Archive of Our Own

Namjoon hears them before he sees them: Hoseok’s thrill of laughter paired with the undercut of a little grunt, one he knows as Jungkook’s. Not even a second later, Jungkook bursts through the door with such a ruckus that Namjoon fumbles his hold on the book he’d been perusing.

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps. He launches himself on the bed, crawling up and attempting to scrunch the entire mass of his body behind Namjoon. It’s absurdly cute.

Hoseok pauses in the doorway, panting. His hair sticks up at the ends with sweat, wild and lightning-struck. “I’m gonna get’cha, Jungkook,” he threatens, brightly, vibrating in place.

Jungkook’s scent bursts into the air, and all the muscles in Namjoon’s body loosen. Jungkook has showered, smells like, and at a glance it seems he’s off his morning workout - a thin sheen of sweat still lights along his throat and glitters when he swallows. His hair is threaded in that post-workout sweat, too, but it’s been growing longer and longer than usual.

With the burgeoning autumn, the morning-to-afternoon slant has drained from the last dredges of summer gold and tumbled into a bluer season. Following the group’s official announcement of a break months earlier, this autumn is a special one, for indulgence and certainly for things to grow.

Namjoon takes another second to drink in the lovely sight of a fresh-faced Hobi, bare of makeup. Hoseok steps in past the threshold, and the noontime light throws attention over the bends of his cheekbones, over the loose slip of his slender hand off the doorknob. Hoseok’s fingers clench and open in an anticipatory wave of motion, and Namjoon finds his fingers twitching to do the same, around the spine of his novel.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, and then he props his chin up on Namjoon’s shoulder, so his next words resound right into Namjoon’s skin. “Come and get me.”

Hoseok’s thin neck curves to the side, eyes never wavering. “What a cutie, Jungkook. Hyung’s gonna eat you up. Tell me you’re cute.” He says it lovingly, threateningly, the slit of his eyes arced by his toothy slash of a smile.

“Hyung …” Jungkook says, teeth half-hooked in Namjoon’s shirt collar. He shuffles onto his knees, further behind Namjoon’s body, and peeks his head up above Namjoon’s.

“Oh,” Hoseok croons, full of teeth and throat-roll. He stalks toward the bed, bare feet quiet on the wood veneer. “You’re such a cutie — say it, admit it, cutie Jungkookie!” The cocky little jaunt of his chin is thrilling enough to stir flames into Namjoon’s blood.

“Hyung,” Jungkook complains, his nose scrunched. “I’m not.” But he embraces that silliness anyway and puffs up his cheeks a little, mouth rosy and pouted. Hoseok tumbles back with his laughter as it zings and bounces through all his limbs.

Namjoon tucks his head down with a grin and clutches his book and doesn’t read it. He watches them out the corner of his eye—aware of them, all the time. It’s so good to be aware of them, he thinks: Hoseok and Jungkook and the four other scents in this apartment, tucked in his nose and lungs. Nice and settled, the six of them with him in his bones and his blood. 

The words pack alpha had meant a hundred different things when Namjoon was younger. Now it just means seven.

Namjoon gives up decisively on reading his book and tugs Jungkook down by his shirt sleeve. Jungkook tumbles halfway onto his thigh and curves his smile right against Namjoon’s cheek.

“What are you two up to today, hm?” Namjoon asks.

“We’re playing freeze tag,” Jungkook rasps into the shell of Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon suppresses an unbidden shiver.

“I’m trying to catch the three youngest,” Hoseok huffs, ruffled, “but Jimin and Taehyung resort to the dirtiest tricks, I swear. They’re both hornier than ever without cycle regulators.” He scowls. “Jimin tried to mount me earlier. Straight up, on the floor and everything.”

“Oh?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Thought you liked that kinda thing now, though.”

Hoseok gives a flighty little laugh, rich tinges of scent flaring from him. “Don’t be crude,” he scolds, nose scrunching. “And don’t distract me from my hunting.”

Jungkook squeaks. “Alpha, protect me,” he pleads, soft and low. He rubs the round of his nose against the hinge of Namjoon’s jaw.

Namjoon’s moved by a force beyond will. His shoulders immediately square up to hide Jungkook further, instincts flaring up on high alert, all hackled by the plea and scenting. Oh, not fair. Looks like Jungkook certainly has his own share of dirty moves, tugging these out-of-character alpha instincts right out of Namjoon.

Namjoon lets out a slow sigh. “Hobah, won’t you spare our poor Jungkook from your ferocious teeth?” he tries wheedling, on Jungkook’s wily behalf.

“Hmm,” Hoseok rumbles, high and gravelly in his throat. He rests his palms on the edge of the bedspread, dimples quirking cutely. “Jimin’s trying to seduce me into losing the chase. And I haven’t found Taehyung yet so, looks like … Jungkookie eating-time it is!”

“Taehyung’s hiding with Jimin in your room,” Jungkook blurts, eyes wide. He scoots quickly all the way behind Namjoon and points out the door. “Get them both! I’m tattling!”

Hoseok narrows his eyes. “Are you lying? Let me sniff you.” His butt does a little excited wiggle when he leans over and sniffs Jungkook, which is so endearingly cute Namjoon has to bite back an embarrassing noise.

“Hm. Okay. Hyung believes you. You’re spared … for now. Don’t move—I’ll be back to eat you up.” And then Hoseok snaps his teeth, light and thudding. He backs away, grinning still, eyes fixed on Jungkook ‘til he’s fully out the door. Then he gives Namjoon a cheeky wink and strides off, the sound of him calling after Jimin and Taehyung ringing through the hallways.

Jungkook curls up further down Namjoon’s thigh and gasps out a laugh. “Phew! Thanks for saving me,” he says, cheeks rounding.

Namjoon grins so hard that his dimples hurt. “Yeah? You gonna come up here and give hyung a proper thanks for saving you?”

“Ahh …” Jungkook shies away, face turning abashedly. “You’re shameless, hyung.”

Namjoon pouts. “Hyung did all that posturing shit for you, and he doesn’t even get one kiss?”

“Jus’ gimme,” Jungkook licks his lips, rasping. His chest heaves against Namjoon’s shin, big and heavy breaths. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as his eager scent shivers into the air. “Gimme a second, hyung, gotta … breathe …”

“Ah-hah. You got a little excited with your Hobi-hyung chasing you?” Namjoon asks, teasing.

