Three days later, Tae’s living room floor was cluttered with cardboard boxes and suitcases. Jungkook stood in the middle of it all, sweat gleaming on his forehead, muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he adjusted the straps of the baby bag. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting warm streaks across Tae’s couch where she sat cross-legged—her tiny shorts riding up her thighs—with little Ggukie nestled against her bare chest.

"Shh, sweetheart," she murmured, tilting her head back slightly as the baby latched hungrily onto her swollen nipple. A soft sigh escaped her lips, eyes fluttering shut for just a second before she caught movement in her periphery—Jungkook, frozen mid-step, fingers clutching a duffel bag with his throat visibly bobbing.

"Kook?" Tae’s voice came out breathier than she intended.

Ggukie suckled louder, tiny fists kneading her plush skin. Milk glistened at the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the swell of Tae’s exposed breast. She should’ve covered herself. She meant to. But when he’d started wailing five minutes ago, all rationale evaporated.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered between her flushed face and where his son nursed greedily—her nipple disappearing between those tiny pink lips—before he swallowed hard. "I—uh—" His fingers tightened around the duffel strap. "Thank you. For… taking care of him like this."

Tae’s pulse hammered under her skin. She wasn’t shy. Never had been. But the way his voice dipped, rough and thick… Something warm coiled low in her stomach. "He was fussing," she managed, shifting slightly. The motion made her milk drip again—a fat bead rolling down her rounded curve.

Jungkook’s nostrils flared. He practically flung the duffel onto the nearest chair. "I—I’ll go—unpack. In the guest room?"

"Yes! Yes, of course," Tae blurted, nodding too fast. "Down the hall, second door. And—" She licked her lips, forcing composure. "The nursery’s already set up next to it. I—I prepared it when Somi had him."

His shoulders tensed at his wife’s name, but he nodded stiffly before retreating—almost tripping over a misplaced shoebox in his haste.

Alone again, Tae exhaled shakily, thumb brushing Ggukie’s cheek. "Your daddy’s… very flustered," she whispered, then bit her lip.

And so was she.

——

The kitchen smelled like garlic and simmering broth, steam curling around Tae’s bare shoulders as she stirred the pot. Her sundress—if it could even be called that—barely covered her thighs, the thin straps digging into her skin every time she leaned forward. Another drop of milk darkened the fabric near her nipple, but she paid it no mind. Not when Ggukie was giggling in his high chair, kicking his chubby legs as he slurped from the bottle she’d filled earlier.

Jungkook sat rigid at the table, chopsticks clutched too tight in his fist. He’d changed into a loose tank after unpacking, but it did little to hide the way his muscles flexed when he shifted—or how his eyes kept flickering to Tae’s back every time she bent to check the stove. The dress rode up. Just a little. Enough to hint at the curve of her ass.

"Dinner’s ready," she announced, hips swaying as she carried the pot to the table. Jungkook stood abruptly, chair scraping. "Let me—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Let me help."

Tae smiled, handing him the ladle. Their fingers brushed. He inhaled sharply.

Ggukie babbled around his bottle, milk dribbling down his chin. Tae wiped it away with her thumb, laughing when he grabbed her wrist. "Hungry boy," she cooed. "Just like your daddy, hm?"

Jungkook’s knuckles whitened around the ladle.

The air between them thickened—charged with something Tae couldn’t name. Not yet. But when she caught him staring at the wet spot blooming across her chest, she didn’t cover herself. She let him look. Let him see.

"Eat," she murmured, pushing the pot closer. "You need your strength."

His Adam’s apple bobbed. "Tae-ssi…"

Ggukie let out a happy squeal, shattering the tension. Tae turned to him, breasts jiggling with the movement, and Jungkook choked on his next breath.

Outside, the moon hung heavy.

Inside, something far more dangerous stirred.

