Chapter Text
“Easy, easy, we’re almost there,” Seokjin says, standing a little too close, as though Yoongi were at risk of spontaneously breaking.
Yoongi shoots him a glare, slightly miffed. Even if he were to trip and fall on his face, he’d be only endangering his nose and little else. He does feel sore, admittedly, despite all the painkillers he had popped, but there’s little Seokjin can do about that.
“I’m fine,” Yoongi insists, trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs.
Seokjin unlocks the door, pushing it open. Immediately, they are greeted by a squeal.
“Shhh!” Seokjin hisses at once, throwing a glare down the hallway. “You’ll wake him.”
There’s some more commotion at that, but it is more muted and contained. Yoongi sighs fondly. The maknae line had stayed behind for his return, because a smaller group was easier to smuggle out of the hospital, but he understands that it must have been a big sacrifice for them.
“Hyung,” Taehyung whispers urgently, hovering on the threshold to the living room. “Where is he?”
“Relax,” Yoongi drawls. “Joon-ah’s got him.”
He lets Seokjin maneuver him into the living room, carefully sitting down on the sofa, before getting his shoes slipped off his feet. What a service. He should give birth more often. No, scratch that. Giving birth was awful, he won’t be doing that again anytime soon.
Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook are still waiting by the door, holding on to each other as if to keep themselves in check. Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s not like they hadn’t seen the baby before.
A gasp from Jungkook clues Yoongi in on how Hoseok and Namjoon must have finally made it into the dorm as well. Hoseok comes in first, deposits Yoongi’s overnight bag on the floor and then steps aside to let Namjoon pass.
Yoongi’s heart flutters.
Namjoon is looking rumpled in his t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy and not washed for two days. They had had a private room at the hospital and he had insisted on staying by Yoongi’s side through it all, barely leaving long enough to go to the toilet every now and then.
Now, he is holding the baby cradled in his arms, wrapped up in his hoodie as protection against the cold winds today. He cannot seem to take his eyes of Isangie, which is probably why it had taken him so long to get from the elevator to here, so incredibly gentle as he is with all creatures. Yoongi might just be a little bit smitten.
He is sore and exhausted; the time right after the birth might as well be even worse than the pregnancy itself, from what he has heard. But just seeing this seems to make it all worth it.
For now, he had decided that the next week will be spent on his babymoon. A vacation to recover from the strain of everything, doing nothing but lying around and snuggling his baby. And his mate. They deserve this.
“Joon-ah,” he says, and immediately Namjoon’s gaze flicks up to meet his. A second later, he is striding across the room to sit down next to Yoongi. Very carefully, he transfers the bundle into Yoongi’s hands, before placing his own arm around his shoulder and leaning in to scent him, as though they hadn’t done that just before leaving the hospital.
Yoongi just tilts his head to the side to give him better access.
He understands why Namjoon is so possessive. They had hoped to keep the birth a secret, but of course someone had leaked the info. Fans and reporters had camped outside of the hospital, and it had been nearly impossible to get out unseen. In the end, they had made their escape in the back of an ambulance, only switching to their van a few blocks down the road.
Now, though, they are home. And their son is, too.
Isangie is small and pink and lovely. He’s long and narrow, Namjoon’s genes, doubtlessly, but his cheeks are chubby, his legs and belly pudgy. He is the most perfect thing Yoongi has ever laid eyes on. Right after birth, he had been admittedly pretty wrinkled and ugly, but Yoongi had loved him at first sight anyway.
Yoongi bends down his head to gently run his nose through the tuft of black downy hair, scenting him as well. Soon enough, instincts would drive the infant to return the favor.
“Welcome home, Isangie,” Yoongi whispers, his mouth against the crown of the baby’s head, and Isangie gives a tiny mewl in response, his mouth pink and curled up at the corners.
“How about a picture of the happy family?” Hoseok asks and Yoongi glances up to see that the others are gathered around them, keeping a tentative distance, giving them space. Yoongi had given birth in the small hours of the morning, and the others had come to visit around noon, but only for a little while. Now they are curious and eager, and Yoongi cannot blame them for it.
“For us or for Twitter?” he asks and Hoseok looks slightly chagrined.
“Well,” he says. “It is just in time for Festa.”
“Ugh,” Yoongi says, wriggling around a little to get more comfortable, leaning into Namjoon’s side. If he had thought he felt needy after getting his mating bite, then it’s nothing compared to what he is experiencing now. All he wants is to be close to his alpha, to make sure both he and their child are well protected. “Okay, fine, whatever.”