Jungkook huffs and crawls up to Namjoon’s lap, knocking his chin to the jut of Namjoon’s anklebone, his knee, his hip. Tap, tap, tap - Jungkook’s jaw seeks the line of his body in bursts of scenting. “That’s embarrassing, don’t say it like that, hyung.”

“Why suddenly embarrassed?” Namjoon says, but by then Jungkook’s reached his mouth, so he forgets his train of thought to settle his hands in the dip of Jungkook’s waist and kiss him instead. Perfect, sweet shape and that hesitant pressure, Jungkookie’s rosy mouth wet in the center with his kiss. Namjoon places another kiss right on the bud of it.

Jungkook has never learned to keep his noises all that silent. He’s tried, sure, but Namjoon’s keen ears easily catch his giggles even over the drone of TV dramas in the living room, his breathy hisses around gulps of spicy noodles. Or his soft, touching-himself panting, or his hiccuping when he cries, try as he might to quieten himself … Namjoon always hears Jungkook.

It’s the same with every kiss, too. Kissing Jungkook, Namjoon’s given the warmth and wetness of his lips, his weightless breath, his little moans. Each parting of their mouths carries with it a gentle hitching of his throat. Jungkook can get loud, but these tiny unconscious noises are the ones Namjoon eats up for himself.

“Okay,” Jungkook whispers. His chin dips down. “I got excited.”

Namjoon nods very seriously. “Thank you for your confession.”

“I only confessed this one thing. Okay? I’m excited and I want - I really want - …” Jungkook shifts in Namjoon’s lap, his hands pressing Namjoon’s shoulders back to the headboard. His chest is heaving in tiny motions, the loose fabric of his shirt spilling over the breadth of it. Alluring. “I really want to have a baby.”

Namjoon blinks and then breaks out into a smile. “I know. Hyung’s planning on giving you one.”

“Now? I wanna make a puppy right now. With you.” Jungkook dips the tip of his fingers down past Namjoon’s waistband.

Namjoon grips his wrist gently. “Gotta wait for our cycles to set in, baby, or it won’t catch. You know this.”

Jungkook blinks, slow and dazed. His head turns to show off his cheek shyly. “Call me that again.”

“Ah?” Namjoon presses a kiss to the sweet-smelling hinge of his jaw. “My baby. Your heat.”

“Nn. Yeah. Hyung, it’s - it’s set.” Jungkook’s eyes go dark and lidded. He twists his hands into the front of Namjoon’s shirt. “If you say that again, I’ll go into heat. I’ve been crampy all morning, you know. I’m right on the edge.”

Namjoon frowns and rubs Jungkook’s belly, pushing his palm like a wave to try and ease him. He could never quite get the motion right—Yoongi’s the one who’s got heat-cramp massaging down to an artform. The omegas purr under his capable hands. Heating pad? Namjoon should ask, but he decides to be a little shit instead. “You want an orgasm? Hyung can eat you out.”

“Hyung. Right on the edge,” Jungkook reminds him, widening his eyes pointedly. “So don’t tease me.”

“Is that so? Teasing implies I won’t follow through, though. Hyung’s not teasing.”

“So you’ll follow through?”

Namjoon grins against his jaw. “Mmnh. Gonna knock you up. Baby.”

Jungkook’s hips stutter forward and knock into Namjoon’s abdomen. “Ah, I’m soaking. I’m going into heat right now. Really, hyung, I am. Give– baby.”

“If I fuck you now, you’ll go into preheat. Do you want that? You’ll still have to wait a little for our ruts. You’ll be waiting in preheat.”

“Yes,” Jungkook says. “Ye-es. I wanna, I want hyung to make me ready. Give your baby a baby.”

Namjoon groans. His hands start wandering of their own accord, helpless to the urge to hold Jungkook tight. Beneath his shirt, his skin is warm, threaded with the thick cords of his back muscle. Namjoon presses his fingertips in, massaging circles. Jungkook goes slowly boneless with a happy sigh.

“Make me nice and warm inside with your cock, hyung. I’ll be ripe just in time for your rut.”

“God. Holy shit. Don’t,” Namjoon sputters, short-circuiting. “Don’t - say it like that.”

“What,” Jungkook huffs. “Ripe? But I will be, hyung. Take a sniff.”

Jungkook tugs his waistband down his hips, exposing the soft rise of his vulva and the smattering of dark hair trailing down from his belly button. Even just that has the mouthwatering scent of him rising to Namjoon’s eager nose, rich and humid, enough that Namjoon has to shut his eyes from overwhelm. After all these years, it’s a conditioned response — Jungkook’s arousal is his arousal.

“Kiss, kiss,” Jungkook says, so Namjoon opens his eyes back up to give him a kiss, and then two or three more, smacky ones. Jungkook’s mouth drops open, and so Namjoon gives him a quick, lavish lick, up over the backs of his teeth. On the outdraw, he closes his mouth hotly over the plump little bow of Jungkook’s lips. “Nh - touch me?” 

He leads Namjoon’s fingers down past the band of his underwear. Namjoon strokes his thumb at the joint of his thighs and vulva, knuckles brushing against the sharp bite of Jungkook’s Adonis belt. He’s soft as a baby in the crease of his thigh – a little slick with sweat-lotion combo, but smooth as anything.

“Did you wax?”

“Mmn. Hobi-hyung did for me. And Jiminie held me down,” Jungkook murmurs, mouthing needily at Namjoon’s jaw.

Namjoon’s unable to help the petulant frown that graces his mouth. There’s nothing wrong with it, really—it’s just that, well—the smell, the sweat-scent of the hair …

Jungkook pulls back. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes dart between Namjoon’s. “You don’t like it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I like,” Namjoon says, a little desperately.

“Hyung,” Jungkook scolds, frowning. He pushes at Namjoon’s shoulder. “Say it. I’ll keep being worried until you say it, so just say it.”

“It’s that, well. Baby, you never wax. I like the - I like the smell. It makes me—I feel more, you know,” Namjoon cuts himself off with a helpless growl, feeling like a fucking knothead. His control’s shot to shit whenever it comes to Jungkook. “I like to eat you when you smell strong.”

To Namjoon’s surprise, Jungkook’s back straightens up under his palms, lengthens nice and rigid. His shoulders give this pleased little shiver. He’s preening, Namjoon realizes.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, smiling. He tips forward and gives Namjoon a sweet kiss, stealing his breath. Namjoon sways, still feeling at the pleased line of Jungkook’s back beneath his fingers. “Okay, hyung, I won’t anymore. I just wanted it to be easier to clean, so your cum doesn’t dry in it between rounds.”