——

Ggukie’s tiny fingers kneaded Tae’s swollen breast like dough, his cheeks puffing rhythmically as he slurped. Milk dribbled down his chin, pooling in the soft crease where Tae’s thigh met her hip—she’d stopped bothering with burp cloths days ago. The couch smelled like warm skin and something sweetly maternal, her sundress straps slipping off her shoulders as she leaned back. "Slow down, greedy boy," she giggled, thumb swiping at his milk-slick lips.

Across the room, Jungkook stood frozen in the doorway, gym bag dangling from his fist. His morning run had left his tank clinging to his chest, sweat gluing the fabric to every ridge of muscle. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched the way Tae’s nipple glistened when Ggukie detached with a wet pop—how her milk beaded at the tip before she guided him back to her other breast with a hushed, "Shh, more here."

"I—" Jungkook’s voice came out strangled. Tae glanced up, but didn’t cover herself. Not anymore. Not after the fifth time she’d caught him staring. "You’re home early," she murmured instead, shifting Ggukie higher. The movement made her dress gape—just enough to reveal the stretch marks along the underside of her breast, pearly and faint in the morning light.

Jungkook’s throat worked. "Meeting got canceled." A lie. He’d sprinted back the moment his watch buzzed with Tae’s text: He’s fussy. Think he wants you. The baby always wanted her. Wanted this. And god help him, so did Jungkook.

Tae hummed, stroking Ggukie’s hair as he nursed. "Lucky us," she said softly—too softly—eyes flickering to where Jungkook’s sweatpants strained. His knuckles whitened around the gym bag.

Ggukie sighed, milk-drunk and limp against her chest. Tae pressed a kiss to his forehead, then lifted her gaze. Held it. "Kook," she whispered. "Come here."

He crossed the room in three strides.

Jungkook’s knees hit the carpet just as Tae guided Ggukie’s mouth away with a wet pop. Milk pearled at her nipple, slow and thick, before dripping down the curve of her breast. Ggukie whined, fists clutching at her dress, but Tae hushed him gently. "I got you," she murmured, shifting him to cradle against her shoulder. His tiny lips glistened—pink and milk-slick—as he nuzzled into the warmth of her neck.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched. Tae didn’t miss it. She reached for his wrist, guiding his palm to the damp spot on her dress where milk had soaked through. His breath hitched. "He’s getting stronger," she whispered. Jungkook’s thumb brushed the fabric, the heat of her skin seeping through. "Lucky boy," he rasped.

Tae’s pulse jumped. She leaned in—close enough to catch the salt of his sweat, the way his pupils swallowed the dark of his irises. "Lucky both of you," she corrected softly, and pressed his hand flush against her chest.

——

The next three days blurred into a rhythm of milk-warm mornings and hushed nights. Jungkook woke to the sound of Tae humming in the nursery, her voice low and sweet as she changed Ggukie’s diaper. He’d pause outside the door, forehead pressed to the wood, listening to the crinkle of the wipes, the soft shh-shh of her rocking. Once—just once—he peeked through the crack and saw her lift Ggukie to her breast, the baby latching with eager little grunts while Tae sighed, head tilting back against the rocking chair. Jungkook’s knees nearly buckled.

By the fourth day, Tae stopped locking the bathroom door. Jungkook walked in on her pumping at the sink, her breasts heavy in the handheld device, milk streaming into a glass bottle. She didn’t startle. Just smiled over her shoulder and said, "Could you grab the warmer? He’ll wake up soon."

Jungkook’s mouth went dry. He fumbled through the cabinet, knocking over baby lotion, hissing when the warmer clattered to the tile. Tae laughed—a warm, knowing sound—and squeezed another thick stream into the bottle.

That night, Jungkook dreamt of her. Woke up sweating, hard, the sheets tangled around his waist. He stumbled to the kitchen for water and found Tae already there, her robe gaping open as she warmed a bottle. She turned, took one look at the tent in his boxers, and didn’t look away. "Can’t sleep?" she asked, voice rough with something that wasn’t fatigue. Jungkook’s fingers dug into the countertop.

"No," he admitted. Tae stepped closer. The bottle beeped in her hand. Neither of them moved to turn it off.