I figured it's about time I have a masterlist. I do not write fics often, only when I'm asked to be in a collab or the chance occasion when I'm not working on an original project and divine inspiration for BTS strikes. This is mainly a fic rec blog, but with a fic sprinkled in here and there!
Kim Seokjin
Min Yoongi
Untitled
Kim Namjoon
All I Want for Christmas is Joon (part of the Jingle All the Way collab)
the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)
word count: 8,089
warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare
a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3
The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.
Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.
He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.
You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.
"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.
"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.
The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.
"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."
The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.
"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.
"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.
"Or what?"
The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.
"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.
"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.
You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.
"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.
"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."
You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.
"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.
"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.
"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."
You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.
By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.
"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."
Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."
"Pervert."
"Your pervert."
You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.
"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.
"Promise?"
The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.
A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.
Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.
You stare at the screen.
You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.
You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.
Enlightenment.
You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.
"Take your shirt off," you say.
His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.
He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.
You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.
"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.
"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.
He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.
"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."
His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.
He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.
"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."
"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."
"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.
He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.
"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."
You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.
He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.
"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."
He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.
"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"
You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.
He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"
He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.
The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."
He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.
He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.
When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"
He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.
He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.
"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.
You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.
"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"
He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.
"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."
He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.
"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."
You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"
"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.
He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.
He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"
"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."
He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.
"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."
You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.
"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.
His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.
He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.
"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."
He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."
You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.
He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.
"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.
"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."
You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.
"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."
"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"
"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."
He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.
"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"
"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.
He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.
He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.
"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."
He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.
"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."
He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."
He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.
He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.
"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.
"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."
You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.
"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.
You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.
"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"
You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.
"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"
"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"
You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.
"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"
You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."
"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"
He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.
"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"
He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.
"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"
"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."
You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.
"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."
You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."
He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.
"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."
You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.
"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."
He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.
He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"
He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.
"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."
You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.
"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"
You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"
He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.
"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."
You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."
You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.
"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."
He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.
"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"
He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.
"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"
He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.
"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."
The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.
He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.
He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.
When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"
You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.
"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.
The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.
This was SO GOOD!!! I loved how the tension starting building right away at the restaurant and carried through the entire fic until the end just building and building. This couple seems so comfortable with each other but also pushes each other in a delicious way. 10/10
pretty.박지민 ・ pjm x f!reader ・ nsfw ・ not proof read
wc 620
synopsis jimin looked too good at the amas and you couldn’t resist.
content quickie, oral (m!receiving), kinda subby jimin, dirty talk
a/n wrote this right after watching the amas cus holy shit he looks so gorgeous i need him so bad
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.
⤷ in which…when you fall sick, your beloved boyfriend Jungkook stays by your side as caretaker, but your symptoms turn out to be something neither of you expected - you’re pregnant. What follows is fear, uncertainty, and two people trying to navigate an unplanned future together while holding on to each other.
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x sick!reader
genre: slice of life | unwanted pregnancy | established relationship |
warnings: mentions of pregnancy | mentions of throwing up + fainting | little angst | kissing |
word count: 12.4k
a/n: this is just a little something I had sitting in my drafts from a while ago, been kind of busy so I’m not planning to release the first chapter of my series until next week maybe : < thank you so so much for all the likes on my recent posts and 163 followers!!! I hope you guys enjoy ☺️ requests are always open
EPILOGUE !!
____________________________________________
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.
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…”
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.
This was SO sweet and pure 🥹 th way this jungkook is so attentive and caring warmed my heart. This couple clearly loves each other so much!! And Tae cracks me up
Summary: Jungkook has new piercing,one that he’s very excited to put to use except that he may have forgotten to think about the timeframe for the healing process before he got it done. Now it’s his birthday and he can’t participate in his favorite pastime but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have your fun…for now because where anne hathawill, anne hathaway and Jeon Jungkook will find a way to put his mouth on you,piercing pain be damned.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, JK’s labret piercing, oral (f&m.rec),handjob,tit play?, oc! got her titties pierced while they were apart and didn’t tell him, jk is a simp and a munch and will die on the hill of it being his favorite pastime. jk calls her noona but it’s mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but it’s not explicitly mentioned,light mentions of bunnies and mating, kinda domesticated, lots of playful teasing/silliness and banter/dialogue because I like it. As always, I might be missing some stuff.
W.C: 8.4k
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.”
And in that moment, with his heartbeat thudding against yours and the quiet hum of the TV filling the room, you wouldn’t want it any other way.
