

But if Jungkook is offended, it certainly doesn’t show in the responding chuckle he lets out. “That’s definitely on brand. I can fix that—let me take a look.”

You move to relinquish your seat, but he’s already leaning over you before you can do more than shift your weight. So you just let go of your mouse so he can control it instead, scooting to the side a bit and trying your best not to think too hard about how he’s close enough for your clothes to brush. Christ does he smell good.

Jungkook clicks around a bit, no doubt checking to make sure your computer is up to date and connected to everything it’s supposed to. “Is this what you’ve been trying to print?” he finally asks, brows furrowed in concentration.

You blink at the question, realizing with dawning horror that you were accidentally distracted by his proximity. You clear your throat, shaking your head a little at yourself in an attempt to clear it of all thoughts that aren’t solidly on the task at hand. “Yeah.” 

He clicks the print button, just as you have done for the past ten minutes, then straightens with a shrug. “Let’s give our old girl a visit and see what her deal is.”

You stand, following him around the corner to the copy room, where Mabel has proudly taken residence for who knows how many years. The fact that you can already see she’s humming with activity as the two of you approach has your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

Jungkook seems equally confused, reaching in the tray for the stack of paper that was just spit out and turning it over to confirm both of your suspicions. The report you’ve been trying to print for the last twenty minutes sits in his hand, likely still warm from how quickly and easily Mabel completed Jungkook’s request. He holds it up for you to see, his big doe eyes peering at you quizzically through his glasses. “This printer was the one that wouldn’t work for you?” he asks.

“Yeah, I definitely sent it to this one. Repeatedly,” you insist. Embarrassment prickles across your skin. “I swear it wasn’t working two seconds ago!”

Jungkook smiles when he hands you the papers, and it somehow softens his naturally cherubic face even more. “You just wanted to say hi to me, huh?” 

“Clearly Mabel likes you more than me,” you sniff at his teasing. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“You didn’t,” he says simply. He hovers for a few more moments as you check to make sure all the pages are there. “Let me know if you have any more issues, okay?”

“Will do,” you agree, mind already back on your work as you both turn to part ways. “Thank you so much for your help!”

“Anytime.”

“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Joy asks. 

It’s lunchtime again, early enough that the three of you are still the only ones in the cafeteria. While both Joy and Wendy are munching on some overpriced salads they had delivered from a restaurant a couple blocks away, you’re eating a boring ham and cheese sandwich that you haphazardly slapped together in your rush to get out the door this morning. Vaguely, you do remember Wendy mentioning something about an upcoming hot date, but she was always rambling about a hot date, and frankly, you don’t care enough to keep up with any details. Everything you know about her love life—and her, in all honesty—has been dumped onto you without you having any say in the matter. 

“I did,” Wendy squeals, excited as always to have the opportunity to talk about herself. “His name was Miles. We’ve been talking on Tinder for the past week—he was really sweet and seemed to want to get to know me. Last night he took me to a nice restaurant, really wined and dined me.”

“Wow,” Joy says, eyebrows raised. “That sounds promising. When are you gonna see him again?”

“I’m not,” Wendy scoffed. “He was nice and all, but he’s only 5’7. It’ll never work out.”

“True.”

You’ve been trying your hardest to zone them out, but the longer Wendy prattles on, each sentence more baffling than the last, you can’t help but interject, “Doesn’t the app let you filter out height preferences?”

Wendy pauses, a raise of an eyebrow betraying her surprise at you finally participating in her lunchtime shenanigans. “Not on the free version.”

“So why did you even entertain him if you knew you would never consider him seriously?” 

“..because I wanted to go to dinner?” Wendy replies flatly, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how stupid she thinks your question is. “Besides, he got what he wanted out of the deal. After dinner I took him home and let him fuck.” 

The flippantly casual way she throws out the vulgar word feels like a record scratch, especially since the three of you are, in fact, still very much on company premises. Wendy doesn’t seem to notice just how much she’s scandalized you, continuing to prattle on at full volume about how the sex was pretty good for a Tinder date, even though he refused to eat her out. 

At this point, you’ve long slowed in your chewing, now entirely too incredulous by the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in to eat. 

“You didn’t suck him, did you?” Joy asks.

Wendy scoffs. “Of course not! I’m not giving head to some random anyway, especially if he’s not gonna give me mine first.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you mumble.

They both turn to stare at you, judgement plain on their faces. Wendy snorts. “Wow, _____. I never took you to be a prude.”

“I did,” Joy slides in under her breath.

You let out an agitated huff. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a prude.”

The two of them share a look. After a pause, Wendy finally asks in a way that indicates that it doesn’t really matter what you say because her mind is already made up, “Then what’s the problem?”  

Aside from this conversation being a massive HR violation?

Wendy continues smugly, as if she’s figured you out, “Talking about oral hit a nerve…interesting.”

Yes, Wendy! you think sarcastically, fighting the intense urge to roll your eyes. The whole rest of the convo was good and dandy—oral was definitely the line, though! 

Joy just looks at you, her eyes narrowing the longer she does. Her scrutiny makes your skin prickle in irritation. “You have gotten head before, right?”

“Okay!” you say sharply, stuffing the uneaten half of your sandwich back into the bag. “One, that’s neither of your business, and two, this conversation is completely inappropriate. Let’s change the subject, please.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, both of them visibly surprised by your response. Joy actually looks a tiny bit proud that you stood up for yourself, but Wendy just sniffs and mutters, “That obviously means no.” Ultimately, they both back off, choosing instead to chatter about the newest design of Joy’s nails.

You exhale a tiny sigh of relief. Wendy was hitting the nail too close to the head and you truly didn’t feel like explaining your life story to a nosy coworker who was nothing more than your acquaintance, at best. Now that they’ve finally let you out of the hot seat, you’re fully planning to spend the rest of your lunch hour zoning out in relative peace. 

But before you can properly dissociate, you hear someone cough behind you. 

Your blood runs cold. You already know who it is—no one else tends to eat lunch this early.

“How long has he been sitting there?” you whisper, already dreading the answer.

Joy waves an unbothered hand. “I don’t know, like five minutes?”

Five minutes. Long enough to have heard… 

You’re immediately mortified, and it must show on your face, because Wendy just snorts and says way too loudly for your comfort, “Oh, relax, this is probably the most action he’s gotten in months. I’m doing him a favor.”

What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. “Are you serious right now?”

“Calm down,” Joy says, rolling her eyes. “Look, he’s not even listening to us.”

And a slow, discrete turn of your head confirms what she says—Jungkook, in an ugly salmon button-up today, has his earbuds in, eyes downcast to his phone screen, lips soundlessly forming the words to whatever song he’s listening to. You feel a tiny bit of relief, but embarrassment still roils deep in your belly, suddenly making your half-eaten sandwich completely unappetizing.

You stand, grabbing the brown paper bag that contains the remnants of your lunch and hoping against hope that you’ll be able to bolt without him noticing.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Wendy sighs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. “I told you I didn’t realize you were a prude. We can talk about something else.”

You bristle, but tamp down the urge to defend yourself and point out again that you aren’t a prude, you just don’t want to be the office harlot either. “It’s not that,” you lie. The judgmental look in Joy’s eye only softens when you say, “I just remembered I forgot to print the printouts for the meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later?”

“Sure,” Joy says dismissively, and Wendy says nothing at all. They’ve already moved on, no longer interested in your swift escape, attention eagerly back on the details of Wendy’s weekend. That’s works perfectly fine for you—you’ve had enough of being the center of attention for the day.

Blessedly, Jungkook doesn’t even look up when slink past him and out the door.

 It’s hot.

Third quarter is well underway, which means that it’s time again for the quarterly company barbecue. That also means it’s hot as balls. 

You suffer quietly, trying not to add to the stank atmosphere Joy and Wendy are already creating due to the heat. It’s an ambitious goal, especially since you’re already sweltering beneath your blouse—which was reasonable to wear within the chilled walls of the office, but feels rather ridiculous now, under the relentless beat of the sun. Despite being grateful for the free food and break from your maddeningly boring work, you can’t help but mentally yearn for the indoors, where there’s proper shade and air conditioning and decidedly less bitching. 

“I don’t know why they don’t just cater something for us to eat inside,” Joy mopes, dabbing at her brow with what you already know from experience to be a cheap, scratchy napkin. “How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves if we’re melting?”

“It’s probably a ploy,” Wendy quips. “The more uncomfortable we are, the more likely we are to get back to work.”

“The date’s been on the calendar for months,” you point out wearily. “They had no way of knowing there’d be a heat wave today. Besides, the company’s already paid for the food. I doubt they intended to purposely waste that money.”

Joy scoffs in retort. “The company also knows throwing an outdoor event in July is the same as throwing one in Satan’s asshole.”

Wendy sniggers, but you don’t answer, biting back your response that outdoor barbecues are common during summer, and at least they don’t have you out here in the snow. Because honestly? This is only your second quarter with the company, and who knows what the fourth quarter barbecue looks like. 

All you can do is free some of the buttons on your blouse, undoing as many as you can while still being office-appropriate. As it is, you now have a little cleavage peeking out, but with how hot it is, you figure no one will say anything.

“Look,” Wendy says with an unsubtle tip of her head. “Looks like the soccer game is still on, at least.”

Fluttering the hem of your blouse in an attempt to get some circulation, you reflexively respond to her prompting, eyes following her line of sight. A few tables down, the Sales team has finished their meal and appears to be actively gauging coworker interest in joining their game. From the decently-sized group that’s starting to form by the open field, you think they’re pretty successful, despite the heat. 

Joy groans, lifting her long hair with a hand in an effort to cool off the back of her neck. “I don’t know how they’re doing all that when it feels too hot to breathe.”

Inwardly, you agree with her, but Wendy just gives a lazy shrug and says, “Hey, if we’re gonna roast to death, at least we’ll be properly entertained.”

“True,” Joy muses. “And they’re gonna be sweatier than usual.”

Wendy’s eyes glaze over a bit at the thought. You grimace, amazed that these two always seem to have their heads in the gutter. That’s my cue. “I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing off the back of your slacks as you stand, but they pay you no mind when you walk away.

You’ve already finished your meal, but it can’t hurt to take another look at the coolers. It’s so hot that you’ve already downed your first beverage, so a new one is in order. When you arrive to the area, two people from Customer Service pass, nodding at you in acknowledgment as they make their way back to their table. You’ve only just started to reach for a cooler lid when you hear someone address you again. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says timidly behind you. “How’s it going?”

You reflexively turn your head, simultaneously surprised and not at all to find Jungkook standing there. He’s got on a long-sleeved button-up despite the heat—grey, checkered with a red and navy plaid—and you can’t help but wonder how he’s not sweltering. Though, the noticeable sheen on his face and the way his damp bangs are starting clump together tells you he just might be. 

“I’ve had better days,” you answer honestly, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead. Before you can catch yourself, that same hand is vaguely gesturing at him, head to toe. “How are you not melting?”

His lips twitch, amused. “I definitely am,” he admits. “I actually hoped no one was over here so I could stuff some of the ice from these coolers down my shirt without being judged.”

You snort. “Hey, who’s judging? Certainly not me. Knock yourself out; just make sure you leave me some.” 

He taps his chin, jokingly in thought, but to be honest, he does mildly look as if he’s actually considering it. “Well, we wouldn’t want the beverages to get cold…”

“Eh, there’s probably not that many in here anyway. They could probably consolidate coolers.” To prove your point, you bend over, cracking open one of the red ones next to you and peering inside. The expected assortment of generic sodas greets you, looking admittedly very refreshing floating in their ice bath. “See, this one isn’t even full.”

You angle your torso a bit so you can meet his eye properly over your shoulder, but as soon as you look up at him, his gaze hurriedly skirts away, color crawling up the back of his neck. You stand with a frown, confused by this, but ultimately brush off his weird behavior when you notice Namjoon from Accounting sidling up to the two of you. 

"Hey guys,"  he greets you, a friendly smile dimpling his cheeks. "We're getting some people together for a soccer game. I know it's really hot, but would either of you want to join?"

You’ve often seen Namjoon chatting with Hoseok in passing, and twice have even seen them leave the building for lunch together, so it doesn’t surprise you that the accountant is helping recruit for the Sales team's traditional barbecue pastime. What does surprise you, however, is that when he casually claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, the younger man first responds by blinking owlishly at him behind his glasses, and then, a few seconds later, giving him a nod of assent. 

Obviously you don't know Jungkook very well—not at all, really, outside of your ongoing feud with Mabel. But you didn't take him to be the type to be into playing outdoor sports, particularly in this weather, and you certainly didn't expect him to agree so easily. A smile from Namjoon and suddenly all thoughts of stealing cooler ice are gone. 

Namjoon turns back to you, but you're already shaking your head. "Nope, no thank you! Y'all have fun. I'll just supervise from over there in the shade."

"Fair enough," he chuckles, and then he's leading Jungkook across the open field to meet up with the others.

Mildly more interested in the game now, you take this as your cue to grab the beverage you came for—a can of a Lipton knockoff and a bottle of water for good measure—and return to your table.

Joy and Wendy are still yapping when you approach, though in your absence, Joy has apparently decided to move to Wendy’s side of the table. It only takes you following their line of sight to quickly recognize why—that side of the table has an unobstructed view of the upcoming soccer game. Well, unobstructed, so long as you change your seat too. Awkward about intentionally getting in the way, you pause for only a moment before ultimately reaching for the end seat perpendicular to them instead. 

When you lean over a little to pull your chair out from under the table, Joy finally deigns to acknowledge you, ticking an eyebrow. “I can see down your shirt,” she tells you offhandedly. 

Your head snaps down, and you realize she’s right—undoing those few extra buttons has made the billowy fabric more susceptible to gravity, particularly when you leaned over. You yourself could see your whole chest and the basic bra that supported it, and at this angle, you doubt your blouse covered much of that from Joy’s gaze. A hand immediately snaps up to press the material back in place, but before you can even get properly embarrassed, her attention is ripped from you, eyes wide at something behind you.

“Holy—”

Wendy's jaw drops. Your head reflexively turns in the direction they're gawking at.

And before you can stop it, your jaw drops too.

Your tablemates have been known to be dramatic, and are certainly the type to stretch a fact or two. But it’s only now that you fully understand their fixation on these Sales soccer games, because yes, sometimes they do indeed take their shirts off. Like now.

Other than one girl from Compliance, all of the game’s recruits appear to be men, and as such, the group has chosen to distinguish teams by shirts vs. skins. And while the sudden appearance of skin naturally draws most people’s attention, your attention only gravitates towards one person. Cause what the fuck.

You almost don't recognize him, your brain rapidly shuffling through the information it's collected about him over the past few months and struggling to reconcile with what your eyes are actually seeing. Because the Jungkook you know wears glasses and long sleeves and has an unassuming hairstyle that looks suspiciously like a bowl may have been involved at some point. 

But the person you're looking at now? Glasses have been discarded, apparently no longer needing optical assistance, and he’s ditched the button-up, sweat making the white sleeveless tank he has on underneath spottily transparent and divulging the dusk of his nipples. Now that you can properly see the taper of his slim waist, his shoulders are proportionally more broad than you realized. And, since he clearly has no regard for your rapidly rising blood pressure, Jungkook decides now is the perfect time to reach over said shoulders, grab fistfuls of damp fabric, and pull. The sight of him slipping the shirt over his head—the ink of his hair sinfully mussed, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement—has you reflexively swallowing, mouth dry.

He's absolutely ripped. 

There's no other way to say it. A superior specimen, built and honed in a way that's only possible through years of hard work and discipline. He's still lean enough that you can rationalize how you’ve never picked up on that amount of muscle hiding beneath his unassuming dress shirts, but you're still gobsmacked. 

Your mind spins, struggling to come to terms with the near impossible fact Jungkook actually pulled a Clark Kent on you. Well, pulled a Clark Kent if Clark Kent was also covered in gorgeous ink, pigment swirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder. From this distance you can’t see the exact designs that make up his intricate sleeve, but you can tell it was composed with a purposeful eye. 

Jungkook is absolutely ripped and tattooed. Jungkook. Printer guy Jungkook.

Flustered and trying not to be, you quickly look away, clanking your jaw shut and trying to focus on the plastic tabletop instead. Dear god, this is embarrassing. You really just gawked at your coworker! He was minding his own business and your jaw just reflexively unhinged like a degenerate. God, you hoped he didn't see that.

But any mortification you have is apparently not shared by the other two at your table.

“Is that Justin?!” Wendy demands rather shrilly, eyes wide, and the volume of her question would embarrass you even more if your brain could process any other reaction right now other than straight static. “Justin from IT?!”

You swallow thickly, your responding correction weak and delayed. “Jungkook.” 

“Finally,” Joy groans, pushing her plate away dramatically. “Some good fucking food!”           

You can’t help it then—your eyes drift back up, lured to the soccer players once more and zeroing in on him immediately. Seemingly unable to stray from his form, the heat already producing a sheen over his golden skin even though the game hasn’t started yet.

Surrounded by a few surprised male coworkers, Jungkook’s slightly hunched into himself, shy at the sudden attention. Even with the distance, you can see how Hoseok claps Jungkook on the back, just as animated over his newly revealed physique as the members of your table. But while everyone else is excited by this revelation…

Across the field, Jungkook innocuously turns his head in your direction. Like magnets, his eyes hone in on yours, your gaze locked for a few seconds until another loud What the fuck?! from Wendy frees you from the spell and you hurriedly look away again, a completely different kind of heat washing over you.

Jesus, you need to get ahold of yourself. There’s no way he was actually looking at you—it’s too sunny, and he’s not even wearing his glasses! He probably can’t even see that far.

But when you brave another peek in that direction and realize you can literally count his abs from here—

What the fuck, indeed.

Mutely, you watch the game unfold, not as self-conscious when it becomes clear that the whole office is doing the same. Though Joy and Wendy have been very salacious in their excitement for it, the soccer game is evidently a company barbecue highlight for others as well. And you’re sure Jungkook joining the fray has only added to the interest, as he’s a completely new addition to the equation.

And to your continued astonishment, Jungkook is good. He’s fast and lithe and brazen. He proves to you, again and again, that he can kick the ball with such ferocious accuracy that the other team’s goalie eventually stops trying to get in his way and simply resorts to trying to protect their vulnerable body parts instead. His intensity only entices reciprocal energy from everyone else, and what has traditionally been a lighthearted game between coworkers has now transformed into a group of competitive men who feel they now have something to prove. 

Joy and Wendy are delighted by this development, squealing and cheering and tittering amongst themselves. You sit quietly, still trying to mentally process this new development, but when you start to feel embarrassed by just how much you’re staring, you decide to call it a day. No one really notices when you stand and gather your trash, and luckily the distraction of the game means you’re able to slip out without any fanfare.

This quarter’s barbecue being on a Friday means you’re blessed with a weekend to decompress and regroup. Unfortunately for you, the office doesn’t just…move on from the event like it has in the past. Instead, this particular barbecue was apparently such a success that you continue to hear chatter about it for the next week, mostly in passing. But while everyone else makes small talk about how much fun they had, Joy and Wendy choose to hone in on the only thing they truly consider worthy of discussion—Jungkook. 

Today, just as they have every day for the past few months, they join your table when you take your early lunch. However, to their increasing irritation, the object of their current fixation isn’t here. In fact, Jungkook hasn’t showed up to the cafeteria during your lunch time since before the barbecue, and you inwardly have to admit it’s a little strange without him. You sat at different tables and the two of you never really said much to each other beyond the expected niceties, but you’ve gotten used to his presence all the same. 

You actually have barely seen him at all, with Mabel on her best behavior this week and Jungkook seemingly busy with something that has kept him mostly out of common areas. Still, with your embarrassingly strong reaction to him at the barbecue, it’s probably for the best. You’re a little wary of what your first proper interaction is going to be like, and you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to be as normal as possible. 

Your female lunchmates don’t seem to have that same mindset.

“Does he just not eat anymore?” Joy huffs. “I literally haven’t seen him all week!”

Wendy picks at her salad, lips twisted in a displeased grimace. “I actually saw him yesterday.”

Joy’s head snaps to her. “What?! You didn’t tell me that. What happened?”

“Since casually running into him doesn’t seem to be working, I figured I’d try getting him to come to me. So I unplugged my keyboard and messaged him, but he didn’t show up for like 40 minutes,” Wendy sighs irritably. “And when he did, he looked at me like I was a moron.”

Your lips twitch in amusement before you can stop them. Joy immediately says exactly what you’re thinking. “Well, you are a moron. You sat there for 40 minutes with your keyboard unplugged!”

Wendy soldiers on like she didn't hear her, undeterred from her gossiping. “So he came over in his ugly button-up and judged me! Plugged the keyboard back in and walked away without even saying anything.”

Despite not properly running into him all week, you actually did see Jungkook’s shirt in passing yesterday as he was turning down a hallway at the far end of the office. Wendy’s right—it had been an ugly puce. You found it endearing.

“He didn’t even roll up his sleeves,” Wendy mourned. “The least Jamal could have done was give me that.”

You pause in the chewing of the tuna sandwich you brought from home, exasperated. “Jamal,” you repeat flatly. “Really?”

Wendy waves her hand at you dismissively. “You know who I mean!”

“I mean, he’ll probably be more willing to talk to you if you treat him like an actual person.” Your quip is reflexive and indignant, and it kind of throws all three of you off guard. Joy raises an eyebrow at you and your sudden vexation, but you still add, though more subdued, “You know. Making an effort to remember his name is a good start.”

“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Wendy sniffs, though she doesn’t seem very offended by your callout. Over the months you’ve superficially gotten to know her, you’ve come to notice that she doesn’t really take much seriously—a simultaneously admirable and frustrating trait. “If you wanted dibs, you could have just said that.”

You feel heat flush up your neck, denial attempting to sputter from your lips, but true to form, Wendy has already moved on, tittering about how it’s about time the office had some proper excitement that wasn’t just meetings and spreadsheets.

“And speaking of meetings,” Joy pipes up, passing you a nonchalant look, “don’t forget to order those sandwiches for the client meeting tomorrow.”

“Sandwiches?” Your mind blanks. You knew your boss was hosting some clients in the office—had even been working on a lot of grunt work to prepare for it—but no one had mentioned anything to you about any sandwiches. “I thought she was wining and dining them?”

Joy let out a mildly irritated huff. “No, they have to catch an early flight home, so the plan has changed to a working lunch. Weren’t you listening in Monday’s meeting?”

No, you hadn’t been listening, because you weren’t invited to the Monday’s meeting. So it looks like a plan had been made and tasks assigned to you…without anyone bothering to communicate that. Typical.

You close your eyes for a second, jaw working as you attempt to tamp down your ever-brewing frustration. If they intend on you ordering from the usual place, it may be too late to cater for delivery, which means you’ll probably be stuck figuring out how to transport multiple giant platters from a restaurant five blocks away. 

“Do you mind forwarding me the request you sent? I must have missed it,” you respond neutrally, knowing full well the original email had never been sent to you. You stand to leave, the rest of your lunch break instantly soured by the revelation that you apparently have time-sensitive action items that are encroaching dangerous territory. “Just want to make sure I get the order correct.”

Joy nods, attention already back on Wendy and only half-listening. In the meantime, you’ll have to research alternatives, just in case.

While you’re lucky enough to find an acceptable last-minute catering option that will also, blessedly, deliver, that doesn’t mean you’re free to take a breather. 

It’s now the end of the day, and one by one, you see everyone around you log out and head for the elevator. Even Joy, who leaves right on time, despite knowing just how many tasks your small team still needs to complete for the big meeting tomorrow. What’s left is mostly grunt work, and while you are undoubtedly a grunt, it’s been clear for a while now that Joy no longer sees herself to be included in that category. So even though having more hands on deck would speed things along considerably, she still gathers her purse and gives you a cheeky finger wave on her way out.

At some point, the cleaning lady makes her rounds, scooting past you with a murmured apology to empty your trash can, but eventually even she disappears. Hell, even the sun abandons you, the soft glow fading from all the windows and stranding you with the cold fluorescent lighting that only remains on in your part of the office, because the lights have motion detectors. 

And so it’s just you, kneeling on the carpet and surrounded by a gazillion binders. Ensuring relevant reports and Powerpoint presentations are accurate and sending digital copies to your boss for her to have on-hand. Attempting to print physical copies and assemble them into binder portfolios your clients will be able to follow along with during the meeting. 

Attempting, because Mabel is, of course, choosing now to live up to her bitchy reputation. She won’t print on the right-sized paper. She won’t collate. She won’t be cooperative at all, and you’re too exhausted for this shit. Physically and mentally exhausted, trying your hardest to rein in the frustration that’s slowly expanding in your chest, crawling up your throat and triggering a familiar burning behind your eyes. It’s not fair. 

An exasperated noise escapes you without thinking, a loud, guttural thing. None of this is fair.

“_____?”

Your head snaps over your shoulder in surprise, not at all expecting anyone else to still be in the building. It’s Jungkook, because of course it is. Brows knitted in confusion, a black leather jacket thrown over his marigold button-up for some reason. He’s standing near the doors that exit into the lobby, evidently about to begin his trek home before you unwittingly paused his endeavor.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks, but before you can even deign to answer, he’s already taken a few steps towards you and followed up with a clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”

You take a breath, struggling to calm the storm within you. None of this is his fault, nor his problem, and you should just force a smile on your face so he can be on his way and leave you to your self-pity. But you’re tired, so tired, and simply don’t have the capacity to pretend anymore. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and when you do speak, the thickness of your voice betrays the tears that you’re fighting to keep at bay. “No.”

This only seems to alarm him more. He’s standing next to you now, as close as he can get with the array of binders and papers you have scattered on the floor around you like a fortress not meant to keep anyone out, but rather, to keep you inside.

“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.

“Oh, nothing,” you snort derisively, blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to try to stop the inevitable. “Nothing. It’s just well past 7pm and I’m still here in this godforsaken building attempting to print out and hole punch and assemble twenty copies of this presentation. I can’t even get the printer to do what I’m asking it to! And there’s no fucking reason I should still be here because the could have been done last week if my boss didn’t keep making nonsensical changes based solely on vibes. And tell me why there are six people on my team but no one thought to help me or take any sort of ownership of this at all—as per usual—or even buy me a fucking coffee for once! I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day but everybody just assumes they can go home because things will magically get done like they always do because they will! I will always make sure that they will! Every day it becomes increasingly clear that nobody in this fucking company gives a flying FUCK about me or my free time or my sanity—”

If he’s put off by your potty mouth, Jungkook certainly doesn’t show it. He just manages to catch your gaze from behind his glasses and simply replies, “I do.” 

Your never-ending rant rapidly dissipates on your tongue, brain struggling to comprehend what he just said. “…What?”

“I care,” he repeats softly. “How can I help?”

The sincerity in his tone renders you mute, too stunned to do anything more than watch as Jungkook drops the backpack he’s had slung over a shoulder onto the floor, tossing his newly removed jacket on top of it without much thought. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, the reemergence of an ink-covered forearm making your brain stutter even more. Now that there’s much less distance between you, you can more accurately make out the shape of a delicate tiger lily, the languid form of a snake.

Jungkook clears his throat, the noise snapping you out of your stupor and making you realize you were just staring at him in silence, for who knows how long. Dammit. “What do you need?” he tries again. 

“Um, first we can start with Mabel,” you croak, mouth now embarrassingly dry. “No matter what I do, she refuses to collate.”

Jungkook shoots you a smile that softens his whole face. “Lucky for you, I’m the printer expert, remember? Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed and be out of here in no time.”

He holds out a hand and you reflexively grab it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Together, you make your way to the copy room, where Mabel has stubbornly been giving you hell all night. Jungkook gets right to work pushing buttons while you stand to the side, awkwardly shifting your weight a little from foot to foot.

“So why are you still here?” you ask, curiosity finally forcing you to voice the question that’s been looping in your mind since he first appeared. “It’s late.”

“It is,” he agrees, focus still on the printer. He kneels down, opening the paper tray. “There’s this huge system update that’s set to roll out next week. My whole team has been hunkering down and pulling late nights.”

Oh. That explains why you haven’t seen him around much since the barbecue. “That’s tough.”

“We’re finally almost done,” he shrugs. “And I’m clearly not the only one working overtime.”

You don’t say anything when he looks up at you pointedly, so he turns back to the printer, pulling a stack of paper out of one of the trays.

“I think this may be part of the problem. Someone put the wrong-sized paper in here. Or, at least, Mabel thinks it’s wrong. She’s confused.”

“Well, she can join the club,” you mutter, and he puffs out a laugh, shutting the drawer and pressing some more buttons.

“Come on, let’s try again.”

Something touches your elbow, and though it shocks through you like he electrocuted you, you have the good sense suppress any embarrassing reaction to what you quickly realize is just his hand. Instead, you let him guide you back to your desk, trying not to focus too intently on the heat of his skin on yours. 

Jungkook waits for you to login to your computer, clicking around and changing some settings once you step back and allow him free rein. Then, you can hear a distant hum coming from the copier room, and you know immediately that he’s succeeded. Dutifully, he goes to check anyway, returning to you with a stack of perfectly collated paper.

“Thank god,” you groan. “Now let me just print fifty more of those so I can start organizing these binders.”

With the crisis averted and his job done, you fully expect him to gather his pile of stuff and hustle to the elevator before you can trap him into doing anything else. Instead, Jungkook goes to pick up the additional copies from the printer for you, and he actually gets down on the floor next to you to start putting everything together. He watches you assemble one binder for reference, but then he’s easily doing the same and doubling your completion speed. 

And slowly, gradually, your nervous system calms. The two of you work like a well-oiled machine in what would be comfortable silence, if your brain wasn’t so loud. Now that you’re not actively panicking, a completely different feeling starts to seep into you—embarrassment.  You can’t believe that Jungkook actually caught you on the cusp of a breakdown, during which you looked so pitiful, he felt morally obligated to stop what he was doing and help you.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” you say after a while with a grimace. He’s way too nice and you’re way too pathetic. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night—I promise you don’t have to stay with me. Now that everything’s printed and organized, most of the work’s done. I should be out of here in no time.”

“Well, I promise you didn’t ruin anything. And with two of us, you can be out of here in less time than that.” He looks up with a soft smile from where he’s hole punching a stack of paper, the muffled ka-chunk of the device punctuating his point. “I don’t mind, _____. Really.”

“But I do,” you murmur, looking away. Unable to meet his eyes. “I really appreciate your help, but I feel bad taking up so much of your time.”

“Well, don’t. I didn’t really have plans tonight anyway, and I’ve been working so much that it’s probably better that I get in some socializing time.”

“Not that I’m very good company,” you snort derisively.

There’s a pause, one long enough that you wonder if he heard you. But then he’s moving a little closer to you, tipping slightly sideways to tap his shoulder against yours. Reflexively, you turn back to him, finding his eyes kind.  

“We all have our off days, and that’s okay. But they’ll dull your shine if you let them. Don’t.” He bumps your shoulder again. “Besides, you and I have to stick together, remember? Or did you not really mean it when you told me that?”

You did tell him that, didn’t you? Months and months ago. You're surprised that he even remembers that.

There's an amused quirk to his lip, one that you can't help but feel yourself soften to, even as his focus turns back to the task at hand. And all at once, you feel yourself flooded with gratitude. You've been thankful for his help this whole time, of course, but now you almost sag with it, the relief at knowing someone is finally in your corner, the sudden sense of security and support visceral and a little overwhelming.