Namjoon doesn’t verbalize his opinion on the matter. Perhaps his instinct to shelter his mate and offspring is overpowered by his pride. Perhaps he wants to show them off, just a little. Perhaps Yoongi doesn’t mind all that much.
When Hoseok pulls out his phone, they should probably at least make a token effort to look at the camera – but it’s impossible. Isangie snuffles and scrunches up his nose and vaguely balls his tiny hands into tiny fists, and Yoongi’s brain is very effectively turned into mush by the onslaught of endorphins.
He hears the click of the camera, knows his expression must be utterly starstruck, but he doesn’t much care. For now, he just basks in the scent of his proud alpha and their newborn.
Later, he’ll check their Twitter, the millions of likes and retweets they got, and the caption Hoseok saw fit to add, and he’ll maybe snicker a little, and marvel at how much sense it makes to see the three of them together like this. Happy family indeed.
Single: Isangie
Producers: Suga, RM
Year: 2020
When Isangie cries that first night, Yoongi is awake immediately, his eyes snapping open in a kind of alertness he had not expected with how exhausted he still is. He gets out of bed, hearing Namjoon groan behind him and roll over.
“I’ll take him,” Yoongi mutters, listening for another groan that sounds more affirmative.
The cradle stands at the foot of the bed and Yoongi blindly reaches inside, led more by instincts than sight. Isangie’s breath hitches at the first touch but, instead of gearing up for a louder scream, he just whimpers quietly against Yoongi’s chest.
“Hey, baby,” Yoongi coos, carrying him out of the room on socked feet. “What are you making a ruckus for?”
Isangie only whimpers again and, of course, doesn’t actually say anything. Yoongi weighs his butt in his hand, and the diaper feels neither heavy nor warm, so that can’t have been it. Considering he stopped crying the moment he was picked up, it’s probably not hunger either, but rather thirst for attention.
So Yoongi makes his way into the nursery next door, Namjoon’s old room that they had remodeled during a Run episode, bright and happy and with entirely too many toys already. There’s a sofa in the corner and Yoongi sits down on it, prepared to spend the next hour rocking Isangie back to sleep.
It must be terribly confusing for a baby to suddenly be in a world where it can no longer hear a heartbeat, feel the familiar warmth of the womb. Maybe Yoongi ought to download those in-utero soundscapes and play them, help him calm down a little.
But, if he is honest with himself, it also feels pretty weird to no longer be pregnant. The last few weeks had been harrowing, especially since he found himself with entirely too much free time than he was comfortable with. Now, with his belly still swollen but empty, he sort of misses feeling Isangie move around inside of him. He misses knowing where he is. Hopefully, that would not turn into some fucked up kind of separation anxiety.
Isangie, luckily, quiets down quickly. He’s got one thumb in his mouth, the other hand hooked into the collar of Yoongi’s sleep shirt. It probably wouldn’t be this easy every night, but Yoongi appreciates it.
It is also, he realizes, the first time he has been completely alone with his child. Before, there were always nurses and doctors and the members around. Now it is calm.
Gently, Yoongi runs a finger along Isangie’s plump cheek, silently hoping that he’d have dimples like Namjoon. That he would be kind like Namjoon, and tender.
“Your appa is the best thing that ever happened to me, you know?” Yoongi tells him quietly. “Without him, I wouldn’t have my friends and the fans and the fame. And I wouldn’t have you.”
Where would he be instead, he wonders and then immediately scolds himself because it doesn’t really matter.
What matters is the mating bite on his neck, and the way Namjoon had held his hand during the birth. What matters is that, so far, Yoongi hasn’t changed a single diaper because Namjoon was always quicker. What matters is that Yoongi couldn’t be happier.
“I love you,” he says, bending down to kiss Isangie’s forehead. “So much.”
Isangie makes a breathy little sound in response and then settles back in to sleep. Yoongi could probably put him back into the cradle and return to bed himself, but he allows himself to just sit there some more, enjoy the quiet moment.
“Hey,” Namjoon says suddenly, making Yoongi look up. He is standing in the doorway, but then comes in, sits down beside Yoongi, leaning in for a kiss. His mouth tastes a bit stale, but Yoongi’s does, too, so he doesn’t complain.
Then, however, Namjoon ducks his head to fit his mouth over the side of Yoongi’s neck, reaffirming the mating bite as he has done so often during the past few weeks, preferably in public.
“You’re terrible,” Yoongi sighs, though he has admittedly grown quite fond of it.