I have binged all 3 chapters of this series this weekend and it’s SO GOOD!! I love this couple so much! Their history feels so realistic and their relationship feels lived in in the sweetest way. This JK is so hot and endearing
Yuuus give us ur fave bts writer/fic recommendations!! Or any other fandoms pls 🤲
well hello !! im sorry this took so long, i've not checked my inbox at all recently bc i've felt extremely lazy (im going through some shit atm but on the mend oof)
i've only recently started rereading bts fics after a longgggg time but here are some writers that have stood out to me:
@missenu (pls go read in the frame like yesterday !! it's a masterpiece)
@sparklingchim
@dreamersparacosm
@voyter
@inthelow
@jenyluv
@words-in-purple
@lovieku
@leahsfavefics
@peoniesnro
@gukcnt
@spideyjimin
@seokbite
@soft4gguk
these are a few off the top of my head, though i know there are many many more talented writers that my pea brain is forgetting rn :)
BLURB WARNINGS oh god where do i start uhhh girl dad!jungkook, jungkook has a kink for your titties, breastfeeding, breast milk, nipple play, unprotected sex, jungkook calls you mama so light mommy kink, breeding kink, jungkook is a whiny little shit, idk basically he wants to try your breast milk lol
ANG’S NOTE i have no words for this except i'm sorry. this lowkey might be the dirtiest thing i've ever written bc why is he drinking her breast milk... chile anyways. whiny jungkook got me acting up. hope this holds y'all over while i continue to edit 'one more night.' (coming soon i swear!!!!)
Breastfeeding is easier than you expected. Not that you were envisioning a shitshow where your breasts grew to the size of milk jugs, but you had heard horror stories from your “Mommy and Me” Reddit group. Something about babies biting their mother’s nipple, their milk expiring, or other tidbits you don’t like to think about. Luckily, your daughter, Jiwon, latched onto your nipple immediately after birth, and even the nurses clapped in excitement as to how eager she was. You were so proud of your little bug, even though she was acting upon natural human instincts.
As the months passed by, she never gave you any issues. She happily took her milk, and when you sat her down just to sit with her, she would play with your boobs like they were her own personal toys. You found it endearing, but your husband…well, Jungkook was a little jealous.
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.
Ughh this was SO cute and hot at the same time! I love this couple and how JK is such a whiny yearner in this fic lol the dialogue feels so natural and you can tell how comfortable they are with each other. 10/10
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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.”
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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.”
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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.”
Thank you sm 😭 I had the idea and tried to think of what member would fit best and Tae IMMEDIATELY came to mind so I’m glad you felt like he matched what you imagine!! Also your tags made me laugh I felt the same way when I was writing… do I laugh or cry this is so unhinged 😂
Jungkook knew by the third time whatever you were doing was far from innocent. The first time had been easy to ignore. You'd stepped closer while he was grabbing a drink, hand gliding down his grey vest as if there was something to fix, even though it was already perfect.
Then while eating, you'd brushed your hand over his thigh under the table. Although it's a habitual action but your fingers trailed a little too high and dangerously close to where he was already starting to feel the strain in his pants.
Later, when his aunt was showing some old photographs, his hand had rested politely on your waist, while you pressed back almost grinding against his crotch without anyone noticing.
God, you've kept testing his patience since you both arrived here.
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.
“Well, I’ll add more to that then." A shared giggle fills between you as Jungkook rolls on top of you and starts attacking you with more of his kisses.
pairing: battle rappers!myg/knj x reader(f) , jhs x reader(f)😛
rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au
summary: after you have a conversation with yoongi, things start to twist and muddle in your head. but when work gets hard, you need to blow off steam—turns out, all you needed was a heated encounter. with your roommate.
note: heavy 00s vibes, they are all menaces, including reader what can i say🦋, y’all there’s a lot in here lmao, but trust me!!!, there is even more coming and we are not ready??
note 2: again this is super unedited i kinda just went off the rails and said that’s good let’s post, but also we can ignore this being the second time posting since the first one got sent to the void sdlkfjsdkl
warnings: language, tension, namjoon in grey sweats yikes!!!!!, yoongi being irritating in tanks??, jung hoseok is MAD mad, what is happening, feelings™, reader is just so fun istg, stressing, nsfw scenes, angst..?, jung hoseok what is your gd problem, wet hair……., namgi bickering lmao, competitive as hell namgi, joon is just a warning himself, blanket kicking scenes LMAO IM SORRY, yes yoongi is a massive problem but so is everyone else, namjoon on the phone....... yeah
spice warnings: under the cut and there are a lot again lol
drop date: april 25th, 2026, 11am est
word count: 9.7k of messy messy rapline | mood: here
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!
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🦋 so.. who are you going on a date with if you had to choose?? 🦋
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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.”
leah!!! already told you this, but i'm in love with this taehyung (what else is new, i'm a predictable bitch lmao). he's so sweet and attentive and curious and soft, and the way he and oc are so comfortable with each other, despite this being a relatively new relationship, is just ugh. the easy familiarity they have with each other transfers effortlessly into the bedroom, because 😮💨 that's that good stuff. inject it all straight into my veins, pls and thank u
AHH TYSM Ashley!! And thank you again for beta reading this for me 🥹🥹 I am so glad you love this Tae I fell in love a little bit when writing him and their banner too 😭
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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. “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.”
leah i am cackling at this concept LMAO tae to the absolute rescue in this crazy world right now😭 gonna come back with my thoughts after i read this for real but the parts i looked over already have me salivating🥴🙌 HIS QUESTION?? thanks for that. i have many things to think about now!!!!
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
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.”