Before you fully realize what you're doing, it's you who leans closer, aiming to give a him a grateful kiss on the cheek. But your lips don't quite land on their intended target, because just before you succeed, Jungkook unconsciously senses your increasing proximity and reflexively turns his head back to you.

It's his lips yours coincidentally brush against, the accidental kiss timid due to his surprise and your chaste intentions. But the kiss is also soft, his lips plush and rather easily yielding to yours. 

Quickly realizing your mistake, you pull back, eyes as big as saucers. You stare at him in stunned silence and he stares back, eyes all pupil.

A horrified apology is immediately crowding the back of your throat, but right before you set it free, Jungkook's Adam's apple bobs, an errant tongue absently swiping across his lips. 

Huh. This isn’t exactly the reaction of someone repulsed by an unwanted kiss. He still hasn't said anything, but he hasn't moved away from you either. He's just watching you. Waiting. 

...Waiting?

With caution but with clear intent, you lean back in, and to your surprise, he meets you halfway, noses bumping a little before he tilts his head and your lips slot perfectly together. 

This kiss is immediately different from the last. Jungkook mindlessly drops he binder he's holding, body angling more solidly towards you so he can properly meet the rapidly rising intensity. Well, meet may be the wrong word, because he's the one whose hand quickly reaches up to cradle your chin, gentle pressure a silent request to  for you to tilt your head a bit more. And when you comply with the change in angle, it's him who deepens the kiss, the slow lave of his tongue coaxing your lips to part, open and wet.

You pant hot into his mouth and he breathes you in, offering no resistance when you push even closer, hands wandering across his shoulders, fingers ghosting up the back of his neck before drifting to idly toy with the hair at his nape. He hums contentedly, not unlike a purring cat, and does it again when your tongue joins his in a slow glide. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of it all, unable to notice anything beyond the heat that is rapidly building between you like fireworks ready to explode. Your head spins, swimming with endorphins and high off the smell of him. The taste.

A playful nibble of your lip unexpectedly has a rather desperate keen escaping your throat. You pause, making to pull back in your embarrassment, but the sound only seems to activate Jungkook, who follows you in your attempted retreat, mouth chasing yours in its reluctance to part. It's only when your back finally touches the floor that you realize he's slowly guided you there. You've been in a haze, too swept into the plot of the movie you've somehow found yourself in to do anything but be pulled along.  

As naturally as breathing, your find your knees have parted, and Jungkook easily slips into the space you've created for him, almost trancelike. As if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, too focused on exploring the fever of your mouth. He's leaning most of his weight on the hands he has posted on either side of your head; even still, every single millimeter of you that does touch him is sparking like live wires, euphoric goosebumps rippling across your skin. You let out a shaky breath that fogs his glasses, but even that doesn't stop him, just makes him pull back from you just enough to be able to whip them off and toss them somewhere, wholly unconcerned.

Emboldened by this, you sling a leg over his hip, and he eagerly accepts your invitation, settling on you properly. You're covered in him now, pelvises properly flush, and now that he's caged you in, Jungkook takes the opportunity to glide his lips away from yours and trail across your jawline instead. You shiver, every atom of you buzzing at his touch, and his mouth continues its trek, sucking hot down the column of your throat with just enough pressure that you know color will bloom there later. 

Your hips reflexively jump at his ministrations, your skirt riding further up your thighs, and the hard press of him against your panties has you swallowing down a moan. He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his hips respond to the lure of yours with a more intentional roll. A contented sound rumbles in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to meander across your collarbone.

This is crazy. This is crazy. But you can't quite find it in yourself to care much as the two of you rut against each other on the office floor, your hand gliding up his back to root in the hair at his nape. 

Your hips undulate restlessly, eager to meet the crest of his wave, and Jungkook matches your intensity, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Your shared grind is measured but deliberate, and even through his pants you can feel the hard shape of him pressing right against your aching core. A particularly pointed roll has Jungkook shuddering hot into the shell of your ear, and that is what finally tamps down the last of your restraint and triggers something much more primal.

Dizzy with want, your hands scrabble between you and aim for the button of his slacks, eager to be properly introduced to what’s underneath. But to your slow horror, Jungkook freezes at the touch, motionless for a few breathless seconds before he actually starts lifting off of you and pulling back. It’s only when he’s completely sat up and is staring at you that the full weight of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Holy shit. Holy shit. 

You really were just dry humping. A coworker. And you were doing it on the premises of the place that pays your fucking bills! Making out, dry humping, and you were actively aiming to do much more if he hadn't stopped you. 

What the fuck has gotten into you? 

You scrabble upright, dizzy with the mortification rapidly seeping deep into your bones. Stupidly, you blink at him, paralyzed with embarrassment but unable to look away. A deer in headlights.

Jungkook stares right back, eyes dark and all pupil. Dazedly, you wonder if you look as fucked out as he does—there’s a smattering of red across his cheeks, and his hair has been thoroughly mussed by your own hands. A tongue dips out to swipe over kiss-swollen lips, stealing your attention away from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

And suddenly, you’re able to kickstart into gear.

“I am so sorry,” you burst out, panic nearly choking you. “That was highly inappropriate and I seriously don’t know what came over me—”

It takes you a few moments to register that he’s moved back in, and that it’s the returned press of his lips that interrupts your babbling apology before it can properly catch its stride. You’re almost too afraid to respond in kind, as if you’ll somehow scare him away again, but the insistence in his kiss practically knocks the breath from your lungs. Patiently, he coaxes your rigid lips back pliant. And only when it’s clear you won’t try to run away does he lean back a second time, but only enough to see your eyes properly.

“No,” he murmurs, breath fanning hot over you. “That was very much appropriate.” 

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, too shell-shocked by this turn of events and actively battling your triggered fight or flight response. “Um. Then…then why did you…”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, as if he’s gathering himself. “I want to,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself, but then he’s looking right at you again, gaze heavy with resolve. “It’s just…do you mind if I try something first?”

That throws you for a loop. Your jaw opens then shuts again while you contemplate his question, as well as your answer. “I mean, I guess? It depends on what it is.”

That you don't instantly reject him visibly unwinds a tension in his body that you only now realize was there. A rather feral look crosses his face, immediately inciting goosebumps to ripple across your skin in anticipation. But then the intensity of his expression dims, edged with something more contemplative. Jungkook gives you a pensive nod then stands, looking around curiously. “Hey, where does that viper sit?”

You blink, bewildered. “…The who?”

“The one who’s always with you at lunch.” He locks eyes with you, tongue poking through his cheek. “You know. The one who’s on your team but still had no second thoughts about leaving you here tonight by yourself.”

Joy. He’s talking about Joy. 

The question makes you pause in suspicion, but you still hook a thumb towards the cubicle next to yours, on the other side of your shared wall. “There. Why?”

“No reason,” he says with a sly grin, holding out a hand to you. You take it without question and he easily helps you to your feet. But then before you can process it, he’s slid both hands around your waist and easily lifted you off the ground, already in route to the exact cubicle you called out. You yelp in surprise, your arms reflexively circling his neck—your legs, his middle—in your body’s scramble for balance. But Jungkook’s hold on you is secure, grip moving down to the back of your thighs instead, and now that your chests are once again flush, you can actually feel his chuckle. His amusement provokes yours, and you can’t help but giggle as he carries you over to Joy’s cube as easily as if you weigh nothing.

Clearly, his exercise routine is working out for him.

After using a hand to sweep some objects out of the way, Jungkook carefully sets you down on Joy’s desk, right next to her monitor. Your mirth only grows at the feeling of whatever printouts she left for later review crinkling under your weight, at the sight of displaced pens rolling off the edge and disappearing to the ether that is the floor.

Jungkook has set you down, but he doesn’t pull away, just leans down and recaptures your eager lips. He’s tall enough that he’s kind of hunching over to kiss you, neck really craned, but he doesn’t seem to care much about that, kissing you with the same ferocity as moments before, when the two of you were entangled on the carpet. And you can’t help but match his fervor, hands reaching to guide his slim hips even closer, into the widening gap you naturally create for him between your legs. 

Time constricts and expands, an endless and meaningless concept. Because all that matters now is the tongue he slips past your lips to slide against yours, slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you. All that matters is how fucking great he smells—like clean laundry and smoke and warm skin speckled with sweat—something you’ve always caught whiffs of, but now completely surrounds you, invading all your senses and sending your lust into overdrive. 

“Is this what you wanted to try?” you pant hotly when your lips finally separate for a moment in your quest for air. “Defiling Joy’s desk?”

He’s leaning his forehead against yours while he also attempts to catch his breath, and he’s so close that it would be hard for you to miss his amused flash of teeth. “Sort of. I’d like to defile it more thoroughly, though. Starting with this.” 

Jungkook leans in for one last kiss, one that starts at your mouth, moves to your neck, and to your surprise, continues down the line of your body. Over your collarbone, careful hands popping open a few buttons of your blouse so he can nestle more surely into the curve of your breasts, warm lips skating across eager skin. For a few moments, he actually nuzzles his face into your middle, a gesture you find rather sweet before he incites a shiver through your body by licking against your clothed navel. And before you can fully realize what’s happening, he’s slipped to his knees.

You look down at him in surprise, body still slotted between your legs, but this time more eye-level with the secret, needy part of you that has been thrumming excitedly with every beat of your heart. “What are you…”

“You’re always doing everything for everyone else,” comes his murmured reply. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”

Your brain is still so hazy from the spell of his mouth that it takes you a moment to recognize what’s happening. What he’s asking for. But when his large palms are hot against the naked skin of your thighs, gentle pressure urging them to part even more, it all hits you like a truck. Your eyes dart around, paranoid. “Jungkook,” you hiss. “…Here?”

“They’re too cheap to put cameras anywhere other than the lobby.” He turns his head, lips pressing reassurance into the side of your knee. “And no one’s here.” His reminder as gentle as the kisses he continues to adorn you with. “Just you.” Kiss. “And me.”

He’s right, you know. No one else is here to witness the series of bad decisions you’ve just made—to witness the ones you’re still seriously considering. 

Still, you hesitate.

Jungkook’s staring intently at you, doe-eyed and cherry-lipped and deceptively innocent despite what he’s requesting of you. “Please?” he asks again, oh-so-sweetly. Reverently prostrating before your altar, praying for the blessing of an ambivalent goddess. You. “I just…I really want to. Ever since that day, I can’t stop thinking about it and I—please?”

Your brows furrow as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, still scrambling to keep up with this current turn of events. What day? Your mind whirrs, jumping around before finally settling on an embarrassing memory you’ve willed yourself to forget. 

Lunch, where Wendy somehow got you to admit you’ve never gotten head, and Jungkook, purportedly oblivious, too busy on his phone to ever pay your table any attention. 

…Except from what he’s saying right now, he had heard every word. Heard, and filed it away for safekeeping, only revealing to you now, when he can possibly do something about it.

Absently, your tongue dips out to swipe across your lips, and Jungkook’s attention visibly strays towards the action, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs and sending electricity straight to your core. God, do you want to say yes. Even though you’ve never done this before, your inexperience is not at all the reason for your reluctance. It’s the optics. You’re at work.

Your head tilts as you try to accurately take stock of the situation. You’re at work. But technically, you should have clocked out hours ago. Technically, this job has been stealing a lot of time that should have been yours to choose what to do with. Case in point—you’re the only person on your team still within a five-mile radius of this godforsaken building. Because everyone else deserted you without a second thought, designating you to be the one who struggles to print presentations for a meeting that has been on the calendar for literal months.

But. 

While it’s easy to assume they forced this fate upon you, Fate is not one easily compelled to do another’s bidding. And, trapped in the gaze of the sweet man still patiently awaiting permission to ruin you, you can’t help but wonder if this has been Her plan all along. 

For months you’ve been doing everything for everyone else, so unhappy and stressed that each day in this place only wound you tighter and tighter. So…what if you finally just let yourself snap? Did what you wanted for once? Stopped following the rules that nobody else ever seemed to and just let go? 

You exhale. Fuck it.

“Okay.”

Jungkook grins, boyishly innocuous at first, but rapidly morphing into something much more devilish as you watch. He turns to kiss your knee again, and you startle a little at the action, newly on edge. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, still holding your gaze. Making sure you can see his resolve. “I got you.” 

“Okay,” you say again, but that’s easier said than done, especially when he takes the opportunity to gently push your knees even further apart. Naturally, your skirt rides further up, and you can’t help the apprehension that washes over you at your increasing lack of modesty. Still, you hold true to your word, aggressively tamping down the urge to scramble off the desk and pretend this all never happened. But though you brace yourself for what comes next…

Jungkook doesn’t move.

Long moments pass before you can’t help but say something. “Are you just gonna look?” Because that’s all he seems to be doing, laser-focused on the juncture of your thighs.

He visibly stirs at the sound of your voice, but still doesn’t do much more than tsk at you. “Don’t rush me,” comes his light reprimand, eyes still locked on what you’re sure at this point is a growing dark spot on your panties. “I don’t half-ass things and I definitely won’t rush this. No one’s here, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”

Your jittery nerves have you reflexively mouthy, but your retort swiftly dies on your tongue when his hand finally moves further up your skirt—further inward—and two fingers pointedly press right against that dark spot and glide over your clothed lips. You gasp, fighting against the urge to snap your legs shut when he slowly circles your clit and sends sparks dancing down your legs. 

“Better?” he murmurs.

“Much,” you squeak.

“Good,” he says, eyebrows knitted in thought as he circles and circles. Your thighs twitch, and he leans forward like he can’t help himself, nose pressing solidly against you with a long, audible inhale.

A fascinated oh falls from your lips, heartbeat accelerating excitedly in your ears, but Jungkook only responds by nestling further against your pussy, tracing the length of your lips with a slow, wet swipe of his tongue through the fabric. He breathes hot against your clit and you inadvertently buck at the stimulation, only inciting the wicked curl of his lips. He looks up at you darkly through the curtain of his bangs, and something unexpected and primal simmers beneath your skin.

“Can I have these?” he asks huskily, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin. 

You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you had the foresight to put on something more interesting today than your unassuming cotton undies. “Have as in you won’t give them back?”

He lets out an amused puff of air, tilts his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

You nod your assent. You’re now impossibly invested in where he plans to take this, and it’s not like you don’t have more pairs at home. “Knock yourself out.”

Immediately, his hands are up your skirt. They’re big, but they’re also gentle, caressing your thighs and even taking a slight detour to the meat of your ass before continuing their mission to the band of your underwear. When he starts to pull, you help him, shifting your weight so he can slip the fabric over your hips and down your legs.

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple dips when his eyes are finally able to feast on you without a barrier. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then without further warning, his mouth seals around your sex.

You whimper in surprise, not at all used to the sensation of someone kissing you there. And kiss you he does, carefully at first, judging your reaction. But when you do nothing but grip the edge of the desk, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the rather desperate sounds crawling up your throat, he swiftly devolves into kissing you with the same passion as he had the lips on your face. His tongue laps at you with sure, even strokes, dragging across the seam of you and then through it, making sure to slide along your clit on every upstroke. 

Your breath quickens, jaw falling slack. You weren’t sure what you imagined oral sex to be like before this, but you never expected how easily your body submits to his ministrations. Almost without you realizing it, your thighs part even more, hips automatically canting down to meet his eager mouth. A hand reaches for him, fingers winding through his hair and rooting there, and Jungkook hums in approval, his own hands wrapping securely around your thighs, your ass. His fingers sinking into the yielding softness of you, gently holding you steady against his face while you start to gyrate and moan.

God, does he look good down there. He’s always looked good, even before you knew what he was hiding behind those shy smiles and nerdy glasses, but something about the sight of him, jaw working as he sucks on you, lashes fluttering in pleasure in his quest to please you—

Without warning, he detaches with an audible pop, and a disgruntled sound reflexively leaves you. Breathless, you start to ask him why he stopped, but the words die on your tongue when you realize he’s staring at you again. That he pulled back for a moment just so he can get a good look at the mess he’s making of you. So he can properly see how your pussy aches and drools for him.

“Good?” he asks, voice deep and thick.

“So fucking good,” you sigh. What you know he wants to hear, but also 1000% the truth. You’re starting to understand what Wendy has been blathering about, but is it always like this? Or is it Jungkook in particular who is making you so unbelievably aroused? Is your rapidly snowballing crush on him that strong, or does pussy eating simply rank high on his skillset?

As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook moves to slip a finger into you, and you can’t help but moan when he breaches you, the digit sliding in so easily that he quickly adds another, thumb pressing surely into your clit as he starts a slow drag in and out. 

“Shit,” you shudder, eyes rolling back into your head. Hips sliding further off the desk, reflexively seeking the delicious stimulation. One of your hands scrabbles across the desk, unconsciously trying to root you, and you’re much too preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel to notice when you accidentally knock over a mug full of pens. A stapler clanks to the ground. “Fuck.” 

“Look, baby,” he breathes, moaning along with you when the pet name immediately makes your pussy flutter. “Look.”

At his encouragement, you do. You watch the flex of his tattooed arm as his fingers continue to disappear within you, a lewd squelch coinciding with his movements. You watch as he adds another finger, the additional stretch immediately noticeable but even more delicious. You watch him watch you, eyes all pupil, lips swollen and slick with your desire.

“More,” you whine, frenzied and greedy. And Jungkook immediately heeds your call, leaning back in. He sucks on your clit with three fingers sunk in you, expertly crooked towards your pelvic bone, and you jolt, accidentally knocking something else off the desk. Neither of you pays the resulting clattering any attention, too wrapped up in the way you writhe at his ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations only intensifying your ecstasy. He flattens his tongue as your hips desperately circle, letting you control the stimulation. And when it’s clear you still need more, he changes tactics and rapidly laps at you instead, as if you’re a melting ice cream cone, while he beckons, beckons. 

Your blood is volcanic, hot pressure bubbling beneath the prison of your skin, building and building within your core. The higher he takes you, the more the grip you have on his hair unintentionally tightens, but that only seems to urge him on, locking eyes with you as the thrust of his fingers turns harder and more calculated. Giving you no other choice but to finally erupt.    

You cum with a loud groan, gasping through it while your cunt rhythmically clamps down on his digits, hard. Jungkook talks you through it, murmuring encouraging words your buzzing brain has trouble deciphering because his hand still doesn’t stop, pounding right into your g-spot and making your eyes cross and toes curl with the force of it. And when you finally can’t take anymore, jerking with oversensitivity, you grab him by the wrist in a wordless plea for mercy.

And Jungkook grants it. You can tell that he wants to play with you more—wants to guide you over and over to the precipice just see the look on your face when he shoves you off—but ever the gentleman, he reins in his enthusiasm and obediently slips his fingers out of you. He takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork, eyes shining with in reverence as he marvels in the dripping, throbbing, panting aftermath that is you.

“Wow,” you say, still dizzy with endorphins. Never in a million years did you think it would feel like that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice thick. “Wow.” He lifts his hand, remnants of you visibly slicking his fingers and webbing between the digits, and without a second thought, sticks them in his mouth and sucks. The resulting slurping of his errant tongue is nothing short of obscene, but your cunt flutters again anyway, interest clear despite being thoroughly satisfied only moments before. And when line of your essence starts to drip down your thigh, Jungkook makes sure to lean in and catch it with his tongue.

You shiver with the feeling of him on you again, mouth hot and wet, thighs still trembling. He’s taking his time, tongue dragging a slow path back up to the source, determined to feast upon the rewards of his efforts. But you can’t take it anymore. God, he’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot and you want him so fucking bad.

You need him. Biblically. 

Near delirious, you reach for him, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, fingers trailing the back of his neck and guiding him to stand. Arms circling his waist and pulling him closer to you—close, close—Jungkook easily slotting into spread of your thighs.

He follows your unspoken commands easily and without question, looking down at you with a rather pleased smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. Determined to steal the breath from his lungs, just as he just did to you, you lean in to lick that smile pliant and open. There’s a curious taste on his tongue that it doesn’t take long to deduce is you, and that’s only even more of an aphrodisiac, revving you up further. 

Your hands continue to roam, sliding down a little to grope his backside, startling a laugh out of him. But when your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, his delight visibly shutters away into something else entirely.

“You don’t have to do that,” he breathes, even as he reflexively bucks into the hand you’re using to palm him over his pants. “This was about you.”

“Then let it be about me,” you counter, a mischievous smile curling your lips. Even through his pants you can tell he's hard. That he wants this just as badly as you do.  Still, when he gasps out a wait, you obediently stop your ministrations and move to take your hand back. 

He doesn't let you get far, lacing his fingers through yours and visibly considering his next words for a few moments before settling on, “What do you need?” 

It’s a simple enough question, but you can't help but be immediately reminded of him saying these exact words to you, a little over an hour ago. Now, however, they sit heavy on his tongue, heady and syrupy in hushed invitations. 

The revelation hits you all at once, heart pounding excitedly in your ears.

You need only ask. You’ve only ever needed to ask.

And since all caution was thrown to the wind the moment you agreed to let him suck your soul out through your pussy...

“You said you’ve been thinking about me? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a while, even though I’ve been trying not to.” 

You’ve had his attention this whole time, but the way Jungkook's regarding you now, now that you’ve said that? He's hanging onto every word, so hyper-focused that it would unnerve you if this wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. 

“So…” Adrenaline has your fingers restless against his, but you still dive headfirst. “What I need is for you to fuck me and finish what you started.”

A beat. One where he holds your gaze, the space between you so electrified that you’re surprised you don’t see sparks. But then he’s on you again, mouth meeting yours in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, and this time he doesn’t stop you when your hands scrabble for his fly.

Jungkook wastes no time, smoothing his hands up your legs and pushing your skirt out of the way. He lets out a shuddered breath when you stroke him through his underwear, when you reach down the waistband and grip him properly.

He’s warm and thick in your hand, and the thought of him finally in your guts damn near has you vibrating. Just like you thought before, he’s already nice and hard, but you still pump him a few times just to revel in the proof of what you’ve done to him. Velvet over stone.

And despite having all the time in the world when the foreplay is for you, Jungkook doesn’t seem to have any patience for himself. You’re only able to enjoy the weight of him in your grip for a few passes before he’s surging into action. Strategically, he grabs you by the knees and lifts, maneuvering your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move opens you up to him further and forces you more horizontal, leaning back on your forearms, nearly pressed against the cubicle wall.  

The way he ate you out moments before ensured you’d be primed for him, your pussy soft and slick and just begging to be filled. When he finally lines himself up and begins the slow press in, your jaw immediately falls open, tongue going lax at the intense pleasure. “Oh my god,” you manage to whine, eyes threatening to roll shut.

The unhurried way he’s sinking into you is likely in effort not to unintentionally hurt you. Because after everything else, why not add another thing to the ever growing list of surprises you’re learning about your unassuming coworker—not only has he been tatted and muscular this whole time, but his dick is also fucking huge. Without even realizing it, you’ve stopped breathing, the pressure of him nudging your walls apart too much stimulation for your body to continue even subconscious functioning. 

As if he can tell your brain is actively short-circuiting, Jungkook’s hands circle your thighs, thumbs kneading the flesh in mild distraction for when he finally bottoms out. It’s only now that you can properly notice the effect you’re having on him—hair starting to stick to his forehead from perspiration, teeth grit as he struggles to stay still for you.  But you don’t want him to be still.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, wiggling in your impatience and making him suck in a breath. “Please. Give it to me.”

The resulting roll of his hips has him swearing and you seeing stars. “Fuck. You can have whatever you want,” he says, already making good on his promise with a slow grid. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It’s good, so good, especially because Jungkook uses his grip on your thighs as leverage to ramp up his thrusts, easily maneuvering you over his cock in a way that has your toes curling. By the time he’s really fucking you—jaw set, brows furrowed in concentration—you’re crosseyed and mewling incoherently. You should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s pounding out of you, but you’re so focused on the overwhelming pleasure that you can’t find it in yourself to care very much. 

Chasing the high you already feel him leading you towards, you lift one of your legs to change the angle, and he catches on immediately, helping guide your ankle to hook over his shoulder with a distracted kiss against the bone. And it’s deeper this way, the angle ensuring he brushes against your spongy nerves with every stroke, only making you spiral faster. 

He notices, of course. Notices how quickly he’s taking you to your end and revels in it, sliding a hand inward and he thumbing your clit, fast and hard.

You jolt at the extra stimulation, gasping and overwhelmed. “Oh my goddd…”  

“Come on,” he croons, his dulcet tone at odds with the wickedness of his hand. His dick. “Don’t you want to cum for me?”

“I…” you choke out, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought as you feel everything get tighter. “I…”

You see his lips moving as he presumably says something else. But you can’t understand anything other than your own moaning when your pussy finally locks down. This orgasm is somehow more intense than the last one, your thighs rippling with the force of it, your hands desperately scrabbling over the desk in an effort to find something to ground you. 

And Jungkook fucks you through it, still talking, and it’s only when the whooshing in your ears starts to subside that you can finally decipher what he’s saying in between his own moaning. “There you go. Being so good for me. So good.”

Your only reply is your gasping breath as your orgasm slowly fades, replaced with oversensitivity. But you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want this to stop, reveling in the feel of him on you, in you. And Jungkook doesn’t, instead sliding your leg off his shoulder so he can grab you by the waist with both hands and properly yank you forward, moving you over his cock to his liking. 

The desk creaks with your effort, a rhythmic cacophony with the harsh smacking of his balls against your ass. You mewl, needing him closer still, and curl your legs around his hips, locking your ankles. He’s now trapped against you, but he groans like that’s exactly what he wanted, both hands gliding up the length of your body to grasp the back of your neck instead, giving him even better leverage to plunge into you, deep, deep. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, licks into your panting mouth. 

At this point, his thrusts are turning manic, but you’re meeting every one of them, deliriously following him in his descent into madness. But when he catches your lower lip with his teeth, your breath hollows, and then, quicker than you can register it’s happening, you cum again, spasming around him with a long, high-pitched whine.

Jungkook lets you ride it out, but this time, his thrusts slow while you thrash. And it’s not until your soul finally floats back into your body that you realize he’s already pulled out of you and is bucking into his own fist instead.  

You almost took him over the edge with you, you realize. Though he clearly has incredible stamina, you have finally brought him to his limit, and everything inside you glows at the knowledge that he’s here, roughly pumping himself, moans falling freely from his lips because of you. 

Entranced, you reach for him, delighting in the whimper he lets out when your fingers wrap around his base. His own hand immediately falls to grip the edge of the desk instead, and you glide your fist up, finding his cock sticky with your juices. Jungkook just rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets you jack him off, whining through it when you match his previously punishing pace. And it doesn’t take long before he finally, finally splashes hot over your hand. Against your thigh. 

Your hand slows, twisting your wrist and milking him for every drop. Intent on extending his pleasure, just like he made sure to do for you. And you only stop when he flinches away from your touch, twitchy and shivering as he leans against you. 

Reluctantly, you let go. The two of you share the same balmy breath, struggling to calm your racing hearts. And when Jungkook finally backs away from you, unhurried in the way he gathers himself back into his slacks, there is a wildly satisfied grin on his face.

You’re satisfied too, though you try to have some sense of propriety and use a tissue from the box next to Joy’s monitor to wipe off the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Throwing away the evidence, you hop off the desk, locating your long-discarded panties and slipping them back on, smoothing down your skirt.

“So,” you tease lightly. Your head swims a little with the knowledge of what you just did, but you’re surprised to realize you feel zero guilt about it. “Is your plan to stick it to everyone who’s wronged me? If so, we should do it on Mabel next. That’ll show her.”

Jungkook laughs, a giddy, giggly thing. He’s now doing his best to pick up and replace everything that fell from Joy’s desk during your romp. “Nah, I could never disrespect her like that. That ol’ girl’s been such a great wingman these past few months.”

That’s a rather curious statement to make. You frown a little, shoot him an inquisitive sound.

“You always call me when Mabel’s not working,” he shrugs. “So when I wanted to see you, she was nice enough help.” 

You can’t help it—a smile creeps across your face, equally bashful and flattered. He wanted to see you! For months, by his open admission. “And the printer knew exactly when you wanted to see me?" you joke. “Sounds like dark magic to me.”

Jungkook’s valiantly trying to straighten and smooth out some of the papers the two of you disturbed. “Deleted some print jobs,” he replies offhandedly, clearly distracted by the task at hand. 

Record scratch. 

There’s an extended silence as your brain shuffles through different iterations of his sentence, trying to decipher exactly he meant by that. Because there's no way he just admitted to what you think he just did. “Did…did you just say you've been deleting my print jobs?” you ask incredulously. Because there’s no way.

There’s no way, yet at your words, Jungkook immediately stiffens. His lips part, but he doesn't defend himself. Doesn't say anything at all—just drops the pen he’s holding and stares at you with wide eyes.

Holy shit. Holy shit. He really has been doing it! He obviously hadn't meant to tell you that, but the relaxation of afterglow has clearly removed the filter between his brain and his mouth. 

The weight of his revelation hits you, seemingly happenstance events connecting in your mind and starting to fall into place. All the hassle and irritation that stupid printer has been giving you, and it turns out Mabel has been working just fine?! 

“Please don't be mad,” he pleads, finally finding his voice.  

“Are you seriously saying that all this time—”   

“No! No, I only did it a few times,” he sheepishly rushes to correct you. “And I promise, I haven’t done it in weeks.”

“Seriously?” 

“I just...wanted an excuse to talk to you!”

“Jungkook, you literally talk to me all the time!”

“About work! Not—” he averts his eyes, lets out an irritated breath. “It’s just. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”

You blink, gaping slightly as your whirring mind tries to process what he’s just told you. “Ask me…out?” 

“I didn’t mean to do…all this.” He waves a hand over the mess the two of you are still cleaning up, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, at least not before buying you dinner first.”

Moments pass as you stare at him in stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, like a volcano erupting, laughter bursts from you, loud and sudden. Because what the fuck? You can’t believe all of this is actually happening to you. In real life. “You jackass,” you cackle. “Do you have any idea how much grief that printer has been giving me? I’m over here stressed and you’ve been gaslighting me and doing it on purpose?”

“Just a few times,” he repeats, visibly confused by the juxtaposition of the mirth in your voice and the actual words you’re saying. 

“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jackass,” you laugh. “But…” You clear your throat, suddenly somehow shy, despite everything that has occurred and been said. “…I suppose you can still take me out to dinner.”  

“Yeah?” His lips stretch into a slow, hopeful smile.

“Yeah. Now, if you want. I think we’re pretty much done here.” You smile back, quickly taking stock of the binders still scattered across the floor. Most of them are completed, but whatever else you need to do can be done tomorrow morning. “Besides, I seem to have worked up an appetite.” 

Jungkook looks nothing short of smug, but you suppose you can’t fault him that. “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Let’s hurry up and feed you.” 

Moving in comfortable silence, the two of you finish putting everything you’ve disturbed back in their original spots, gathering the last of the binders and stacking them neatly on your desk. You reach for your purse while Jungkook goes to collect his hastily discarded belongings.

“So,” you start. “Where are you taking me? It’s kind of late.” This late on a weeknight, kitchens would be shutting down soon.

He pauses in sliding his leather jacket back on, frowning a little as he realizes you’re right. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“You can,” you say with an unbothered wave of your hand. “That can be next time. Let’s just find something quick now.”

“So you’re saying I get a second date?” he grins.

Oh. That is what you just implied, isn’t it? You would be embarrassed by how forward you were being if Jungkook wasn’t visibly delighted by it. Wow, he really does like you. And since the feeling is mutual, you just look away coyly and say, “If you play your cards right.”