“I thought I was the best thing that ever happened to you?” Namjoon teases him and Yoongi stills.
“You heard that,” he realizes.
“Every word.”
“Ugh.” Yoongi pointedly looks away. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
“Too late.” Namjoon presses another kiss to the shell of his ear. “I am irrevocably devoted to you.”
And that is something that Yoongi has finally managed to wrap his head around. Back after their mating, after that fateful Twitter reveal that blew up the internet, they did a vlive during which they explained everything to the fans. How they first grew aware of the bond. How their instincts knew before they did how well suited they were to each other. How compatible. So yes, it was an accident. But a good one. Serendipity, as Namjoon had said with a smile.
The world had welcomed it. It was a scandal still and would always be. But it was also one that made sense.
“Come back to bed?” Namjoon asks, offering Yoongi his hand as he stands up. Yoongi takes it without hesitation.
Life with a baby is unpredictable, but routine takes over surprisingly quickly.
After that first week during which Yoongi allows no one but Namjoon to handle Isang, he grows more comfortable to let others? take over now and then. They rotate diaper duty, and that in itself makes things all the more bearable.
It’s how things used to work in the olden days, and Yoongi is beginning to understand why. Back when people still lived in cohorts, in packs, instead of nuclear families, raising the children was not a duty pushed solely onto the birthing parent. Rather, kids were taken care of by everyone equally, lots of aunts and uncles, which allowed for everyone to get enough downtime. Because babies are a 24/7 job and no one should be expected to manage that on their own.
Slowly, Isangie grows used to the scents and voices of the others. In newborns, their sight is still impaired, unfocused, unable to really tell things apart, so their sense of smell and hearing is what helps them differentiate between people. So they all avoid strong deodorants and perfumes, carrying Isang around with his nose nestled against their necks.
It’s curious to see the different ways in which they interact with him. Seokjin is kind of no nonsense, the way Yoongi remembers his own mother being, changing diapers efficiently, but then suddenly pulling silly faces and making funny noises to distract Isangie and make him laugh.
Hoseok is much like Seokjin, to an extent, a bit more energetic, but learning quickly when it becomes too much, when he needs to quiet down. Then he holds Isang calmly and with a confidence Yoongi had not quite expected of him, only for him to turn around and put his sunglasses on Isang’s tiny nose.
Taehyung is enthusiastic, a little over-eager, talks to the baby the same way he talks to his dog. He snaps endless pictures, films videos when Isang is not even doing much of anything, never grows tired of being around him.
So much for the betas, neutral and assured in their dynamic and their general hierarchy. For Jimin and Jungkook, it’s a little more difficult.
Jungkook, at first, is circumspect with Isang, never wants to hold him for long, doesn’t really scent him. It takes a long heart-to-heart from Namjoon to make him realize that, even as an alpha, he is still part of the family and not taking any undue liberties which a child that is not his. After that, he grows more affectionate, proudly calling himself hyung and letting Isang sleep on his belly as he plays video games.
Jimin, in a way, has it even harder. As an omega, he is naturally more attuned to Isang’s needs, while Isang is more easily comforted by his softer scent. Jimin handles him instinctively, but with an underlying reluctance to it. It’s the expectations, Yoongi suspects, the pressure. As though having forgotten the scandal of the first one, people are eager for another Bangtan baby. And Jimin loves children, doubtlessly, but he’s long since grown sick of being reduced to his body.
“One day,” he tells Yoongi quietly, when the dorm is mostly dark around them and Isang has fallen asleep after being gassy and cranky all day. “Maybe one day he will be hyung or oppa for mine.”
“There’s no rush,” Yoongi reminds him. “You’re still young.”
“And I haven’t found the right alpha,” Jimin muses and that’s a good point as well.
Yoongi has found the right alpha and he knows it every time he sees Namjoon so much as look at their son.
Namjoon gets up whenever needed without complaint. He throws out some of his stuff so their bedroom is not overcrowded. He has strong words with the company board when they want to push for the comeback.
What Yoongi loves the most, though, is when Namjoon rocks Isangie to sleep. He never sits down when he does it, walking up and down, Isangie usually draped across his forearm like a leopard on a branch. Namjoon doesn’t take his eyes off him then, just singing or rapping quietly, often enough off-key and without much semblance of a melody. It reminds Yoongi of when Namjoon is recording a guide for a song, a little bit rushed, too enamored with his idea to really care about perfection, just wanting to get it out there, unpolished and sincere.
