Work Text:
"That's so stupid," YN muttered with a roll of her eyes, her voice tinged with exasperation as she and Jungkook climbed into bed. The room was dim, warm with the residual scent of baby lotion and lavender from Ameena's bedtime routine. They had just tucked their daughter in for the night, the soft white noise machine humming in the next room, and now—finally—they were easing into their own peace. Or at least, trying to.
Jungkook chuckled under his breath, reaching for the comforter and pulling it over them both. The mattress shifted slightly as he scooted closer behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist in that familiar, grounding way that always made her exhale. His chest pressed gently against her back, and he tucked his chin into the curve of her shoulder like he always did. "How is it stupid?" he asked softly, more amused than offended.
YN turned her head slightly on the pillow, just enough for her voice to carry. "Because it doesn't make any damn sense for y'all to push the comeback back three whole months. Especially with the tour starting immediately after that. You've got momentum from the last release. The fans are still riding that wave. They're hungry. Dropping something before the tour just makes more sense. Why cool off now?"
Jungkook sighed, not annoyed, just... tired. Thoughtful. He nestled even closer behind her, his hand sliding across her stomach and resting flat there, as if he could calm her just by holding on. "Yeah, but... I mean, think about it," he murmured. "We're going on tour soon. Like—soon soon. And the next three months, we're still working. We're still doing promo runs and planning and recording and all that. But at least if we hold off on dropping the album right now, I won't be locked in a studio at 3AM every night trying to meet some impossible deadline."
He paused, kissed her shoulder. "I'll actually get to come home. Early. Like... dinners-with-you, bath-time-with-Ameena early."
YN stayed quiet, listening, her body softening a bit in his arms. He felt it.
"I mean really think about it," he went on, voice lower now. "In a few months, I'm going to be on the road for nearly a year. A year, babe. I won't get to wake up to you. I won't get to see Ameena change overnight like she's been doing. She says new words every damn day, and I already feel like I'm missing stuff. If pushing the comeback means I get just a little more time with you two before everything gets insane again... then yeah. I'm okay with waiting."
He exhaled against her neck, his voice quieter. "I need that time. With you. With her. Not as a reward. Just... as something I want to protect. Before everything starts spinning again."
YN blinked slowly, her frustration softening into something more reflective, more tender. She turned in his arms slightly so she could face him in the low light, brushing her fingers along the line of his jaw.
"You should've just said that," she whispered. "Not the PR version."
Jungkook gave her a sheepish smile, half-laughing. "I'm still unlearning all that. Sometimes I forget I don't have to sell my reasons to you."
"You don't," she said. "You just have to tell me the truth. And that?" She touched his chest, over his heart. "That was the truth."
He leaned in slowly, savoring the closeness, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. His lips rested there for a moment, breathing in her warmth, the familiar scent of her skin, the way her body softened slightly beneath his touch.
"I love you," he said, the words quiet but anchored in something solid and deep—something that didn't ask for affirmation but still longed to be received.
YN's eyes fluttered closed, her lashes brushing against her cheeks as she turned around. She laced her fingers through his under the covers. She didn't pull him closer—he was already there—but she held his hand tighter. Her voice was low, tired but laced with quiet emotion.
"I know," she murmured. "Just... don't disappear into your work again. Not when we're right here. Not when we're still trying to be this."
There was no accusation in her tone, but he felt the weight of the history behind her words. The late nights. The half-eaten dinners. The FaceTimes she answered alone, with Ameena on her hip, trying to fill the silence of his absence. He knew what she meant. This wasn't just about proximity—it was about presence. Real, intentional, emotionally awake presence.
"I won't," he said, voice resolute. He meant it.
A few seconds of silence passed between them, their breathing syncing as the room settled into something tender and still. But then his thoughts shifted—drifted in a different direction, slower, warmer, a little more primal. Something flickered to life in the pit of his stomach, that familiar spark he never stopped feeling when she was near, especially in the quiet, especially when she wasn't trying to be anything but herself.
His hand moved almost unconsciously, smoothing up the curve of her spine beneath her sleep shirt, his fingertips brushing lightly against her warm skin. He dipped his head a little lower, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
"Hey," he whispered.