Jungkook hoists his backpack over a shoulder, and it’s only then that you see what else he happened to be carrying in his hands when he dropped everything for you. A helmet.

You gesture towards the object with a curious incline of your head. “What’s that for?”

“My bike,” comes his easy answer, but that’s not the kind of helmet that one wears for bicycle rides. No, this one is made for something much faster. 

Now that you think about it, you’ve seen the motorcycle in the parking lot before—you’ve just never really given it a second thought. And now you can’t stop thinking about it, because the unassuming vehicle you’ve often passed on your way into the building has been Jungkook’s the whole time. Your mind is blown. How many more times is he going to surprise you tonight?  

“…Do you always drive a motorcycle?” you ask incredulously.

“Depends on the day,” he shrugs with grin. “Sometimes I take the bus, but I like to ride my bike when the weather’s nice.” His eyes are bright with pride, visibly happy to have impressed you. 

Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts racing so fast your tongue struggles to hold onto any of them. Before you realize you’re doing it, you blurt, “Alright. Are you even real?”

Jungkook blinks owlishly at you, clearly not expecting that question. “What?” 

“I thought I’ve known you for months. But was any of that real?” you repeat. “Hell, do you even need glasses?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say. “It’s all me. I can just be a little shy, is all.” Wow, he actually said shy with a straight face, as if he didn’t just finish ravaging you over multiple surfaces. “And I like to be professional, so this place doesn’t get to have all facets of me. I know you can relate.”

You can. Your constant struggle to not complain? To be professional and work hard and hope you’ll be rewarded for your efforts? Obviously that’s a reason why the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place.

He ducks his head a little, tapping the glasses he picked up off the floor in petition for their validity. “And these really are prescription. I mean, I can mostly see without them, but since I stare at computer screens all day, it’s less strain on my eyes.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, feeling silly to have even asked. But who knew the quiet IT guy who kept mostly to himself was also this? Buff and tatted with a wicked tongue that you’re now intimately acquainted with. 

Shyly, he holds his helmet out to you. He hesitates before speaking again, almost like he’s afraid of spooking you. “Wanna go for a ride?” And from the way color lightly blooms across his cheeks, you get the sense that he’s offering you more than just protective gear.

You take it without second thought.

The next day you and Jungkook get off the elevator together, a respectable distance between you, but arms still brushing too often to be casual. When you come to the hallway that will force you in separate directions, you pause.

“Have a good day,” you say. Jungkook grins, the delighted brightness of it baring too much teeth and crinkling his eyes in the corners.

“You too,” he winks. “Let me know if Mabel gives you any more issues.”

You snort at his brazenness, biting down a smile as you head to your cubicle. Your whole body buzzes, glowing from inside out.

You’re technically right on time, but you’ve definitely arrived later than usual, and that’s obvious when you head over to your department and find Joy already there waiting for you. She frowns as you approach, no doubt clocking your empty hands and wondering how she’s going to make it through the morning without her expected syrupy caffeine fix. 

To her credit, she doesn’t call you out on it, but you don’t really care if she does. You’re done playing errand boy. From now on, everyone else will have to stop before work and get their own shit, if they want it so bad.

Because it’s all so clear to you now. You’re here, and you’re going to do your best, but you’re not going to let this place wear you down to jaded slivers. You’re going to work hard and learn all that you can, but you refuse to be anyone’s lapdog. 

They will respect you. And your value will be recognized and rewarded—or you’ll simply find somewhere else where it will. 

Joy must sense your new resolve, because she simply hovers by your desk and chirps, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” 

“Did you have a good night?”

Your lips quirk. “You could say that. What about you?”

“Eh, it was okay,” she sighs. “Met a guy for dinner, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere.” 

So while you were stuck here last night, having a grade-A meltdown, she was on a date. That tracks.

Joy chatters on while you put your things away, not seeming to notice or care that you’re not particularly interested in what she’s saying. And while this would normally irritate the living shit out of you, today, it doesn’t. 

Today, your eyes can’t help but glaze over as your mind drifts back to how your night went. Today, you just hum agreeably until she gets bored with you and decides to go back to her own cubicle.

And when you hear her ask over the wall if you’ve seen her stapler, you just smile and smile.   

Jimin walked into the hotel room with his sweet singsong voice, greeting you with a kiss.

“Did you see? Artist of the year!” He said excitedly, leaning down to give you another charged kiss. Little did he know, you had been waiting all night. Ever since he stepped out of the hotel room, since you saw him on screen in that MJ-esque attire, winning an award he so deserved—it had your thighs clenching all night.

“I saw, Ji. I’m so proud of you.” You kissed the corner of his mouth before making your way down to his neck, and he quickly understood where this was going.

“Oh yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice without having to look up. You hummed against his skin, pulling away and seeing the red mark that started to adorn his skin.

“Can I show you?” You walked him back just a few steps until his back hit the wall behind him, then slowly lowered to your knees. He watched, eyes half lidded as you reached for his belt.

You pulled his pants down his thighs and reached for his length through his boxers. A moan escaped him, his head falling back against the wall. He was already half hard, and every touch you gave him rushed blood straight down his body.

“I have to meet the guys for a livestream.” He said, his voice breaking throughout. He didn’t want you to stop, but he knew he had places to be.

“I’ll have to make this quick then.” You tugged down his boxers and wrapped your hand around his girth. “You looked so good, so pretty on that stage.” That did something to him. Pretty.

Your hand that was slowly stroking him started to speed up as your tongue teased the head.

“Fuck—please,” he said, wanting more, needing more.

“Please what?”

“Your mouth,” a shameful moan followed as you finally wrapped your lips around him, and slowly started to bob your head.

You took him inch by inch, your tongue tracing in the process. His noises and fingers lightly gripping your hair only spurred you on. Your hand on him stroked what you couldn’t reach as you took him as deep as you could, before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head.

“Even your dicks pretty, Ji.” You said sweetly, a breathy whimper coming from above you. “You like that?” You asked, looking up at the already wrecked blonde. His face was flushed, lips parted, desperate for whatever you’d give him.

“You like when I call you pretty?” You ask in a teasing tone while stroking him. After a particularly slow stroke he caved, throwing his head back with a groan before nodding frantically.

“Ah—mhm, yes—“ your hand started to speed up, sending him closer to his finish. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he said, words almost a whisper.

“Come for me, Jimin.” Your tongue traveling up and down, swirling and sucking combined with your hand wrapped tightly around him, he did just that—right in your mouth.

You swallowed all of it, Jimin could’ve came a second time just from that.

“‘M so proud of you, Jimin.” You said with a smile, rising up onto your feet and planting a sweet kiss on his plump lips, his chest heaving beneath your palms.

“I’ll take care of you when I get back.” He said with a telling smirk as he made himself decent. He didn’t have to tell you, you were already sure of it.

After he left you put on the live, growing impatient watching him act normal in front of his members and thousands of fans, like nothing had happened previously and nothing was about to happen when he returned.

You wake slowly, like you’re being pulled up from deep water by a rope that keeps slipping through your fingers. Your head feels heavy, stuffed with cotton and heat, and every time you try to focus your eyes on the ceiling above you, the world tilts faintly as if the room itself is breathing.

The blanket tangled around your legs feels too warm, yet the air against your skin sends chills racing down your arms, and it takes a moment for you to realize that your entire body aches in that dull, stubborn way that makes even turning your head feel like an effort.

You vaguely remember falling asleep in the middle of an unfinished email, the glow of your laptop fading somewhere beside you while Jungkook told you for the fifth time that you needed to rest.

You remember brushing him off because there were deadlines and meetings and responsibilities that didn’t care if you were tired. But now your throat burns when you swallow, your limbs feel like they belong to someone else, and the quiet apartment around you feels too still for the frantic pace your life has been moving at for months.

Somewhere in the kitchen, a cupboard door shuts softly. The sound floats through the apartment in that careful way that tells you someone is trying not to wake you, and you already know who it is before you hear the kettle click on.

Jungkook has always been like that when he’s worried - gentle, deliberate, moving through the space like every noise might disturb something fragile.

Even half asleep and feverish, you recognize the rhythm of his presence. The way he hums under his breath when he’s thinking, the way the floor creaks once near the fridge because he always steps on the same board.

You want to call out to him, but your voice feels stuck somewhere behind the ache in your chest, so you settle for pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders and closing your eyes again, hoping that maybe if you rest long enough your body will reset itself and you can pretend none of this happened.

But the bedroom door ends up opening few minutes later anyway.

The hinge gives its usual quiet creak, and warm light spills into the dim room before soft footsteps approach the bed. The mattress dips as Jungkook sits down beside you, and even before his hand touches your forehead, you can feel the warmth of him - solid, steady, and familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his palm presses gently against your skin, and the contrast between the coolness of his fingers and the heat in your body makes you flinch slightly. You force your eyes open, blinking up at him through the haze of the fever, and his face immediately tightens with concern.

“You’re still really hot,” he says quietly.

You try to smile. “I told you it’s just a cold.”

But Jungkook hasn’t slept properly since three in the morning. He noticed something was wrong long before you admitted it. It started with the way you rubbed your temples during dinner last night, then the way your voice sounded rough when you tried to laugh at something he said.

You kept insisting you were fine, brushing him off with tired little smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, and he tried to let it go because he knows how much you hate being fussed over. But when he woke up in the middle of the night and found you sitting in the living room with your laptop, wrapped in a blanket and shivering while sweat dampened the back of your neck, something in his chest tightened in that familiar, helpless way that always happens when you push yourself too far.

Now, sitting beside you on the bed, he studies your face with a quiet intensity that makes his chest ache.

Your cheeks are flushed with fever, your hair sticking messily to your forehead, and the dark circles under your eyes look worse than they did yesterday. You look exhausted in a way that goes deeper than just being sick, like the last few months have been draining something out of you little by little.

He knows why. He knows the pressure you’ve been under at work, the way your boss keeps dangling the possibility of a promotion while piling more responsibility onto your shoulders. He knows about the rent increase the landlord mentioned last week, the savings account that never seems to grow fast enough, the quiet late night conversations the two of you have had about whether you should move somewhere cheaper or somehow make this work.

You’re carrying too much, and Jungkook hates that he can’t take more of it from you.

He brushes your hair away from your forehead again, slower this time. “You’ve been saying that for hours,” he says softly.

Your groan is weak but stubborn. “Because it’s true.”

The truth is, you hate the way he looks at you when you’re sick. Not because it’s annoying or overbearing - Jungkook has never been the type to smother you - but because there’s something painfully gentle in his eyes that makes you feel fragile in a way you’re not used to.

You’ve spent most of your life being the reliable one, the person who keeps moving even when things get difficult, the one who doesn’t stop just because your body wants to. Being forced to lie here while someone else takes care of you feels strange and uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit.

Yet Jungkook just sighs softly beside you. You feel his hand slide down from your forehead to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still real. The touch is so gentle it almost hurts.

“You should’ve told me earlier,” he murmurs.

You want to roll your eyes, but you know that’d be unreasonable. “I did tell you.”

“No,” he says quietly. “You said you were fine.”

The difference between those two things hangs in the air, and you don’t answer right away. Instead you close your eyes again, leaning slightly into his palm before you can stop yourself, because even through the fever and the exhaustion there’s something incredibly comforting about the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You have work today,” you mumble eventually.

“I called in.”

Your eyes snap open. “You what?”

Jungkook had expected that reaction. Your eyebrows knit together in immediate concern, the fever momentarily forgotten as you push yourself halfway upright in the bed. The movement clearly costs you more energy than you expected because you sway slightly, and Jungkook instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hands settling around your shoulders.

“Easy,” he murmurs.

“You can’t just call in,” you insist hoarsely, even though your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “You already took time off last month when the cafe was short staffed.”

At the moment, Jungkook is sort of in-between jobs. He mainly does freelance graphic design, but he’s not been receiving many requests lately, resulting in him having to get a job at the cafe nearby.

“That’s exactly why I can call in,” Jungkook replies calmly. “Minho owes me like five shifts.”

“But still-”

“y/n.” Your name leaves his mouth in that gentle but firm tone he rarely uses, the one that instantly makes you pause.

He studies your face for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The contact lingers longer than usual, his lips warm against your overheated skin.

“You’re sick,” he says quietly. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

The simple certainty in his voice makes your chest tighten unexpectedly, and you don’t realize how emotional you feel until your eyes start burning.

It’s embarrassing, honestly. You’re a grown woman with a mild fever, not someone who needs to cry about it. But the last few weeks have been relentless - late nights, endless expectations, the creeping fear that you’re somehow falling behind everyone else your age who seems to have their lives figured out.

Some of your friends are buying houses, some are getting married, some are already talking about kids.

Meanwhile you and Jungkook are still arguing about rent, still calculating grocery budgets, still wondering whether the future will ever stop feeling like something slightly out of reach.

So when he presses that gentle kiss to your forehead and tells you he’s staying, something inside you cracks just enough for the tears to spill over. You turn your face into the pillow quickly.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs softly, trying to hide the immediate panic as he tries to figure out if he’s said something wrong.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

“I said I’m fine.” Your voice sounds small even to your own ears.

A moment later you feel the bed shift again as Jungkook moves closer, his arms wrapping carefully around you from behind. He pulls you against his chest, one hand resting lightly over your stomach while the other rubs slow circles along your arm.

“You don’t have to be fine all the time,” he whispers, and somehow that only makes everything worse.

___

Jungkook hates seeing you like this.

Not because your vulnerability makes him uncomfortable - if anything, it makes him want to hold you even closer - but because he knows exactly how hard it is for you to let your guard down.

You’ve always been the strong one, the planner, the person who keeps things moving when life gets messy. Even when things were difficult between the two of you last year, when money was tight and stress turned small disagreements into bigger ones, you were the one who kept saying you’d figure it out.

But lately he’s been noticing the cracks, the late nights, the headaches, the way you stare at your laptop sometimes like it’s personally betraying you. So when your shoulders start shaking softly against his chest, Jungkook tightens his arms around you without hesitation. He presses another kiss into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo and something warm that always reminds him of home.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.

“I’m just sick.”

“You’re both.”

You really can’t argue this time.

Outside the apartment, footsteps echo faintly in the hallway, followed by the familiar sound of laughter from the unit next door. Jungkook glances toward the wall automatically.

“Sounds like Taehyung and Jina are up,” he says quietly.

Taehyung and Jina are the couple who live in the apartment two doors down from you. The first night you two moved in, they had accidentally got the wrong door and tried to stumble in drunk, causing you and Jungkook to literally shit yourselves as you thought someone was trying to break in and fumble with the lock.

The next morning, however, a way more sobered up Jina and Taehyung came to your door with an apology and two bottles of wine, promising you it would never happen again and making them your best friends forever.

Almost as if on cue, a loud knock suddenly echoes through the apartment door, followed by Taehyung’s unmistakable voice shouting from the hallway: “Jungkook! Tell Jina you took the coffee she bought last week!”

Jungkook closes his eyes, and you let out a weak laugh against his chest. Somehow, despite the fever burning through your body and the endless list of problems waiting outside this small apartment, the moment feels just a little bit lighter.

The knock on the door echoes again, louder this time, followed by the sound of someone leaning dramatically against the hallway wall outside. You can practically picture the scene without moving - Taehyung slouched with exaggerated patience while Jina stands next to him with her arms crossed, pretending she’s not amused by his theatrics.

The two of them have been your neighbors for almost a year now, close enough that your lives have quietly woven together in ways that feel more like family than friendship.

You hear Jungkook sigh softly, the kind of long suffering sigh that says he loves his friends but also knows they have the worst possible timing in the universe. His arms loosen around you as he carefully helps you settle back against the pillows, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders like you’re made of glass.

The small domestic tenderness of the movement makes something warm spread through your chest despite the fever, and when he leans down to press another lingering kiss against your temple, his lips stay there for a moment longer than necessary, like he’s silently checking that you’re still here.

“You stay here,” he murmurs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “I’ll deal with them before Taehyung breaks the door down.”

You try to protest automatically, because the idea of Jungkook playing caretaker while you lie here uselessly still doesn’t sit comfortably with you, but your voice comes out weaker than expected and dissolves into a tired cough halfway through the sentence. Jungkook’s expression shifts immediately, concern flashing across his face so quickly it almost startles you.

“Okay, that’s it,” he says gently but firmly, pulling the blanket higher around you as if that will somehow contain the illness. “You’re not moving from this bed for at least a few hours. I’m making soup, tea, probably forcing you to take medicine you’ll complain about, and if you try to work today I will physically hide your laptop.”

“That’s emotional blackmail,” you mutter.

“It’s survival strategy.”

You roll your eyes weakly, but the truth is you don’t have the energy to argue. Jungkook smiles faintly when he sees your resistance fade, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek before standing up.

From the hallway, Taehyung knocks again.

“Hello? Jungkook? I know you’re in there. I thought it was rude to keep someone waiting outside?”

Jungkook groans under his breath, then opens the apartment door to find exactly what he expected.

Taehyung is leaning sideways against the wall with the casual elegance of someone who somehow manages to look like a model even while wearing mismatched socks and an oversized hoodie, while Jina stands beside him holding two mugs of coffee and watching him with the patient amusement of someone who has been dating him long enough to know this behavior is permanent.

The moment Jungkook opens the door, Taehyung straightens up with exaggerated excitement.

“Finally!” he exclaims. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

“You’re knocking like a police officer.” Jungkook mutters.

“I knock with passion.”

“No, you knock like you’re trying to arrest someone.”

Jina snorts quietly beside him, lifting one of the mugs in greeting. “Morning,” she says warmly. “We brought coffee because Taehyung drank the last of ours and tried to blame the empty jar on you.”

“I was framed.” Taehyung says immediately.

“You were caught holding the jar.”

“It was circumstantial evidence.”

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Normally he would laugh and let the moment stretch into one of those easy morning conversations that often end with the four of you sitting around the kitchen table for hours, but today the worry sitting heavy in his chest refuses to loosen.

“y/n’s sick,” he says quietly.

The mood changes instantly. Taehyung’s expression shifts from playful to concerned, and Jina’s eyebrows knit together in immediate worry.“How sick?” she asks.

“Fever.” Jungkook replies. “She’s been pushing herself too hard again.”

Taehyung exhales slowly. “That girl is going to work herself into the hospital one day.”

“Don’t say that.” he mutters.

___

You hear the murmur of voices from the hallway and instinctively strain to listen, though the fever fuzzes the edges of everything and makes the words blur together. Still, you catch enough to know what’s happening: Taehyung’s concerned tone, Jina asking questions, Jungkook explaining in that quiet voice he uses when he’s trying not to worry anyone else and reassure himself.

A small part of you feels guilty knowing they’re all out there discussing you like some fragile situation that needs to be managed. You hate being the center of concern, you hate feeling like the weak link in a life that already feels precarious. But another part of you - the tired, aching part that’s been quietly begging for rest - feels oddly comforted by it.

Your eyes drift toward the bedroom door just as footsteps approach again, and a moment later Jungkook returns with Taehyung and Jina following behind him.

Jina’s expression softens immediately when she sees you curled up in the bed. “Oh honey,” she murmurs, setting the coffee mugs down on your bedside table before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. “You look miserable.”

“That’s a strong word,” you croak.

“You have the complexion of a tomato.”

“That’s slightly less flattering.”

Taehyung leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studies you with theatrical seriousness. “I diagnose you with terrible decision making and chronic overworking.”

“You’re not a doctor,” you mumble.

“I have intuition.”

“You once tried to fix a toaster with a butter knife.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow. Even at 26, it’s like talking to an immature frat boy. “That toaster was disrespecting me.”

Jungkook watches the interaction with quiet relief. The room feels lighter already, Jina’s calm presence has always had that effect- she brings warmth with her in a way that settles everyone around her, while Taehyung fills the space with chaotic humor that somehow makes even stressful situations feel manageable.

They’ve been like this ever since the four of you became friends: a strange little support system built out of shared dinners, borrowed sugar, late-night conversations about life that stretch into the early morning hours.

Still, Jungkook can’t quite shake the tension in his chest. He moves to sit beside you again, his hand automatically finding yours beneath the blanket. Your fingers are warm - too warm - and he squeezes them gently while watching Jina press the back of her hand against your forehead.

“Yeah.” she says after a moment. “That’s definitely a fever.”

“See?” Jungkook mutters.

You groan quietly. “Everyone’s acting like I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” Taehyung says casually. A pause. “Probably.”

“Taehyung,” Jina warns.

“I’m being supportive!”

Jungkook just sighs, you try to laugh, but the effort makes your head spin. The room tilts slightly, forcing you to close your eyes again as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Immediately, you feel Jungkook’s hand tighten around yours.“Hey.” he murmurs softly.

“I’m okay.” you whisper.

“You’re not okay.”

“Semantics.”

His thumb begins tracing slow circles across the back of your hand, a small repetitive motion that somehow steadies you more than the medicine probably would. When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is watching you with that same quiet intensity that always makes your chest ache. “You need to rest,” he says gently.

“I need to send three emails and finish a report.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can do both.”

“No you can’t.” The stubbornness in his voice makes Taehyung chuckle softly from the doorway.

“Wow,” he says. “Look at you two arguing like a married couple at nine in the morning.”

Jina elbows him. “She’s literally sick.”

“Emotionally sick from capitalism.”

“That’s not helpful, Taehyung.”

You close your eyes again, exhaustion pulling at you like gravity. Jungkook watches you slowly drift toward sleep again, your breathing evening out as the conversation around you fades into the background. The tension in your face softens slightly, and he brushes his thumb gently across your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand.

He’s scared.

Not in a dramatic way, not in the kind of panic that makes people act irrationally, but in the quiet, persistent way that lingers beneath every thought. The last year hasn’t been easy for either of you. Money problems, unstable jobs, the constant pressure of trying to build a life when it feels like the ground keeps shifting under your feet.

Some nights he lies awake wondering whether he’s doing enough, whether he’s strong enough to carry the weight of the future you both keep trying to imagine. And now you’re sick. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, maybe it’s just stress, but the sight of you curled up in bed like this makes something protective rise in his chest with fierce determination.

He leans down and presses another soft kiss against your hair. “You’re going to be okay.” he whispers quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Across the room, Taehyung and Jina exchange a small glance. Because even they can feel it - the strange, uncertain tension hovering quietly in the background of this ordinary morning. And none of them know yet that this fever is only the beginning.

___

You wake again sometime later, though the concept of time feels strange and slippery, like trying to hold water in your hands. The light in the room has shifted slightly, warmer and brighter than before, which means at least an hour or two must have passed.

Your body still feels heavy and warm, the fever sitting beneath your skin like a low burning fire, but the pounding in your head has softened enough that you can think a little more clearly.

The first thing you notice is the quiet clinking sound coming from the kitchen, followed by the soft murmur of voices drifting down the hallway. Taehyung’s voice rises occasionally in dramatic bursts while Jina shushes him, and somewhere in between you hear Jungkook’s lower tone responding patiently.

The smell of something warm and savory begins to creep into the bedroom - broth, garlic, maybe ginger - and it makes your stomach twist in a strange, uncomfortable way that you can’t quite explain. Hunger and nausea seem to exist at the same time inside you, confusing and unpleasant, and you press the back of your hand against your mouth for a moment while breathing slowly through your nose.

The bedroom door opens a few seconds later, Jungkook steps inside carrying a steaming bowl carefully balanced in both hands, and the moment he notices you’re awake his entire expression softens into something gentle and relieved. He moves toward the bed quietly, setting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting down beside you like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” you mumble back, your voice still thick with sleep and illness.

“How are you feeling?”

You think about the question for a moment, scanning your body for an honest answer. Everything aches faintly, your throat is still a little sore, and the strange nausea twisting through your stomach hasn’t fully settled. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you admit.

Jungkook nods slowly. “That tracks.” He had expected the fever, but what he hadn’t expected was the way his chest tightens every time you move even slightly, as if your discomfort is something he can physically feel inside himself.

While you were sleeping, he made soup in the kitchen with Jina hovering nearby offering practical advice while Taehyung sat at the table dramatically googling symptoms and reading them aloud like a medical thriller narrator.

Jungkook tried to ignore him, but every once in a while one of the symptoms would sound vaguely accurate and he’d feel a flicker of worry ignite again in his chest. He knows it’s probably nothing serious. People get sick, people get fevers, stress alone can knock someone down for a few days. Still, when you sit up slowly in the bed now, Jungkook instinctively slides one arm behind your back to help support you. “Careful,” he murmurs.

“I’m not made of glass,” you say weakly.

“You’re currently made of fever and stubbornness.”

“That’s just my natural state.”

He smiles faintly at that, adjusting the pillow behind you before picking up the bowl again.“Soup,” he announces.

You look at it with suspicion, and the smell of it hits you immediately. At first it’s comforting - the warm scent of broth and vegetables, something simple and familiar - but then your stomach flips sharply in protest, and suddenly the smell feels overwhelming. You swallow hard, pressing your lips together as a wave of nausea rises unexpectedly in your chest.

Jungkook notices instantly, his eyebrows knit together as he watches your expression change. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

“You just looked like the soup personally offended you.”

“I’m just not that hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Your stomach chooses that exact moment to twist again. You close your eyes briefly.

“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, setting the bowl back down. “That’s not normal.”

“It’s just the fever.”

“You look nauseous.”

“I’m sick, Jungkook. Nausea is part of the job description.”

From the doorway, Taehyung leans in dramatically. “Have we considered alien parasites yet?”

“Taehyung,” Jina says flatly from the hallway.

“I’m brainstorming.”

Jungkook just ignores him completely. His focus is entirely on you, watching every tiny movement in your face like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He reaches out carefully, brushing his fingers along your jaw before tilting your chin slightly upward so he can study your eyes. “You’re pale,” he murmurs.

“I’m literally burning up.”

“You’re pale and burning up.”

“That sounds impressive.”

“y/n.” Your name comes out softer this time, threaded with quiet worry.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room settles into a strange silence where the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and Taehyung whisper arguing with Jina about something in the kitchen. Then Jungkook sighs. “You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard lately,” he says quietly.

“That’s not new.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion tugging at your body again. “You think I don’t know that?” you whisper.

You hate this conversation. Not because Jungkook is wrong - he isn’t - but because acknowledging it out loud makes everything feel heavier somehow.

The truth is that the last few months have been exhausting in ways that go deeper than physical tiredness. Your job keeps asking for more and more while offering nothing certain in return, your savings account never seems to grow fast enough, and every conversation about the future feels like standing at the edge of a foggy road where you can’t quite see what’s coming next.

Jungkook has his own worries too, you know that. The café where he works barely covers his expenses, and though he never complains openly, you’ve seen the tension in his shoulders when bills arrive or when his manager mentions cutting hours again.

The two of you keep trying to reassure each other that things will get better eventually, but sometimes “eventually” feels very far away.

You glance up at him now, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. “You should’ve gone to work,” you say quietly.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“You can’t keep missing shifts because of me.”

“Stop,” he says immediately, voice calm but firm. “First of all,” he says slowly, “I didn’t miss work because of you. I chose to stay home because my girlfriend is sick and clearly exhausted and probably would’ve tried to work herself into another fever if I wasn’t here.”

“I would not.”

“You absolutely would.”

“That’s speculation.”

“That’s experience.”

Taehyung’s voice floats in from the hallway. “He’s right, y/n, you need to listen.”

“Stay out of this,” you call weakly.

“I’m emotionally invested.”

Jina laughs quietly somewhere behind him, and Jungkook shakes his head but there’s a small smile tugging at his mouth now. Then he looks back at you, and the humor fades into something softer.

“You take care of everyone else all the time,” he says gently. “Let someone take care of you for once.”

His words settle somewhere deep in your chest. Before you can respond, another wave of nausea hits suddenly and unexpectedly, stronger than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth, leaning forward slightly as your stomach twists violently.

Jungkook reacts instantly. “Whoa - hey -” He’s beside you immediately, one arm around your shoulders while the other grabs the trash can from beside the desk and pulls it toward the bed. “Breathe,” he murmurs softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his voice and the steady warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles along your back. After a few tense seconds the nausea passes, and you sag back against him weakly. “That was…unpleasant.” you mumble.

Jungkook’s hand stills. “y/n.” he says slowly.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t usually get nauseous when you’re sick.”

You blink, for a moment neither of you says anything. Then Taehyung’s voice drifts in again from the hallway. “You know what else causes nausea?”

“Taehyung,” Jina says sharply.

But the word hangs quietly in the air anyway. Pregnancy.

For a few seconds after Taehyung’s comment, the entire apartment seems to fall into a strange kind of silence, the kind where no one wants to acknowledge what was just said but everyone heard it clearly.

You remain sitting on the edge of the bed, Jungkook’s arm still wrapped firmly around your shoulders while his other hand continues rubbing slow, grounding circles along your back. Your stomach has settled slightly, but the lingering nausea leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a foggy uneasiness in your mind.

The word hangs there -pregnancy- uninvited and almost ridiculous considering everything else happening in your life right now.

You and Jungkook barely have the time or stability to manage rent and groceries some months, let alone even imagine a child. The idea feels so far outside the realm of possibility that your brain almost rejects it instantly, pushing it away like an intrusive thought that doesn’t belong here.

Still, the quiet tension in the room makes your chest tighten slightly, and when you glance up at Jungkook you notice that he’s gone unusually still, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor like he’s trying very carefully not to react too quickly.

Taehyung clears his throat from the hallway.“Okay,” he says after a moment, his tone suddenly awkward in a way that’s rare for him. “That sounded a lot less dramatic in my head.”

“You think?” Jina mutters.

“I was trying to be helpful.”

“You are physically incapable of subtlety.”

Jungkook exhales slowly, he hadn’t meant to react. But the moment the word was spoken, his brain immediately began connecting pieces in a way he didn’t want it to. The nausea. The exhaustion you’ve been dealing with for weeks. The strange smell sensitivity when he cooked eggs two mornings ago and you complained the scent was “aggressively offensive.”

At the time he assumed it was stress, or maybe the beginning of the cold you’re dealing with now, but suddenly those memories rearrange themselves in his mind into a pattern he doesn’t fully understand yet, and the thought makes his chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way. Still, he refuses to jump to conclusions.

You’re already overwhelmed, the last thing you need right now is unnecessary panic about something that might not even be true. So Jungkook simply shifts slightly closer to you, tightening his arm around your shoulders in a quiet protective gesture before pressing a gentle kiss against your hair.

“Taehyung,” he says calmly, “maybe don’t play medical detective right now.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“You googled symptoms whilst eating our cereal.”

“That’s how modern medicine works.”

Jina sighs loudly from the hallway. “Taehyung, come help me in the kitchen before you diagnose someone with space rabies.”

“That’s a real concern.”

Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, you lean your head back against his chest, letting the steady warmth of his body anchor you while your thoughts try to settle. His arm remains wrapped securely around you, his fingers occasionally brushing lightly against your arm or your shoulder in those small unconscious touches that he always does when he’s worried. The intimacy of it feels grounding, even comforting, but the word from earlier keeps echoing faintly in your mind no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

Pregnant.

It feels impossible.

You and Jungkook have talked about the future before - late at night, lying in bed with the lights off while the city hums quietly outside the windows - but those conversations always felt distant and hypothetical. Kids were something that belonged in a version of your life where finances were stable, careers were settled, and neither of you were constantly calculating grocery budgets or worrying about rent increases.