“Kkh. Had it all planned, huh?” Namjoon’s smile goes playful against Jungkook’s ear, just talking shit now. “How did Hoseok not swallow you whole, dirty boy? How could he leave my baby here like this, all ripe and uneaten?”

“I know,” Jungkook says, his mouth shaping into a pout. “But you don’t get to eat me, either, hyung. Follow through. You’re gonna give me a baby today.” Except he says it with this bashful note hitched right through the phrase, broad shoulders curving with it.

Namjoon rears back, eyebrows raising at Jungkook’s persistent boldness. “Yah, you’ve become so shameless. Who’s been talking like this to you?” Less of a reprimand than it really ought to be, because that flame is tonguing down in his belly, licking and licking.

“Everyone but you.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows as if in challenge. “Everyone but you, hyung! They’ve been dying to see me and Taehyungie knocked up since we went off the shots, but you haven’t said a word!”

“Tch. I’m saying one now, aren’t I?”

“Say more.” Jungkook shoves lightly at Namjoon’s chest. “Hyung, say more.”

“Uh-huh. Gimme another kiss first.”

Jungkook leans down and obediently gives him a kiss. Namjoon steals the opportunity to lick more filthily in his mouth, tongue flicking back at where his teeth-points turn from very sharp to … slightly less sharp. Really, even Jungkookie’s molars are pointed.

(When Namjoon was little, his mom had this story. An omega with sharp teeth was an omega who loved and protected their babies fiercely, right up ‘til the ends of the earth. A fighter. Then she’d bend over and bite her playful jaws into Namjoon’s neck until he was doubled over, trembling with stomach-aches from laughter. That same scene now flashes before Namjoon’s eyes—overcut with the man in front of him instead, his Jungkook, head bowed over an even smaller, giggling baby.)

“Mmn.” Namjoon pulls back from the kiss. Jungkook chases him with a little whine, pressing a few more on. “Ah, ah, okay. I’ll fuck you.”

“… Knot?” Jungkook asks, blinking.

Devastating. Namjoon has never felt less capable as an alpha. “I’m not in rut, jagi, I physically can’t put a baby in you today.”

Jungkook pouts. “But I have a—pregnancy craving, hyung.”

Namjoon starts to laugh. “That’s– okay. Not how that works, baby.”

“It is! I’m craving pregnancy.” Jungkook presses his mouth to Namjoon’s shoulder. His hips move in little circles, rocking. “Craving it.”

Namjoon’s arousal is out of control already and here this demon goes, fanning the flames. “Unfair, Jungkook-ah. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you don’t pup me right now, hyung,” Jungkook starts, seriously. “I’ll walk out of your room, smelling like this, and let Hoseok-hyung catch me for real this time.”

Namjoon scowls fiercely. “Absolutely not. Lie down, pants off. I’m putting a baby in you.” He manhandles Jungkook down onto the bed, hurriedly wrangling the collar of his shirt over his head. “Lie down. ”

“Aw, hyung’s pouting!” Jungkook exclaims happily, as he wriggles out of his clothes and onto his back.

“Not pouting,” Namjoon says, scowling—and certainly not pouting—even harder.

“Whatever you say, hyung. Kiss again?” Jungkook presents his chin up, sweet as sugar.

Namjoon leans down and gives him an acquiescent kiss, smushing his mouth a little petulantly against Jungkook’s. Jungkook laughs and worms his hands up Namjoon’s shirt, stripping it off. Jungkook hardly lets Namjoon get a breath to pull the shirt over his head before he locks his arms around Namjoon’s neck and pulls him down again.

“Nnh, can I,” Jungkook gasps out between the smacks of their frantic kissing. “Can I - mmn, suck your dick a little bit?”

Namjoon tries to kiss him more to shut that little mouth up, but Jungkook’s not having it, keeping his head back to stare him darkly in the eyes. 

He fills his cheeks with air and blows out a steady breath. Ah. Namjoon’s chances of survival are looking slim-to-none. He really isn’t as young as he used to be; his stamina out of rut is frankly pathetic. “I’m already getting hard, Jungoo-ah.”

“Yea, it’s not about … I just wanna feel it, you know?” Jungkook’s mouth goes pinched, and he blinks innocently.

“Sure,” Namjoon says, shrugging. “If I can eat you out.”

Jungkook’s breath stutters. “Hyung, no, I’ll—I’ll come really fast …”

Namjoon nips at Jungkook’s round nose. “So?” he challenges. “S’that a problem?”

“Yes, it’s a problem,” Jungkook frowns, wrinkling his face up cutely. “I want to come with your dick inside.”

Okay. Shit. Jungkook: 1, Namjoon: 0. “I’ll eat you out after, then,” Namjoon reasons, because he’s terrific at compromise. 

But Jungkook’s already done listening, impatiently tugging Namjoon’s shorts off and pressing him to the bed. “You’re hard,” Jungkook says, unreasonably delighted, like Namjoon hadn’t been saying the same thing a minute ago.

Namjoon yelps as Jungkook manhandles his thighs open. “I had you wriggling around in my lap whining for a breeding, how could I not be?” he pants out. Jungkook eases a warm hand around the base of Namjoon’s cock, swaying it a little to coax out the wetness peeking from the slit.

“Mmn. Good,” Jungkook rumbles. He’s not one to waste time—Namjoon’s dick has been in the air barely a minute and Jungkook is already sinking his red, kiss-bitten lips to the base, eyelids half-closed.

His mouth is so hot that Namjoon bucks, a gasp torn from his throat. The dial on his senses shoots up to eleven, a rush of shivers wracking through him. His fist tightens in Jungkook’s hair, trying to ease him, but Jungkook stays, stubbornly, the rapid flutter of his soft throat working around Namjoon’s cockhead in greedy little swallows. His scent practically erupts, a wall of sweet-smelling arousal that slams into Namjoon like a shockwave, gets him reeling.

Alarmingly, heat lurches in Namjoon gut. Already? Already? Fuck, this is downright humiliating. “Baby,” Namjoon warns, but his voice is shaky, because Jungkook won’t stop sucking at him, forceful gulps with his cheeks completely hollowed, the soft insides of them a firm rub on Namjoon’s shaft. “You’re gonna make me come.”