She didn't turn, just gave a soft, questioning hum. "Hm?"
Jungkook smiled to himself, his voice dropping into something a little more playful now. "Since we put babygirl down... how about me and you... y'know..." His words trailed off, but his hand didn't. It slid lower, cupping the curve of her ass through the soft cotton of her shorts, giving it a light, deliberate squeeze.
YN huffed—a familiar half-sigh, half-laugh—and turned slightly more away from him in a way that could've read as rejection. But then she arched her back just a little more, hips shifting so that the curve of her ass pressed back into him. That small, unspoken invitation was all he needed to know she wasn't really pushing him away. She was playing with him. Teasing.
"Mmmhmm," she mumbled, her voice full of mock exasperation. "Whatever you wanna do, you better go ahead and do it before I fall asleep."
He grinned at the challenge threaded through her tone, the way she said it like she didn't care—but her body told another story. He could feel the way her breathing subtly shifted, how she adjusted her position just enough to give him better access. It was like a silent dare. Like she was saying, If you want me, come get me. But don't waste time talking about it.
"Oh, so that's how we're doing this?" he murmured against the back of her neck, his voice deepening, that low, slow velvet tone he knew made her shiver. His hand flattened against her hip, then slid under the hem of her shorts, skin meeting skin, fingertips grazing the warm dip of her waist.
YN didn't say anything at first. Didn't laugh. Didn't answer. Just stayed still—except for the barely-there tug at the corner of her mouth. A smirk she was trying, and failing, to bury into the pillow. That tiny betrayal of her self-control didn't go unnoticed. He caught it. Felt it like a secret passed between them.
Jungkook's lips brushed the back of her shoulder, soft and slow, while his hips pressed forward in the dark—deliberate, unhurried, making sure she felt him. Every inch of what she'd stirred awake in him. There was no mistaking it now.
"You sure you wanna sleep right now?" he murmured, his voice low and thick, each word grazing her skin like a warm exhale. "'Cause if you keep pushing back on me like that..."
YN's breath faltered—not much, just a sharp little catch—but that was all he needed. He knew her body too well. Knew the difference between her indifference and her permission. And this? This was the latter, wrapped in mock annoyance and heat.
She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, still not turning to face him. "Boy," she drawled, her tone somewhere between warning and amusement, "if you don't stop talking and do something..."
He chuckled, a dark, low sound that rumbled deep in his chest. "Say no more."
With that, he shifted behind her, propping himself up just enough to push his pajama pants and boxers down his hips, his movements fluid and quiet in the dim room. The fabric slid to the floor with a soft rustle, forgotten instantly. The air was cool against his skin, but the heat coming off YN made it irrelevant.
Then his hands were on her hips, warm and certain, fingers brushing the waistband of her shorts and panties in one smooth motion. He paused, gave her a moment—because she was always in control of this part, always the one to set the rhythm, even when she let him think otherwise.
She didn't hesitate. Just lifted her hips slightly, her body arching with graceful ease, and that single movement was a green light. He slid both garments down over the swell of her hips and thighs, slow and reverent, and they joined his on the floor.
She pushed back into him again. No hesitation this time. No teasing. Just need—quiet, confident need—and he exhaled sharply at the sensation of her bare skin against his, the way she knew exactly how to align them without even looking.
"Damn," he breathed, more to himself than to her. One hand steadied her waist while the other traced a slow, wandering path along the curve of her spine, like he couldn't decide where he wanted to touch her first. There was no rush in his movements. No urgency. Just awe. And a hunger that had its own patience.
"You always do this to me," he whispered, his voice rough as his lips found her shoulder again, then lower. "You walk around all day acting like you don't know what you're doing to me. Then you get like this. And I'm just supposed to sleep?"
YN smiled into her pillow, eyes fluttered shut. "You talk too much," she murmured, voice sleep-soft but laced with heat.
His hand slid over her hip, down to her thigh, slow and possessive. "You love it when I talk," he murmured. "Especially like this."
He could feel her body responding to his touch, to the tone of his voice, to the way he hovered at the edge of her without giving in just yet. Teasing her the way she always teased him. Their bodies were flush now, skin to skin, her warmth wrapping around him like a silent plea.