That version of life doesn’t exist yet.

Your stomach flips again slightly, though this time the nausea is milder, more like a lingering uneasiness than a full wave.

Jungkook notices immediately. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah” you whisper.

“You sure?”

“Just…tired.”

He presses another soft kiss against your temple. “I know you are.” Jungkook gently guides you back down onto the bed a few minutes later, adjusting the pillows carefully until you’re lying comfortably against them while he pulls the blanket up to your chest again.

The caretaker instinct in him has fully taken over now, and every movement he makes is careful and attentive, like he’s trying to anticipate your needs before you even voice them. He grabs the bowl of soup again, stirring it lightly before holding it out toward you with patient determination.

“Try a few bites,” he says softly. “If it still makes you nauseous we’ll stop.”

You look at the bowl skeptically. “If I throw up again I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fair.” He lifts the spoon toward you, waiting patiently until you reluctantly open your mouth. The soup is warm and mild, the flavor gentle enough that your stomach doesn’t immediately protest this time. You swallow slowly, surprised that it actually feels somewhat comforting.

“Okay,” you admit quietly after a moment. “That’s…not terrible.”

Jungkook smiles faintly. “I’ll add that to my resume.”

“You burned ramen last week.”

“That was a structural failure of the pot.”

You manage a weak laugh, and the sound seems to visibly relax something in his shoulders. He feeds you another spoonful.

___

In the kitchen, Taehyung whispers loudly.

“Do you think they heard us?”

“Yes.” Jina whispers back.

“Do you think I ruined everything?”

“You didn’t ruin anything, but maybe don’t shout pregnancy theories across the apartment next time.”

“I said I was brainstorming.”

“You brainstorm like a thunderstorm.”

Taehyung sighs dramatically. “I’m just worried about them.”

Jina softens slightly. “I know.”

“They’ve been stressed for months.”

“I know.”

“And if something like that actually happened-”

“Then they’d figure it out.” she says gently.

Taehyung nods slowly.

___

Back in the bedroom, the soup bowl is half empty now. You feel a little better - still feverish, still exhausted, but the warmth in your stomach helps ease some of the dizziness that was lingering earlier.

Jungkook sets the bowl aside and wipes your mouth gently with a napkin like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the tenderness of the gesture making your chest ache in a soft, complicated way.

“You’re really going all out with the nurse routine.” you murmur.

“You deserve it, babe.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not to me.”

Your eyes meet his, for a moment neither of you says anything, then you sigh quietly. “Jungkook.” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“What if we never catch up?”

His eyebrows knit together slightly as he tries to figure out what you mean.

“With life” you clarify. “With everything we’re supposed to have figured out by now.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then he reaches out and gently takes your hand. Jungkook squeezes your fingers softly, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles while he looks at you with that same steady expression he always has when conversations turn serious. “You know something?” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone actually has it figured out.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“But it’s honest.”

You stare at him.

He leans forward slightly, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I know things feel messy right now,” he murmurs. “Money’s tight, work is stressful, the future feels like a giant question mark. But we’re still here, we’re still trying, and as long as we’re doing that together, I’m not really that scared.”

His words settle warmly in your chest, then he presses a soft lingering kiss against your lips. It’s gentle and slow, more comfort than passion, but it makes your entire body relax slightly. When he pulls away, his hand comes up to brush your hair behind your ear. “I’m here, I’m always here.” he whispers.

___

The quiet calm that settles over the bedroom after that kiss feels fragile in the best way, like a moment suspended gently between everything that has already gone wrong and everything that might still be uncertain ahead.

You’re still warm from the fever and heavy with exhaustion, but lying there with Jungkook so close makes the weight of it all easier to carry somehow. His hand hasn’t left yours since the conversation ended, and the small repetitive motion of his thumb tracing slow circles along your knuckles has become almost hypnotic, grounding you in a way that no amount of sleep or medicine has managed to do yet.

Your head is resting lightly against his shoulder now, the steady rise and fall of his breathing creating a quiet rhythm beneath your cheek that makes you feel strangely safe despite the dizziness that still lingers faintly at the edges of your senses. For a moment you allow yourself to exist in that softness without thinking about work emails, rent payments, or the uncomfortable word that was dropped into the room earlier like a stone into still water.

Jungkook shifts slightly beside you. “Come here,” he murmurs quietly, sliding one arm around your shoulders and gently guiding you closer until your body is tucked fully against his chest.

“I’m already here” you mumble.

“You’re halfway here.”

“That’s the best you’re getting.”

“No it isn’t.” Before you can protest further, he carefully lifts you, one arm under your knees and the other around your back in a slow, deliberate motion that makes you gasp softly in surprise.

“Jungkook!”

“You’re burning up and dizzy,” he says calmly as he stands. “The bed feels too stuffy, we’re relocating.”

___

Jungkook carries you out of the bedroom and into the living room with the same careful focus he might use when carrying something fragile and irreplaceable. You’re not particularly heavy, but he still moves slowly, mindful of the way your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for balance and the way your forehead presses weakly against his shoulder as another small wave of dizziness passes through you.

Taehyung and Jina look up from the kitchen table when he enters the room, and both of them immediately go quiet when they see the way Jungkook is holding you. “Whoa,” Taehyung says softly. “Emergency princess transport.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook mutters.

Jina stands quickly, pushing the coffee mugs aside. “Is she okay?”

“She’s just really dizzy,” Jungkook replies.

You lift your head slightly. “I’m literally right here, you know.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says solemnly. “But you look like someone who might pass out at any moment.”

“That’s very reassuring.”

Jungkook gently lowers himself onto the couch, settling you carefully against his chest again before pulling a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your legs with quiet precision.“There,” he murmurs.

You sink into the couch cushions with a quiet sigh, letting your head rest against Jungkook’s shoulder while his arm stays wrapped securely around you. The living room feels cooler than the bedroom, and the faint breeze from the slightly open window brushes softly against your overheated skin in a way that feels immediately relieving.

Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair again, absentmindedly brushing gentle strokes through it while his other arm stays firmly around your waist as if he’s making absolutely sure you don’t slide off the couch or drift away somehow.

“You’re doing a lot,” you mumble weakly.

“I’m just doing the bare minimum.”

“The bare minimum does not include carrying someone across the apartment like a Victorian husband.”

“I would absolutely be a Victorian husband.”

“You’d get into duels.”

“For honor.”

“You’d duel the landlord.”

“Honestly that’s still an option.”

Taehyung snorts loudly from the table. “I would pay money to watch Jungkook challenge someone to a duel over rent prices.”

Jina just rolls her eyes. “Please don’t encourage him.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he focuses on the subtle details of how you’re feeling in his arms. Your skin still feels warmer than normal, though the fever seems slightly lower now, and every few minutes he notices you shifting uncomfortably like your body still hasn’t fully decided whether it wants to sleep or stay awake.

When you suddenly wrinkle your nose and press your face deeper into his shoulder, Jungkook glances down in confusion. “What?” he asks softly.

“Does something smell weird in here?” you mumble.

Taehyung looks around the room. “It smells like soup.”

“No,” you say, frowning slightly. “Something else.”

Jina lifts her sleeve cautiously and sniffs it.“It’s not me.”

Jungkook smells the air too, confused. “It just smells normal.”

You groan quietly, pressing your forehead against his chest. “Everything smells too strong.”

Taehyung’s eyes flick briefly toward Jina, she notices, but neither of them says anything.

___

A few minutes later, the dizziness returns suddenly. You’re in the middle of responding to something Taehyung said when the room shifts sharply around you, the edges of your vision blurring for a moment as a heavy wave of lightheadedness rolls through your body.

“Oh-” Your voice cuts off abruptly.

Jungkook reacts instantly. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Your hand grips the front of his shirt weakly as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

The room moves very quickly then. Jina stands, Taehyung pushes his chair back. Jungkook tightens his arms around you, pulling you fully against his chest while lowering his voice into the calm, steady tone he uses when he’s trying not to panic. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your head drops against his shoulder, Jungkook presses a soft kiss against your hair once he feels your breathing stabilize. “You scared me,” he whispers quietly.

“I’m okay,” you mumble weakly.

“You almost fainted.”

“I didn’t faint.”

“You almost fainted.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.” Taehyung interjects, he leans back slightly to look at you properly, his brows furrowed in concern. “y/n…when was your last proper meal?”

You blink slowly. “…lunch…yesterday..?”

Taehyung stares. “That’s illegal.”

“I had coffee.”

“That’s not food,” Jina says gently.

Jungkook just sighs, pulling you closer again, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rests protectively across your stomach without him even realizing it. His thumb begins tracing slow soothing patterns against your side while he presses another lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “And dramatic.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re exhausted and dramatic.”

“That’s my brand.”

His lips brush lightly across your temple again, then your cheek. “You need rest,” he whispers. “And maybe…not ignoring your health for two moments straight.”

All you can do is groan quietly.

Yet the thought of you possibly being pregnant has been quietly forming in the back of Jungkook’s mind all morning. Now, it returns again, stronger this time, and he instinctively tightens his arm around you slightly. Not in panic, just awareness, and the strange feeling that something bigger than a simple fever might be unfolding slowly inside this small apartment.

___

The afternoon slowly melts into evening without anyone really noticing when it happens. The light through the living room windows shifts gradually from bright gold to soft amber, stretching long shadows across the apartment floor while the quiet hum of the city outside begins to settle into the slower rhythm of nighttime.

You’ve barely moved from the couch since Jungkook carried you there earlier, though the position has changed several times throughout the day as your body alternates between restless discomfort and heavy exhaustion.

Right now, you’re curled almost entirely in Jungkook’s lap, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist while your head rests beneath his chin, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. The blanket still covers both of you, tangled around your legs and tucked carefully around your shoulders because Jungkook keeps adjusting it every time he thinks you might be getting cold.

His hand moves slowly through your hair in the same soothing motion he’s been repeating for hours, his fingers occasionally pausing to brush your forehead or trace gentle circles along your temple whenever your breathing changes slightly.

The quiet intimacy of it feels almost surreal, like the world outside the apartment has paused for a moment to let you both exist in this fragile bubble where nothing matters except the steady warmth of his arms and the quiet reassurance of his presence.

Jungkook hasn’t stopped watching you, even when you’re asleep, even when you’re quiet.

Every time your breathing shifts or your body moves even slightly, his attention snaps back to you with that same focused concern that has been sitting quietly behind his eyes all day. From the kitchen table, Taehyung has been observing the scene for hours with the fascinated curiosity of someone watching a nature documentary.

“You know,” he whispers to Jina, “if someone walked in right now they would assume Jungkook is guarding the last surviving panda on Earth.”

Jina glances toward the couch. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

Taehyung leans back in his chair thoughtfully. “He hasn’t moved in like three hours.”

“He doesn’t want to wake her.”

“That’s adorable.”

___

Jungkook hears every word they say, he just doesn’t respond.

His attention stays fixed on you as you sleep quietly against him, your face softened by exhaustion in a way that makes something protective twist deep in his chest. He keeps replaying the events of the day in his mind - your dizziness, the nausea, the way certain smells suddenly seem overwhelming to you for no clear reason.

On their own, none of those things would seem particularly unusual. People get sick, bodies react strangely sometimes, but stacked together like this, the pattern has started to form something he can’t quite ignore anymore. And the truth is…the possibility scares him. Not because the idea itself is bad, but because the timing feels impossibly complicated, you’re both barely holding your lives together right now. Money is tight, work is unstable. The future already feels uncertain enough without adding something as huge and life altering as a child into the equation.

Jungkook glances down at you again. His fingers gently brush your cheek, and despite everything, the thought doesn’t fill him with dread. It fills him with fierce, quiet determination.

___

You wake slowly again sometime later, though this time the first sensation you notice is the dull churning discomfort in your stomach. Your eyes open halfway before the nausea hits fully, rising quickly from deep in your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch slightly. Instinctively, you shift upward in Jungkook’s arms, pressing a hand against your mouth while the room spins faintly around you again.

Jungkook reacts immediately. “Hey-” His arm tightens around you as he sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head weakly. “I feel…really sick.”

Jina is already moving toward the couch.“Bathroom?” she asks gently.

You nod quickly, Jungkook stands instantly, supporting most of your weight as he guides you carefully toward the hallway.

Taehyung scrambles to move chairs out of the way. “Emergency path!” he announces.

“Taehyung,” Jina mutters.

“I’m assisting!”

___

A few minutes later, you’re back on the couch, looking pale and exhausted but slightly less nauseous now that the worst of the wave has passed. Jungkook sits beside you again, though this time he’s positioned slightly closer, one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders while the other holds a glass of water that he keeps gently offering every few minutes. “Small sips,” he murmurs softly.

You take one reluctantly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I still will.”

“You’re stubborn even when you’re sick.”

“That’s just my personality.”

He smiles faintly, but the worry in his eyes hasn’t faded.

Across the room, Jina quietly gestures for Jungkook to follow her into the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment, glancing down at you. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs softly.

You nod weakly.

In the kitchen, Taehyung immediately senses the serious tone and pretends to become extremely interested in the refrigerator so he can listen without looking obvious.

Jina lowers her voice. “Jungkook,” she says gently.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions…but have you considered the possibility that Taehyung might actually be right about something for once?”

Jungkook exhales slowly. “I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to scare her by bringing it up if it’s just a coincidence.”

Jina nods thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”

“But if it’s not a coincidence…” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice trailing off.

___

Back in the living room, you’re staring quietly at the ceiling while the distant murmur of their conversation drifts faintly through the apartment. Your body still feels heavy and strange, like something inside you is slightly off-balance in a way you can’t quite explain. The nausea earlier felt too sudden. Too intense. And the strange sensitivity to smells has been getting worse for days now if you’re being honest with yourself.

Your hand drifts unconsciously toward your stomach, the thought appears again.

Pregnant.

Your chest tightens immediately, that can’t be right, your life is nowhere near stable enough for something like that yet. You and Jungkook are still trying to figure out basic things like long-term jobs and whether you’ll even stay in this apartment next year. The idea feels terrifying, but also strangely real.

___

Jungkook returns a minute later. The moment he sits down beside you again, you instinctively lean toward him without thinking, your head settling automatically against his shoulder while his arm wraps around you once more. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.

You hesitate. “…kook?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something kind of scary?”

His arm tightens slightly around you. “Anything.”

You swallow slowly. “Earlier…when Taehyung said that thing…”

Jungkook goes still.

“You don’t think that’s actually possible, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours slowly, and the quiet tension in the room seems to grow heavier.

___

Later, you wake slowly again, not because the fever has broken but because your body refuses to stay asleep anymore, like it’s trapped in that strange space between exhaustion and discomfort where rest never quite reaches you. The apartment is quieter now than it was earlier, the kind of quiet that settles after people have been talking for a long time and the air has grown tired along with them.

Your head feels heavy against the pillow, your thoughts moving slower than usual, like they’re wading through thick water just to reach the surface. For a moment you simply lie there and listen to the distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of pipes in the walls, the soft clinking of dishes somewhere in the kitchen.

It takes a few seconds before your mind connects the sound to Jungkook, and even in your feverish haze something warm and aching spreads quietly through your chest. Because even when you insisted he didn’t need to take care of you, even when you tried to pretend this was nothing more than a stupid cold, he stayed anyway, he always does.

You shift slightly beneath the blankets and instantly regret it, your stomach twisting with a strange wave of nausea that rolls through you so suddenly it steals the air from your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing carefully through your nose as you wait for it to pass, but the feeling lingers longer than you expect, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, settling uneasily beneath your ribs like something trying to warn you that your body is not behaving the way it normally does.

In the kitchen, Jungkook is staring at a pot of soup like it personally offended him. He has already reheated it twice because he keeps getting distracted halfway through, his thoughts circling back to the same uneasy observations that have been bothering him since this morning.

At first it was easy to believe you were just sick - the fever, the exhaustion, the way your voice sounded scratchy and small when you tried to argue with him about staying home from work. But the more he watches you, the more something feels slightly wrong in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re pale, but your cheeks are flushed. You say your stomach hurts but you barely touched the soup earlier. You look tired enough to sleep for three days but your body keeps waking you up again.

Jungkook rests his hands on the kitchen counter and exhales slowly, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into worry that might not mean anything. People get weird symptoms when they’re sick all the time. Stress does strange things to the body, and God knows both of you have had more stress than usual lately.

Between his long hours at the studio trying to keep freelance clients happy and your job pushing you toward responsibilities you never even asked for, life has started to feel like a long list of problems you’re both trying to survive together instead of something you’re actually living. Still, when he hears the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, Jungkook turns immediately, the momentary tension in his shoulders replaced by instinctive concern as he steps into the hallway.

You barely make it halfway down the hall before he’s there. Your hand is pressed weakly against the wall, your balance wavering just enough to make his heart jump into his throat the moment he sees you. Jungkook reaches you in two quick steps, one arm wrapping around your waist automatically while his other hand steadies your shoulder, his touch firm but careful like he’s afraid you might fall apart if he holds you too tightly.

Up close, he can see the faint crease between your brows, the way your breathing is slightly uneven, and something protective flickers across his face before he even realizes it’s there. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs quietly, guiding you to lean against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.” His voice isn’t scolding exactly, but there’s that familiar softness underneath it - the tone he always uses when he’s trying to take care of you without making it sound like he’s taking control.

You try to answer, but the nausea hits again before the words come out, and suddenly your fingers tighten against the front of his shirt as your stomach twists violently enough to make your knees feel weak. Jungkook’s expression changes instantly. “Okay,” he says quickly, already guiding you toward the bathroom without another question. “Okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

The bathroom floor is cold beneath your knees when Jungkook helps you kneel beside the toilet, and you hate the embarrassment that burns across your face almost as much as the nausea itself. Being sick is one thing, but being this helpless in front of him is another.

Your hair falls forward as you lean over the porcelain, and before you can even reach to push it away Jungkook is already behind you, gathering it gently into his hand to keep it out of the way. The gesture is so instinctive it almost hurts your chest.

He doesn’t rush you or fill the silence with unnecessary words while your body fights through the nausea. He simply stays there, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow circles against your back with quiet patience as if this moment - this messy, uncomfortable, humiliating moment - is just another way of loving you.

When it finally passes, leaving you shaky and exhausted, you slump slightly against him without thinking, your forehead resting weakly against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice barely more than breath.

Jungkook frowns immediately. “Why are you apologizing?” His voice is softer now, almost incredulous as he reaches for a damp towel and presses it gently against the back of your neck. “You’re sick, not committing a crime.” He crouches beside you instead of standing, making sure he’s at your level as he studies your face with quiet concern.

He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re trying not to cry even though you’re probably too tired to fully understand why. Jungkook brushes his thumb lightly across your cheek without thinking, the touch so tender it almost startles both of you. “Come on,” he murmurs after a moment. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

The walk back to the bedroom is slower this time. You lean heavily into him, one arm looped loosely around his waist while his hand stays secure at the small of your back, guiding you with the careful patience of someone who has already decided he will take care of you no matter how long it takes.

When you reach the bed he helps you settle beneath the blankets again, adjusting the pillows behind your head until you’re comfortable before sitting beside you with that same quiet attentiveness he’s had all day. For a few minutes neither of you speak, your fingers drift lazily toward the hem of his sleeve, holding onto the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. Jungkook lets you, of course. He always does.

“You’ve been throwing up a lot,” he says eventually, his voice thoughtful but gentle.

You grimace weakly. “That’s…usually what happens when people are sick.”

“I know,” he replies quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just…weird.”

You blink at him slowly. “Weird how?”

Jungkook hesitates, searching for words he isn’t sure he should say out loud yet. Because the truth is he doesn’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it really is just a bad virus, maybe stress has finally caught up to both of you in ways your bodies can’t ignore anymore, but the strange feeling in the back of his mind refuses to disappear, growing stronger every time he watches you struggle with symptoms that don’t quite fit together the way they should.

“…I don’t know,” he admits finally.

You study his face, noticing the faint crease between his brows, the quiet worry he’s trying very hard not to show, and suddenly your own chest tightens with something deeper than sickness. Because you know that look, it’s the look Jungkook gets when life is about to throw something complicated at both of you, and neither of you are ready for it yet.

___

You don’t remember falling asleep again, but the next time you wake it’s darker outside, the soft grey evening light slipping through the curtains and painting quiet shadows across the walls of the bedroom. Your body feels strange in a way that doesn’t quite match the kind of sickness you’re used to.

The feverish heat from earlier has faded into something else now - a heavy exhaustion that sits deep in your muscles like gravity has doubled overnight. Even lifting your arm feels like it takes effort. Your stomach still aches faintly, not sharp but unsettled, the kind of discomfort that lingers in waves instead of constant pain.

For a moment, you simply lie there and breathe, staring at the ceiling while your mind tries to gather itself. Normally when you’re sick you either sleep endlessly or feel restless and miserable, but this feels different. Your body is tired in a deeper way, like it’s been quietly working overtime on something you can’t see.

A strange sensitivity prickles at your nose suddenly, and when the faint smell of garlic drifts into the room from the kitchen your stomach flips unpleasantly. You swallow hard, pressing your palm against your mouth as a new wave of nausea threatens to rise. It’s not as violent as earlier, but it’s persistent, creeping slowly upward like it’s testing your limits. “Seriously?” you mutter weakly to the empty room, dragging the blanket over your face as if that might block the smell somehow.

In the living room, Jungkook is trying very hard not to look like he’s worrying again, Taehyung and Jina arrived about twenty minutes ago after Jungkook reluctantly admitted that he might need help if this turned into a full-night situation.

Taehyung is leaning against the kitchen counter now with his arms crossed loosely, watching Jungkook stir a bowl of plain rice with the focused seriousness of someone preparing a five-star meal instead of the simplest comfort food imaginable.

Jina is sitting at the table with her chin resting in her palm, observing the entire situation with the kind of quiet attentiveness that usually means she’s thinking harder than she’s letting on. “You know,” Taehyung says eventually, tilting his head slightly as he watches his friend move around the kitchen like a nervous parent, “most people who get the flu don’t have their boyfriend monitoring their breathing every five minutes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even look up. “She wasn’t breathing weird,” he mutters defensively. “She just…sounded uncomfortable.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You checked twice while she was asleep.” Jungkook finally glances over, his expression both tired and stubborn. “I was making sure she wasn’t getting worse.”

Jina studies him for another moment before speaking, her voice softer but thoughtful. “Did she say anything about a headache or sore throat earlier?” Jungkook pauses slightly, the spoon in his hand hovering above the bowl as he tries to remember. “Not really,” he admits slowly. “Mostly nausea. And dizziness. She said she felt hot earlier but the fever didn’t stay high.”

Taehyung shifts his weight against the counter. “That’s kind of weird for a cold.” Jungkook exhales quietly through his nose, his shoulders tightening just slightly like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the same thought that has been creeping into his mind all afternoon. “People get stomach viruses,” he replies, though his voice lacks conviction.

Jina doesn’t respond immediately. Instead she glances toward the hallway leading to your bedroom, her brows pulling together faintly in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite make sense yet.

Back in the bedroom, the smell from the kitchen grows stronger when someone opens the microwave, and your stomach reacts instantly. You sit up too quickly, your hand flying to your mouth as nausea rolls through you again with uncomfortable persistence. It’s not violent this time, but it’s strong enough to make your eyes water as you push yourself out of bed, your legs wobbling slightly beneath you as you hurry toward the bathroom.

The hallway feels longer than usual, and halfway there the dizziness hits you again- a sudden rush of lightheadedness that forces you to steady yourself against the wall. Your breathing becomes shallow for a moment while the room tilts unpleasantly around you. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself weakly. “That’s new.”

You manage to reach the bathroom just as footsteps approach from the living room, and seconds later Jungkook appears in the doorway, his expression shifting instantly from mild distraction to alarm when he sees you gripping the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“Hey - hey, slow down,” he says quickly, crossing the room in two steps as he steadies you with both hands on your arms. His voice softens immediately when he sees the exhaustion in your face. “What happened? Did the nausea come back?” You nod weakly, leaning slightly into him without even thinking about it, your forehead pressing briefly against his shoulder as your stomach twists again.

Jungkook’s entire posture changes the moment you lean on him. One hand slides carefully around your back while the other moves to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing slowly against your skin in a quiet, grounding motion that he knows usually helps you calm down. “It’s okay,” he murmurs gently, the words low and reassuring near your ear. “You’re okay. Just breathe for a second.” The closeness of him, the steady warmth of his body, the calm rhythm of his breathing - it all wraps around you like something safe, something solid in the middle of the strange storm happening inside your body.

Taehyung appears in the doorway a moment later, his usual playful expression replaced with mild concern when he sees the two of you standing there. “Whoa,” he says quietly, raising his hands slightly. “Bathroom emergency?” Jungkook gives him a look that clearly says not helping.

Jina steps past Taehyung a second later, her gaze moving carefully over your face in a way that feels almost clinical despite her gentle expression. “Are you dizzy too?” she asks softly. You nod again, embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds when you answer. “A little.” Jina hums quietly to herself, crossing her arms loosely as she leans against the doorway.

For a moment, the four of you stand there in a strange silence. Then Jina glances slowly toward Jungkook, then back toward you, and something thoughtful flickers behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything yet, not out loud.

___

The apartment grows quieter after Taehyung and Jina leave, the kind of quiet that feels heavier than normal silence, like the walls themselves are aware that something important is shifting between the two of you even if neither of you has the words for it yet.

The front door closes softly behind them with a muted click, their voices fading down the hallway of the building until they disappear completely, and suddenly it’s just you and Jungkook again in the dim warmth of the apartment.

You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in two blankets because your body can’t seem to decide whether it’s hot or cold, your head resting weakly against the armrest while Jungkook stands in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes that were already clean fifteen minutes ago.

He keeps glancing toward you every few seconds like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, still breathing, still okay, and there’s something about that quiet, constant attention that makes your chest ache with a strange mixture of comfort and guilt. Because he looks so worried, and you hate being the reason for that worried crease between his brows.

Your stomach churns again, a slow rolling nausea that has been coming and going all evening, and the smell of dish soap drifting from the sink suddenly feels overwhelming enough to make your throat tighten. You close your eyes for a moment, pressing your palm gently against your abdomen as you breathe carefully through your nose, hoping the wave will pass without sending you running back to the bathroom again.

Jungkook notices the change in your breathing almost immediately, he always does. The moment your shoulders tense slightly beneath the blanket his head turns toward you, his hands abandoning the sink before he even realizes he’s moving. In two quiet steps he’s beside the couch, crouching in front of you with the same soft urgency he’s carried all day, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee through the blanket. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but alert as his dark eyes search your face for signs of distress. “Is it the nausea again?” You nod slowly, your voice tired when you answer. “Yeah…it just keeps coming back.”

Jungkook exhales quietly, running one hand through his hair in a small gesture of frustration that he tries to hide from you but doesn’t quite succeed. “You haven’t eaten anything except crackers,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “Your body probably needs actual food.” You give him a weak half-smile. “My body currently thinks crackers are the enemy too.”

The corner of his mouth twitches despite his worry, and he reaches forward to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The touch is warm, grounding, the kind that says I’m here without needing to speak the words aloud.

The nausea eventually fades again, leaving behind a deep exhaustion that sinks into your bones like heavy sand. Jungkook notices the way your eyelids droop and shifts closer on the couch, carefully pulling you into his arms so you’re leaning against his chest instead of the armrest.

The movement is slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust, but once you settle there he wraps the blanket more securely around your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s not a dramatic gesture. It’s quiet, familiar, the kind of affection that has grown naturally between the two of you over years of learning each other’s habits and fears and softest vulnerabilities.

“You’re really warm again,” he murmurs against your hair, his hand moving automatically to rest against the back of your neck where your skin is flushed. “But it’s not like a fever…it’s weird.” You hum faintly in response, too tired to argue with his observations anymore. Your fingers curl loosely into the fabric of his shirt as you rest there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. For a few peaceful minutes neither of you speak, the quiet stretching comfortably between you like something shared.

But Jungkook’s mind doesn’t stay quiet for long, because the longer he sits there thinking about the day, the stranger the puzzle pieces start to feel when he tries to put them together. The nausea, the dizziness, the way you reacted to smells. The exhaustion that doesn’t quite match a normal illness. His brows slowly pull together as the thought forms in the back of his mind - unwelcome, confusing, impossible.

He doesn’t say it immediately. Instead he watches you carefully, his thumb tracing slow circles against your arm as if the gentle motion might somehow calm the sudden nervous energy building in his chest. “Can I ask you something?” he says eventually, his voice quieter than before.

You tilt your head slightly against him, blinking sleepily. “Yeah?”

Jungkook hesitates, then he asks the question that has been creeping into his thoughts for the last hour. “When was your last period?”

For a moment, the apartment feels completely still. You stare up at him, your tired brain struggling to process the words. “…what?”

His expression is cautious now, like he’s stepping carefully across thin ice. “I’m just asking,” he says softly. “Because some of your symptoms today are kind of…specific.”

Your stomach flips again - but this time the nausea has nothing to do with sickness. You start to think back, back through the last few weeks. The stress at work, the exhaustion, the way your cycle slipped quietly past without you noticing because everything else in your life has been so overwhelming lately.

Your face slowly drains of color. “…oh my god,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach. “You missed it?” he asks carefully.

Your hands begin to tremble slightly in your lap. “i-i think so.” The words hang in the air between you like something fragile and terrifying at the same time, and neither of you speak for several long seconds.

Then Jungkook exhales slowly, running both hands over his face as his mind races through possibilities he never expected to consider tonight. “Okay,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts behind it. “Okay. That doesn’t automatically mean anything. Stress can delay things, illness can too.” But even as he says the words, the pieces keep fitting together in ways that make his chest feel tight: the nausea, the smell sensitivity, the sudden exhaustion, the dizziness.

You look up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “should we…test?”

Jungkook swallows hard. “…yeah, yeah…I think we need to.” he says softly.

___

The walk to the pharmacy down the street feels surreal. The cool evening air brushes against your face while Jungkook keeps a steady hand at the small of your back, guiding you carefully like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Neither of you talk much during the walk, but the silence between you is thick with thoughts that neither of you know how to say out loud yet. You’re both thinking the same thing. We’re not ready. Not with the chaos in your careers, the bills, the tiny apartment, the plans you haven’t even started chasing yet.

Parenthood belongs to some distant future version of yourselves - not the two exhausted people standing under a flickering pharmacy light at nine o’clock at night.

Inside the apartment again, the small white pregnancy test sits on the bathroom counter like the most intimidating object you’ve ever seen. Jungkook stands beside you, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he murmurs gently.

You shake your head slowly. “No…we should.”

The waiting feels endless, three minutes stretch into something that feels like half a lifetime. Jungkook keeps his arm around your shoulders the entire time, his thumb moving slowly against your arm in silent reassurance while your heart pounds hard enough to make your ears ring.

Then, finally, you both look down.

Two lines. Clear. Undeniable. Pregnant.

For a moment neither of you move, neither of you breathe, your chest tightens suddenly as reality crashes over you all at once, your eyes filling with tears before you even realize you’re crying. “kook,” you whisper shakily, your voice breaking on his name.

Jungkook stares at the test like the world just shifted beneath his feet. Then he looks at you, really looks. At your trembling hands, your tearful eyes, the fear written across your face, and suddenly none of the panic in his chest matters as much as the person standing in front of him.