That finally gets Jungkook to stop. He pulls off with a fevered gasp, cheeks red and his mouth, too, slick and reddened. He’s fucking drooling, wetness slipping over his bottom lip onto Namjoon’s straining cock. “Don’t you dare come,” he says. “It belongs to me.”

And what the hell is Namjoon supposed to do with that?

His toes curl tightly into the sheets as he grips Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook mercilessly wrestles his thighs apart to get in there further, slick mouth all hot and messy. He’s taking these big sniffs, greedy as ever with Namjoon’s cock filling the soft pocket of his cheek. Jungkook pulls off and rubs his face all over it—all over Namjoon’s dick—it’s filthy, animalistic; Jungkook’s panting and Namjoon is so warm between his thighs he might melt.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re slobbering,” Namjoon says, and a whole host of nasty, obscene words scrabble behind his teeth.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. His brows twist like he’s angry, and he ducks down to lap messily at Namjoon’s balls, suck at them, lick behind them.

“Jungoo-ah,” Namjoon warns. He twists a hand in Jungkook’s hair and drags him off. “I haven’t showered …”

Jungkook bows his neck up, still scowling, cheeks pink. “Ah, sorry hyung,” he near-slurs. He gives a little growl, shoulders jittering. “Sorry, just smells s’good …”

“Yeah. Okay. That’s it, you’re done,” Namjoon decides. He grabs Jungkook by the waist and flips them over, the hand fisted in his hair pulling him tight to the bed.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide. “No! No - you said, you promised you’d - ! ” His back and throat arch beautifully as he struggles, voice rising to a wail.

“Hush. I am, yeah?” Namjoon needs to - regain some fucking semblance of control. It’s about time he stops Jungkook tossing him about.

He grips the base of his dick so tight that he can feel the dense pulse of it, fat with blood. He lets it smack down over Jungkook’s vulva. “You had your fun. Open your legs for me, go ahead.”

And suddenly there’s no resistance. Jungkook’s thighs fall open and he melts right into the sheets, soothed by the knowledge that Namjoon is giving him what he wants.

“Thank you,” he says, almost meekly.

“Ah?” Namjoon grins. “I haven’t done anything, you’re thanking me already?”

“I -,” Jungkook starts, but he cuts himself off when Namjoon unabashedly spreads his cunt open with two fingers. He presses a thumb to the pink head of Jungkook’s dick, trapping it against the swell of his vulva. “Hh - hyung.”

“How desperate did a bit of chase with Hoseok make you?” Namjoon says, and—wow, that’s—he’s being mean.

Jungkook shudders at his tone, throat clicking. Is that what’s happening now?

“Hold yourself open,” Namjoon tells him. “I can’t see.”

Jungkook obeys. The slit of his cunt is tiny, a pink little thing hidden by the swell of his folds, parted sweetly around the head of Namjoon’s cock. It’s a tight swallow, the small suck of his opening. Jungkook makes a cut-off gasp as Namjoon presses in, thumb on his shaft to guide himself.

“Uhnn,” Jungkook mumbles. “S’good. Can take more.”

“Yeah, baby, I know you can. Let hyung enjoy it, though.”

There’s an elegance to the way Jungkook’s body takes a cock. Namjoon never tires of it, no matter how many times he’s seen it, how many positions. (It had been the only thought in Namjoon’s head, back then, their first time. A stunned kind of arousal at the dizzyingly tight suck of Jungkook’s pussy, back arched to urge him deeper: This boy is a natural at taking cock. The first one and he’d already known how to accept it. He was made for it.)

Jungkook’s hips always rock impatiently with the steady slide, like his pussy’s trying to sneak little mouthfuls around the intrusion. Namjoon’s cockhead slips in with a filthy, slick noise, and Jungkook’s cunt cinches around the flare, clenching down tight.

“No, do it—,” Jungkook whines. “All at once, do it all at once. Hurt me a little. Hit me inside.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon grunts. His fingers tremble on Jungkook’s hips. “Want hyung on your sweet spot?”

“Yeah, hyung. On it, please, hurt it good.”

That’s all it takes. In one move, Namjoon tugs Jungkook’s lower body off the bed and fucks in heedlessly; one stroke, he stuffs himself up into Jungkook, everything be damned. Their schedule: be damned. The pack’s plan: be damned. This entire fucking break, damned.

“Guh- ! ” Jungkook chokes. His feet kick uselessly in the air as he writhes.

It’s brutal. Namjoon had stopped the moment there was resistance, but it’s too late. He’s hit something inside: Jungkook’s going crazy, squeezing, over and over, frantic and helpless. Namjoon’s vision goes fucking black as he watches the shape of Jungkook’s bellybutton move, struggling to breathe.

“Hyuh … hyung,” Jungkook slurs. His hips squirm in discomfort, but the motion is rocking him so fucking good, right against Namjoon’s tip. “Hyung, ‘s poking me.”

“Wha - ?”

“Th’ tip, poking me. Inside, ah.” His cunt’s a tight little sleeve inside, hardly big enough to fit Namjoon’s dick. 

It’s terrible to see Jungkook struggling but at the same time it’s so fucking hot that Namjoon can’t think straight. Doesn’t it hurt? Yes, it does, and Jungkook’s gagging for it. “God. Sorry, baby, I’ll- I’ll move.”

“No-o, ah, stay.” Jungkook laughs deliriously, mouth wet against Namjoon’s collarbone. “You’re kissing me. They’re kissing inside.”

“Don’t,” Namjoon wheezes. He’s a weak man, Jungkook, don’t you know better than to say shit like that?

“I said poking but I lied, hyung, it’s better than that. We’re- we’re making out.”

Something wild has really gotten into Jungkook. There’s something lost, abandoned already, in the haze enveloping them both. Namjoon narrows his eyes. “What’re you acting like this for, huh?” He shakes Jungkook’s chin gently.

Jungkook gives a frustrated little huff, wriggling restlessly. “I asked to get fucked, okay, not to be- to be loved on.”

Namjoon frowns. “But I do wanna love on you.”

“You can love on me when I’m not begging you for babies!” Jungkook shrieks, hitting his shoulder with harmless, sullen little fists. “I’m begging, hyung, listen to me.” He groans, wriggling needily on Namjoon’s dick. “You’re not listening. I’m so—sloppy, c’mon, just. Just fuck it.”