She tilted her hips back with the subtlest arch, that slow, intuitive shift of her body sending a silent message—I want you closer. Her warmth pressed against him, beckoning, and Jungkook's breath caught in his throat. He let his forehead fall to her shoulder, his skin touching hers, grounding him in the moment like a tether.
He stayed there for a second—just a second—breathing her in like she was the only air left in the world. His voice came out rougher now, softened by reverence and thick with restraint, like he was trying not to unravel too fast.
"You ready?" he whispered, his fingertips pressing gently into the softness of her waist, just enough pressure to feel her under his palms. Just enough to remind himself she was real, right here with him, not some dream his tired body conjured up after another long day.
YN didn't answer immediately. Didn't turn her head. Didn't even lift it from the pillow.
She didn't need to.
Instead, her hand reached back, fingers trailing slowly over his thigh, her touch feather-light but deliberate—like she was savoring the slow tension building between them. Her palm slid lower, tracing the inside of his thigh until her hand found him, hard and ready, the heat between them thrumming in the stillness of the room.
Then, without a word, she guided him. No hesitation. No coyness. Just that quiet, steady certainty that always drove him wild. Her fingers wrapped around him and pulled him toward her—toward where she was already open, already aching for him, her body silently speaking every word she hadn't said out loud.
"What do you think?" she whispered, voice low and rough with need, her words brushing the night like a dare wrapped in silk.
And that was it.
That was all he needed.
A deep, guttural sound tore from his throat—half moan, half exhale—as he followed her guidance and let himself slip into her, slow and careful at first, his hand steadying her hips while his other arm wrapped around her torso. He pressed himself against her, inch by aching inch, feeling the way her body welcomed him, warm and slick and impossibly perfect.
"Damn, baby," he breathed, jaw tightening as he sank deeper, his voice caught between awe and hunger. "You feel... God, you feel so good."
YN let out a soft gasp, biting her lip as her eyes fluttered shut, her body pressing back to take him in fully. She arched her spine just slightly, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness of him, the way he always managed to make her feel completely consumed but never overwhelmed.
She tilted her head slightly, letting it rest back against his shoulder as his chest molded to her spine, the weight of his body and the way he filled her grounding her in the most intimate way.
Jungkook kissed her shoulder, her neck, every inch of skin he could reach, his breath hot and uneven against her. He started to move—slow thrusts, deep and deliberate—taking his time, savoring the way her body pulled him back in each time he drew out. His hand moved over her stomach, fingers splaying across it protectively, then drifting up to cup her breast, kneading gently.
"I missed you like this," he murmured into her ear, voice ragged. "Been thinking about you all day."
YN's lips parted, a breathy moan slipping out, soft and desperate. "Don't stop," she whispered, hand gripping the sheets. "Please, don't stop..."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, each word a promise as he buried himself in her again, his pace deepening. "Not tonight."
The sound of skin against skin filled the room, muffled only by the sheets and the low moans slipping from their mouths. Every thrust felt like a conversation between their bodies—no rush, no performance, just raw connection, slow and rhythmic like waves rolling in and pulling back.
YN reached behind her again, this time grabbing his wrist, grounding herself in him. "Harder," she whispered, voice shaky but firm. "I can take it."
Jungkook groaned, his control unraveling just a little more at her words. He adjusted his angle, one arm still wrapped around her middle as he thrust harder now, deeper, his body flush against hers as he chased the sound of her moans. The new rhythm had her gasping, her head falling forward again as her body moved with his, perfectly in sync.
"You take me so well," he breathed, mouth grazing her ear. "You don't even know what you do to me, YN."
She smiled against the pillow, half-dazed, fully wrecked. "I know," she whispered. "I know exactly what I do."
He grinned—boyish, dangerous, hungry—despite the inferno threatening to consume him from the inside out. That fire had been simmering beneath the surface all evening, from the moment they'd bathed their daughter together, shared quiet laughter as they put on her pajamas, hummed lullabies in low harmony. It wasn't just the anticipation of this moment that made his chest feel tight—it was everything: the softness of their routine, the intimacy of the mundane, the way YN looked at him like he was still hers after everything they'd built and survived.