It’s during times like these that Yoongi knows with absolute certainty that it is not his instincts that drove him here. It’s love.
Yoongi fiddles with the camera once more, makes sure that the angle is good. He sets his empty teacup aside, out of view, brushes imaginary crumbs off the surface of the desk. Then he turns on vlive.
“Hello, everyone,” he says. Instead of a hand, he lifts his shoulders in lieu of a greeting. “It’s been a while.”
Four months now, if he remembers correctly. The last one was after he and Namjoon had given each other the bite and officially announced their mating. They are just at the threshold of summer now, and he had given birth five weeks ago.
“Let’s wait for some more people to come in,” he tells those that are already online. He clicks his tongue as he watches the number rapidly climb up. This would probably break some records again.
There’s heart and emojis in the chat window, thousands of well wishes and questions fired like machine guns, dozens of languages, some of which he doesn’t even recognize. Crazy to think that so many people are excited for something so small.
He leans forward, reading one of the Korean messages out loud.
“’Will you introduce us to Isangie?’ – Yes, in a moment. He’s just woken up from a nap.”
He leans back in his office chair, twists his head around.
“Joon-ah!” he calls and nothing more. A second later, he can hear footsteps coming down the hallway.
When the door opens, Yoongi cannot help but smile.
Namjoon is in a tank top and big glasses and he very carefully nudges the door open with his shoulder. Cradled in the crook of his arm is Isang, still swaddled in a thin blanket.
“Are we live?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi nods, beckons him closer.
“Hi, ARMY,” Namjoon greets, stepping over and slightly bending over in front of the camera so that Isang can be seen. Like this, his tiny round face is in full view. “Here is our eighth member: Kim Isang!”
While Yoongi had opted to keep his own family name, they had agreed that Isang should take Namjoon’s. It was only fair after how long Namjoon had not been allowed to call himself a father.
Namjoon sits down in the other chair, maneuvering Isang around. Isangie’s small hand is curled around Namjoon’s index finger and Namjoon makes him wave at the camera.
“Say hello to ARMY, Isangie,” he croons, before dipping down to press a kiss to the top of Isang’s head. Isang makes a smacking noise with his pink mouth and then his murky eyes open, blearily looking around.
Yoongi watches fondly, trying to school his features so he doesn’t look entirely demented in front of – he checks the numbers again – four million people already.
He sucks in a breath between his teeth.
“Guess we can start with the questions then,” he says. “I’m sure you have plenty.”
He leans closer again, squints his eyes. “’Who does he take after?’”
“That’s hard to tell, at this point,” Namjoon muses.
“I think he will grow pretty tall, like Joonie,” Yoongi says. “He has long limbs.”
“But,” Namjoon says. “He has your mouth. Like a flower.”
“A flower?” Yoongi echoes with a frown.
“Yeah,” Namjoon insists. “Like, with the petals all rosy and curled up.”
“Anyway,” Yoongi moves on, ignoring the blush in his cheeks as he reads another comment. “’I’m pregnant and terrified of giving birth. How was it for you?’”
Yoongi has to think about that one for a second. He doesn’t want to scare other prospective parents, but he also doesn’t want to sugarcoat things.
“Honestly, I don’t remember all the details. I guess that’s how the mind works, to get you over the trauma.” He pauses, rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “It was painful, definitely. I was in labor for five hours. Which I was told isn’t even that long, so I guess I was lucky?”
He scrunches up his nose, resists the urge to run a palm over his slowly receding belly.
“There’s a lot of stuff people don’t tell you about pregnancy and giving birth and everything after. Frankly, a lot of it is awful. Half of the time, your body feels like your enemy. Your brain does weird things. And then it takes ages to recover. But-“ His gaze cuts over to Isang. “I’d say it’s worth it.”
“I know, as an alpha, my opinion is only secondary here,” Namjoon says. “But, for me it wasn’t a walk in the park either.”
He bites his lower lip, looks down at Isang as well.
“To be honest, I was incredibly scared the entire time,” he confesses. “We had the best doctors on site, of course. But I just kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong. If Isangie didn’t get enough oxygen, if he had some sort of birth defect, if he would need surgery. And- and it was horrible to see hyung in so much pain.”
Namjoon had stayed with him all throughout the birth, held his hand, whispered sweet – though completely useless – words of encouragement. Yoongi had expected nothing less from him.
Namjoon’s got Isang propped up against his shoulder now and the two of them are nuzzling each other, absentmindedly, instinctively. Isang makes a contented gurring sound.