Fuck it. Damn it all, at this point. Who cares if their whole carefully-scheduled pregnancy plan goes to shit? Schedules have never borne witness to Jeon Jungkook on the edge of preheat. Namjoon rears back and drives into him hard enough that his hips smack into the meat of Jungkook’s ass.

“Thank you, ah, thank you,” Jungkook sobs. “Ahn, ah– ah! Thank you, hyung, oh god …”

It’s too much. Namjoon slows on the outstroke and Jungkook clings to him, bowing in half. His heaving chest brushes Namjoon’s front; he keeps blinking even as his mouth opens in silent protest. 

But he’s so fucking raw inside, even as he gets wetter: there’s this newness to Jungkook’s cunt every time. It can’t adjust fast enough even as he tries, so he’s swollen before he’s fully slicked, the ridges of his cunt choking Namjoon’s cock even before the slick slips through his cervix. Namjoon draws out to rub his cockhead shallowly into Jungkook’s cunt, stretching him on the flare.

“In, in,” Jungkook says. He lifts his heels to drum on Namjoon’s spine.

“Baby, you -,” he’s raw, he’s so raw, “need’ta wait a second, it’s gonna hurt you—”

“Just - in,” Jungkook pleads. “You don’t have to move, just let me feel hyung inside.”

Okay, fuck, who is Namjoon to deny him? Namjoon tries not to shake even as he bears inside, more, feeling like he’s dragging Jungkook’s cunt inside him. It’s horrible; a thick guilt gums up Namjoon’s jaws but Jungkook is moaning so loudly that he can’t help but keep rocking, a slow grind that gets Jungkook wetter in real time—honey-hot, his slick viscous and clinging for attention.

Ground rules. “I’m not going to fuck you until I can hear how wet you are, got it?”

“Uh, uhn,” Jungkook nods, and then he coughs out a low moan. “S’in my throat, guh. Hyung’s stirring me up.”

Namjoon skims his nose against Jungkook’s cheekbone, rubbing their jaws together to scent him thoroughly. The claim works in double: Jungkook’s body gets so lax that his cunt parts like butter for hot steel, slick flooding his walls and drenching Namjoon’s cock.

Namjoon doesn’t start thrusting until he’s gushing with every squeeze. Jungkook’s hips start moving on their own, trying to fuck himself onto it.

It only takes a few strokes before Jungkook starts complaining again. “Wanna, wanna be fucked from the back. Hyung, I w’na get fucked from th’back.”

Already? Ah, it’s the fucking preheat, brimming up all that wetness. Namjoon’s barely fucked him and he’s gone already. “Okay, I got you. Let me pull out,” Namjoon says, grabbing the base of his dick.

Jungkook wriggles with impatience, hips shifting. His cunt pulls off Namjoon’s cock all at once with a harsh slap, and Namjoon’s dick smacks back up wetly onto his belly.

“Shit! ” Jungkook swears. He grimaces and closes his eyes tight, grabbing blindly at Namjoon’s wrist. Jungkook’s chest heaves for a second as he pants, flushed pink and sweaty.

“Baby, careful. Did that hurt?” Namjoon asks. He soothes a hand down the inside of Jungkook’s thighs, thumbing at the edge of his flushed cunt to make sure he’s okay.

Jungkook’s pussy visibly squeezes, the pink little opening getting all tight for a second and his abdomen contracting with it. “Jus’ … gimme a second, hh, was so-o stretched and then, rubbed out all empty, fuck,” Jungkook wheezes, frowing cutely. “Why are you so stupid big.”

Namjoon holds his breath. His dick is so fucking wet, god, it’s soaked, the scent of Jungkook’s near-heat slick smeared over the angry length of his cock, dewy and sticky against the dark hair ‘round its base, dripping off his knotsac. Jungkook’s dark pink folds are split around his swollen cockhead, his cunt pouting over the slit of Namjoon’s cocktip.

Namjoon tries to catch his breath, pulse feverish and wild. God, his head’s spinning, what the fuck. He spreads his hands over Jungkook’s slender hips, pinning him down.

“Let me—turn over,” Jungkook complains, trying shimmy onto his belly. “Fuck me from the back. Hyung!”

“You’re so tiny,” Namjoon says, voice hot and only a bit despairing. He covers up Jungkook’s little hole with the pad of his thumb. It’s all gone, the dusky rim doesn’t even peek out, all swallowed up behind Namjoon’s fingertip. “You’re so small, how are you gonna fit our baby?”

Jungkook’s cunt would—swell up, when he’s pregnant, dark and fat, the shape unmistakable between his thighs, the plump jut of his little cock. And yet his hole would still be this tiny, hardly a thumb-sized slit, the pink little thing hidden up by the consequences of what Namjoon’s going to do to him.

“Nn.” Jungkook blinks slowly. His dark eyes seem to have somehow doubled in their inky-polish, glazed and fluttery. He looks fucked out, drunk on the heat of Namjoon’s cock. “D’you remember how small I was? Back then. That first time.”

How could Namjoon forget? Jungkook had been so slender, Namjoon could barely fit. He had to carve open every inch with his dick, Jungkook’s tiny cunt suffocatingly tight around him, even with all his slick. “I remember. You came the moment I fucked the last inch in.” 

“Wow. That’s so embarrassing,” Jungkook says, his cheeks turning pink. “Actually, do you want to know—I almost did today, too. Your tip touched my, all the way, me- inside, and I got so– excited. Oh gosh, I can’t even talk right now.”

“Was that what I felt? You’re so cute.” Namjoon jostles him, teasing. Jungkook’s shyness in this of all things is endearing. “All that big talk about taking my cock and it still takes nothing but putting it inside for you to lose yourself. Why should you feel shy about it? You’re cute, Jungkook.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “Stop it, I’m really embarrassed. Hyung, actually what I was trying to say, though … all these years I worked out really hard to get big and strong, so I could carry your pups. All these years. M’big and healthy now, I’m all ready - hyung - you have to … Trust me hyung, I’m really ready. Okay?”

Namjoon leans down and kisses Jungkook right on his pursed little mouth. “‘Course I trust you,” he says. “Let hyung take care of you now, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Jungkook nods cutely with a duck of his chin and kisses Namjoon again. “Put me over the edge,” he demands, turning around.

“Bossy,” Namjoon snorts, but he climbs off the bed and tugs Jungkook back by the hips anyway, dragging him to the edge of the bed and bending him over it. Jungkook wriggles back a little, the round peach shape of his ass swaying temptingly, the vivid pink slick of his cunt folded between his thighs.