"Cocky," he muttered, voice thick with a heady mix of amusement and lust. He thrust into her again, a little harder this time, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips that sent a fresh jolt through his spine. "You always like to start something you can't finish."
YN turned her head, slow and deliberate, until he caught the glint of her smirk in the dim lamplight. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils wide, but that fire was still there. Always was.
"Try me," she whispered, voice husky and daring—like a match struck in the dark.
Jungkook—completely undone, completely in love—rose to the challenge.
He slid his hand beneath her thigh, lifting her leg and angling her hips just right, until he could feel her open around him even deeper. She gasped, sharp and breathless, and then moaned—a sound that vibrated straight through him, low and sultry, the kind of sound that echoed in his mind long after it left her throat.
"Shit," she breathed, her fingers digging into the sheets, her body arching into his. "Right there, baby..."
He felt the shiver ripple through her, the tightening of her walls around him, the quick intake of breath as he hit the exact spot that always made her lose it.
"Right there?" he asked, teasing, his voice hot against her neck. "You mean like this?"
He thrust again, deep and precise, and her moan was louder this time—less controlled, less polite.
But then... they both froze.
Because in the next room over, beyond the walls of their shared sanctuary, was a tiny human who had just fallen asleep not even thirty minutes ago after a solid hour of fussing, whining, and a pacifier being thrown on the floor five separate times.
"Shhh," Jungkook hissed, barely able to contain his laugh as he pressed a kiss to her temple, though his hips didn't stop moving. "Baby, we just got her down."
YN covered her mouth with one hand, her body trembling with laughter and pleasure. "I know, I know," she whispered through giggles, then moaned again—but softer this time. It came out like a broken prayer, a whimper caught in her throat. "But you're the one—ugh—who lifted my leg like we ain't parents."
Jungkook bit his bottom lip, chuckling against her shoulder. "And you're the one making all this noise like we live in a soundproof mansion."
"Well maybe if you'd stop hitting that exact spot—shit, Kook..."
He smiled against her skin, smug and reverent all at once, because there it was again: that breathless surrender she only gave to him. The way her voice cracked just slightly. The way her fingers fisted in the sheets like she didn't know whether to hold on or let go.
He adjusted his grip on her thigh and thrust again, slower now, deeper, watching the way her back arched into him, the way her jaw slackened as her breath stuttered out of her lungs. She was trying so hard to keep quiet, but every sigh, every whimper made him feel more powerful—needed in a way that went far beyond physical.
"Gotta be quiet, baby," he whispered, his voice like honey, dark and thick. "Can't wake our little girl."
YN let out a choked laugh, even as her hand gripped his wrist, anchoring herself to him. "You keep saying that, but you're the one putting me in this predicament."
He grinned into her neck, not missing a beat. "You could tell me to stop."
"You wouldn't."
"You're right."
And then he slowed his thrusts to a teasing grind, just to hear the breath catch in her throat again.
"God, I hate you," she whispered, voice shaking, but he could feel her smiling.
"No, you don't."
She didn't argue.
Instead, she turned her head just enough for their lips to meet. The kiss was slow, deep, a little messy with how hard they were both breathing. But it was real. Grounding. Familiar. It tasted like laughter and sweat and love and everything they'd built over the years. The years before Ameena, the years after. The nights they barely had time for each other. The nights like this one, when they carved out a little pocket of magic just for them.
Jungkook pulled back to look at her, his thrusts slower now, more intimate. "You okay?" he asked softly, brushing a damp curl off her forehead.
YN nodded, her hand resting on his forearm as she squeezed gently—anchoring him there, holding him close, as if she could make time slow down with that one small touch. "Better than okay," she whispered, breath shallow and trembling. "Just... don't stop."
He didn't.
Not at first.
He kept moving inside her like he knew her body better than she did. Like it was second nature. Like loving her this way was something he was made to do. Their breathing fell into sync, bodies rocking together in a slow, desperate rhythm. The kind of rhythm born not from urgency, but reverence.