He pulls you into his arms immediately, holding you tightly against his chest as his hand moves gently through your hair. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “baby, hey…it’s okay.”

Your voice shakes against his shirt. “We’re not ready for this.”

“I know.”

“We barely have our lives together.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, his forehead resting gently against yours as he searches your eyes with a tenderness so deep it almost hurts to look at. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly.

His words aren’t confident or perfect, but they’re honest, and they’re full of love.

Outside the bathroom window the city hums quietly, completely unaware that inside a small apartment two overwhelmed people are standing at the edge of a life neither of them planned for yet. But as Jungkook presses another soft kiss to your forehead and pulls you back into his arms, one thing becomes clear even through the fear and uncertainty.

You hadn’t seen Jungkook since you came back from the U.S. Your schedule had pulled you into sessions with your boss and longtime friend Christian and even when you got back to Korea you hadn’t been able to see him but you were determined to.It was his birthday in a few minutes and you refused to let your schedule keep you from him.

When you entered the house, it was quiet except for the soft hum of a lofi sound filtering through from one of the upper floors. You take the elevator up to where you assume he is, his head popping up as he hears the ding.

Before you can even open your mouth or step fully into view you catch his eyes and the subtle look he gives to his iPad in front of him before he casually pulls out his phone prompting you to take yours out as well.

Munch 🐰 On live, they’ll see you if you step in further

He texts referring to the mirrored reflection behind and to the side.

Simp 🐺 🥺 fine I guess birthday kisses and wishes can wait until after. Came straight from the studio so I’m gonna go shower 😘

You send the text and look up at him only for a glint of what looks like a new piercing to hit your eyes. You point to the spot on your face and the little shit has the audacity to smirk at you.

No fucking way did he get a labret piercing and didn’t tell you.You mouth a silent oh my god at him, your hand still hovering near your own chin as you give him the most incredulous look. Jungkook’s smirk deepens, teeth sinking into his lip just enough to make you want to strangle him or kiss him senseless. Probably both.

His eyes flick back to his iPad, voice light and sweet for the fans as if he hadn’t just sucker-punched you with a brand-new piece of metal through his face. “Yeah, I’ve been working on some demos…just messing around with sounds lately since I got back.”

You roll your eyes so hard it hurts, typing furiously on your phone.

Simp 🐺 So you just weren’t gonna tell me? Like at all??

His phone buzzes on the couch beside him, and without missing a beat in his live, he glances at the screen. A low chuckle slips out before he reaches for it.

Munch 🐰 Wanted to surprise you. Guess it worked 😏

Your jaw drops. The audacity. The absolute nerve. You type back instantly, thumbs flying.

Simp 🐺 Surprise?? Jungkook, it’s your BIRTHDAY not mine. Why am I the one getting attacked??

He reads it, lips twitching, and then looks up—right at you—before covering it with a stretch, hiding his grin behind his arm. To anyone watching, he just looks like he’s adjusting in his seat but you know, oh, you know. When you turn to leave, determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching you melt, your phone buzzes again.

Munch 🐰 Don’t shower too fast. I want my present after 👀

You stop in your tracks at the doorway, whipping your head back to glare at him. His eyes are still glued to his screen, pretending to scroll, but the smirk tugging at his mouth is unmistakable. You send one last text before disappearing down the hall.

Simp 🐺 Careful, birthday boy. You might not survive it.

You turn his live on while you’re in the shower, amused by the fact that almost 11million people are up watching your boyfriend at this hour. Your mind returns to his piercing that seems very fresh, it hadn’t been there when you watched his last live not even two days ago so it was definitely fresh.

You chuckle wondering if your boyfriend had even realized the hell he had just unintentionally put himself in. You had your fair share of piercings so you knew for a fact that that specific one despite not having it would take at least two months to heal which subsequently meant Jungkook’s munch tendencies would be limited.

By the time you finish your shower and pad back into the living room, oversized shirt clinging to your shoulders, Jungkook’s still on live and from what you see on your phone screen he’s moved to the bar/movie room and you weren’t in the mood to go down there. There wouldn’t be anywhere for you to remain out of frame and you like the quiet world your relationship exists in at the moment. You pad back to his bedroom and get comfortable in his bed and switch to Coupang eats when he starts grumbling about being hungry.

He couldn’t have anything crunchy or spicy so you settle for something that won’t irritate the piercing or his gum when you hear him mention cleaning up and it not long after that that he ends the live. It takes a few more minutes before you hear him coming down the hall humming to himself until he spots you all soft and comfortable in his bed and his tshirt.

The moment Jungkook sees you sprawled across his bed in his shirt, curls fanned out on his pillow, he stops dead in the doorway. He leans against the frame, arms folded, piercing catching the low light of his bedroom as he smirks. “You really out here making yourself at home, huh?”

You don’t even look up from your phone, scrolling through Coupang Eats. “It’s not my fault your bed’s more comfortable than mine. Don’t act brand new.”

He chuckles, low and warm, padding closer until he’s towering over the bed. “My girl, stealing my shirts, hijacking my bed…” He clicks his tongue, feigning disapproval. “What’s mine is really yours, huh?”

You finally glance up at him, eyes narrowing on the glint in his lip. “Don’t try to distract me. You got a labret piercing and didn’t tell me?”

Jungkook grins, biting his lip to better show the jewelry. “Surprise.”

“Surprise, my ass,” you mutter, setting your phone aside. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

He tilts his head, pretending to be confused. “Got hotter overnight?”

“You basically just put yourself on a munch ban for two months.”

The smirk slips right off his face. “Wait. What?”

You fold your arms, savoring the moment. “Healing time, birthday boy. You can’t have anything pulling or irritating the area. Which means no spicy food, no rough kissing, and definitely no—” you wave your hand vaguely toward your lap, “—munching.”

His jaw drops, scandalized. “Noona, you’re lying.”

You give him a pitying little shrug. “Google it if you don’t believe me.”

He immediately grabs his phone from his pocket, typing furiously. A beat later, his shoulders slump. “Two to three months?!” He looks back at you, betrayed. “Baby, that’s my thing!”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “You really didn’t think this through at all, did you?”

He groans, flopping dramatically onto the bed beside you, face buried in your stomach. His voice comes out muffled. “Worst. Birthday. Ever.”

You card your fingers through his hair, still grinning. “You’ll live. Besides, I’m sure we can find other ways to celebrate.”

He peeks up at you with wide, puppy eyes, his new piercing glinting under the lamp. “…Like what?”

You lean down, brushing your lips over his; gentle, careful. “Guess you’ll just have to survive long enough to find out.”

He groans again, rolling onto his back like the world’s most dramatic man. “I should’ve gotten another tattoo instead.”

You snort, settling into his side. “You probably would’ve run out of skin eventually anyway.”

“Not before I run out of ideas,” he mutters, already pulling you into his chest, sulking but clingy and despite his whining, you can feel his smile pressing into your hair.

“Just because you can’t munch doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun.” You tease him.

You feel him freeze next to you and mumble something you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

His head dips lower, hair falling into his face as if it might hide him from you. His voice is quieter this time, rougher, like he’s embarrassed to even say it again.

“I said…it’s torture.”

You blink, caught between laughing and shoving him off the bed. “Torture?”

His eyes flick up at you, wide and unguarded, before narrowing with the faintest pout. “Yeah. You’re over here looking like that—” his hand waves vaguely at your oversized shirt, your damp hair, your bare legs tucked under the blanket— “and I can’t do anything. Not properly.”

The grin creeps across your face before you can stop it. “Oh, so you admit it. Munch privileges revoked.”

“Yah,” he groans, throwing himself back dramatically against the pillows, one arm slung over his eyes. “This is the worst birthday ever.”

You snort, climbing over him until you’re straddling his hips, the blanket pooling around you both. His arm slips from his face, his gaze locking onto you instantly, dark and sharp despite the playful pout still tugging at his mouth.

“Don’t worry, birthday boy,” you murmur, leaning close enough for your breath to brush his lips, “I’ll make sure you forget all about the torture part.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, fingers already finding your hips like he can’t help himself. “You better,” he whispers, and this time you’re the one smirking.

His grip on your hips tightens just enough to let you feel the heat of it, but not enough to hold you down. You’re still in charge—he lets you be, especially on nights like this.

“I can’t believe 11 million people saw this before me.” you tease, brushing your nose against his.“Shouldn’t I have girlfriend privileges?”

His laugh is low, breathy, more nerves than humor. “Baby…” His voice dips into that dangerous whine you know too well. “Don’t tease me.”

“Oh, but it’s your birthday,” you murmur, rocking your hips just slightly against him, enough to make his jaw clench. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a plea, his head tipping back against the pillows. “God, you’re evil.”

“Evil?” you echo, feigning innocence as you let your lips trail along his throat, slow and deliberate, stopping just below his ear. “I thought you liked me like this?”

His fingers flex against your skin like he’s trying so hard not to flip the whole script on you. “More than I care to admit,” he admits, voice breaking just a little. “Doesn’t mean you’re not evil.

You laugh softly, biting his earlobe just enough to make him jerk. “Best of both worlds, huh?”

“Best,” he says without hesitation, breathless and wrecked already; and you haven’t even given him his gift yet. His eyes snap back to yours, dark and glassy, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look right now—smug, dangerous, so completely in control of him it’s unfair. His chest rises fast under you, every exhale brushing warm against your lips when you lean close again.

“You really want your gift?” you ask, voice a teasing whisper, even though you already know the answer.

“Yes.” It’s desperate, immediate, and so unlike his usual composure that it makes your smirk widen.

“Then be patient,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the shiver that ripples through him. “Good boys wait.”

He groans, throwing his head back, but his hips twitch up against yours anyway betraying him.

“Not fair,” he mutters, half whine, half growl.

You tilt your head, lips brushing just barely over his jawline. “Since when has fair ever been part of the deal?”

His hands finally tighten properly on your hips, like he’s two seconds from losing the restraint he’s been clinging to. His voice drops, ragged and low.

“Love, if this is how you’re giving me my birthday present, I don’t think I’m gonna survive it.”

The wicked grin that spreads across your face tells him he’s right and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Just to tease him a bit more you get off of him and make your way over to your bag and pull out the jewelry box that had been hidden inside before making your way back to him.

Jungkook didn’t wear much jewelry regularly apart from his piercings but he’d worn that necklace you’d gotten him three birthdays ago until it got stolen or lost, you can’t really remember but you do remember him being all pouty about it so you had gotten him an upgrade this year with a bracelet to match.

He whines when you take too long to come back to him. You pause just a second longer than necessary, enjoying the way his eyes follow every move you make, his pout growing more dramatic the closer you get to the bed.

“Patience, Jungkookie,” you hum, dangling the small box just out of his reach as you climb back onto the mattress.

He shifts, trying to grab for it, and you pull it away with a sly grin. “Nuh-uh. Gifts are for good boys.”

His cheeks flush, and you can see the way he clenches his jaw, equal parts turned on and frustrated. “You’re cruel,” he mutters, voice pitched low but threaded with a whine.

“You’ll live,” you tease, finally flicking open the box to reveal the sleek necklace and bracelet gleaming against the velvet. His breath actually catches, the irritation melting instantly into wide-eyed surprise.

“Baby…” His voice cracks, soft and reverent now as he looks up at you instead of the jewelry. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” you interrupt, settling between his legs again, holding the bracelet out toward him. “Now, do I get to put it on you or are you still being bratty?”

That earns you a small laugh, sheepish and warm, and he finally holds out his wrist, eyes shining. And just as you lean in to clasp it, he grumbles under his breath, barely audible—

“Still evil though.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, lips twitching. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, biting the inside of his cheek like he can swallow the words back down but the faint pink staining his ears gives him away.

“Oh, no, no,” you murmur, fastening the bracelet snugly around his wrist. “I heard you.” You hold his hand up, admiring how the metal gleams against his skin. “Evil and thoughtful. You really do have the best of both worlds.”

He ducks his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. His thumb brushes lightly over the chain, and you catch the way his chest tightens like he’s fighting not to get emotional.

“Looks good on you,” you say softly, your teasing tone mellowing just for a moment. “Better than I even pictured.”

His gaze lifts, warm and intent, all traces of his earlier pout fading into something that makes your stomach flip. “You know I’m never taking this off, right?”

You grin, leaning in close until your nose brushes his. “Good. That was the point.”

And just when he’s about to kiss you—when you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves—you pull back with a mischievous smirk. “Now, about that necklace…”

His groan is instant and theatrical, head falling back against the pillows. “Noona, you’re actually trying to kill me.”

“Not kill,” you correct, fingers toying with the chain. “Just…ruin a little.”

You slip the chain from the box, holding it just above his collarbones, watching the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “And no mouth kissing, remember?” you remind him sweetly, tone light but edged with mischief.

He groans, covering his face with one hand like he regrets ever agreeing to your rule for the night. “You’re killing me.”

You laugh softly, brushing his hair back as you clasp the necklace behind his neck, letting your fingers linger against his skin. “Relax, Kookie. I never said anything about other kinds of kissing.”

That makes him peek at you through his fingers, eyes going dark with both suspicion and anticipation. “You’re dangerous.”

“You love it,” you say with a grin, leaning down just enough to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the hollow of his throat. “We’ve established this already.”

His breath hitches so sharply you feel it against your lips, his hand dropping from his face to clutch at your waist like he needs something to anchor him. The little pulse beneath your mouth stutters, and the sound he makes—half groan, half plea—shoots straight through you.

“Fuck, baby…” His voice is rough now, shaky, and it only eggs you on.

You drag your lips lazily across his skin, leaving featherlight kisses up the column of his throat, pausing at the spot just under his jaw where you know he’s sensitive. You don’t bite, don’t mark—just let your mouth linger, warm and slow, until he’s trembling under you.

When you finally pull back to look at him, his pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling like he’s been running. The new necklace glints at his collarbone, framed perfectly by the trail of your affection.

“See?” you whisper, smirking as you smooth your thumb over his jaw. “Rules can be fun if you let me play with them a little.”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s gathering himself, then opens them again—glassier now, hungrier. “You’re not gonna let me survive the night, are you?”

You laugh, leaning in to brush your lips just shy of his ear. “Depends…are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

“When aren’t I?”

You raise an eyebrow at him before telling him to get comfortable while you shuffle down between his legs.

His smirk lingers as he leans back against the pillows, arms spread out like he’s trying to play it cool but the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast gives him away. His eyes track you the whole time, sharp and dark, but there’s a flicker of nervous excitement in them that makes your lips twitch.

“You talk big, Kookie,” you murmur, settling between his thighs, hands gliding up the insides just to watch him shiver. “Guess I’ll see if you can back it up.”

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and tips his head back against the headboard. “You’re gonna kill me tonight,” he says, but there’s a tremor in his voice that betrays just how much he’s looking forward to it.

Your eyebrow arches again, playful. “That a complaint?”

His gaze snaps back to you, intense now, no hesitation. “Never.”

Your palms smooth along his thighs, deliberate and slow, until your nails dig just enough to make his muscles twitch under your touch. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, head falling back, throat bared for you like he knows exactly what game you’re playing.

“Comfortable?” you ask, voice dripping with mock sweetness.

He huffs out a laugh that dissolves into a groan when you press a kiss just above his waistband. “You know I’m not,” he rasps, hips jerking despite himself.

“Good,” you murmur against his skin, hands curling around his thighs to hold him steady as your mouth trails lower, teasing, never giving him enough. His fingers twitch against the sheets, then ball into fists when you deliberately skip over where he wants you most.

“Please,” he finally breathes out, broken and needy, the word torn from him like it costs him everything to say it.

You lift your head just enough to meet his eyes, wide and dark and desperate. A wicked smile curves your lips as you ask, “Please what, birthday boy?”

The way his jaw works, like he’s fighting pride and surrender at the same time, has your pulse racing.

Jungkook couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that you told him to “get comfortable.” Because he wasn’t. At all. His back sank into the pillows, hands flexing uselessly at his sides as you slid down between his legs, and every muscle in his body felt strung too tight.

His chest rose and fell too fast. The new chain sat cool against his collarbones, a sharp contrast to the heat crawling down his skin where your mouth had just been. He swore he could feel the press of your lips there even now, taunting him, making him want more.

When your fingers brushed along the waistband of his sweats, his hips jumped before he could stop them. “Noona…” he groaned, hating how desperate it sounded, hating how badly he wanted to beg when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.

The truth was, you had him undone already. No kissing on the mouth, that stupid rule was unraveling him worse than anything else, because it meant he couldn’t ground himself in you. He had to take everything you gave, every kiss lower than his lips, every brush of your hand, and it left him aching, twitching under your control.

And then you tugged his sweats down just enough, and Jungkook swore his vision blurred. His cock slapped up against his stomach, heavy, flushed, and so hard it hurt.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging a hand over his face. He could feel his own pulse in it, leaking already, shameless. And you hadn’t even touched him yet.

When you finally leaned down, your breath ghosting over the tip, his whole body jerked. “Baby, please—” The plea broke out before he could choke it back, raw and unguarded. His fingers fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, every nerve screaming for relief.

And when your lips wrapped around him—slow, deliberate, like you had all the time in the world—Jungkook’s head fell back against the pillows with a strangled cry.

God, he thought, she’s really going to kill me tonight.

The first drag of your mouth down his cock nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Heat, wet, suction—he’d had it a thousand times, but never like this, never when he wasn’t allowed to kiss you back, wasn’t allowed to ground himself in your mouth in the way he craved most.

“F-fuck,” he stuttered, hips twitching up before he forced them down again, digging his heels into the mattress so he wouldn’t lose it too fast. He needed to last. He needed you to take your time, even if it killed him.

Your tongue curled around the head, flicking at the slit, lapping up the precum spilling freely now. Every touch made his cock throb violently, his stomach tightening like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter. When you slid down farther, hollowing your cheeks, he groaned so loud he swore his neighbors must’ve heard.

His hand shot down, instinctive, tangling in your hair but he didn’t push. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because he respected your pace or because he was terrified he’d shove too hard, spill down your throat too fast, and ruin it before you decided he deserved to come.

“Shit,baby,” he rasped, head lolling back against the pillow. His chest heaved, sweat beading at his temples. You were taking him so deep, his tip brushing the back of your throat, and the gag of it made his cock twitch violently. He was seconds from losing it. “I-I can’t—”

But then you pulled back with a slick pop, smirking up at him with his cock glistening, spit shining along your chin.

He thought he might actually cry.

“You’re…you’re evil,” he panted, voice breaking. His thighs were trembling, his cock leaking all over his abs now, untouched for the moment and aching so bad it almost hurt.

When your hand wrapped around the base and started stroking slow, twisting, pumping him while your mouth sank back down over the head—Jungkook’s vision went white at the edges. His toes curled, his abs clenched, his whole body bowed up off the bed.

“Noona, please,” he begged shamelessly now, any last shred of control ripped away. “Please, let me—fuckkkk, let me come. Please.”

The steady twist of your wrist paired with the wet slide of your mouth was too much,his body was wound so tight it felt like every nerve ending was wired to your tongue. Jungkook’s moans had gone ragged, each one higher, sharper, closer to a cry. His thighs shook uncontrollably, muscles straining as if he could hold back the inevitable, but his body betrayed him.

“F-fuck! oh my god, noona—” His head thrashed against the pillow, black hair sticking to his forehead, chest slick with sweat. His cock throbbed violently in your hand, every vein rigid, his balls drawn tight. He could feel it coming, deep in his spine, rushing forward like a wave too powerful to fight.

“Gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come…please,” he gasped, hips jerking despite himself, driving deeper into your throat. The sight of you taking it, the sound of you gagging just slightly and humming around him, it broke him.

With a hoarse, choked cry, he came. Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled down your throat, his entire body arching up as though he could disappear inside you. His stomach clenched, muscles spasming with every pulse of release, cock twitching helplessly as you swallowed around him.

It went on and on—longer than he thought he could even last—until he collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving, body boneless. His hand was still tangled in your hair, trembling as he stroked weakly through it, pulling you gently off him when the oversensitivity made him flinch.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked, almost broken. His throat was raw from moaning, from begging. He looked down at you with glassy eyes, lips parted, completely undone.

And when you licked your lips, his cum shining on them, then leaned up to kiss his jaw—carefully avoiding his mouth, still obeying the rule—he thought he might die on the spot.

“You’re…insane,” he breathed, smiling weakly, dazed. “And perfect. God, baby…I don’t even have words.”

“I do and they’re you’re not done yet.” You whisper in his ear.

His whole body stiffens at your words, the heat of your breath against his ear sending another shiver racing down his spine. He’s still trembling from the orgasm, muscles weak, but the second your whisper lands, his cock twitches against his stomach, already starting to stir back to life.

Jungkook turns his head, eyes blown wide and dark, disbelieving and needy all at once. “Noona…” His voice cracks, half-plea, half-worship, like he’s not sure if he’s begging you to stop or to ruin him even more.

You nip at the shell of his ear, slow and deliberate. “Birthday boy doesn’t get to tap out after one.”

His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air. “You’re—fuck, you’re serious?”

You smile against his skin, your hand sliding down his stomach, deliberately brushing the base of his cock that’s already starting to harden again. His hips jerk helplessly.

“Dead serious,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “And this time…no hands on me. You just lie there and take it.”

The broken sound that leaves him is pure desperation, his head falling back into the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me,” he gasps, though the way his body arches into your touch betrays how badly he wants it.

You don’t move right away after whispering in his ear. Instead, you let the words hang there, your breath hot against his skin. His chest rises and falls rapidly, still trying to calm from the first round, and you relish the way he’s already trembling under you.

“Not done yet,” you murmur again, dragging your mouth along the line of his jaw, careful to keep away from his lips. Your tongue flicks against his earlobe before you bite down gently. He shivers.

“Baby…” It’s half a whine, half a plea. His hands twitch at your sides like he wants to grab, wants to pull you down, but he doesn’t—not after last time—not when he knows better now.

You smirk and slide lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his chest, pausing to suck lightly on one nipple until he groans, then moving to the other, fingers dancing across the taut muscles of his stomach. Every brush of your mouth is too light to satisfy him, and the way his abs clench beneath you makes you slow down even more.

When you finally settle between his thighs, he’s already half-hard again, sensitive and aching. You drag your nails gently up the inside of his leg, stopping just shy of where he wants you. His hips buck involuntarily, but you press his thighs down with your palms, keeping him pinned.

“Patience, Jungkookie,” you hum, echoing your earlier tease.

He curses under his breath, head thrown back against the pillow, one arm covering his eyes like he can’t stand to watch you torture him this way.

You wrap one hand loosely around him, not moving yet, just holding, letting him throb against your palm. Then you lean down, tongue darting out to tease the underside of his length, a single stripe from base to tip. He gasps, thighs trembling, but when you pull back again without taking more, he growls in frustration.

“Cruel,” he mutters, echoing himself from earlier, voice ragged.

“You’ll live,” you purr, before taking him slowly into your mouth.

The sound he makes is wrecked, desperate. His fingers clutch at the sheets as you sink down inch by inch, stopping to hollow your cheeks, to swirl your tongue around the tip, to pull back almost entirely before sliding down again. You don’t give him rhythm—just waves of sensation, unpredictable, dragging him higher only to ease off and start again.

By the time you let him hit the back of your throat, he’s shaking, sweat dampening his hair, moaning without shame. “Fuck…baby, please—”

You pull off with a wet pop, stroking him lazily while you lick your lips, eyes locked on his. “What’s that? Please what?”

His voice cracks when he answers. “Please let me…let me come.”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Not yet.”

He actually whimpers, biting down on his fist. You laugh softly, leaning forward to kiss just above his navel before swallowing him down again, faster this time, deeper, until his thighs are trembling and his hand flies to your hair before jerking back like he remembers he’s not allowed.

Only when he’s right on the edge again, toes curling, voice breaking around your name, do you finally let him go, your hand working him in fast, tight strokes while you keep your mouth on him, sucking him through until he unravels hard, spilling with a broken cry.

You don’t pull away until he’s twitching, oversensitive and whining, his hips trying weakly to get away from your mouth. When you finally let up, you kiss his thigh sweetly, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

“You lasted,” you tease, voice low. “Good boy.”

His chest is heaving, face flushed, eyes dazed and shining as he stares at you like you’ve just undone him completely. “You’re evil,” he pants, but the way his lips curl into a lazy grin gives him away.

“And you,” you murmur, climbing back up his body to settle against him, “love it.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to bask in the aftermath of wrecking him. The second you settle against his chest, smug and satisfied, Jungkook rolls, flipping your positions so you’re on your back beneath him, breath catching at the sudden shift.

“Think you’re the only one who can drag things out?” he smirks, voice still hoarse but thick with determination. His mouth dips to your throat before you can answer, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin there. He lingers at your collarbone, sucking just enough to leave you tingling, before dragging his lips lower.

You know his piercing means he has to be careful, that he can’t risk irritation with too much direct mouth-to-mouth, but Jungkook makes up for it by kissing everywhere else—your jaw, your throat, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts. Each press of his lips is careful but searing, like he’s staking a claim on every inch of skin.

When his hands slip under your shirt and push it up, his mouth follows the reveal, inch by inch, until the fabric bunches beneath your arms. Then he freezes.

The soft intake of breath tells you he’s just noticed—the glint of metal where your nipples are pierced, barbells catching the low light. His eyes darken instantly, pupils blown wide as he stares like he’s never wanted anything more.

“You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. His thumb brushes across one barbell, sending a sharp jolt of sensation through you. You shiver, biting back a moan.

“Surprise,” you whisper, teasing, but your voice is already shaky.

His grin is wicked. “Surprise indeed and given that they look all nice and healed, you been hiding them for awhile.”

Before you can retort, his mouth is on you—hot, wet, careful but relentless. He doesn’t suck hard at first, mindful of the piercings, but he drags his tongue slowly around one nipple, deliberately catching the barbell just enough to make you gasp. Then he does the same to the other, alternating back and forth until you’re writhing under him, hands clutching his hair.

Every graze of his teeth, every flick of his tongue around the metal, sends sparks through you—sharper, more intense than you expected, amplified by the piercings you’d almost forgotten to warn him about.

“Fuck, Jungkook—”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your skin, voice muffled but smug. “Let me hear it.”

And when he finally closes his lips around one nipple and sucks properly, the pressure tugging against the piercing, your back arches off the bed, a broken cry spilling out before you can stop it. He hums in approval, the vibration making it worse—better—until you’re clawing at his shoulders, begging without words.

When he pulls back, lips slick and eyes blazing, he looks like he could devour you whole. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says simply, before ducking back down to claim the other breast with equal intensity, determined to make you fall apart the way you just did to him.

He drags his hand down your stomach, slow enough to make you whimper, before slipping into your waistband. He doesn’t rush—fingers teasing along the edges, grazing you just enough to make your hips lift off the bed in frustration.

“You want it?” he asks, hovering cruelly close.

“Yes. fuck, yes, please,” you pant.

That’s all he needs. His fingers slide through your wetness, parting you, circling your clit with maddening precision. His mouth returns to your chest, tongue flicking and teeth grazing carefully around the metal as his hand works between your thighs. The double assault is devastating,every nerve lit, every drag of his fingers sending you higher.

He slips one finger inside, then two, curling them just right, his palm grinding against your clit in steady rhythm. Your cries fill the room, back arching, legs trembling.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your skin, relentless. “So fucking gorgeous when you break for me.”

You’re gone, chasing the edge with every stroke, every graze of his teeth and tongue against your piercings. When he finally presses harder, faster, curling his fingers deep inside, your orgasm slams into you—sharp, consuming, leaving you clawing at him and sobbing his name.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop. He draws it out, fingers still working, pace unyielding even as you shudder and beg for mercy. “Not done yet,” he whispers, voice rough and intent. “I’m gonna take you again…and again…until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His fingers finally slow, sliding out of you with a wet sound that makes your cheeks burn, but he doesn’t give you time to recover. He licks them clean—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring you—before hooking his hands under your thighs and dragging you down the bed until your hips are flush with his.

“Round two,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel and honey all at once. “And this time I set the pace.”

You barely manage a nod before he’s tugging your shorts down and off, tossing them aside. He pushes your legs open, wide enough that the stretch burns, then settles between them with his cock hard and heavy against your slick entrance. He doesn’t thrust in right away—he grinds slow, deliberate, smearing himself through your folds, letting the head of his cock nudge against your clit until you’re trembling.

“Jungkook—please,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he finally pushes forward. The stretch steals your breath, hot and overwhelming, and you feel every inch as he sinks into you with a groan that vibrates in your chest.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Tight,so fucking tight even after all the times I’ve been here.”

He gives you a second to adjust, chest pressed to yours brushing your nipple as he shifts. Then he pulls back slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in hard enough to make the headboard crack against the wall. You cry out, body arching into him, and he sets a rhythm—slow, punishing thrusts that drag out every nerve-ending scream of pleasure.

“You think you can handle me dragging it out?” His words are broken by his own groans, hips snapping into you harder. “You’re gonna take every second of this, baby. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

He braces one hand beside your head, the other sliding down to hook under your knee and press it up, opening you even wider. The new angle makes you choke on a moan as he hits deeper, relentless, each thrust grazing that spot that makes your vision blur.

Your nails rake down his back, your body caught between begging for mercy and begging for more. Jungkook doesn’t let up—his mouth is everywhere,sucking your neck, dragging his tongue across your piercings again, biting your shoulder when you clench too hard around him.

“Look at you,” he pants, eyes locked on yours as sweat drips down his temple. “Already falling apart, and we’re not even close to done.”

The pressure builds fast, unbearable, your body tightening around him. You’re babbling his name, incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as he pistons into you harder, faster, his grunts turning ragged.

And when you finally break, the orgasm rips through you violent and sharp, your body convulsing beneath him. Jungkook doesn’t stop—he fucks you through it, dragging out every spasm, every desperate cry, until you’re shaking, clawing at him like you’ll fall apart without him holding you together.

Only then does he finally let himself go, thrusting deep one last time as he groans your name, his release spilling hot inside you. He stays there, buried deep, chest heaving against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking together as if he can’t bear to pull away.

When he finally lifts his head, his grin is wicked, satisfied. “Round two,” he says, voice wrecked. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, still lingering. “And we’re still not done.”

You don’t get to say or do anything before his phone rings. He groans loudly before reaching over to the bedside table to grab it before he answers. Your fingers rake through his hair while he talks before he hangs up and looks at you.

“You ordered food?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.” You laugh lightly.“You kept grumbling about being hungry while you were live and then you came in here and distracted me.”

Jungkook tosses his phone back on the nightstand with a groan, then drops his forehead against your chest. “You’re lucky I’m starving or I’d keep you pinned here until morning.”

You laugh, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Please, you’d pass out before I did.”

He lifts his head just enough to give you that incredulous look, like you’ve just challenged him to the most important competition of his life. “You wanna test that theory later?”

The ring of the doorbell cuts through the room, sharp and intrusive. Jungkook groans like it’s a personal attack, reluctantly pulling out of you and grabbing a pair of sweats from the floor.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, pointing at you like you’re a flight risk, though his grin ruins the stern act.

You tug the blanket over yourself, giggling as you watch him pad barefoot out the bedroom door, hair damp with sweat, skin still flushed. The delivery guy doesn’t even blink—just hands him the bags and bows before disappearing down the hall. Jungkook shuts the door with his hip, muttering, “Saved by food. You’re lucky.”