Namjoon can’t resist. He smacks Jungkook’s round ass.

Jungkook gasps, scandalized. “Hyung!”

“What?” Namjoon says. He gives Jungkook’s ass another little slap. Fuck, that’s tight. Namjoon’s dick hurts, he’s hard enough to break steel. His pulse ratchets up, thundering in his throat.

Namjoon reaches between Jungkook’s thighs and gives Jungkook another slap, this time right over his pussy. Jungkook jolts with a little grunt.

“Hyung, quit it.” Jungkook reaches back in between his legs to grab Namjoon’s cock, tugging it up between his thighs. He looks over his shoulder, eyes deceptively big, and rubs the length of Namjoon’s dick against the slick heat of his cunt. “Am I sexy?”

“Are you kidding me?” Namjoon blurts, incredulous. His grip tightens almost painfully on Jungkook’s hips from trying not to force his cock right inside.

Jungkook pouts. “Just answer the question.”

“You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever seen in my life,” Namjoon says, seriously.

Jungkook lets loose a delighted little laugh, shoulders jittering. “Ooh, don’t let Jimin-hyung hear you say that.”

Jungkook’s hips tilt back some more. His cunt peeks out between his thighs, all red and puffy. The blunt of Namjoon’s cockhead slips up, tugging against that small opening, pressing open the rim. It would be so easy. Just lift him up like a ragdoll and impale him in one thrust. So easy. So easy. Namjoon’s fingers tremble.

“Jungkook,” he groans. “Hyung’s gonna do something bad. You’re killing me.”

“Good, alpha.” Jungkook grins over his shoulder and smacks Namjoon’s flank. “Chase me.”

And just like that, Jungkook twists and scrambles out of Namjoon’s grip, knees bumping up onto the bed. His cock bobs between his thighs, the flushed swell of his cunt obscuring his little hole from Namjoon’s vision.

No. Where the fuck does he think he’s going?

Namjoon pounces and drags Jungkook down the fucking bed, chest and throat and teeth rumbling with an unfettered growl. The sheets pop off the corner of the mattress with Jungkook’s flailing. He pins him down entirely, flat to the bedcover, traps Jungkook beneath his entire weight and orders, “Stay.”

“Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Jungkook gasps, hyperventilating. His body thrashes under Namjoon’s chest.

“Shut up,” Namjoon growls. He bites hard into Jungkook’s shoulder, soothing his own rattling breath on Jungkook’s skin, the adrenaline-infused thundering of his ribcage and lungs. He’s being mean, he’s being terrible, he knows it.

Jungkook lets loose a pained wail, struggling and twisting under Namjoon. “You—you didn’t even let me run, fuck, hyung … hyu-ng, hah, you didn’t even let me run.”

“I want you that fucking bad,” Namjoon whispers fiercely, into his ear. “Do you understand, Jeon Jungkook? I want you that fucking badly.”

Jungkook melts, sweet as anything, doped up on the pheromones Namjoon’s undoubtedly pumping out right now. “Ah,” he whimpers, soft enough it’s barely heard.

Namjoon hold him in place with a broad hand on his belly. “Lie down. And stay still. You wanted this.” Jungkook’s cunt poses no resistance as he presses his cockhead in, his scent getting thicker and thicker, rich with arousal.

Namjoon laves up the corded muscle Jungkook’s neck and imagines his tongue rough as sandpaper, his saliva marking Jungkook, scenting him. His tongue reaches, finally, the small swell of Jungkook’s scent gland, and Namjoon closes his mouth over it and gives a little pull.

It spills onto his tongue. Like fucking nectar, the pure, unadulterated taste of Jungkook, gloriously untouched and unfiltered by regulators, by medicines, by injections.

Jungkook twitches, shifting as he tries to get comfortable on Namjoon’s cockhead forcing his little hole open again, but Namjoon’s still so keyed up that he lets loose a horrible grunt and holds Jungkook in place. 

“Feels s’ho good,” Jungkook whispers. “I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

Namjoon presses his full palm down over the back of Jungkook’s head and sinks his teeth into his nape. Bites him, hard, a satisfying give of flesh underneath his canines.

“Is it mad?”

“What?”

“Hyung’s, nnh, hyung’s cock fuh, feels angry…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow darkly. “It’s furious. Furious, baby, stay still.”

Jungkook moans, weak, his hips shifting again.

“Jungkook …”

“Hyung, hyu-hhng.”

“Stay fucking still—” Namjoon fucks in hard, more than halfway all at once.

“Guh! ” Jungkook gags, his spine bowing. His body tightens up like he’s been knifed open, the narrow channel of his cunt constricting painfully. Suddenly, he goes loose, and Namjoon slides in easily, stuffed up the helpless gasp of his pussy.

Namjoon’s eyes roll back into his skull when Jungkook sucks at him, cunt fluttering like a greedy little mouth. He’s gone, he’s gone , muttering shit without even thinking. “Fuck, baby , just like that. Take me.” 

Namjoon hisses when his cock bumps up against Jungkook’s cervix again. The friction on his tip is really starting to burn, so he tugs out, but Jungkook starts to whine.

“Hhn, hhn, no—that’s good, just go up a bit. Up– no, like forward …” Jungkook demands, hands scrabbling back at Namjoon’s hips.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and catches Jungkook’s wrists. He pins Jungkook’s forearms to the small of his back and says, “I thought I told you to stay still.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook complains. He huffs, restless. “In that spot, you know—you know the one. Just, like, put the tip there.”

“I’m trying not to hurt your cervix, okay? Stay still and I’ll fuck you where you want me to.” Namjoon’s really trying not to snap, but it’s all a little too much. Jungkook is so wet, it’s hard to even feel where Namjoon’s dick is touching inside, he’s just one warm, gooey mess in there. Namjoon can feel the lump of his cervix a bit, so if he angles down, a bit, then he should—slip right—there—

“Al-pha! ” Jungkook cries. His whole body goes tight under Namjoon, taut as a bowstring and shaking. His head tips forward, baring the pale back of his neck. “No, oh no, ‘m gonna—”

“Mn. Hyung told you, pretty thing. Look at that, you’re gushing.” He pulls out just a tiny fraction and then slams back in again, his tip hitting the soft front wall of Jungkook’s cunt, slipped right into the pocket of his fornix. “What are you so whiny for, pup?”