They whispered into each other's mouths—half-sighs, half-prayers—muffling the sounds of their pleasure in the warm hush of pillows and skin. And outside their bedroom, the world didn't exist. There was no early morning call time, no screaming fans, no responsibilities pressing in from all sides. There was just them, tangled together in the dim light, rediscovering each other with every breath, every thrust, every broken moan.
This was their language. The one that didn't need words.
Because even now—tired, sleep-deprived, always giving so much of themselves to everyone else—they still had this space between them. This quiet, burning need. This tether that never frayed.
And neither of them was letting go.
But then...
Thump.
Jungkook's eyes flew open at the sound of the headboard bumping against the wall—soft at first, but unmistakable. His breath caught in his throat. Once. Twice. Another thump. He winced, his body still buried in hers, his hand resting on her thigh.
YN noticed the change immediately. "Why'd you stop?" she whispered, twisting her neck to glance at him. Her voice was hoarse with arousal and frustration, and he nearly laughed from how conflicted he suddenly felt.
He rolled his hips again and ofcourse... another quiet thud.
His heart sank.
"Dammit," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. With the way their luck worked? That headboard would start a damn drumline and wake Ameena out of her miracle sleep.
He let out a quiet groan—not the good kind—and slowly pulled out, which earned him a soft, needy whine from YN. She clutched at the sheets, her back still arched, her breathing labored.
"Kook..." she groaned, eyes shut tight.
"Get up," he said suddenly, sitting up.
"What?" Her voice was hazy and confused, like she was somewhere between a dream and a curse. "Kook, what the hell..."
"Come on, baby. Get up," he repeated, reaching for her hand as he stood beside the bed, both of them still breathless and very naked from the waist down.
YN blinked at him, incredulous, her hair a mess and her skin flushed in the soft bedroom light. "You seriously want to move locations right now?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, sitting up slowly. "You do realize our baby is finally asleep and this is the only window of time we might get for the next three weeks?"
But he didn't explain.
Not with words.
Instead, he held out his hand again—steadfast and firm—and looked at her like he had a plan. Because he did. And damn if she didn't love that look on him.
With a tired groan and a roll of her eyes, she took his hand, rising to her feet. Their pajama bottoms were somewhere on the bedroom floor but neither of them cared. He tugged her gently by the hand, guiding her through the hallway as quietly as they could, bare feet padding across hardwood floors like kids sneaking out after curfew.
"Kook," she hissed again as they crept down the stairs, though she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "I swear, if she wakes up and starts screaming..."
"She won't," he whispered over his shoulder.
He led her down another flight—this time to the basement, to their private little in-home theater. The lights were already low, the plush oversized couch waiting like it had been expecting them.
Jungkook pulled her toward the couch and shut the basement door behind them, locking them in their own world. He turned back to her, bare from the waist down, looking more like her man than a pop star in that moment—hungry and determined.
"We can really get busy down here," he said with a grin, walking toward her slowly. "No creaky headboards, no thin walls, no chance of waking the baby. Just you, me, and this big ass couch."
YN bit her bottom lip, a quiet laugh bubbling up in her throat. "God, I love when you use that pretty little brain of yours."
He didn't say a word. Just leaned in and kissed her—deep and greedy—like she was the only thing he'd ever wanted. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair as she kissed him back with just as much hunger, her legs parting on instinct as he guided her back until the soft cushions caught her.
Then her back was against the couch, and he was lowering himself between her thighs, mouth hot against her neck, hands trailing down her curves with renewed urgency. They were both breathing harder now, the thrill of sneaking away, of reclaiming each other, rekindling everything they'd had to put on pause for months.
"You're such a damn genius," she whispered against his ear as his hands slid over her thighs, pushing them wider.
"Don't forget it," he murmured, the words almost lost between kisses as he reached down and aligned himself with her once more, his body thrumming with heat and hunger. His eyes didn't leave hers—not for a second. Not even as he pushed into her again, slow, steady, deliberate. Like he needed her to feel everything. Every inch, every heartbeat.
And this time... there was no hesitation. No reason to hold back. No creaking headboard against drywall, no thin bedroom walls threatening to betray them. Just the open space of their little sanctuary downstairs—quiet and dark and safe.
And hers.
All hers.