He sets everything on the coffee table, then comes back to drag you out of bed despite your protests. “Come on. Movie. Food. Then…” His smirk is wicked, but his hands are gentle as he wraps you in his tshirt before steering you out of the bedroom to the couch where he was live just an hour ago.

The two of you settle in, legs tangled together, cartons of food spread out in front of you. He insists on feeding you the first bite, holding the chopsticks to your lips with that boyish grin that always makes your chest ache. You feed him back, and the banter is easy—complaints about how hungry you are, him teasing that you moaned louder for him than you ever would for food.

A movie plays in the background, neither of you paying it much attention except for the occasional comment. His arm rests around your shoulders, thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, and between bites he presses soft kisses against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. It’s quiet, warm, the kind of intimacy that doesn’t demand anything but presence.

By the time the food is gone, your stomach is full but your heart feels fuller. Jungkook shifts down on the couch, head pillowed in your lap as he watches the screen with heavy-lidded eyes. His hand rests over your thigh, fingers twitching like he can’t not touch you.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you tease, running your fingers through his damp hair.

His lips curl into a sleepy smile. “Too late. You’re stuck with me like this.” And for a while, you are; just the two of you, the remnants of food on the table, the low hum of the movie filling the space.

Jungkook’s lashes flutter once, twice, before his breathing steadies, the weight of his head warm and heavy against your thigh. You pause, fingers tangled in his hair, and just watch him. The curve of his nose, the soft part of his mouth, the way his chest rises and falls. He looks younger like this, vulnerable in a way you don’t often get to see. The world knows him as untouchable, magnetic, but here he’s just your boy—sweat-damp hair and a faint soy sauce stain on the corner of his lip.

You brush it away with your thumb, and he makes a little noise in his sleep, lips parting just slightly. Your heart squeezes at the sound. You think, not for the first time, that you could live in this moment forever; just him, heavy and warm, trusting you enough to let his guard down completely.

But then his hand twitches against your thigh, fingers flexing higher, until his thumb brushes the hem of the shirt he made you wear. His lashes lift, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re no longer hazy with sleep. They’re sharp, dark, mischievous.

“Were you watching me sleep?” he murmurs, voice low and raspy, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe,” you admit, tugging lightly at his hair. “You looked cute.”

He hums, a sound that sends a shiver straight through you. “Cute, huh?” He shifts suddenly, rolling so he’s half on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. “Guess I should fix that.”

The movie continues to play, forgotten, as his mouth drags lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, down the neckline of his own shirt you’re drowning in. His grin is wicked against your skin. “Round three,” he whispers, already working his way lower.

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, light and teasing. “You really behave like a bunny, y’know.”

Jungkook pauses just long enough to lift his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. His smirk deepens, slow and dangerous. “A bunny, huh?” He noses at your jaw, voice muffled and low. “Cute on the outside…but you’ve seen how rabbits really are.”

The way he says it makes your stomach flip, a promise disguised as a joke. His teeth graze your throat, playful but edging on hungry, and the warmth of his hands slides higher beneath the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt.

“Jungkook,” your voice catches when his thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts, teasing at the piercings like he can’t resist.

He hums like he’s heard exactly what he wanted, the sound reverberating through your chest. “You shouldn’t have said that, noona. Now I’ve got an excuse.”

The movie hums on in the background, forgotten. Your fingers curl in his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin just enough to sting. He chuckles against you, wicked satisfaction laced in the sound.

“You started it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone. “Now you’ve gotta take responsibility.”

His hand drags slowly down your stomach, deliberate, until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt and pins your hips with his free hand, smirk lazy and sharp.

“You’re mine for the rest of the night,” he says simply, voice hoarse but steady. “And I’m not letting you sleep until I’ve proven it.”

“Round three,” he whispers against your lips, thrusts deep and deliberate, “and you’re still gonna beg me for more.”

you believe him.

Jungkook’s mouth is everywhere, slow but insistent, as if he’s determined to taste every inch of you under the dim flicker of the forgotten movie. His teeth graze the swell of your breast, his tongue circling your piercing just enough to make your toes curl. You’re already slick again, the ache between your thighs building with every drag of his mouth, every careful press of his fingers.

“Still calling me a bunny?” he asks against your skin, voice low and dangerous. His hand slips lower, sliding between your legs, fingers finding you already wet. He groans softly, almost reverent. “Fuck…look at you. So ready. I don’t even need to prep you, do I?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “No…just—just fuck me, Kook.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He hooks your thighs over his shoulders, dragging you down the couch until your hips are at the edge, legs spread wide. You gasp as he presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that never go all the way in.

“Beg for it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “If I’m a bunny, then you’re my mate and mates beg.”

Your face burns, but the need outweighs your pride. “Please,baby. Please fuck me.”

His answering groan is guttural, torn from deep in his chest. He pushes in slow, inch by inch, stretching you until you’re gasping, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush with yours, his jaw clenched tight as he fights for control.

“God,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “So fucking perfect. Every time.”

He starts to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot, deep enough that you swear you can feel him in your throat. It’s not the punishing pace from before. This is different,intimate. He wants you to feel every inch, every stroke, every second of being filled by him.

Your nails rake down his back, your moans spilling free as he rolls his hips, grinding against your clit with every thrust. He kisses you—soft, careful not to brush your mouth too much because of his piercing, but he makes up for it with kisses everywhere else. Your neck. Your jaw. The shell of your ear. Each one grounding you even as he fucks you higher and higher.

“Look at you,” he pants, voice breaking as your walls tighten around him. “Taking me so good. Fuck, you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp, arching into him, legs trembling where they rest on his shoulders. “Always yours.”

That’s all it takes. His rhythm sharpens, hips snapping harder, faster, chasing both your release and his. The wet slap of skin fills the room, mixing with your cries and his groans, the movie long forgotten.

Your orgasm slams into you like a wave, stealing your breath as your whole body seizes around him. You cry out his name, vision blurring, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Jungkook fucks you through it, relentless, until he’s shaking above you, spilling hot and deep inside as he groans your name like a prayer.

For a long moment, neither of you move. He stays buried in you, chest pressed tight to yours, his sweat-slick skin sticking to you like he never wants to let go. His breathing evens out slowly, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh.

When he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin is soft, boyish, so different from the wrecked intensity of just a moment ago. “Round three,” he whispers, kissing your temple gently. “But I think…” He trails off with a chuckle. “I’ve got at least one more in me.”

You laugh weakly, pushing at his chest. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he admits, settling against you again, his cock still heavy and warm inside you. “But I’m yours though so you’re stuck with me.”

It all began when you were hanging out with Namjoon and his wife, and Jiwon was seated on your lap, giggling while playing with your breasts. Namjoon had made a joke at the expense of your daughter, something about how she was more obsessed with your tits than her dad and Jungkook grumbled in response “I guess.” 

To which you then slapped his shoulder because he couldn’t possibly be annoyed with his angel of a daughter. 

Jungkook has always loved your breasts. Gives them extra love when he’s fucking into you, flicking your nipples to ensure they’re hardened. He even made you cum once just from nipple stimulation, which is one of his greatest feats. So Jeon Jiwon stealing your tits from him was blasphemous. Utterly unheard of. He couldn’t let that slide. 

Thus began the Great Tit War. Some would argue scarier than the thought of World War 3.

“Good job, Jiwonnie.” You kiss your daughters forehead as she happily latches onto your nipple, doe eyes twinkling with delight. Rocking back and forth in the feeding chair set up in her room, you caress the sprouts of hair curling from her head. She’s only just begun to grow hair, and you can’t wait until it gets long enough to put into cute little bows. “You’re so perfect, my bug.” 

You watch as she sucks and sucks, wiping droplets off her puffy cheek as she feeds. 

A knock at the door causes your head to instinctively swing up, a hesitant little rap against the doorframe, and you look up from Jiwon’s face to find Jungkook hovering in the entryway. Sometimes he lingers in the entrance, unsure if he’s allowed in. 

“Come in, Koo,” you giggle, keeping your rocking steady. He shuffles in slowly, sock feet quiet against the nursery rug, hands tucked into the front pocket of his trusty black hoodie. His hair is still messy from his headset. There’s probably a game paused downstairs, controller resting against the couch cushion, waiting for him. When his eyes drift to Jiwon, his entire body relaxes, a glow on his cheeks. 

Her eyes are fighting the sleep as she continues to suck. She gets sleepy once she’s full, so it’s only a matter of time. Her tiny fist is curled against your breast, and a little bubble forms at the corner of her mouth that you wipe off with a smile. Jungkook crouches down to chair level, forearms on his knees, and looks at her the way he always does. Jungkook was always meant to be a girl dad, you presume. When they had pulled her from your vagina and he got to hold her for the first time, there was no denying the twinkle in his eyes, the undying admiration lingering in the air for her. 

Jiwon’s eyes flutter open. Find him immediately, some homing instinct tuned specifically to her father’s frequency. Her whole face does the thing where it scrunches in delight. The gummy almost-smile that isn’t quite a smile yet but is.

She reaches out, fingers splayed, grasping at air in his direction. Jungkook offers her his index finger without hesitation, and she latches onto it with your nipple still tucked between her pink lips. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose. 

Jungkook loves her in a way that frightens him sometimes. You’ve watched him hold her at 3 AM when she won’t settle, swaying in the dark with his cheek pressed to the top of her head, whispering things you can’t hear from the doorway. 

You never interrupt those moments. They belong to the two of them.

Finding alone time since Jiwon arrived has been its own comedy of errors. She wakes at odd hours with no pattern you’ve been able to crack, usually just as you’ve finally gotten comfortable. It’s always you she summons first and you’ll stumble down the hall half-asleep while Jungkook makes grabby hands at the warm space you left behind. But on the nights she wants him, she makes that known too. He’ll be up before you can even register it, padding down the hall, saying I got her, go back to sleep in a voice still rough with exhaustion.

Intimacy after children is something you schedule around a nine-pound tyrant who controls your life and whom you would die for without hesitation.

Jungkook tears his gaze from Jiwon and looks at you. “When will you be done here?”

You giggle at the implication of the question. “Soon, Koo.” Adjusting Jiwon slightly, you brush her cheek with your thumb. Her eyes are drooping again, fighting a losing battle. “I want to make sure she sleeps through the night.”

He hums. Looks back at Jiwon, then his eyes lower to land  at your breast. 

The urge to roll your eyes is almost too hard to resist. Yours and Jungkook’s sex life has definitely slowed down (but not enough to say you’re celibate by any means), but ever since Namjoon made that irreversible comment about your tits, Jungkook has made it extra known that he values your chest just as much as your infant daughter. He once motorboated you during sex. Another time, he left hickies littered on your tits, and poor Jiwon had to see them. 

Jiwon unlatches with a tiny pop, milk-drunk and boneless, eyes fully closed now, her whole body gone heavy in your arms. You shift her carefully onto your shoulder, one hand supporting her head, and begin the gentle rhythmic pat on her back.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down yet again. You didn’t even have time to cover yourself.

The look on his face speaks volumes. You have catalogued that look across years of being with this man. He wore it constantly when you were pregnant, borderline feral about the way your body was changing, specifically about your chest, specifically all the time, to a degree that was flattering for the first month and then became its own part-time job to manage.

They’re so much bigger, he had said. They’re sore and hurt like hell, you had replied.

And then he proceeded to suck your nipples, toying with them while he was balls deep inside you at a pace that had you cumming in under five minutes. 

“Jungkook.” Your voice is stern. It bounces off him completely.

“What?” he innocently asks. 

“I see you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re making a face at me,” you argue. 

He scoffs, “I don’t have a face.”

Jiwon burps, and you sigh in relief. Kissing her temple, you smile. “Good girl.”

Jungkook tears his gaze up to your face with visible effort. “I’ll wait for you in bed.”

“I’ll come in twenty.”

“Come now,” he whines, slumping his shoulders. 

“Jungkook, I have a baby on my shoulder.” 

“I can see that.” His eyes flicker to Jiwon and her relaxed expression, practically snoring from where she’s perched on your body. 

“Then you understand why now is not an option.”

He slumps back against the nursery wall in utter distress. He is a man with tattoos and a streaming setup worth more than most people’s cars, and here he is pouting in a room decorated with little pastel clouds.

Jiwon has finally settled after another few minutes of rocking and watching her face for the telltale stillness that means she’s properly under and not pretending. You’ve been fooled before. You’ve made the mistake of putting her down too early and you refuse to repeat it.

“Okay,” you whisper, tucking Jiwon against the mattress, pulling the little cloud-print blanket up. You and Jungkook stand over the crib for a moment in the dim glow of the nightlight, watching her sleep. Her little lips are pursed. A tiny wrinkle between her brows, like even in dreams she has things to say.

She gets that from him.

On the way out, Jungkook takes your hand. In the hallway, the door eased shut behind you, you readjust your nursing bra and pull your shirt down. Jungkook watches and you don’t miss the way his eye twitches. .

Padding toward your bedroom, you joke, “Most husbands just say ‘hey you look tired, let me give you a back rub.”

He perks up. “I can give you a back rub.”

You snort. “Jeon, that is not what your face was saying in there.”

He follows you into the room, and you hardly have time to turn around before his warmth envelops you, hands finding your waist, chin dropping to look at you.“I missed you,” he says.

“You see me every second of the day, baby.”

He digs his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent. “But I feel like it’s been a few hours.”

You laugh, letting him walk you back toward the bed. “Well, I was being a mother to your baby.”

“I think I’m nutritionally deprived of my wife.” His voice comes out muffled against your skin. 

“You are not—”

“I want your titties.”

You halt in your tracks. Slowly, you remove his hands from around your waist, turning to glare at him. “…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

Oh. So he is serious and not manic. 

“I need you to say it again so I can confirm I didn’t hallucinate,” you deadpan. 

“I want—”

“Jungkook oh my god.” You press your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking. Honestly, you don’t even want to hear the words again. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere.” He sits on the edge of the bed, manspreading. “I’m just saying. Jiwon gets them everyday.”

Your jaw falls agape. “Jiwon is a baby. Our baby, actually.” 

“And I’m your husband.”

“Those are not equivalent positions!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

“I’m not saying they’re equivalent. I’m just saying. I’ve been very patient and waited my turn.” This hardly qualifies as him waiting his turn. He has the instinct of a newborn child. 

To be honest, you’re not entirely opposed to the idea of Jungkook fucking you. It’s been a few days since you’ve been able to have alone time, and the clock is ticking as you speak. “Go brush your teeth,” you say.

“After.”

“After what?”

He levels you with a look.

“Go brush your teeth, Jeon Jungkook,” you chastise as though he’s a toddler. 

He groans and drags himself off the bed like you’ve asked him to do the impossible. You watch him disappear into the bathroom and take the opportunity to change into your sleep shirt, a worn one with the stretched collar, and get under the covers and close your eyes. A quick prayer for a full eight hours even though you know that’s not happening.

The tap water runs for about four seconds before promptly being shut off. 

You exhale. “You did not brush your teeth that quick.”

“I actually did.” He appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He’s taken his hoodie off, buff, tatted arms on display to where you remember oh, right, you’re attracted to this person, which is inconvenient given the current circumstances. 

“Don’t you dare come over here and kiss me with stank breath.”

He crosses to the bed and climbs in next to you, gravitating toward your side the way, arm hooking around your waist. You feel his nose against your hair. This part you’ve missed all day, you think. This specific configuration of the two of you.

Then his hand starts to wander.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“I’m just—”

“I know what you’re just.”

He subsides, shuffling under the duvet until you hear his voice again. “Can I ask you something?”

Oh no. “…Sure.”

“Hypothetically.”

Oh no oh no. “Okay.”

“If I were to—” He stops, choosing his words. It’s more alarming than if he’d just said it. Jungkook unfiltered you can manage. But he knows what he’s about to unleash on you is unhinged and is trying to land it anyway. “If I were to ask for something. And it was maybe a little unconventional…”

You nod for him to proceed. 

Jungkook clears his throat. “If your husband, who loves you very much, who is a very good husband by most metrics—”

“What metrics?” 

“—who fixed the leak under the sink last week without being asked—”

“You watched a YouTube tutorial, failed, then called Namjoon.”

“I still fixed it,” he says with dignity. “If that husband were to make a small, reasonable request—”

You sit up and peer at him. His hair is all pushed to one side, a small crease on his cheek from the pillow. 

“How is it,” you say, “that you’re whining more than our newborn daughter?”

“I’m not whining.”

“Jungkook, you have so far made a seven sentence case for why you deserve something and you haven’t even told me what it is yet,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He sits up too. And then, because he is who he is, he pulls the duvet off him, and gets on his knees on the mattress. “Hear me out.” 

You’re not hearing anyone out. You think about the version of yourself from ten years ago, pre-Jungkook, and whether she could have predicted this specific moment. She could not have. No one could have.

“Jiwon,” he begins gravely, “gets to have your boobs every night.”

“She’s breastfeeding.”

“Every night,” he continues over you. “Multiple times. She just takes them.”

“Because she’s an infant,” you incredulously retort. 

“And I,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest, “have been very respectful. I have kept my feelings largely to myself and I just think that after everything I’ve given to this family, I just think I deserve to, at minimum, also..”

He wavers, gulping thickly. The rejection is already boiling on your tongue.

“…try some.”

Suddenly, the room is eerily quiet. Somewhere down the hall, Jiwon makes a small sleep sound and the white noise machine hums.

“People do it. Apparently, it’s normal and nutritious. It has antibodies,” he argues, bouncing on his knees. 

“You’re invoking antibodies right now.”

Grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your face, you scream into it. Your adult husband wants to be breastfed, and frankly, you might find it hot if you weren’t being used as a cow by your daughter everyday. 

You lower the pillow, and to your dismay, he’s peering at you expectantly, weaponizing those same doe eyes Jiwon utilizes against you.

“So… is that a yes?” 

“That is not a yes.”

He whimpers, lowering his head. 

You sigh. “Koo—”

“Just think about it.”

“I have thought about it. I thought about it for the three seconds it took you to finish the sentence and my answer is no.”

“Whyyyyy?” he whines again. You wish you could film the whole thing to show his friends. They might bully him enough to leave Jiwon fatherless.

You got a first-class ticket on the Jeon Jungkook experience and this is where it’s taken you. “What if I asked nicely?” he tries.

“Is there an even nicer way you plan on asking?”

“What if I said please””

“Jungkook—”

“Please.”

“No.”

He lets out a loud groan, and you grab the pillow back to smack him in the arm. “You are going to wake Jiwon,” you hiss.

Jungkook climbs back under the covers and you turn the lamp down lower. In the dim room, he curls toward you, head propped on one hand, despite your body language indicating bedtime. 

“I’m not changing my mind,” you preemptively tell him.

“Okay,” he retorts in a tone that means he disagrees.

He reaches out and moves a piece of hair from your face. After, his thumb traces your cheekbone. 

“Go to sleep,” you say. Your body can’t help but melt under his touch.

“I’m not tired,” he murmurs. 

“Then lie there quietly.”

He flops onto his back like a starfish and lets out a groan directed at the ceiling. Jungkook shifts around for a few moments, trying to find comfort.

The fundamental problem is that when his hand finds your waist under the blanket, butterflies erupt in your stomach like it’s the first time you’ve felt him.

In a weird way, you understand what he means when he says he misses you. Although you try to make time for sex, it feels like there’s a divide between you and him. Not one that’s high enough to keep you two apart, but it’s noticeable. It’s there, and you both struggle to climb over it when your newborn is so needy. It’s another thing you read about in your Mommy and Me Reddit group. 

“We’ve barely had time for anything since she came,” you admit.

“I know.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just… really, really miss your boobs.”

And there goes your empathy. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, laughing despite everything.

“I’m serious.”

You press your face into his shoulder, laughing quietly, and feel him grin against your hair. “You are so much, you know that? You are so much.”

“But you love me, right, baby?”

“Inexplicably.”

He squeezes you, and for a moment you just lie there together, his chin on top of your head, the white noise machine humming. You never thought you would end up like this with your top tipper on your OnlyFans. Maybe it was always meant to be you and Jungkook. 

And then his hand is moving. It’s the lightest drift of fingers at the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m just touching you.”

“I know what just touching leads to with you.” 

It led to Jeon Jiwon. 

“Maybe I’ve changed.” His fingers trace along your side, and you would tell him to stop except it feels like the first time anyone has touched you like a person today rather than a feeding apparatus. “Maybe I’m a different man.”

Jungkook nudges the hem of your shirt up, palm flat against your stomach. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs. Pregnancy and after had changed you in ways you were still making peace with, but Jungkook had been annoyingly consistent about this. There’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t remind you just how ethereal you are. 

His hand drifts higher and your breath catches in your throat. “Koo—”

He mouths at your jaw. “You can tell me to stop.” His lips drag down to your neck, pressing wet, warm kisses to your skin. 

Fuck. 

The last time you two had sex was rushed. A quickie in the morning during one of Jiwon’s naps, and you and he had cum in under three minutes. The steady pace sends your brain spinning. 

His hand finds the fabric of your nursing bra and he pauses. Even through the material you feel the warmth of him.

“Boobs still sore?” he whispers against your ear.

“Not tonight.”

You hear what might be a quiet inhale. His fingers trace the edge of the fabric. He’s obviously operating on the theory that if he moves slow enough you won’t notice the direction of travel.

A smile curves against your skin while his thumb traces a slow circle, and through the fabric, it draws an unbidden moan out of you. He lifts his head to look at you. His brown hair is a disaster, somehow looking younger than his years with how red his cheeks are. Quietly, without ceremony, he slides the strap of your nursing bra to the side.

The air is cool before his hand is there to warm you up, and he watches your face as he fully unbuckles your nursing bra, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. “Missed you,” he says again.

“You’re still not getting—” you start, and then his thumb brushes your nipple and you exhale sharply, fingers curling into the sheets. Immediately, your nipples harden under his touch, and he flicks them again, watching as they puff up.

“Still no?” he murmurs.

He rolls it gently between his fingers and your hips shift of their own accord. “You’re cheating,” you manage to say through a moan.

“I’m not doing anything.” His voice is rough as he’s entranced by how full your breasts look without the nursing bra. Jungkook’s mouth finds your shoulder, collarbone, traveling with intent while his hand continues its campaign and you feel the familiar tightening sensation that means—

Oh shit.

He pulls back, looks down and you already know from his expression, from the way his lips part, from the soft reverent oh that escapes him.

A tiny pearl of milk wells up from your nipple.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, and your voice has lost most of its authority.

“Can I?” He looks up at you and he’s not whining now, all the theatrics gone. Your hand intuitively finds the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair.

“You’d better not wake Jiwon,” you say.

He lifts his head and smiles at you before ducking his head down. When you moan quietly into the dark of the room, you press your palm to the back of his head and hold him there. Jungkook’s tongue gently laps at the milk drop, smacking his lips as he tastes it. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans. “Keeping our baby girl fed.”

You giggle. “Really, Koo? You like it?” 

He massages your breasts again until a few more drops trickle out, and he laps those up eagerly too. “So fucking good, baby. It tastes so sweet.” The massage sends arousal to your cunt, your underwear beginning to soak. His tattooed hands are so big and veiny around your breasts, and the sight alone is enough to cause your body to shiver. 

Jungkook leans down, sucking on your nipple while massaging the other. He peers up at you like he wants to devour you. Your face contorts into a series of expressions, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jungkook ruts against the mattress, trying to relieve the pressure that’s grown in his sweatpants. “Mmm,” you sweetly moan. “Koo, i-it feels so nice.”

“Yeah, mama?” His voice is huskier with desire, eyes now a shade of onyx you hardly recognize. And you have trouble concentrating from how good his lips feel around your nipple, tongue flicking the hardened peak back and forth, so full of that feeling you only get with him. “Your tits are perfect, baby.”

You whimper, legs trembling from the overstimulation. “Koo, I-I want you inside me.”

He lets go of your nipple with a pop, his free hand traveling down to rub over his boxers. Jungkook continues to stimulate your breasts while singlehandedly kicking off his sweats and boxers. It’s quick, your head spinning in rapid circles as though you just got off a merry-go-round. He pushes the comforters off your bodies, letting it fall somewhere to the floor. Pushing your sleep shirt up to your neck, he gets a full good view at your underwear that’s soaked through the mattress. “You’re so fucking wet for me, mama. You like when I play with your tits, don’t you? Trying to deny me these perfect things when you know it’s what you want.”

He chastely presses his lips to yours, fingers wandering down to slip your thin panties to the side. He gathers your slick on his pointer fingers, taking it to your mouth for you to suck. “Open up,” he taps against your lips, and you follow like a lost puppy, sucking your arousal off as he watches. “Taste so sweet, angel. You always do.”

Hurriedly, his hand comes to wrap around his cock, which you’ve now realized is angry, precum seeping from the tip. His veins are engorged, doused in purple. His head lolls back for a moment before he rubs his mushroom tip over your entrance, causing you both to groan in unison. “Shit, Koo.” 

“This pussy was made for me, hm, mama? No one else gets to have you like me,” he groans as he presses his cock to your clit in a way that makes your vision hazy. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to answer yes, it’s all yours, always will be, but you can’t, because he starts pushing inside you at an excruciatingly slow pace, to the point where you can feel every inch stretching you open. Jungkook’s hand falls beside your head, bracing himself, your face scrunching up in pleasure. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he whimpers. “God, you always feel so good, so nice and warm.” 

The slide feels almost endless, despite the fact you’ve had sex at least a million times. It always feels new, somehow feels like he’s grown to double his size. Jungkook bottoms out, pelvic bone pressed to your clit, and you choke on your moans, mouth open in silent pleasure. “Ah, shit,” he groans, flicking your nipple. “It’s so tight, baby. You’re dripping onto my cock.” 

His hand pushes your leg higher up on his waist, and the angle makes you sob into the air. He pulls all the way out, slowly, tentatively, watching the creamy arousal build up on his cock, before pushing back in at a more steady pace. It makes you crazy, thinking that you’ve made him like this, that he’s riding that edge because your breasts produce milk, and you can’t help but hook an ankle over his thigh and tug him forward, forcing him to move. “Please, Koo, keep going.”

Jungkook speeds up, fingers digging into your plush thigh as he draws in and out, your cunt squelching with each movement. The bed creaks, practically scraping across the floor as he goes faster, rougher, desperately trying to finish inside you like he always does. “Fuck… sweetheart, how are you so fucking wet?”

Jungkook leans down again to suck your nipple, tonguing at the pebbled peak. You can feel the milk dribbling onto his tastebuds, and he moans so beautifully that for a mere second, you don’t care if there’s none left for your daughter. You run your hands through his messy hair, moaning, “Right there, fuck, baby.”

His other hand comes down to thumb at your puffy, swollen clit, and your back arches off the mattress. Your eyes meet his, an animalistic urge glinting in his eyes. His lips move from your nipple to your neck, undoubtedly leaving marks that all your Mommy and Me friends will see (and be jealous of). “Shit, shit, baby, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he whines into your hot skin. 

“I-it’s okay,” you exhale, eyes nearly rolling back into your head from the stimulation of his cock hitting your sweet spot. “I want you to cum inside me. Get me pregnant again.”

And you don’t even really know what you’re saying, because you just gave birth no more than six months ago, but your hormones are going crazy and your nipples are leaking milk without preamble. He groans, kissing you but barely slotting your mouths together from quickly he’s thrusting. The headboard slams against the wall, and god—please let Jiwon sleep through this. “Gonna let me cum inside this tight pussy? Give you another pretty baby? God, you’re the most perfect mama, baby. I—fuck—I love you.”

It’s been pretty clear from the moment he slid into your wet heat that neither of you would last very long. 

Your nails dig crimson marks down his broad back, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you feel the coil in your stomach unclench, arousal coating his cock and leaking onto the sheets below. He feels your walls tighten around him, milking his cock. “S-shit, don’t do that, baby, ‘m gonna cum,” he moans. 

Your mouth rips open, uneven breaths falling from your lips as your orgasm crashes into you like a tsunami, washing over your entire being. You shudder underneath him, fingernails digging crescent moons into his golden skin. “P-please, Koo, I want your baby, please fill me up.” 

And that undoes him. His cock twitches inside you, his seed spilling into your cunt. Warmth envelops you as he paints your walls. Your brain is buzzing, toes curling, Jungkook saying into your ear, “Fuck, I’m gonna give you another baby, hm? Gonna get you nice and round with my seed, mama.” 

Nodding, you moan again, unable to control your volume any longer. He cums for what feels like forever until finally, he’s pulling out, a string of your arousal chasing his cock. Jungkook falls onto the mattress beside you, breathing heavily, eyes closed. His hair is stuck to his forehead, and the poor man looks utterly pussy drunk, kind of like how your daughter looks when she gets milk-drunk. You giggle, nestling yourself into his side. 

With his eyes shut tight, he smiles, wrapping his arm around your body to bring you even closer. His heartbeat thumps erratically in his chest. “Baby, Jiwon is having a fucking Michelin star meal with your milk. That shit’s incredible.”

You slap his chest, gawking. “Jeon Jungkook. Don’t you dare deplete my milk.”

“Just saying. She’s living the dream.” He pushes his hair off his forehead, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Think we got time before she wakes up for me to tittyfuck you?”

Well…

You’re not opposed. 

Looking up at him, you bat your eyelashes. “How do you want me, baby?”

His eyes light up like a kid’s at a carnival. But before he can move into position, before he can get his hands again on your plump breasts, the sound of Jiwon crying comes through the sleep monitor. Loud and clear, a wail that signals she wants her mommy, and she wants her now. 

“God damnit.” Jungkook groans, falling back onto his pillow. 

Laughing to yourself, you shake your head and pull down your sleep shirt. You press a kiss to his cheek before heading down the hallway to where your sweet baby girl is. 

And lo and behold, the Great Tit War continues. 

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”

“What? Why?”

“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”

“Shut up,” you cackle.

“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”

“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”

“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”

“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”

“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”

“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”

He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”

5:

The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.

“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?

With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.

Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.

“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you say to?”

“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”

“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.

“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”

“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.

“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.

“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.

“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”

Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.

“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.

You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.

“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”

“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.

“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.

“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.

“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.

Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”

“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”

“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”

Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.

“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.

“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.

“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.

His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”

“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”

“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”

“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.

“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.

You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.

“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”

You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.

“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.

“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.

“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.

“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.

“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.

Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”

“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”

“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”

Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.

Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”

© 2026 leahsfavefics Do not copy or repost without permission.

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”

“What? Why?”

“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”

“Shut up,” you cackle.

“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”

“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”

“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”

“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”

“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”

“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”

He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”

5:

The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.

“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?

With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.

Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.

“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you say to?”

“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”

“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.

“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”

“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.

“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.

“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.

“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”

Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.

“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.

You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.

“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”

“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.

“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.

“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.

“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.

Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”

“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”

“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”

Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.

“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.

“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.

“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.

His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”

“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”

“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”

“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.

“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.

You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.

“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”

You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.

“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.

“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.

“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.

“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.

“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.

Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”

“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”

“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”

Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.

Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”

© 2026 leahsfavefics Do not copy or repost without permission.

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”

“What? Why?”

“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”

“Shut up,” you cackle.

“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”

“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”

“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”

“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”

“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”

“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”

He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”

5:

The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.

“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?

With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.

Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.

“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you say to?”

“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”

“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.

“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”

“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.

“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.

“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.

“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”

Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.

“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.

You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.

“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”

“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.

“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.

“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.

“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.

Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”

“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”

“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”

Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.

“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.

“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.

“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.

His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”

“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”

“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”

“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.

“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.

You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.