Summary: Drabble. Your husband helps to nurse you through a hangover
NSFW Warnings: None, this is just fluff and some light-hearted spousal teasing
“Yoongi. I’m dying.”
The man beside you, the evil one who has his arm slung over your waist even though you’ve already whined about being too hot, huffs out a laugh. If you weren’t actively dying, his low, scratchy morning voice would be doing mystical tingly things to your lady bits. But alas, it was neither the time nor place. Well… actually, you were in bed together. So technically, it was the place, just not the time.
“You’re not dying. You’re just hungover.” The Real Housewives drag dinner the night before had been so fun, truly. You didn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard, danced so much, or scream-sang your lungs out like that. When Yoongi had picked you up, you’d all but stumbled into his car, rambling about Erika Jayne songs and bottomless mimosas. Mistakes had been made, mostly because while your glass was being constantly refilled you had no way to gauge how much you had actually drank. So maybe your husband wasn’t wrong. But you aren’t ready to admit that.
You grab his hand from where it rests on your hip and drag it up, pressing his fingers against your clammy neck. “My heart is pounding. Don’t you feel that?”
He removes his fingers, presses a soft kiss to that raging pulse point. “That’s your body burning off those all those mimosas. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think MomTok will survive this.”
He laughs again; this time you feel the exhale from his chuckle on the back of your neck. Its cool against the inferno of your skin. “You don’t have TikTok. You’re not even a mom.”
You groan, twisting in his arms to face him but then grimacing as the movement causes a wave of nausea to crest over you. He leans back, eyes scanning your face through tendrils of dark hair. “Do you need a bucket?”
“I need an IV. And maybe a Diet Coke.”
He peels the blankets back, a welcome draft of cool hair hits your sweaty body that has you sighing in relief. Normally you demand cuddles, but a break from your husband’s body heat is doing wonders at the moment. He knows, can read your expressions like his favorite book, so he cracks the window after he crawls out of bed. Spring’s fresh air wafts in, caressing your face just as Yoongi’s lips do the same to your forehead.
You grab for his hand. “Where are you going?” Though the space is helping you to cool off, you don’t want him to leave.
“I’ll be right back.” Sighing in defeat, you watch him grab your water bottle off the nightstand and leave, missing him the second he’s out of the room. Why did you complain so much? You’re still miserable, but at least before you had company.
Before long he returns, his arms full. On your nightstand he sets down your water bottle, freshly filled, a bottle of Gatorade, a can of Diet Coke, and a glass of some mysterious orange liquid that he holds out for you to take.
“What is that?”
“Alka seltzer, the hangover edition. It has aspirin and caffeine in it.” You sit up slowly, knowing you have to treat your body with kid gloves if you want to have a chance at not feeling like shit for the rest of the day. Once upright you take the glass, tentatively sipping. It’s not bad.
“Where did you get this?” you ask before finishing the drink.
“I picked it up after you called me to give you a ride home. I figured you might need it.”
“Baby,” you groan, slumping back into your plush pillow. “You’re too good to me.” Emotion pricks at your eyes, overwhelmed with the love you feel for this man. Your man. You’ve always been sappy when you don’t feel good.
He smiles, that tender look in his dark eyes. “You should take a shower. You smell like sweat and orange juice.”
You gasp, offended. “Are you saying I stink?!”
“I’m not saying you don’t,” he answers, laughing again. “But also, a shower will help you feel better. Maybe a cold one so you can cool off a bit.”
You’re back to thinking he’s evil again. It’s been a whirlwind of a morning. And you hate it when he’s always right. “Fine.” You wrestle out of the covers, pushing yourself out of bed and pulling at the collar of the old t-shirt Yoongi had helped you into the night before, it was slightly damp from sweat. You grumble as you disrobe and drop the sweaty clothes in your hamper. “Can’t believe I woke up dying and now my husband is telling me I’m gross and sweaty and smelly.”
Yoongi’s shoulders shake with laughter as he watches you, entirely endeared. “Let me know if you need help.” He calls after you as you mope into the bathroom.
“Screw you!” you call back, a smile gracing your lips as you turn on the shower.
“Once you feel better, you can!” His words are muffled through the sound of the running water. It’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head. After checking the temp you hop into the shower. Lukewarm water pours over your body, washing away the sweat and grime and rejuvenating you. The shower and the Alka seltzer combination was working fast to heal you. By the time you turn the shower off and dry off, pain still pulses at your temples, but you no longer feel so hot and nauseous.
Yoongi has reclaimed his spot in bed when you enter your bedroom, but a clean t-shirt and pair of his boxers are laid out for you to slip into. Once you’re dressed and have taken a long drink of water, you slide back under the covers and into your husband’s waiting arms.
“How do you feel now?” His lips move against your temple as he speaks, his hand slipping just under the t-shirt so his thumb can rub soothing circles into the skin of your abdomen.
You sigh again, but this one is contentment. “Much better.” For as much bitching as you’ve done, you know you’re the luckiest person in the world to have Min Yoongi taking care of you.
oh to be taken care of by husband min yoongi??😩 thank you for this sweet little gem, leah!! we need some tenderness after all the elite hell bangtan is putting us through🤣