Her moan came free this time—soft and full, echoing off the walls in a way that made his grip on her thighs tighten. Her fingers found the back of his neck, tugging him closer, deeper, her nails grazing the base of his skull as her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in greedily.
He groaned low in his throat, forehead falling against hers as their breath mingled—hot and uneven and full of something that felt dangerously close to worship.
The rhythm between them picked up again—natural and messy, like something primal and sacred at the same time. Skin against skin. Gasps and soft laughter. The way her body arched into his like it had missed him all over again, even though he'd never left.
He held her like she was a precious secret he was terrified to lose. His hands explored her body with a desperate tenderness—like no matter how many times he'd touched her before, it would never be enough. One hand gripping her thigh as he kept her open for him, the other sliding up to cradle her face as he kissed her between thrusts, deep and slow.
YN's head tipped back against the armrest, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted as she whispered his name like a benediction. "Kook..."
He watched her. Drank her in. Every curve, every tremble, every sound she made. Her chest rising and falling in quick little gasps. The sheen of sweat glistening along her collarbone. The way her back arched when he shifted, angling his hips just right so he could hit that spot he knew made her eyes roll back.
She whimpered—needy and broken—and he swallowed the sound with a kiss.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against her mouth, voice thick with awe. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
And she didn't.
Not this time.
Her body moved with his like they were speaking a language no one else in the world understood. It wasn't just lust—it was love, devotion, history. It was everything they'd been holding onto through the long nights and early mornings, through spit-up and sleep regressions and being too exhausted to finish a thought, let alone a sentence.
This was them, finding each other again.
And then—just when the rhythm started to melt her bones and unravel her thoughts—he did something that made her eyes fly open.
He growled her name low and deep in her ear, then gripped her hips with both hands, hard.
YN gasped—sharp and stunned—her whole body seizing around him as pleasure rocketed up her spine. Her hands flew to his shoulders, digging in, nails dragging down his back.
"Damn, daddy" she breathed out between pants, her voice hoarse and full of disbelief. Her eyes locked on his, all smoky heat and wild affection. "You fuck like you wanna get me pregnant again."
Jungkook's whole body stilled for half a beat.
And then he let out a laugh—low, dangerous, wrecked. That kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Somewhere that wanted her in every possible way.
He leaned in, brushing his lips over her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "You say that like it's not on the table," he said, his voice dark and playful and entirely too honest.
Her eyes widened slightly. Her smirk faltered. Just for a second. Because the way he said it... it wasn't a joke.
His hips rolled into hers again—slow, purposeful, deep. She gasped, biting her lip.
"Kook," she whispered, somewhere between warning and wonder.
"You're the one who said it," he murmured, kissing her again. "You think I wouldn't love another little you running around this house? You think I don't think about it every time I look at you like this?"
Her breath hitched. She was melting beneath him, heart pounding in her chest and between her thighs.
"And don't act like you don't get off on the thought," he added, his tone suddenly softer—more tender. "Me filling you up... knowing it might stick."
YN couldn't answer. Not with words. She just arched up against him and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist.
He took that as a yes.
And then he was moving again—thrusting into her with a new kind of focus. One that felt both feral and full of promise. One that made her whimper his name again and again like she was trying to memorize the sound of it on her tongue.
"Say it again," he breathed, brushing his lips down her throat. "Say what you called me."
She moaned, hands fisting in his hair.
"Daddy," she whispered, her voice raw and reverent.
His pace stuttered, like the word alone undid him.
"Shit," Jungkook growled, his head dropping heavily to her shoulder, the sound thick and guttural in his throat. His breath fanned over her flushed skin, hot and ragged, as he struggled to keep his composure. "You keep saying that..." he murmured, dragging his teeth lightly along the curve of her neck, "and I swear to God, I'm gonna give you exactly what you're asking for."
YN let out a breathless laugh that dissolved into a gasp the moment his hips snapped forward again—harder, deeper, so precise it made her thighs shake. Her body curved into his, her nails digging crescent moons into his back as she panted against his mouth.
"Then what are you waiting for?" she whispered, voice shaky but teasing—full of heat, full of daring.
And that was all it took.
Challenge accepted.