“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”

You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.

“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.

“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.

“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.

“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.

“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.

Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”

“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”

“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”

Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.

Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”

© 2026 leahsfavefics Do not copy or repost without permission.

From your side, it really wasn’t your fault.

Your husband looked disgustingly hot tonight. The white shirt, the grey vest, the diamond brooch you'd gotten him and those fucking gold rings on his fingers. Your husband looked straight out of a scandalous magazine no less.

It had been too long since he’d properly touched you.

And by too long you mean this morning which only consisted of a desperate makeout session against the dressing table until his dad had called to remind not to be late for the family gathering.

so here he was- looking like pure sin in front of everyone while you were starving for your husband's touch. it's only fair enough to make him suffer too, right. But as you continued with your evil plan of torturing him with your little touches, you began enjoying it too much.

Jungkook was barely holding it together now. He's trying to look relaxed but you knew him too well. Oh, how he wishes if he could just bend you over this instant and fuck that brattyness out of you.

“Aigoo, I left my reading glasses in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get them for you, halmeoni.” You give her a sweet smile before making your to the kitchen.

The moment you reach for the glasses on the counter, a very familiar tattooed arm slams against the cabinet beside your head.

You turn around to find the man you've been successfully avoiding to meet alone. Jungkook’s other hand lands on your hip trapping you between his arms as he presses himself into you. You could absolutely feel the unmistakable bulge pressing against your body.

“What are you doing?” You try to keep your voice innocent.

Jungkook scoffs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head. “You find this funny, huh?”

You try to bite back your smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

“Keep up with the act and I’ll bend you over this counter right fucking now."

You gulp because your husband may or may not be kidding about this.

“Halmeoni!” you gasp looking at the doorway behind him.

Jungkook jerks back so fast he nearly loses his balance as his face shifts from predatory to panicked in a heartbeat.

By the time he figures there's no one behind, you're snatching the glasses off the counter and dart past him with a bright giggle as you escape the kitchen.

“You little—”

He shakes his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair with a mix of amusement, adjusting his pants to hide his very obvious problem created by his wife.

--

By evening, it’s worse.

Much worse.

The garden's lit up with warm string lights filled with fun chattering and laughters.

But not for Jungkook, because he’s been on edge for hours now and it’s starting to show.

You see it in the way his fingers keeps drumming impatiently, in how his attention drifts back to you no matter who he’s talking to.

Which only makes it harder not to smile.

You sit on the grass with his niece, completely occupied as she shows you her new hair clip collection, nodding along, sharing a laugh at whatever she’s explaining.

“Really?” you speak clipping one on her. “That’s your favorite?”

She nods enthusiastically putting a few on your hair too.

“Are you staying?” she suddenly asks, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Uhh.."

“Stay.” She fists lightly at your dress with her little hand. “Please?"

You soften instantly and glance up to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

The second he sees that look on your face he knows exactly what you’re about to do.

“No, we can't—”

“We can stay,” you say at the same time, smiling down at her.

You don’t look at your husband right away.

because you already know what you’ll see.

and when you finally do glance up—

Yeah.

There it is.

You actually have to press your lips together to stop a laugh.

Of course you didn't intend to stay the night but you also didn't have the heart to say no to his cute little niece. As the night stretches on everyone's scattered. Some have already gone to bed while others lounge in watching an old movie.

You’re curled up on a big sofa, laughing along with Jungkook’s cousins. Jungkook sits across from you joining in here and there.

It’s almost midnight and you’re still showing zero urgency to leave. Your usually patient husband is hanging on by a thread. Jungkook stands up after a moment before letting you know he's heading to bed and you sure catch the sharp edge in his voice when he looks at you.

You give it another twenty minutes before making your way down the room in the hallway where you always stay in whenever you visit.

Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness of the room.

Did Jungkook really fall asleep?

You did tease him a lot today. He’s been worked up since morning and you spent the entire day pushing his buttons.

You pout closing the door behind you. What if he actually got annoyed and decided to just sleep?

The thought barely forms before strong hands grab your waist from behind and you're pinned against the door.

Jungkook’s hand slides up gripping your jaw to tilt your head back. You catch the intensity radiating off him as the moonlight spills through the thin curtains.

He breaths out dangerously calm.

“Had too much fun today, didn't you?” His body burns hot against yours. He only has his trousers on. You can feel how painfully hard he is as his thick length of his cock presses insistently against your ass.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip almost too possessive.

“My turn now.”

A soft whimper escapes your lips the moment he speaks into your ear. One of his large palm squeezes your waist while the other slides down along your thigh.

You whimper again pressing back against him seeking more friction. The movement makes him growl in warning.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of your dress and yanks it down almost roughly making it pool at your feet. For a second you think he’s finally going to fuck you senseless against the door. but you know your husband too well. After all the teasing you put him through today- he’s going to make you pay for every single second of it first.

You almost whine the moment you feel the loss of his heat. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Turning around fully, you find Jungkook has dropped his trousers. Sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his black boxers.

The obscene bulge straining against it only adds more to your wetness.

“Come here.”

Your legs feel weak as you walk towards him.

His gaze drops to your panties. “Off.”

You do as he says, sliding off your drenched fabric down your legs.

Jungkook taps his thick thigh once, manspreading wider. You already know exactly what he wants.

The moment your dripping core makes contact with his veiny muscle, a sharp gasp leaves your lips. His thigh is warm and firm and slightly rough with a light dusting of hair that drags deliciously against your sensitive folds.

Your arms hook around his neck for balance as you begin to rock your hips forward.

His eyes stay locked on where your pussy is pressed, watching the way your slick glistens on his skin.

His muscle flexes beneath you, pressing harder against your clit. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder with a broken moan.

“Jungkoo-” You can feel how wet you are by how easily you’re gliding over his thigh. Jungkook leans back on his palms flat on the bed behind him.

He doesn’t touch you even once. Even as his cock is straining hard against his boxers leaving a wet patch from watching you use him.

Normally, Jungkook’s hands and mouth are always on you. So you know he's deliberately making you suffer.

You moan louder as desperation starts to build. Your slick is dripping down his thigh now.

“Kook.. please”

You become needy. You’re aching for his hands, for his mouth, for anything he's willing to give.

Your hands slide down his chest, pressing against the hard planes of muscle. You need more. You need him to touch you.

You dip your head and bite down on his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“Kook.. touch me..”

Your voice comes out in a pathetic whimper.

Jungkook exhales through his nose in a mock.

You whine loudly, hips stuttering against his thigh as you try to chase the pleasure but it's not enough. It’s almost painful not having your husband’s hands on you when you need him the most.

Your hand moves down to palm him over his boxers. Jungkook lets out a groan jerking up into your touch.

One moment you're riding his thigh and the next you find yourself thrown onto the bed.

“You’re not getting to touch me soon.”

His words vibrate against your skin as he licks a stripe from the column of your throat.

“My wife's been such a brat."

You whimper trying to reach for him again but he catches both of your wrists in one large hand and pins them above your head. Jungkook reaches for something beside you and you know from the feel of it that it's the grey tie he wore. He ties the silk around your wrists tight enough that you feel the gentle bite of restraint.

Jungkook sits back admiring his work. His eyes rake slowly over your body while his fingers barely touch over your belly. Jungkook’s eyes darken even more as he watches you squirm beneath him.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin to make you gasp followed by the wet heat of his mouth as he sucks hard.

He pulls back up to hover his lips barely an inch away from your own, so close you can feel the warmth of his whiskey breath. You chase his mouth, lips parting in plea to pull him down into a proper kiss. Jungkook exhales a low laugh against your lips. Your back archs as he unclasps your bra.

“You know the safe word?” he speaks against your skin as he starts kissing his way down between the valley of your breasts.

You whine nodding frantically, too worked up to form proper words.

He pauses above your left nipple, his warm breath fanning over the hardened peak.

“words, sweetheart.”

“yes.. jungkook, please—”

The plea barely leaves your mouth before he finally sucks hard around your nipple. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud while his hand continues its torturous path, fingers barely moving along your slick folds.

He alternates between sucking and gentle bites on your breast, then moves to the other one giving it the same attention. All the while, his fingers tease your entrance dipping in just the tip of one finger before pulling back.

You’re panting now, wrists straining against his tie, body arching up into his mouth and hand. Jungkook lifts his head, eyes locked on your flushed face as he continues his slow descent down your body, lips and tongue tracing a wet path over your stomach until he settles between your spread thighs.

When his eyes land on your pussy, a rough sound rumbles from his chest. A thin string of arousal clings to your inner thigh and every time your walls clench around nothing, more of it leaks out.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out as a broke whimper. “Sorry, Jungkook.. please”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the apology spills from your lips even though he hasn’t said a single word yet.

Jungkook hums against your thigh. He lifts your left leg angling it up to rest your ankle on his broad shoulder. The new position spreads you open even more for him, exposing your dripping pussy completely to his hungry gaze.

“Can’t hear you.” He places an open-mouthed kiss right on the inside of your ankle.

You whine pathetically.

“Kook, please...” Your voice cracks with desperation. “need you.. so bad. please—”

Jungkook's own desperation wins as he dips his head down dragging his tongue through your folds. The loud moan escapes you as your back arches for him. His hot tongue laps at you with deliberate strokes.

The cool silver of his lip rings only add more to your pleasure as he eats you out like a mad man. One of his hands grips your thigh tightly holding your leg in place on his shoulder while the other slides under your ass, tilting your hips up so he can bury his face deeper between your legs. You moan his name like prayers.

You bring your tied hands to thread your fingers into his hair. Jungkook groans loudly at the tug. His scalp stings from how hard you’re pulling but it only seems to spur him on.

You cry out from the pleasure of his relentless licking, sucking and kissing every inch of your dripping pussy.

You’re shaking. Whimpering. Already close to tears from how badly you need to come but Jungkook pulls back every time only to start the torturous cycle all over again.

“Hands above your head.” Jungkook spreads your folds open with two fingers before you feel the flat of his ring-clad fingers directly onto your swollen clit. You let out a sharp moan as the thick gold rings make contact with your overheated skin. "Fuck—”

He knows how much you love these. How fucking turned on you get every time you see them on his hands. He starts rubbing circles over your clit, letting them drag again and again adding a new kind of delicious friction that makes your toes curl.

Your arousal is leaking steadily down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you more so coating his shiny gold.

“Look at you,” He murmurs opening you up more. “Dripping all over my rings like a desperate little wife. You love feeling them on your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

You desperately pull down on your tied wrists against the sheets. Your hips twitch uncontrollably trying to grind against the cool metal.

Jungkook chuckles darkly.

He dips his fingers lower curling them deep.

Tears of pleasure stings your eyes as your husband mercilessly continues with fucking you with his fingers.

Every time your moans get louder, every time your pussy starts clenching too hard around his fingers he slows down or pulls back completely leaving you empty and throbbing.

You sob from the frustration and overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t.. koo.. please let me come..”

Jungkook leans down pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your inner thigh. “No,” he sounds almost gentle despite the cruel way he’s denying you.

“You’re gonna come only on my cock tonight.”

He flips you over onto your stomach as his possessive hands manhandle your body yanking your ass up high.

Your tied hands remain stretched above your head. Your back arches deeply, ass presented perfectly for him pussy dripping and exposed.

“Fuck, look at you,” He holds you in place with a bruising grip as he admires the view of his wife.

You finally finally feel the drag of Jungkook’s leaking cock through your soaked folds. The hot tip teases your clit all the way down to your entrance. You can’t help it as you push back against him trying to take him inside.

“My greedy little wife,” he lets out a chuckle.

Before you can form a single word he pushes in with a deep thrust. A loud cry rips from your throat. Jungkook’s cock finds home as he buries himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness makes your walls flutter wildly around him.

“Fuck- baby,” he groans, fingers digging harder into your waist.

He doesn’t give you any time to breathe. He pulls back almost all the way only to slam back in harder setting a brutal pace right away. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass fills the room, mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts.

Your hands fist the sheets above your head as he fucks you roughly from behind manhandling your body however he pleases.

“Take it,” his voice drips possession. “Take every fucking inch like you’ve been begging for all day.”

You’re so glad the rooms in this farmhouse are built soundproof because the noises spilling from your mouth are beyond obscene. Every brutal thrust forces another filthy sound out of you. wet slaps of skin against skin mixing with the squelch of your soaked pussy taking his cock.

Jungkook fucks you rough and deep. His relentless pace makes you see stars. pounding into you from behind as if he’s trying to fuck the brat right out of your body.

His hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast to grope the soft flesh roughly. His fingers find your hardened nipple and pinch it hard.

You cry out.

You’re so close already.

He tugs your hair back roughly with one hand making your back arch until it presses against his strong chest. A strangled moan rips from your throat. The new position has his cock hitting even deeper inside you.

His hand snakes up your body and wraps firmly around your throat making your moan turn choked.

“You don’t get to come until I say so."

He bites down on whatever part of your skin his mouth can reach. His teeth sink in to leave dark bruises, marking you up as he continues thrusting into you with punishing strokes.

“All fucking mine,” he growls right against your ear. His hand tightens slightly around your throat as he speaks. "Taking my cock so well.”

His other hand slides down your body pressing rubbing against your swollen clit.

The sudden added stimulation makes your entire body jerks violently as the orgasm crashes through you.

Tears spill freely from your eyes, sliding down into your hair as your walls clamp down around his cock like a vice. Your pussy gushes around him while he keeps thrusting through it until your legs shake uncontrollably.

"such a brat, aren't you."

You barely recover from the first orgasm of the night before your husband has you on your back.

You try focusing your blurry eyes on him.

Jungkook has his hand stroking his cock glistening with your sweet arousal. The sight of you wrecked and crying beneath him makes him more feral.

He moves on top of you taking your tied wrists and pins them above your head. His mouth crashes down on you hard.

Jungkook barely gives you a moment to breathe between his devouring kisses. You moan against his lips as his cock slides all the way in you again. His hand tightens around your wrists as he starts fucking you harder.

Though the Jeon house has highest grade furnitures but the way Jungkook fucks into you. you pray the bed doesn't break.

“Wanted your husband's cock so bad, didn’t you?” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust. “Now take it. All of it. It’s all yours, baby.”

You can only sob in pleasure as he fucks you into oblivion as he keeps pounding and pouring filthy praises just for you.

You feel like you’re floating in a dream.

You have no idea how many hours have passed. All you know is the endless pleasure of being pulled apart and put back together by your husband’s insatiable hunger.

His stamina is almost animalistic, reminding you of your honeymoon phase when he'd made love seven days a week. In your husband's words, he could never get enough of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook has always been quite experimental with your sex life. loves trying new things, toys, positions on you. but his absolute favourite is still classic missionary. because he gets to see your face when you come.

Jungkook has both of your legs pushed up over his shoulders now folding you in half as he drives into you insane. The angle is brutal, making your eyes roll back.

when he pulls your legs down making them wrap weakly around his waist. your thighs are barely able to hold onto him so Jungkook hooks one arm under your thigh holding it up for you. You’ve completely lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had tonight.

Your mind is too blissed out to keep track of anything and your husband just can’t seem to stop. Jungkook chases every broken moan that leaves your lips.

By the time he finally spills inside you for the last time, you’re more than completely spent.

Your body is covered in his marks. Your pussy is leaking his cum and your legs are shaking so badly you know with absolute certainty you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow morning.

Jungkook collapses beside you holding you in his arms. You're too dizzy to figure what's happening anymore. But you sure feel your wrists getting lighter followed by so many soft kisses on them and your forehead and your cheeks before you finally pass out.

--

The first thing you register as you awaken are feather-light touches gliding over your skin along with lips trailing down your bare back. You stir letting out a hum.

Jungkook’s hand continues its slow caress down the curve of your waist, over the dip of your hip, then back up again. He becomes so soft after every intense night you spend together. It never not makes you fall for him harder each time.

Jungkook nuzzles his head into your neck while his hand slips between your legs with aching gentleness. His fingers almost caresses over your swollen folds.

A soft whine escapes you as turn around in his embrace, but the moment you do, a sharp hiss leaves your lips.

“Shit, baby” he speaks while his eyes look down to check. “hurts a lot?”

you nuzzle your face into his neck seeking his warmth.

“I can manage..” you mumble against his skin.

Jungkook places a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll cook your favourite pasta when we get home."

You immediately look up at him.

“Work?”

He brushes a hair aside from your face.

“Taking the day off.”

Your face lights up and you lean to peck his cheek.

“I’ll make cheesecake too.” Jungkook shows you his other cheek.

You smile childishly wrapping your arms around his neck smacking another one of your sweet pecks.

“And?”

He slides you closer by your waist, tangling your legs together with his.

“And I’m gonna give you a Jeon Jungkook special massage,” he finishes with a peck on your nose.

“And?” you tilt your head still grinning.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh.

“And I’m gonna spoil my wife so so much.” his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“You already do,” you lean in to kiss him properly on the lips. He chases your mouth when you try to pull away.

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, i think that's it, maybe a little angst??, yes angst

—

—

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, 

Clad in only a simple tank and sweatpants, Yoongi lazily leans on the back kitchen counter, hair framing his face and eyes downward as he’s busy peeling a small, vibrant clementine. 

When you don’t speak, he slowly lifts his gaze. And his dark rasp shakes you straight down to your bare, curling toes, 

“You have fun?” 

You’re so in shock that your knees almost knock together, mouth struggling to form words in a coherent order, “Yoongi, what’re you— doing—”

“I live here, genius.”

“You… And Joon—”

“Joon? Cute.”

“I—what are you even doing up—” 

“Need a ride?”

You pause, suddenly forced to make a decision with your mind still lust-laced and dizzy. But you finally decide to turn his offer down, which is the best choice considering it would be far too much hassle for him to know you live so close. “I can manage.”

“It’s late as fuck.” Yoongi pushes off the counter before chucking his peels in a trashcan. God, do his bangs really have to shift like that when he turns? Can you focus on anything else? “Lemme drive you. Unless you wanna stand on the back of his pedal bike.”

“Uhh.”

Shit, you don’t want anyone knowing where you live. Which happens to be very, very close. “My friend can scoop me,” you respond, still unmoving like it would further disturb the surrounding air.

“…Still weird.”

And yet Yoongi disrupts it himself. You quickly flip him off as you text, asking a question to his laugh as you hit send, “Is she still here, too?”

The answer is quick and bored, “Nah.”

Figures. “You don’t let them stay, huh.”

At this, Yoongi takes slow strides to your leaning form, eyes roaming over every exhausted inch and holding a spark you haven’t seen in them before. 

When he reaches your silence, his hands softly tug your hips, and you suddenly notice how his thick sweatpants accentuate the fit of his tank annoyingly well. “Wanna find out?”

“You whore,” you meekly grit, starting to push him away before he growls. “You’ve never taken me ho—”

“Goddamn, he went hard.”

Shit. Your hand flies to your neck. “Oh, fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

Flicking up a brow, you grow very, very curious. “As if you didn’t do the same with whoever that was?”

“Mm.” He leans on an elbow next to your still frame. “Don’t fuckin spill, either.”

“That you’re roomies?”

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for years before moving over here.”

“You’re scheming, huh.”

He only smiles before flicking a finger over your nose.

It’s fucking genius, if not borderline criminal. “So what, you take south side and he takes west?”

“Smart.” He gives you a look of approval. “Why stay in the same circles when we can win both?”

“Well, shit,” you exhale, eyes roaming the floor in thought before you drop your jaw in frustration. “Wait, you even played me! Fuckers!”

Yoongi immediately laughs, and you can very much smell his breath—full of peppermint. Interesting. 

But he doesn’t notice your observing stare. “I didn’t know you’d run into him. How do you even know each other?”

“I see him at the gym.”

“Mm.” A sage nod. “Guess it’s not surprising.”

You look away, a little hurt that neither of them told you but having no basis of why they would. It’s clearly not like they tell each other when they’re bringing people home.

But still, you pout. “Can’t believe y’all.”

“What are we gonna do with you.”

We? Him included? Irony seems to leak from his puffed lips tonight. “Clearly you won’t do anythi—”

A door opens and snips your accusation in half, and you snap your head to see Namjoon leaving his room in a rush, eyes darting between both of you from the end of the hallway. “Oh, you’re… Oh.”

“Ah,” you start, “Hi.”

“Uhh.”

“She won’t tell.”

“K.” He keeps his stare, blinking sleep off before tilting his head at you. “You leaving?”

Damn, why are you feeling so sheepish? “Yeah.. I should’ve told you before. I don’t, umm.” You feel the weight of Yoongi’s stare and Namjoon’s awaiting expression, and they both clash in your gut. “It’s not you. I just don’t ever stay.” 

“Oh.” Namjoon walks down the hall, his grey sweats and lack of a shirt making you so fucking weak you’re already mentally stumbling. When he speaks, you trip even harder, scraped by his drowsy rasp, “You could’ve just told me. I would’ve gotten you a ride.”

That would’ve still meant he would type in your address or see it after you did it for him. You like the sentiment, though. “Maybe next time,” you tease with a wink. 

Thank goodness he’s easily placated. If things got weird already with Yoongi right here? 

“Wait,” Joon blurts, mind whirring behind those eyes, “You said you followed Gloss, but. I didn’t know y’all knew each other.”

Oh. Uhh.. 

When you speak, you ignore Yoongi’s curious yet amused look, astounded that he even let you talk first, “Something like that.”

Instead, the man chuckles in arrogance right after. “Something like that, yeah,” he says through a lopsided line. “Gonna give her a ride home.”

“No need,” you stop him with a hand, and they both zero in on your nails. “I… uhh.” 

Shit. You really don’t want to call a ride for the same complex, and you definitely don’t want them knowing you’re a walk away. So when you look down at your phone, a white lie slides out of your mouth, and you have to deal with a choice, “My ride said they’re gonna be awhile, so...”

Both of them look at each other.

“I could just stay… If that’s cool.”

For the first time probably ever, both Namjoon and Yoongi are silent. But in their brief pause, you just inspect your nails and wonder if you should switch them up again. Maybe back to that set you had at the beginning of last month? You really keep coming back to this color combo, though. “But don’t get any ideas if I do. I just wanna shower and sleep—”

“You can sleep with me,” they both respond in unison, and you can barely hold in your laugh when an argument sprouts.

“She was just with you.”

“My bed is better.”

“We have the same one?”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“It is not.”

“Who’s the one that brought her here?”

You halt them, sparing their neighbors from a verbal sparring match and not wanting to think about that last part. 

Because you’re still a little hurt that one of them really hasn’t taken you here, and the same guy falls a little too quiet.

When you finally offer your own suggestion, Yoongi looks at you first. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Nah,” Namjoon rejects immediately, walking forward and heading your way. “I’ll take it. Use my room.” 

Fuck, this man is fine and considerate? “No no, I’m cool with it.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve slept in much worse places,” you assure, bringing up many, many terrible reminders in your head. “And I think you both need some good sleep, too.” 

“Use my shower then,” Yoongi finally pipes up, and both you and Joon pin him with shock. “I got clothes you can use, too.”

Oh. This is… This is new. 

Blinking, you can’t help but swallow your inner thoughts, wondering why he’s offering and a little giddy about it. Is this Yoongi being accommodating? Or jealous? Either way, it’s adorable coming from him.

Well. If both of them are offering to take care of you, you’ll gladly take them up on it. This is downright delightful. How do you just keep winning?

“You guys decide,” you say with arms folded, pretending to be huffy and internally grinning. Watching their competitive natures collide in real time is just too fun. 

But finally, Namjoon flexes his jaw before heading into the kitchen for water,

“You use my shower next.” 

When you feel Yoongi visibly exhale at your side? This is when it’s undeniable. 

These guys are just big teddy bears. Caustic on the mic and absolutely fiendish when it comes to wordplay and demolition, they’re just boys at the end of the day. And it’s so endearing you find yourself sinking more and more into these apartment walls.

No no. Get real. You have aspirations and dreams. Don’t get too caught up before you achieve them. 

But it’s okay to let go for just a bit. So your eyes follow Namjoon like a fool, winking and beaming at his growing, quiet smile.

To which Yoongi hums at. “You hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“K.”

“I might be later, though. So y’all better feed me.”

They have varying levels of mirthy scoffs, and you go into the kitchen to ask Joon for a water, too, which he’s already handing to you. 

“That thing you did,” you start, knowing you have both of their attentions, “With your fingers.. Do that next time, too.” 

While you really do want Namjoon to do whatever the fuck he just did with you, you’re also showing him there’s no reason to be jealous. If he is. 

And he pulls you in for a kiss, smiling and chuckling at your little bit of shyness. Because he tamed the fuck out of you tonight, and you will give him all the softness you got left. It’s only fair.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers to your ear. 

Humming, you slide a hand along his arm. “Good to know.” When you scratch just a tad, only you can hear his breath catch. “Guess I’ll go clean up your mess now.”

“Gonna take me hours to clean up yours.”

“Mm. Good problems.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”

This man is too suave and it’s a goddamn problem. 

When you leave Namjoon’s side with a quickened heart rate, Yoongi’s still on the wall with his phone, foot propped on the floorboard before he sees your look of satisfaction. 

And he actually waits for you before you follow him to his room. 

In terms of aesthetics, Yoongi’s room is different from Namjoon’s despite being the same level of minimal. Where Joon has posters of rappers and shelves of books and vinyls, Yoongi has basketball players and what looks like production equipment. But they both have desks littered with sheets of paper, journals, and writing utensils, trash cans mostly filled with balled up scraps.

It’s actually… inspiring. They really do the work and it clearly, clearly shows.

“You just gonna stand there?”

“No,” you say, petulant. “Just don’t know when I’d ever be back so I’m taking it all in.”

It’s kinda true. Probably actually true. But you can’t force him to do anything when it comes to you, so if this is your only chance then you’re taking advantage.

Though… he did offer for you to just sleep through the night with him… What does that mean?

Turning with a mind full of thoughts, you see Yoongi quietly watching from his closet before his voice drifts across carpet,

“Come here.”

Silent, you go to stand in front before he pulls you in and slowly pins you against an empty wall. And being in a smaller space with him so close? Strangely, you feel comfortable and a little at home, if only because this is how you both usually end up anyway. 

At home. Irony is dripping from your lips, too. 

“You’ve never taken me home,” you pout to his mouth, deciding to be vulnerable and hating it. “Why?”

You expect to be dismissed. Or even just given an offhanded comment or a quick joke. 

So you’re completely thrown when Yoongi chooses to kiss the side of your neck that isn’t marked to hell, one slow pass after the other.

Ah. He’s avoiding your question. 

That’s fine. He’ll be a much harder one to crack, you assume. Definitely seems a lot more private than most, but you’re the same way so it’s not like you have room to talk—

“Cus you’d never leave,” he murmurs against your skin, going for your shoulder. 

Oh.

Wait, what?

If he’s assuming things about you, he’ll be sorry to note that you’d surpass his expectations. But under his fucking impeccable kissing and godforaken cologne, your reply comes out a lot less confident than you’d prefer, 

“Gimme some credit. I’d show some restraint.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Hmm?”

You get kissed on your jaw before you can register what he means, and he falls really silent after letting up, eyes on your lips as he quietly admits, 

“I’m saying I’d keep you here.”

…Oh. Oh, that’s… 

You blink in stunned silence, stomach flipping when he glances at your eyes before kissing your neck again so languidly it lulls you into a trance. “You’d… do that…?”

“Maybe so.” He brings you into his pelvis, hands rounding to rest just behind your hips. “But I know I’d make you wanna stay anyway.” 

“Prove it later,” you challenge with a hitch. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I’m proving it now,” he corrects with confidence, chuckling deep when your arms sling over his shoulders. “Aren’t I.”

You kiss his neck in response, and he chuckles into his groan because he knows what it means. 

Fuck, his skin feels divine. And his breath is full of peppermint and clean and you sense no trace of whatever you saw him doing earlier. It’s a strange contrast to how he’s acted around you before. You don’t doubt that he’s done this same exact thing with someone else after eating you out—just like you’ve done before. It’s nothing special. 

So why does your chest constrict?

“Fine,” Yoongi breathes you in, clutching at your neck. “There is another reason.”

You freeze. Wondering what the hell he means and washing over with anxiety. “What?”

Another reason he never takes you home? That can’t be good. 

Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gone home with him before, if he’s not even comfortable saying it outright then the two of you aren’t meant to be more than ships passing in the night.

“I…” He sighs, touching his forehead to yours. “I never asked cus I know what would happen.”

Wait. What the hell does that mean? Why is Yoongi being so damn cryptic? “Why? I’m a fun time.”

He huffs away from your face. “That’s exactly why.” 

You stare, and stare some more.

“I,” he laughs again, and it’s not a joyful one. “I even thought about getting your number a thousand times. And couldn’t even ask for that.”

Your chest heaves. What is Yoongi saying? What’s gotten into him? This man is fearless on stage, who is this guy that can’t even look you in the eye right now? “I don’t get it, Yoongi. You don’t know me but you don’t have to be scared of me, so what’s…”

Oh. You don’t like that tiny slanted smile at all. 

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.” When he pushes off the wall, his hand slides off slow. Deep in thought, he turns and goes for a shirt hanging from his rack. “Here. Your favorite.”

He means the color. Your stomach feels funny. “How’d you know?”

“Your nails,” Yoongi responds offhandedly as he fishes sweats from a drawer. “There’s a color you use a lot.”

What. The actual fuck. “Oh. Well, shit.”

He doesn’t mention what you just accused him of, but it’s in his eyes. His whole face. And you are a damn fool. 

When Yoongi hands you a baggy pair of pants, you slowly take it, brain overloaded with thoughts. “There’s extra toothbrushes under the sink. You can use anything in there, too. Just put everything back in the same spot.” 

“K.” 

He just said a lot of vulnerable shit. What the hell are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to walk out of here knowing what you know now? 

You’re not gonna address any of it. That would require way too much thinking and feelings on your own part and you need space to unpack your own shit. 

But you do stop him from leaving his closet, waiting until he turns around to notice your hand on his wrist. “You brushed your teeth.. Why?”

His lips close while his brows slightly bend.

And what he says to the side of his doorframe makes your heart fall a few clouds down, flipping your world and rocking you off balance entirely,

“She didn’t taste like you.” 

Yoongi means it. You know it in your bones.

And if he didn’t move just out of your reach. And if you weren’t taking the couch and sleeping in here instead. 

Something may have shifted even more than it already has tonight. 

Because your heart is starting to beat in two different cadences. Over, and over, and over.

Fuck space.

“Come here,” you whoosh out, spinning Yoongi so hard he rams you back into a wall. And finally, your mouths collide, with you attacking his lips just as much as he does yours. You fully taste peppermint and nothing else and that is crazy considering how much he had to do to be this clean and fuck his kissing is perfect. 

Yoongi knows exactly what to do with you. And he knows exactly what to do to pitch you over the edge in a second. Nails rake into his stupid hair before you feel his annoying hands all over your neck, his fingers all over your head, his chest all over your heart—

Outright fear shoves him back, and your breaths are the only two elements of sound when he freezes a few steps away. Exhale. Exhale. A swallow. Another one.

That was…

He looks…

Fuck.

You use what little logic you have left to speedwalk past Yoongi’s shoulder.

Knowing he’s letting you dip because it’s what’s best for both of you. 

—

—

Namjoon is a gentleman when you come back into his bedroom after pacing a hole in the living room, holding off your shower time a slight tad. From his desk chair, he asks if you’re okay staying and you tell him it’s fine since you do know both of them.