Yoongi’s mind does a very awful thing where, for a moment, it entertains the thought of a different reality. One where maybe he had died during birth. Or maybe Isang had. Or both of them.
Then Isang gives a very audible fart into his diaper, and he and Namjoon are doubled over laughing instead.
Once they have caught their breath, Yoongi turns back to the screen.
“’What kind of presents has Isangie gotten so far?’” He hums thoughtfully. “Let’s see… My parents came to visit and they brought a stuffed toy that looks like Holly. Toy Holly sits in the cradle and watches the baby at night. He takes his duties very seriously.”
“We got a ton of amazing presents, really,” Namjoon continues, and it’s true. From the members and the company, of course, but from other idol friends as well. Even the president and his wife had sent them a signed picture book and a personal letter. Perhaps Kim Isang really is the best known baby of the nation. “But I personally liked the members’ present best.”
He holds up his arm where a gold bracelet dangles prettily. Yoongi, of course, sports an identical one. And so does Isang, even if his is incredibly small and delicate where it sits on his chubby wrist.
Each bracelet has the hanja of all their names engraved in it, a perfect trinity.
It’s better than getting his name or birthday tattooed, Hoseok had explained with a big grin, which was probably true.
“Okay, next question,” Yoongi says, squinting at the chat box again. “’When did you fall in love?’”
He props his up his chin on his fist, contemplating the question.
“Ah, there wasn’t just one specific point in time, I guess,” he tries to explain. “I was in denial for a long time and I kept thinking about how complicated it all was. That everything was only happening because we developed a bond and then had a baby. So, in the beginning, I really struggled to accept how my feelings were changing. I only fully admitted it to myself when we were giving each other the bite.”
Namjoon, on the other hand, is silent for a while.
“For me, it was different,” he says. “When we were first, ah, diagnosed with the bond, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because I figured the bond must be there for a reason. And… more and more it started to make sense to me. That we would fit well together.”
He takes a big breath.
“I actually came close to confessing one time. Of course, that was the day we later found out about the baby.”
Yoongi blinks, feeling dumbfounded. His memories of that day are a mess, some moments utterly blurred out, others thrown into sharp relief.
He turns to Namjoon, a little accusatory. “Why am I only hearing about that now?”
Namjoon, however, smiles softly. “You seemed very adamant on not letting anything change between us. And I didn’t want to push. Just being your friend was an honor and-“
“Shut up,” Yoongi says, grabs Namjoon by the collar and reels him in for a kiss.
“Oh,” Namjoon says quietly, but doesn’t protest.
“Idiot,” Yoongi says and pushes him away again before swiveling back to the screen that is blowing up with hearts. Oh right, the camera. He had kind of forgotten that for a second.
For a second, Yoongi wars with himself, wonders whether it’s too much of a dick move. Then he decides he doesn’t care.
“Whoops,” he says, staring straight at the lens, even as he reaches over to ‘accidentally’ end the broadcast.
“How do you even have fans?” Namjoon laments in a weary tone but Yoongi just snorts.
“Haven’t you heard?” he teases. “I’ve been voted Most Influential Omega of 2020 .”
“What a coincidence,” Namjoon returns. “I think I was named Most Influential Alpha .”
Yoongi hums around a tight-lipped smile, leaning in for another kiss.
In truth, different sources had also called them Mates of the Year . Admittedly, Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to make of that, but it’s not like he is going to complain either.
Let the world burn in envy looking at his happiness.
Yoongi has two problems. Number one: his mate is not home. Number two: he is feeling inexplicably horny.
Since the birth, he hadn’t really let Namjoon touch him, because he felt unattractive and his body was still recovering. They had made out and exchanged handjobs, but little more than that. The exhaustion that came with having a child to take care of was killer on their libido.
Now, mostly back in shape after rigorous training and with only some stretch marks around his hips, Yoongi wants to feel wanted.
When will you be home? he texts Namjoon, hoping for a swift answer. He gets it.
15 mins, tops, Namjoon replies. Meeting went quicker than expected.
He’d had another board meeting, about their stocks and his involvement in the company, taking over more production duties while the others got to focus on their mixtapes and their acting. He hadn’t actually said so yet but this was Namjoon’s way of thinking ahead, of preparing for a future when they were no longer idols.
And Yoongi doesn’t think that should make him hotter than he already is, but it really really does.
He’s almost alone at the dorm, apart from Jungkook and Isang, of course, but that actually works out nicely. So he doesn’t let himself overthink, just carries Isangie down the hallway, through the living room and toward Jungkook’s bedroom where the door is slightly ajar.