Jungkook shakes his head weakly, shifting against the bedsheets. “Nh-no … Jimin-hyung calls me pup. I’m your baby.”

“Oh? Then what are you whining for, baby? Is hyung not satisfying his baby?” Namjoon’s teeth are sharp and too big for his mouth; they bare themselves and scrape over the curve of Jungkook’s pale, sweaty neck, eager to bite once more. “Tell me, is this not what you wanted, my baby?”

Namjoon thrusts in again, barely pulling out each time, giving these short, pointed rubs right into the soft grip of Jungkook’s pussy. Jungkook’s whole body jerks with each one, helpless. Namjoon reaches under his belly to trap his cock between his folds. Jungkook bends like a bow and goes wet between his thighs, coming in thin little spurts all over Namjoon’s knuckles, leg kicking uselessly.

“Unnguh,” Jungkook moans, shuddering. “Mmn, mmnuh …”

“I’m gonna keep you on my cock for the next fucking week. Listen to me,” Namjoon says, snapped in half, brittle from Jungkook’s warmth and gone wild. It’s trainwreck rough in his throat, scraping out like fangs. “Hyung’s going to knot you until you pass out.”

This was supposed to be pre-heat sex. Pre-heat sex, except now the thunderous bloodrush of pre-rut is churning up something awful in Namjoon’s belly, a liquid-like eruption of shamelessness that he knows all too well. Unfettered by the regulators and suppressants he’s been taking all these years, the rut haze slams into him like a brick wall. How did it get this out of hand?

Jungkook’s so out of it. Fuck, he’s so out of it, did Namjoon tip him over? He smells like heat, warm and thick, his scent is everywhere, sex-ripe and fucked open. The room, the sheets, everything’s drenched in that perfume, the moisture of his splayed-open cunt. Namjoon breathes it in like drinking, clinging to his flared nostrils and the lining of his throat.

“Hyung, I didn’t— I really didn’t know,” Jungkook whimpers. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

“Unh?”

“I didn’t know my heat could feel this good.”

Namjoon tries to take another steadying breath, but his body has decided what to do long before his brain has. He’s rocking into Jungkook’s cunt before he can suck in any oxygen. Namjoon cannot help himself. There is nothing to be done but feel Jungkook shifting helplessly beneath him, lost in the mindless, gut-deep stirring of Namjoon’s cock inside.

“Don’t make me wait,” Jungkook says. “Hyung, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Jungkook’s pussy crushes down on him, keeping Namjoon’s cock tightly adored. There’s a safeness to him that hits Namjoon’s instincts all in the right place. His jaw comes loose even as his thrusting gets more aggressive, and saliva gathers onto Namjoon’s canines, readied to bite. His cockhead knows where to seek—aimed right into the softest, hungriest parts hidden in Jungkook. This is not an unfamiliar feeling, in truth, but the fiery intensity of it is teeth-shattering. Jungkook had been readied for it: Namjoon, going into rut.

“Oh,” Namjoon pants into Jungkook’s ear, low. “You tricked me. You tricked me, hm?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” Jungkook sobs, twisting under his grip. “Hh-aah, hyun-hhng.”

Namjoon starts to laugh, and it’s so mean because Jungkook is in tears taking his cock.

“You tricked me, honey, didn’t you? You wanted to put hyung in rut, right? Wanted a knot from the beginning,” Namjoon presses a kiss to Jungkook’s ear, and then two or three more. “I love you, you wicked little thing,” he says, smiling. “I love you so much, hyung loves you.”

Jungkook starts crying into the pillow. He tries to hide the heave of his sobs by sucking on his lower lip, reddened flesh and a glint of silver peeking out from behind his bunny teeth.

Namjoon cannot stop now. “You weren’t satisfied with a pre-heat fuck, were you, baby?” He heaves himself up and Jungkook’s ass bows into him like he’s been willed by some force of nature. “You wanted hyung to seal the deal. Make you mine, before everyone else. That’s what it’s always been about, hm?”

The most breathtaking view in the world: Jeon Jungkook being fucked from behind, presented on his elbows and knees. His shoulderblades and back carve a broad, glimmering arc right down into his tight waist, engulfed in Namjoon’s handspan. Jungkook turns his cheek to rest against the pillow and his big, glossy eyes are blinking and blinking. He sniffles softly. His nose is pink.

Namjoon still remembers the day he was first allowed this sight, when Jungkook had just turned old enough to come off suppressants. Jungkook walked five steps across the Bangtan dorm hall on that autumn morning and knocked on the bedroom door to give Namjoon his first heat, both of them wide-eyed and trembling all over like just-hatched butterflies. It had been so wet, so messy, in all the places their bare skin had newly touched—Jungkook had gushed endlessly as Namjoon fucked his virgin slick into froth. He begged to be bred like he’d been holding in the pleas for years. It took only a handful of thrusts before Namjoon spilled inside him for the first time. Fundamentally euphoric, the feeling of them together, as if a hundred thousand years of evolution had understood they would inevitably come to this moment, an alpha locked to his omega and promising him a bellyful of pups they couldn’t have had back then.

Namjoon knotted him four times within the first hour. Jungkook had cried each time.

Some things have never changed.

Even now, Jungkook cries as he did then, his trembling hand coming up in an attempt to cover his mouth as he shakes from Namjoon’s thrusts. Namjoon blindly grabs at Jungkook’s jaw and turns his chin sideways. Jungkook’s swollen mouth drops open, Namjoon’s index finger slotting into it.

“Look at me.”

“Huh-hyung,” Jungkook tries, muffled. His eyes flutter back into his skull.

“Look at me. I’m not there yet, don’t come.” 

Jungkook’s skin has become an otherworldly pleasure against Namjoon: he is wet inside with slick and slick outside with sweat, but Namjoon’s palms have nails at the end, and he digs them into Jungkook’s hips.

“I am– I have to come, pleaseplease let me—,”

Namjoon isn’t finished. “You wanted babies? We’ll put triplets in you, Jungkookah. I’ll give you this one and Jimin’ll come in next, and Hoseok—we’ll give you three puppies, one after another. Don’t fucking come.”

Jungkook draws in a stuttered half-breath, and it all rushes out in a hyperventilating wail. His lips close around Namjoon’s finger, sharp teeth worrying at the skin, juddering as his body shakes on Namjoon’s swelling knot.