Because when it came to this woman—this beautiful, maddening, brilliant woman who'd given him a daughter, who looked at him like he was still her whole world even when he was tired and overwhelmed and nowhere close to perfect—Jungkook would do anything. Give her everything.
Even if it meant another long stretch of sleepless nights.
Even if it meant tiptoeing around teething cries and baby monitors and pregnancy hormones again.
Even if it meant starting from scratch.
He'd do it without question.
He'd give her the world.
Or, at the very least, another baby.
But before he could speak it out loud, YN twisted her hips up into his, her voice low and sultry and so damn knowing, it stopped him cold.
"But don't forget this," she whispered, lifting her head just enough to look at him through lashes heavy with lust and laughter. "If you get me pregnant tonight... you go on tour soon, don't you?"
He stilled for half a second, eyes locked on hers. "Yeah," he said slowly, breath catching. "You know I do."
She smirked, slow and wicked, as her fingers slipped down his abdomen, trailing lower until she found his balls and rolled them gently in her palm, her touch featherlight and sinful.
"Then who's gonna take care of me?" she purred. "Who's gonna keep this needy pussy company while you're off in another country?"
He groaned—his whole body jerking slightly above hers, eyes fluttering shut for just a second as her words slid into his bloodstream like fire.
"I'm serious, Kook," she went on, her voice softer now, but no less seductive. "You really gonna leave me all swollen and glowing and desperate to be touched... all alone?" Her hand moved again, teasing him, stroking him just enough to make his hips stutter. "You know how I get when I'm pregnant. So horny. So sensitive. Can barely touch myself sometimes when my belly gets too big."
"YN..." he choked out, his forehead dropping to hers, the heat building between them unbearable now.
She grinned, breath hitching with every thrust he tried to maintain, her words unraveling him as fast as her body did.
"Who's gonna stuff me full when my fingers won't reach?" she asked, her mouth brushing his as she moaned softly into the kiss. "Who's gonna send you videos to keep you from losing your damn mind on that bus, huh? Watching me ride a pillow while your baby grows in me?"
His groan turned into a growl. Pure, guttural frustration.
"You gonna watch and jerk off while I cry about needing you inside me?" she whispered, teasing his ear. "You gonna hear me say your name while I rub this pussy against the mattress because no one else is allowed to touch me?"
"Fuck," he hissed, his thrusts growing rougher now, his hands gripping her hips so tight they trembled. "You're trying to kill me."
She giggled breathlessly, then moaned when he angled his hips just right, stealing her laughter with another sharp thrust. Her eyes rolled back, and her head tipped against the cushions as he buried himself deep again, then pulled back slowly, drawing it out, making her feel every inch.
"Who's gonna help me waddle around, huh?" she said between panting breaths, her voice pitching higher. "Who's gonna massage my feet when they're swollen? Rub my belly at night while I whimper and beg to be fucked stupid just to fall asleep?"
"Goddamn," he muttered. His jaw clenched. His pace faltered, caught between restraint and the desperate need to give her everything she was asking for. "You're evil. You know that?"
"I'm honest," she said, arching into him. "You knock me up tonight, you better be ready to deal with the consequences, daddy."
His eyes burned into hers. Wild. Uncontrolled. In love.
"I'll FaceTime you every night," he growled. "Watch you rub that pretty, swollen pussy for me. Talk you through it. Beg you to hold out until I get home. And when I do—"
He leaned in, biting her lip gently. "I'll fuck you so slow you'll forget how to walk."
YN gasped again, her whole body trembling, her arms flinging around his neck as she clung to him. She was so close. He could feel it. So was he.
"And when the baby's here," he whispered roughly, "I'll be home. Every night. I'll hold both our babies and still make time to worship you the way you deserve."
"Kook—" she whimpered, completely unraveling beneath him.
"You're mine," he breathed against her ear. "Forever. Pregnant or not. Tired or glowing. You're mine, YN."
Her cry broke free then, raw and open as her climax crashed over her, her body seizing around him in wave after wave of tight, pulsing pleasure.
And Jungkook, undone by the way she said his name like a prayer—followed her over the edge seconds later, burying himself deep, holding her like he'd never let go.
Because he wouldn't.
Not in this life. Not in the next.