“Kook-ah,” he says, sticking his head in, unsurprised to find Jungkook in front of his laptop and playing Overwatch. “Can you watch Isangie for a few hours?”
“Uh, sure,” Jungkook says, not even dragging his eyes away from the screen. “Are you going out?”
Unfortunately, Yoongi cannot think of an excuse, so the truth will have to do. “No, er, just waiting for Joon-ah to get home.”
At that, Jungkook does turn his head. His nostrils flare.
“Oh,” he says and his ears redden, visibly embarrassed. “Yeah, no problem, give him here.”
Yoongi fights the feeling of humiliation, just waits for Jungkook to pull on one of the baby slings that everyone seems to have acquired. Jungkook’s is black-and-white checkered, Seokjin’s is pale pink, and Taehyung seems to own one for every day of the week.
“Come here, Isangie,” Jungkook says, taking him from Yoongi and maneuvering him into the sling, making sure they are both comfy. “Your parents need some quality time.”
Yoongi’s mouth opens, ready to retort, but then he thinks better of it.
“Turn down the sound a little,” he just reminds Jungkook because he tends to forget that baby ears are not made for certain noise levels.
“I think I’ll just put on my headphones,” Jungkook says innocently as though he weren’t rather protecting himself than Isangie.
“Fine, whatever,” Yoongi waves him off, ignoring the faint heat in his cheeks. He closes the door for good measure.
He has to wait ten more minutes for Namjoon to return and every second is agony.
Finally, he hears the key jiggle in the lock, hears the front door open, hears someone step in, hears the door fall shut again. He hears socked feet thudding down the hallway and presses his knees together to stop himself from squirming.
“Hey,” Namjoon says, a bit distractedly, as he enters their room, setting his keys and phone on top of the dresser. He is wearing business casual, a crisp white dress shirt with a skinny tie. The cut of the dark slacks makes his legs seem even longer than they already. One of his hands comes up to undo the first two buttons of the shirt, plucking at the collar.
Yoongi, kneeling on the bed, spreads his legs just a little.
Immediately, Namjoon stills, glances over at him.
Like Jungkook, he must smell the arousal on him, but his reaction is rather different.
“Ah.” He gives a small laugh, ducks his head. “Is that why you wanted me to come home?”
“So?” Yoongi challenges, cocking an eyebrow.
Namjoon gives a chagrined smile, runs a hand through his hair.
“I could suck you off, if you want to?” he offers, but doesn’t actually make a move toward the bed. Yoongi decides to bring out the big guns.
He climbs off the mattress, very aware of how he is wearing nothing but one of Namjoon’s old cable-knit sweaters, the sleeves much too long, covering his hands.
“Hyung,” Namjoon warns but pushes the door shut with his heel, like maybe he knows this is inevitable.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Yoongi mutters as he comes to stand in front of him, ghosting his fingers over Namjoon’s belt buckle. He keeps his voice low and his gaze down because he’s not good at this whole seduction thing.
Words like these don’t come easy to him, so he just takes one last step closer, presses himself up against Namjoon, grinding his half-hard cock against his thigh, standing on his tiptoes to reach for a kiss.
“Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon- whines almost, leaning his head back and away. “I want to, I really do, but you’re not all healed up yet and you’re only going to hurt yourself if-“
Yoongi, however, just takes his hand and leads it, all the way around, under the sweater, a little bit up and-
Namjoon sucks in a quick breath of surprise, his fingertip dipping into Yoongi’s hole.
“That’s… unexpected,” he says, sounding rather strangled.
Yoongi bites at his earlobe.
“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” he growls, pushes a sealed condom into Namjoon’s loosely curled fist.
“Yeah,” Namjoon nods quickly, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”
And then he is grabbing Yoongi, hoisting him up by the thighs, carrying him across the room and over to the old armchair that’s standing by the window, early evening sunlight filtering through the glass in shades of honey.
They don’t bother with undressing completely. Namjoon’s shirt would probably need to get taken to the drycleaners after this, or maybe they would just have to throw it out in embarrassment. Sometimes, being rich and not having to worry about money has its perks.
“C’m here,” Namjoon murmurs, settling down on the armchair with Yoongi kneeling above his lap. His palm whispers across Yoongi’s bare ass again before he pushes his finger all the way in. “Think you’re wet enough?”
“Y-yeah,” Yoongi stutters out, leaning back into the touch. “The condom’s lubed up.”