“Also,” he breathes out. “You’re stunning.”

That came out of nowhere. “Oh.. I know, but thank you.”

Leaning back in his chair, the man lets out a breathy laugh. “Fuck, I love how you know that. I was just gonna say.. Well.” He fidgets. “Don’t let me keep you down.”

“What?”

“Like.. Yeah. I love going on dates with you and seeing you at my thing.. I dunno, it made me happy as fuck.” He then scratches an ear. “But I know you got a lot going on so it’s okay if—”

“Are you done with me?”

Immediately, Namjoon shoots up and walks straight to your squared shoulders, cradling your chin and responding so deep your mind reels. “Did I say that, baby girl?”

“No.”

“I’m just saying,” he smoothes a hand over your arm. “I’m okay if I’m not the only thing. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. It’s incredible. So if you don’t have time, it’s okay.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be there when you need me,” he says. “I’m okay with just going with the flow. I know you already know, but—uhh—if you wanna see other people, it’s cool.” 

“You… You sure?” Blinking, you frown. There’s an explanation for this switch up and it’s existing and haunting you from the other room. “Is this because of Yoongi?”

His face cannot lie. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“Oh.”

“I saw how you looked at him.” Namjoon slides his hands down, and you follow those long fingers and curl your heart when they do. “And even more than that, I saw how he looked at you.”

Ah. That makes you bite down hard. “We’ve known each other for awhile, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all. But seriously, you don’t have to pretend or anything around me. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

“Hey, same here.” You lift a hand to smooth the stubble on his chin. “Don’t let me hold you down, either.”

“I am more than happy with you doing anything to me.”

“Joon.” You give him a little pat. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m not?”

Your lips purse. “If you’re really okay with it, I am, too.” When you slip arms around his strong form, you sigh into his chest. “But I’m having so much fun with you.”

He circles you in warmth immediately. “Fuck, same here.” He laughs. “You really got me with that bar line.”

Ecstatic, you try to spit some scheme of your own, slowly petering out the more and more you know you’re losing it, “Really? Got more in the chamber, yeah, I like danger.. Uhh.. Something, something, it’s a.. banger… Ah, damn, I dunno.”

Namjoon fully laughs at you now, his arms circling even tighter and fingers splayed wide across your backs “I’m in trouble,” he bemoans. “You have to stop or you’d be right back in that bed.”

“Next time.” You reach to kiss him, knowing he can taste the peppermint on your tongue but not speaking about it. “I’m really gonna go shower now.” 

“K.”

“And hey.” You hold his forearm. “If you really wanna do this—just us—we can try. You just gotta let me know.”

He hesitates for a second. But it’s enough to clue you into it not being a confirmation. “I will.”

Yup. That wasn’t a now answer. So you smile and head out to go to Yoongi’s bathroom, across the hall from his room. Guess he got the shorter end of the stick in the layout.

It’s fine. You don’t wanna approach his door again yet.

That’s gonna wait until later. 

—

—

After you shower and get ready for bed—as well as you can in a bathroom that’s not a woman’s and not yours—you’re so exhausted that can barely keep your eyes open. 

But there’s something you wanna do before sleeping, so you finally knock on the door you’ve been avoiding. 

No answer. 

Well. Guess the universe has other plans. 

But you suddenly hear clacking and a voice to hold on, and you straighten as Yoongi opens up. 

Headphones around his neck, his gaze immediately goes to his clothes on your frame, and you steel your gaze before holding out your hand. “I’m only gonna ask once.” 

He stares. 

“Gimme your phone.”

Yoongi blinks before turning to reach behind him, grabbing his phone off the desk before handing it to you. As you type, he just watches, silent. 

And you start to wonder what he’ll say when you hand it back. “Put whatever you want for my name. If you ever text me, I’m naming you the village idiot.”

He grins wider and wider, looking down and biting his lip in thought. When he moves closer, you stop him in the doorway,

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong.”

“I…” Sighing, you set a rule, hating yourself for setting a boundary but deeming it necessary for your own good. Both of your own goods, really,

“The next time I go in there will be when you take me home.” 

Yoongi looks at you without words, shifting his gaze between your eyes for any hidden meanings when there are none. “You sure?”

You know what he’s asking. And you flat out ignore the spark you catch in that stare. “We aren’t exclusive,” you say, looking at Namjoon’s door. “We’ve never said we were, so yeah.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you don’t know whether to keep standing there or shove him back and go in yourself. The best choice would be to walk away, though, so you start to do so—

“About that girl.”

You stiffen. “This isn’t off to a good start, Min—”

“She bailed on me.” 

…Wait, what? You heard her for a good amount of time. “When? Why?”

“Uhm.” Yoongi looks away with a shift of his jaw and some teeth. “I was.. distracted.”

Fuck. Just like you were? “Like you two weren’t loud, too.”

“Nah, like… Said the wrong name distracted.”

“Said the wrong… Whose name did you—” You blink. Hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Goddamn it, Yoongi.” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, feeling for the poor girl. “That’s the worst you could ever do.” 

So she had to have left in the middle, right? But you swore you heard him for awhile so maybe they kept going for a little before she came to her senses instead of around his di—

“And for what it’s worth,” Yoongi continues with a point, “I don’t bring many people here anyway. She’s the first one in a long time.” 

When he leans on the doorway, you let his eyes drag down your body, knowing he didn’t get to have it tonight and feeling a little smug. “Of fucking course it’d be when you show up, too.” 

Your hum to a lifted shoulder makes his pupils dark. “Could’ve been you,” you tease. When Yoongi doesn’t respond, you ignore it and fold your arms. “But seriously? You don’t?”

“Nope.” His hand dips into his sagging pants pocket, looking towards his roommate’s room. “And no one from where we usually go. Namjoon and I don’t want anyone knowing we live together, so it’s best to keep everyone in the dark.”

That makes sense. But there’s a thought that stands out in your mind. “Wait, but… You both knew I knew your names.”

When Yoongi looks back at you, your chest caves at his expression under those tendrils. “Yeah. And I wanted to take you home several times, so what does that tell you.”

…Several? Yoongi, what the fuck?

Heart beating. Those unwavering eyes. These breaths between your bodies short and waiting. 

Were you… always this into him? Have you really been ignoring how you’ve felt because things with Yoongi were just… easy? 

Is this why he didn’t want to bring you home? Because you really can’t fucking think straight and it’s aggravating.

So you swallow. “I should.. Go to bed.”

Yoongi nods and looks down the hall. “There’s extra blankets on the couch. And he gave you one of his pillows.”

A switch was definitely flipped. You don’t know which one you hit or how you managed to do it, but thank god because this was getting a little too real. “K. Thank you both.” 

“No sweat.” Yoongi looks at you without shame, and you wonder if it’s to remember how you look in his tee. 

Please don’t be the reason. 

“You’re the first one to ever stay,” he murmurs, as a fact and a final good night. “He doesn’t let anyone do this, either.”

Oh. Holy shit. 

“Then I’ll be sure to snore loud as fuck,” you bluff, melting at the way Yoongi shakes his head in a laugh. “Night, Yoongi.” 

He stares at you one more time. 

And you keep staring right back.

One second becomes two, and two seconds become three. 

Screw what you said earlier. All Yoongi has to do is let you in. All he has to do is utter one syllable of invitation and you’re taking residence in his bed.

But in the end, he doesn’t. And you’re completely, totally, seriously fine with that. 

“Night.”

…Right?

—

—

You stay up until you can’t fight sleep anymore. 

— 

—

When you wake, you notice the bright sunshine outside their living room windows. But it’s really, really bright. How long were you out?

There’s a note on the coffee table saying they both left, but there’s a spare key and one of them can take care of your ride. Right next to said items is a covered plate of food, and you have a suspicion as to who made it. 

Well. This is honestly the best outcome that could’ve happened. You don’t have to worry about them knowing where you’re about to go. 

So you take your time and really observe everything, noticing how sore you are and that you’ll need time to recover. The walls and decor in their place are also minimal in the more public spaces, but there’s a lot of earth tones and a surprising amount of plants. Not what you’d expect from two guys tearing up the battle rap scene in two sectors of the city.

Then again, you didn’t expect them to know each other, either. Looks like they’re both really good at putting on masks.

And taking them down when you’re alone with them.

“Kept myself away for far too long.”

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.”

Your face finds the cup of your palms.

—

—

Bathroom. Freshen up. Walk around their kitchen and observe the little things. Finally sit down to eat.

When you dig in, you savor each bite, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Is this gonna be the last time you’re here? Or is this going to be a turning point in your life and there will be many, many stops at this station?

Guess you’re just gonna have to find out.

Yoongi’s food is damn near enough to convince you to come back, though. Goddamn, he can cook in there, too.

—

—

You purse your lips and shake your head when you time the walk from their building to yours.

Not even two minutes. Oh god, that is so fucking close.

But you join a whole new energy as you open your apartment door, delighted to see your roommate and his newfound obsession with tank tops.

“Damn, where were you?”

“I told you,” you laugh. “Here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You realize what he means, and you saucily lift a shoulder. “Turns out, he’s really good.”

Namjoon? 

Or Yoongi?

Hoseok lets out a soft laugh. “You look a little… I dunno.”

You know what he means. Because even though you should be glowing enough to match his shine, things happened that threw you for a loop. And while you are very good with your quickwittedness and solution driven attitude, this is gonna need a bit more nuance. 

“Just have things to think about,” you summarize. “How was your date?”

“So fun!” Hobi rushes over to the couch and brings over a fun looking accessory. “Look what they got me.”

It’s perfect. A little acorn bag that would go great with multiple items in his closet. “Wow.. Great taste.”

“I know, right?”

He excitedly puts it down before guiding you to your room, and you suddenly seem guilty for whatever the hell you’re doing with him. 

Is Hobi an exclusive kinda guy? Why can you not remember? 

But he takes your bag and sets it all down, and you stew in more complicated thoughts as he leads you to your bed. Are you even gonna go back to sleep at this point? Why does bed sound like the perfect place to be? 

“Those his clothes, too?”

Oops.

Wincing, you slowly find a hard admittance in your throat, “Uhh.. Nope.”

The downturn of his brows comes as no surprise. 

“It’s hard to explain,” you say as you plop down on your made comforter. “But trust me, I had a really good time. I’m glad you did, too.”

Maybe you had too good of a time.

“Scoot over,” your roommate suddenly says, climbing into your bed before you even get to move.

“Hello?”

“Scoot!”

Laughing, you move to the middle of your bed as he tugs up the covers, sliding into the cool den right next to you. “What are we doing?”

“Napping.”

“It’s late in the afternoon?”

“Sweet dreams.” Hoseok snuggles into you, and you feel your shoulders loosen immediately. “Mm mm mm.”

You groan, knowing he can hear the smile inside. 

Is this man aware that he’s the only one that can order you around like this? Because if he is and is now taking full advantage, you may need to tighten your restrictions. 

“You smell expensive.”

Eyes downcast, you pretend to giggle. “I know, right.”

You don’t have the heart to admit you just wanted to keep wearing Yoongi’s clothes, and breathing in Namjoon’s scent. 

— 

— 

For the next two full weeks, work life gets busy for you, so you have to stay focused or else risk falling behind. 

And of course the family is having lots of get togethers when it’s crunch time so your stress is through the roof, so you need need need to blow off some steam more than ever. As much as you enjoy the festivities and cookouts and reunions and random birthdays, you’re getting way too overstimulated too fast. 

Because work is hell.

But showcases happen at night, so you can’t make them because your schedule requires early mornings. Anything starting late is out of the question. 

You don’t hear from Namjoon or Yoongi. But you start to wonder if that means they’re working or writing or even going to the same studio he mentioned. That would be sick if they were working on some record or mixtape together—or even individually? Hot hot hot either way. Your work ethic can’t lose to theirs.

So you brush off the lack of communication and just assume good intent. You haven’t reached out either because you’re so busy, so why should they?

Back to work you go.

—

—

Eventually, on a random Thursday, Joon finally texts you. And it’s so out of the blue that you pick up the phone and call instead.

Namjoon [14:02]: Did I mess up?

It doesn’t take him long to answer the phone, so you dive right in, staring at unfinished work on your laptop, “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard from you, so I thought… I dunno.”

This man. Was he really worried this whole time? You wonder how much of these two weeks you got wrong. “I haven’t heard from you, either.” 

“Damn. I’m not good at this.”

You laugh. “It’s my fault, too. I could’ve just asked.” 

“You doing okay?”

That makes you stop, not hearing those words in a minute. Between everyone you’ve seen, only one of your little cousins checked on you solely because you were staring into space in your uncle’s backyard. She probably thinks you’re crazy now, but whatever. “Uhh, I’ve been better. You?”

“Nah, hold on. What’s wrong?”

Your smile is weak. He really is the same guy you met awhile back. “Work is just kicking my ass.” 

“I feel that. I’m sorry.”

“You liar.”

“Huh?”

Grinning, you tuck your phone under your chin and keep typing away. “You are good at this.”

“Oh.” He laughs. “Talking to people?”

“Talking to me.”

“That right? Can I get that in writing?”

Nails paused on plastic keys, you laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.” 

“Sorry.”

“Good boy.”

A hitched breath. A bit of pause on the line. 

Very, very interesting. 

But you spare him this once and say you’re down to hang tomorrow. “We can try a rooftop dinner this time?”

“I wish. But I’m actually gonna be busy.”

“Oh? Studio?”

“Nah, like. Flying out to another city busy.”

“No shit! Okay, I’ll put you down as a no for the rooftop dinner.”

Joon laughs, and it really hits your ear just right. “Yeah, put me down as a no this time.” 

“Both of y’all are leaving?”

“Nah, just me.”

Your pout is super evident in your tone. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“I dunno. Probably cheer Yoongi up.” Your heart stops as Joon laughs, and you can hear a faint set of yells on the line. “He’s been moping all fucking week.”

“Was that him?” You ask with a laugh, already wondering what the hell is happening wherever they are. “What a baby!”

“Tell him yourself!”

So you do, yelling into the phone and knowing it’s gonna come out so crunchy, “Yoongi, get up!” 

There’s more laughing and a muddle of words, but you can’t make them out too much. But just that helped you burn some steam. 

Yoongi? Moping? He gets moody just like you do, but you’ve never seen him moping. What happened? 

Well. You’d ask if he’d fucking text you. But since that hasn’t happened yet, guess you’re left to speculation. 

“But yeah. I miss you, but work is important. Wanna go out sometime next week?”

“You know I do.”

“Perfect. I’m putting it in my phone so I don’t miss it for any stupid reason.”

“Next Friday is best.”

“K. Got it.”

— 

—

The next afternoon, the door to your apartment flings open, and you snap your head to the muffled sound before clutching your phone tight. 

What the fuck? 

You almost think to call for help when you hear footsteps thump to the far side of the unit, and a further door banging shut.

Fuck, that was Hobi. What the hell is up? 

Abandoning your laptop, you rush out of your room and cross the shared living space, lifting your hand to knock on his door but hesitating. 

What are you pausing for? It’s Hoseok, and he’s clearly not happy. He’d be at your door before you could even fling your purse off if you stormed in just like he did. 

For a moment, though, you hesitate. Because you were supposed to have the place to yourself and that meant bare face, low maintenance head, and nightgown on at 3pm. 

But he sounded mad and all you heard were his footsteps and door closing. This isn’t the time to be caught up in appearances. 

So you softly bang on wood before calling his name. “Let me in,” you command. “Now.”

“No.”

Umm, what the fuck? “No?”

“Just gimme a second.”

Lips smushed, you eye the door with such annoyance you try the knob to burst in yourself—

It opens immediately, and you barge in to a sight that makes your tongue loll and your saliva multiply.

Hoseok. Shaking his very wet hair. With nothing on but some very, very wet jeans. 

He gives you a slight look of annoyance while you reach for words, mouth in a line when he asks, “Seriously?” 

Umm. You were checking in on why this man came in hot. And now you’re feeling your own temperature spike through the goddamn roof. Truthfully, the only thing you can think of saying is something born from confusion, “You don’t lock your door?”

A tsk flings out before he sets foot in his bathroom, hanging the towel on a rack before replying, “I never do when it’s just us.” 

“Really?” That makes you feel a little sheepish. Chalk it up to being a severely private person—and a woman—but you always lock your door. “I never knew that.”

“Did you come into my room just to tell me that?”

Oh, you don’t have time for that. All the pent up emotions and stress you’ve felt this week comes pouring down. Couple that with the fact you can’t even fool around with him since he’s still going steady with whoever? You are really deep in the trenches.

“Obviously not, Hoseok,” you sling out his name, catching his attention immediately, “I was just wondering what the fuck was up. I can’t just check on my friend?”

“I told you just give me a second?”

“Okay seriously, what’s with the attitude?”

“Attitude? What’s with the grilling?”

Your mouth snaps shut. “I’m not grilling you—”

“You are.” He flings more wetness from his bangs, and the motion alone makes your core ache. Fuck, he’s not helping your lack of release at all and now he’s raking through his fucking locks your moan is forming so quick you can’t stop—

…Why’s he looking at you like that? 

Shit. Did you… did you do that out loud? 

“What was that?”

Ignore him. You have to ignore him because if you stay you are begging for trouble. And you don’t want trouble for you, nor for him. 

“You know what? Never mind,” you rush out, turning to head out and lock yourself in your room once again. “Forget it. Stay mad or whatever, I don’t care—”

The door closes in front of your nose before you’re spun back, shoved against wood as Hoseok cages you in. 

“Let me go,” you move to shove him off, hands slipping as you palm his slick chest fuck. “You don’t want me in here anyway—”

“Did I fucking say that?”

“No, but I know when I’m not wanted—”

Your roommate presses his pelvis into yours, and your eyes fly wide at the straining bulge in his pants. Fuck, does that hurt him? His pants are soaked. 

“I’m only gonna say this once.” Hoseok grabs your chin to force your eyes to his. “But I always fucking want you so shut the fuck up.”

What—

His lips smash into yours before you groan, your bones smacking against his door and your concerns muffled. 

“I thought— I thought you were seeing someone—”

“Not anymore,” he whooshes out, diving into your neck. “Not after today.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m so sorry,” you moan out, losing yourself in those kisses.

“Don’t be.” 

“You’re mad.”

“Just fucking pissed he took my umbrella.” He shoves his mouth into your column. “Now all my shit is soaked.”

“Lucky me,” you gasp out, grabbing his wet hair and raking down. “I love it.”

You hear him groan deep and raspy, and it scratches your brain just right. “Sorry I came in hot,” you quickly repent. “I’m just so fucking stressed.”

“I can tell.”

“So fix it.”

“What do you want.”

“You.”

And you’re yanked from the wall before being tossed onto a fully made bed. 

Your long gown is hiked up before you even strip your underwear down, but Hoseok slaps your hand away. 

Which can only mean one thing. And you’re rejoicing. 

He slips his pants and underwear off before throwing them into the bathroom, and you yelp at his freezing cold legs before he grins. “Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“I’m not.”

“So fucking cold,” you growl, trying to move away from his skin but end up arching into his chest in the process. 

Which completely destroys any hope you have of avoiding him, because your nipples have now pebbled against your dress, and you know for a fact Hoseok can feel them right through the silken material. 

Your quick suspicion is confirmed with a growl, and the sound that leaves your mouth at the feel of teeth around one slings through all four walls. “Fuck!” 

Shivers. Full body shivers erupt when your roommate buries his face in your chest, the rumbling in his throat searing you through as he inhales before kissing between your breasts. 

…What was that for? 

That wasn’t something you just do during a quick and dirty session. Which is exactly what you expect this to be. Hoseok came in hot after a tragic yet somewhat comical rainy day breakup, and you’re pissed he told you to wait at his door. 

He’s always there and always telling you yes. Hobi never says no to you. 

And you damn well know you would never say no to him, either. 

“Smell so fucking good,” he moans, eyes closed and eyebrows knitted as he sweeps a hot tongue across your chest. “And you’re so warm.” 

“I don’t feel like it.” Your pout makes him laugh, and you blink at how anger is slowly draining out of the atmosphere, and at how you’re just happy to hear his change in demeanor. 

But he still gave you attitude earlier—you will not back down on that—so you need to preserve the last of your pissy mood to give him a good post-breakup vent session. “I know you didn’t throw me on your bed just to use me as a heater and smell me.” 

Fuck. The laughter you hear now is fuller, and his arms immediately tighten around your frame as he collapses onto you. “I didn’t!” 

“Then what did you have in—”

Hobi smushes his lips onto yours, rolling his body against your front and making you gasp like you’ve been blindsided. Which, technically you have, because this is not the way you thought things were gonna go a mere five minutes ago.

“Gonna fix you,” he rasps against your lips. “Remember?”

“Wouldn’t mind fixing you first,” you counter, raking long nails down his bare hip and enjoying his hitched reaction. “I can suck you off?”

“Fuck,” Hoseok shudders out before pinching his brows. “You can’t do that.” 

Huh? “I do that very well actually? Rude.”

“No, no,” he clarifies, subtly moving one of your thighs to the side. “I just meant not now. If you do, I’m not gonna last for shit.”

“Oh.” 

You only get a second before you feel a freezing finger on your underwear, flinching up and watching Hoseok’s eyes slip into the depths of lust and concentration. When he slides the material to the side, your breath stops. “But this right here, I can do all day.” 

Breathing out his name, you have to close your eyes with how good it feels to have him touch you with such softness and precision. It’s like he’s done this a thousand times when it’s only been more like five, and you rock against his fingers just like all the other times before. “Feels so fucking good.”

“So do you,” he praises with gravel, reaching up your body to slowly bring your dress down to reveal your breasts like a slow gift unwrapping. “Really, I could touch you all night.”

“Finish my work for me,” you whoosh out, “And you can.”

Chuckling, Hoseok goes from rubbing to inserting his fingers, and you twitch hard while projecting a moan into his ceiling. “That’s it, baby,” he coaxes. “Yell for me.”

Fuck. How the hell are you already so close? “Hobi, I’m—”

“I feel it. Come on, baby.”

How is this happening? He’s going faster and faster and you’re already wet enough to let him and it’s building so fast in your core that it’s shocking. A whine propels from your throat as you keep exhaling hard, and when the pleasure becomes too much to bear you release in the most sinful way—

Oh, shit shit shit, you really—

“Fuck.”

Liquid spews from your cunt and onto his chest, drenching your roommate even more than the rain outside and dripping down his abdomen. Both of you groan at the sight, and you can’t believe you just squirted right onto him with minimal effort on his part how the—

“What the fuck, come here.”

You’re dragged forward and hitched up on his legs, and Hoseok leans over to yank his nightstand drawer out for protection, his necklace brushing cold against your chest. 

Drunk on lust and indescribable pleasure and a wave of strange intimacy, you reach up to suck one of his nipples, laughing into his skin when he visibly twitches and collapses. 

The sound he makes causes your cunt to squeeze, and you hold him with your claws while swirling your tongue all around his chest. When you move to the other side, you give it just as much effort, squirming under his pelvis and rocking against him when you feel his cock. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “Lemme put this on.”

“No,” you simply reject, reaching down to stroke him and giggling at his loud moan. “Not yet.” 

“You first,” he strains out, veins in his neck protruding so hard they could pop. “Then me.”

“You really about to come?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t,” you offer, the most simple yet complicated and difficult task. “Or else I’ll have to clean it up.”

“Shut up, please.” 

You kick your head back in a laugh, loving how he’s so puddy in your hands. “Fine, fine. Ready?”

“Hold on.. Just..” Shaking, he slips the condom on before leaning down, flipping you up so you’re on top wait what? “Ready.”

Leering down, you cannot believe he just did that. “You lazy piece of…”

Hoseok rests his head on his palms, smirk so cutting and dazzling. “Bounce for me if you’re so mad.”

Oh, you plan on it. “Gonna snap you in two, bitch.” 

Damn that stupid laugh. “Please do.”

Mm. You get up and sink down, groaning when he does and start to slowly rise and fall, letting your legs warm up and feeling the burn in your thighs. But the feeling of having him inside overrides any pain, so you gladly sink onto him again and again. 

The little curses and raspy praise are enough to keep you going, too. “So fucking hot.”

“Am I?” You pout, mewling when Hoseok reaches to smooth a thumb over a nipple. “I didn’t even do much today.”

It’s true. Pretty much no makeup other than some spray and sunscreen. You planned to stay home forever today, and your roommate was supposed to be gone.

“Doesn’t matter.” He touches you again before sliding slim fingers up to your chin, gripping and holding it high. “Still a killer.”

You suppress a smile before dipping your head against him just a tad. “Thank you,” you strain out, because somehow a genuine word of gratitude is hard. 

And because you start to swirl around, huffing and feeling the heat in your legs build higher and higher. When Hoseok groans low, he grips your hips, starting to match your pace but lifting up instead. The slow, sensual movements loll you forward because holy fuck you feel full, and your moans start to pitch up the more your core starts to wind. 

“There you go,” he goads, kicking his head back and gritting those beautiful teeth. “I feel it, baby.”

“Feel you, too,” you gasp out. “But I—My legs—”

Hoseok’s response is immediate. Without prompt, he flips you around, slamming you into the bed and thrusting up to stay there and torture you. “About fuckin’ time.”

“Huh?”

“Was waiting for my turn.” His mouth curves devilishly when you start to squirm, breathing hard because holy shit this feels way too good when he just stays still like that how is this alone affecting you so bad?

“Hobi, I’m actually—”

“Nope.”

Rocked and rocked again, you yelp high, realizing too late that your roommate is giving you all the business shit shit shit his pace is manic and his thrusts are so deep. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

He does not stop. Every second is counting and you’re losing track of time. This man is hitting every spot just right, gripping onto your hips and going to fucking town. Your body has gone completely limp at some point, and you don’t remember when you’ve surrendered your head to his pillow—or are you even right side up anymore? 

You crumple against his headboard and your legs flop over his shoulders but you don’t care. You are blissed out. Completely gone. Nothing exists except for him and whatever the hell he’s putting you through—the mattress, the floor, the poor neighbor’s wall right next to you, all the above. 

“So fucking tight, fuck.”

Fuck, you feel it. You know you’re about to lose it and there’s almost no time to warn him. “Hobi, I’m—”

“Shit, I’m gonna—” 

He collapses onto you, and you welcome him with arms slinging around his neck as he comes hard, groaning low and stuttering in his movements while you come just as hard, both of you straining and sweaty and slick from completely going at each other. 

That release is exactly what you needed. Even through the breaths you inhale and exhale, beautifully crushed under your roommate's body weight, you're already settling into a state of zen. The stress starts to ebb, leaving you floating through a calmer, more relaxed state.

With even more things to think about.

“You still mad?”

Breathily chuckling at Hobi's straightforwardness, you gasp out, “Not anymore. You?”

Realizing what's happening, he lifts up, teeth gritting as he plops onto his mattress next to you. “No.”

“Good.”

He stares at your eyes before sliding down to your lips, then back up again for another hold. And it's the most confusing mix of things in your chest because you know for a fact he hasn't done that. Ever. Not with you, at least. Not like this.

You're the safety net, though. You both are for each other. So that's how you decide to define this scenario when you slip into a smile you hope's convincing, "Hell of a rebound this time, huh."

Hoseok blinks before he grins. And it shoots you straight through the heart. "Yeah... We're fuckin' good at this."

Your laugh is short but your matching grin is genuine. "The best to ever do it."

"Damn right."  

—

—

True freedom comes a few days later.  

On Monday, you’re finally done with work, which completely flips the feel of a normally dreaded day around. 

And what makes this particular Monday even better? 

There’s a showcase tonight. And you are completely free to go. 

—

—

You’ll always love the energy in these warehouses. Honestly, you’ve been away for so long that you feel quite attached as soon as you walk in with random people onto the wide, bustling floor. 

From the conversations you hear springing around you, to the music booming from the DJ booth, to the shouting and cheering of different rappers trying to make their mark on the scene, you truly bask in it all. It’s a wonder you mostly come to these alone, considering how often you show up. 

Tonight, however, someone seems to keep talking to you and standing beside you for a good portion of the first two battles. And you really don’t need nor want their attention. 

So you start making your way to the side of the crowd nearest to where the contestants enter the stage. By some stroke of luck, if Yoongi is here, you can hopefully use him as a get-out-of-stranger-interaction card because all these weeks of work has your social battery completely drained. 

Like you can’t even muster the energy to tell them you really aren’t interested. And you don’t really see anyone else you know so it would be awkward to just dip. 

Thank god. 

Yoongi is here.

When you peek from the crowd, you’re a few rows away, so you have to get his attention somehow. Do you shout his name? Do you wave? Do you just stare lasers at him and hope he—

Oh. He’s looking at you. 

How did he pick you out of the crowd so quick?

Suddenly, everyone else in the room melts away as your eyes find each other. Colors blur as you watch him pause on the stage stairs, sounds mute as he looks genuinely shocked to see you here. 

You’re so thrown that you can’t even gesture to him that you’re being held hostage by a nice but annoying stranger. All you can focus on is how visceral your reaction is.

Because your breath is stolen and your whole body locks into place. 

That last kiss you shared is all you can think about. That one, singular moment before Yoongi let you walk out of his room. 

It was not normal. 

It was not normal in the slightest. 

But that’s just how you feel. For him? It could’ve just been another kiss and he could compare it to the thousands of lip locks he’s had. Why should you hold so much stock in it if he hasn't this whole time? Play it cool. Relax.

The moment passes, and he’s getting on stage to thunderous shouting and cheers. Like always, he doesn’t look at the crowd nor show much emotion, but you know there’s a storm brewing under that jacket just waiting to be unleashed.

You’re proven correct for two straight rounds. 

It was a good match, though you have a feeling Yoongi held back a bit or wasn’t at a hundred percent. His delivery was rough in the right ways and just incredible on the ears, but you could tell something was missing. His fire wasn't as bright as before.

But everyone has their days. And he fucking won despite his dip in performance, which goes to show just how hard he works for this shit.

So you start leaving, eyes closed in quiet rage that this same person is still walking next to you. Do they think they have a legitimate chance? Awareness level zero.

You let them down easy and sigh in relief when they take the hint. But now you're left alone again with a long ass walk to your car. Great. Here you go.

Three steps towards the exit, you feel a vibration in your purse. Fishing out your phone, you see it's a number you haven't saved.

And your heart thrums into your shoes when you pick up, because you don't even have to answer when you hear one word.

“Wait.”

—

—

tbc :))

-

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D | feedback box

a/n: and all roads lead to jung hoseok yet again lmfaooooo. but hey, if there's ever a time to be greedy.. it's here LOL. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated. no one is ready for pt. 4 not even meeee :)))

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! since there's no battle rappers showcased in this episode/chapter, let's just link to 2.0 by bts shall we lololol

++ feedback box: feedback box ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”

“What? Why?”

“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”

“Shut up,” you cackle.

“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”

“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”

“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”

“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”

“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”

“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”

He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”

5:

The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.

“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?

With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.

Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.

“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you say to?”

“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”

“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.

“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”

“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.

“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.

“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.

“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”

Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.

“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.

You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.

“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”

“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.

“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.

“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.

“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.

Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”

“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”

“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”

Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.

“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.

“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.

“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.

His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”

“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”

“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”

“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.

“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.

You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.

“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”

You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.

“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.

“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.

“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.

“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.

“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.

Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”

“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”

“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”

Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.

Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”

© 2026 leahsfavefics Do not copy or repost without permission.

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”