“You wanted it,” Namjoon coos, adoring above all else. This is his Jungkookie, his, his. The recognition simmers like light down his bloodstream; Namjoon’s ears begin to buzz. “You wanted it, my baby, so take it.”

Jungkook whimpers brokenly. “Yes, ah- knot me, I’ll take it, please.”

Namjoon sinks his teeth into Jungkook’s neck and his knot into Jungkook’s cunt. The orgasm thunders over him, and Namjoon groans, shivering, “Mine; my baby, my baby’s baby, all mine, all mine.”

“Ahn, hyung- knot me, huh-hyung, I’ll do it. I’ll get pregnant on the first try.” Jungkook locks up around Namjoon, slick and hot to the point of feverishness. He is something monumental and devouring trapped in Namjoon’s arms, and Namjoon pushes himself inside recklessly until his cunt cannot swallow anything more.

Namjoon rumbles against Jungkook’s sweaty nape, nuzzling up at the dark rivulets of hair matted to his pale skin. He puts his hand on Jungkook’s belly to feel how overfull he is; Namjoon thinks he can hear it slosh, Jungkook’s walls swollen and his belly, too, stuffed full and plugged up with Namjoon’s rut-hot come.

“You are. You are now, do you feel it?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, sucking mindlessly at Namjoon’s thumb even as his body convulses with aftershocks, shivering in pulses around the knot filling him up. His eyes are closed and peaceful, his fluttering lashes wet and thick, sharply in contrast to his dark, furrowed brows. The swell of Jungkook’s ass shifts under Namjoon’s abdomen as he attempts to get comfortable, but Namjoon is too boneless to do anything but let his body weight press Jungkook into the mattress, keeping him warm.

The noise of Jungkook’s sucking lessens, the self-soothe slowly resting him until his breathing turns deep and even, mouth falling open, still pursed softly into a bud. Namjoon rolls them over onto his back, settling a sleepy Jungkook over his chest.

“You awake? Baby?” Namjoon nudges at his ear, his sweat-brushed jaw. He takes his thumb from Jungkook’s mouth to brush at his browbone.

Jungkook gives a protesting, sulky, “Eungh. No-o …” 

“You want a kiss?” Namjoon asks him, petting his still-sweaty hair.

Jungkook rumbles contentedly and blinks his big eyes open. “Mmn. Kiss.” He tilts his chin in a sweet offering, pale jut framing the soft redness of his mouth. Rubbed raw and swollen, flushed from biting, biting, crying.

“Aw, baby.” Namjoon clucks his tongue, soft. He reaches up and gently captures Jungkook’s mouth, soothing the irritation with warmth. He presses in and Jungkook just sighs obediently, his whole body relaxing, opening wetly: his cunt and his mouth, for Namjoon’s knot and tongue.

It must be minutes, that they’ve spent kissing lazily, because Namjoon startles when there’s a knock at the doorframe.

Seokjin peeks in, his ears red. He raises an eyebrow, impressed. “I can’t believe you tired him out.”

“All in a day’s work,” Namjoon mumbles. “Come in, come here, hyung. I’ve missed you.”

“Hah!” Seokjin gives him a pleased sort of smile, even as he pads over to sit on the mattress, where the two of them are intertwined. “Did you really, or is this just Namjoonie-rut haze talking?”

Namjoon scowls harmlessly, but still arches his neck up toward Seokjin, his beta, his hyung. “I did, really. Kiss?”

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “Not so fast. Taehyungie’s started, too.”

“Shit,” Namjoon swears. Jungkook grumbles as he gets jostled. “Shit, is someone here for him?”

Seokjin’s hand is already outstretched to settle on Jungkook’s nape. “You reek when you’re in rut, you know? Put him in right in heat. And then Jiminie got worked up and knotted him on the living room couch.”

“Shit. At least it’s not the kitchen floor this time. Are they still there?” Namjoon lifts his head blearily, trying to look, a slight anxiety overcoming him.

Seokjin pushes him down with two fingers to the forehead. “Don’t worry. They’re safe, I checked on them. They’re just whispering filth to each other, as per usual. Hoseok’s with them, Jungkook and I are with you, and I’ll go pick up Yoongi from the studio in a few minutes. I called him.”

Seokjin counts off on his fingers. One and two, three. Four, five, six. Seven. All accounted for. Namjoon relaxes. “Perfect.”

“Mmn.” Seokjin smooths back Jungkook’s sweaty hair. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Good,” Jungkook mumbles. He smacks his lips softly. “Got babies. Makin’ em.”

Jungkook shifts and there’s a quiet, wet noise as he leaks around Namjoon’s deflated knot.

Seokjin reaches down and presses two fingers into Jungkook’s cunt, and Jungkook muffles a soft noise into Namjoon’s collarbone. Namjoon hisses as Seokjin’s knuckles brush his sensitive knot, tucked against the curve of his cock inside Jungkook.

“Good job, alpha,” Seokjin says. He leans over and gives Namjoon a kiss, finally.

Namjoon smiles, bright and sleepy. “Love you, hyung.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “You sap. Like you aren’t going to be so disrespectful once the next wave of your rut comes about. I suppose this cuteness makes up for it.”

“Mmn, but you like me disrespectful,” Namjoon says, lowering his eyelids to stare up at Seokjin.

“Right. Well.” Seokjin gets up and clears his throat, going pink. “I’m going to get Yoongi. At least he understands the value of respect.” He turns and leaves the room very quickly.

Jungkook snorts, half-asleep. “As if Yoongi isn’t just as disrespectful in the bedroom.”

“That’s Yoongi-hyung to you, Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon says, mock-sternly. 

“You can’t scold me anymore, I’m carrying your babies!”

Namjoon melts into a goofy smile. He puts his mouth to Jungkook’s sweat-damp hair. “Okay, okay, I won’t scold.” Sentimentality always gets to him in the afterglow. “I’ll be a good dad. I’ll try so hard, Jungkook-ah,” he says gently. “I’ll do my best to take care of our babies.”

Jungkook lifts his head, blinking up at Namjoon with utter sincerity. “I know you will, hyung. Haven’t you taken care of me all these years?”

Namjoon’s chin suddenly crumples.

“Oh, hyung, are you crying? Please don’t cry, or I’ll start, too.” Jungkook’s breaths start skipping, his lower lip wobbling.

Namjoon laughs, sniffing wetly. “‘M sorry, I dunno why—I’m just really happy. I love you. I’m so happy.”

And Jungkook bursts into tears.