“Okay.” Namjoon nods, pulls back to start undoing his own pants, making swift work of the belt and the zipper, pushing all nasty metal bits aside so they won’t bite at Yoongi’s exposed skin. He strokes his cock a couple of times, works it to full hardness.
Yoongi shivers in anticipation, watches as Namjoon pries open the wrapper and then rolls the condom on with steady hands.
Absurdly, Yoongi finds himself thinking that, if they had been as careful the first time they had sex, they most likely wouldn’t even be here. They wouldn’t have Isangie and they wouldn’t be mates. Really, some mistakes were blessings in disguise.
They shuffle around a little until Yoongi is poised directly above Namjoon’s erection; then, Namjoon carefully guides him down.Yoongi trembles as he feels the pressure against his hole, feels himself opening up around it. Over three months after the birth and his doctor had long since given him the green light for sex, but it’s not like either Yoongi nor Namjoon had felt entirely comfortable with that.
Namjoon, as always, was much too preoccupied with Yoongi’s well-being, constantly worried that he might hurt him or unduly urge him to have sex. Yoongi, on the other hand, had his doubts about whether it would feel the same.
His body has changed, in many ways, and he is very aware of that. A small vain part of him just doesn’t want Namjoon to find it out yet.
So this moment now is a compromise, something they can both be happy with. And God, Yoongi doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.
The angle happens to be just so immediately perfect that it leaves Yoongi breathless, caught in limbo as his body wants to bear down or wriggle away from the pleasure.
“This okay?” Namjoon asks. He sounds strained, as though he is keeping himself from just bucking up and into Yoongi.
“Yeah,” Yoongi manages to get out, fully seating himself on Namjoon’s cock. He had opened himself up with his fingers before, but the sensation now is something else. Deeper, fuller, more intimate. “You can, ah, move.”
Namjoon does, but subtly so, and for a minute they are just grinding against each other like that, getting used to the tightness, the feeling of being joint once more.
Yoongi locks his arms behind Namjoon’s head, pulls him in. They kiss, their lips whispering across each other, little sighs in-between.
Steadily, they grow more daring, remembering the rhythm they used to have in this. Yoongi lifts himself up, sinks down again, thighs burning with each time he does it.
The movement has made the sweater slip already, but Namjoon smoothes his palms up along Yoongi’s pale thighs, makes the fabric hike up further. Then, his hands are cupping the globes of Yoongi’s ass, squeezing them tightly, guiding Yoongi through his thrusts with a strong grip.
“We should, ah, definitely do this more often,” Yoongi comments, eyes slipping shut as Namjoon’s laughs faintly against his cheek.
“More often when?” he asks. “We never have time and, when we do, we are dead on our feet.”
“I’ll pencil it into our schedules,” Yoongi says, breath hitching when the next thrust strikes him just right. “Or drop by your studio when I feel like it.”
“ Fuck ,” Namjoon curses quietly, drawing out the syllable, obviously not opposed to the idea. “You want to fuck at the studio?”
To be honest, Yoongi isn’t sure whether he’d actually dare to go through with it but, in this very moment, the fantasy is enough.
“Yesss,” he says, pushing down harder. “Yes.”
So maybe there is not much time for romance and eroticism when you have a baby in tow wherever you go but, in a way, that just makes the scant minutes alone all the more special.
Much as they want to, it’s rare for them to really get to spend time together like a normal family, to just go to a park without having to worry about overzealous fans intruding on their privacy.
But they live in a gated community that luckily comes with a small playground. Sometimes, the other members take Isang down there to play in the sand and watch the other children. But, more often than not, it’s Yoongi and Namjoon when they are in need of a bit of a break and some fresh air.
In the beginning, the other parents had been somewhat circumspect of having them around, but by now they are a familiar sight. One day, Namjoon had struck up a conversation with another omega who was watching over his twins, and somehow the atmosphere had shifted. Now, they are just two young parents, wiping away spit, sprinting at record speed to pluck the most random things out of a curious mouth, bags under their eyes because last night was tough.
It’s one of those days now, when Yoongi is sitting half-asleep on a swing, Isang cradled in his lap, while Namjoon gently pushes them into motion. They are both pretty much zombified while Isang keeps blubbering to himself, reaching up his hands and grabbing for imaginary butterflies.
Yoongi had always thought he knew tiredness. He knew sleep deprivation. He knew bone-deep exhaustion after a week of comeback insanity.
He was wrong.
Truth is, you haven’t really been tired until you tried to eat while simultaneously stopping your baby from spitting his food all over the table. You haven’t been tired until your baby was screaming most of the day and you couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. You haven’t been tired until you were kept from sleeping at night because your womb was shrinking back to its original size and the cramps were driving you up the wall.
Sometimes, Yoongi thinks of Namjoon’s looming military service and is fucking terrified. Because how can he possibly do this on his own, how does anyone ever manage, how will he spend nearly two years alone with a toddler who is bound to paint the walls with crayons and eat questionable things and have chickenpox or a really nasty cough and who won’t eat his vegetables or refuse to fall asleep because his appa is not there and he misses him-
It always takes Yoongi a moment to wrangle himself free from those spiraling thoughts, to remind himself that the maknae line had promised to stay with him until Namjoon’s service was done. And it wouldn’t be the same, obviously, but it would be something.
Yoongi cranes his head back, blearily gazing up at Namjoon. Namjoon, for his part, has his eyes closed, looking like he might be asleep on his feet.
“Should we head back?” Yoongi asks, and the question at least manages to rouse his mate.
“Yeah,” Namjoon says, nodding vaguely. He takes a step back and his soles crunch on the sand. “Yeah, sure.”
Yoongi hoists Isang up, who just squeals and proceeds to drool all over Yoongi’s sleeve. Yoongi doesn’t even care. In the beginning, he had still thought that style and babies were compatible concepts. Months later, he knows that they are very much not.
The walk back to the dorm takes only five minutes, but it feels longer. Or maybe they really are that slow, Yoongi honestly cannot tell.
They stand in the elevator, huddled close together, while Isang talks to himself, all excited noises and waving hands. It’s impossible that he doesn’t seem tired at all, considering he had also spent most of the night awake.
“You look like hell,” Hoseok greets them when they come shuffling into the kitchen.
“Love you, too,” Namjoon mutters. He’s leaning his temple against the fridge, perhaps hoping that the cool metal will stave off a headache.
Hoseok contemplates the three of them for a bit, watches as Yoongi fights with the zipper of Isang’s jacket. The fact that Isang is squirming like crazy does not help.
“You know what,” Hoseok says. “How about the two of you take a bit of a break and I’ll take care of everyone’s darling?”
“But your mixtape,” Yoongi protests. He knows the members are always eager to help but he still sometimes feels bad, like he is taking more than he should ask for.
“Nonsense,” Hoseok waves him off, plucking Isang straight out of Yoongi’s arms. Isang happily kicks his feet. “I know that, when I have kids one day, you’ll do the same for me.”
At that, Namjoon and Yoongi exchange a look of silent understanding. Because the friendship between the members is precious, of course, but Yoongi rather doubts that he will willingly offer to take care of other people’s children. Not when he already has more than enough on his plate looking after his own.
“Let’s just go crash,” Namjoon says, grabbing Yoongi’s hand and pulling him in the direction of the bedroom. “I can hear my pillow calling my name.”
“Aw, shit,” Yoongi says. “The sleep deprivation is making you hallucinate.”
Instead of a proper comeback, Namjoon only makes an unintelligible noise. That’s okay, though. It’s not like Yoongi is looking to make conversation.
It’s been a long day. Their schedule is getting more crowded again and so it’s interview after photo shoot after radio recording.
Yoongi uses the downtime behind the cameras to make sure that Isangie is not being neglected. It’s not the easiest thing to constantly have to hand his baby over to someone else, but the members and the noonas and the managers are always there to help when Yoongi is needed elsewhere.
Isang, luckily, is not a fussy kid. Whenever things around him get all too loud and hectic, his nose scrunches up and chin quivers, and then everyone does their best to quiet down again.
Their own little Buddhist monk, reminding them all to center themselves, Seokjin had joked once, and it’s true in a way.
It’s impossible to completely shield Isang from all drama that idol life entails, but Yoongi thinks they are doing an okay job.
Life seems to happen all at once, but it’s the snapshots that stand out. Like Isangie and Yeontan trading a biscuit for a dog treat. Or spending lazy Sunday mornings just cuddled up in bed and not doing much of anything.
Or, as today, taking a relaxing bath together.
Yoongi is piling bubbles onto Isang’s head, like a white mohawk, careful to not let any get into his eyes.
“Look,” he snickers. “Like you in Do You .”
Namjoon snorts but doesn’t disagree. Isang blows raspberries, and Yoongi blows them right back, grinning when Isang trills out a laugh.
“Shall I wash your back?” Namjoon asks, washcloth already in hand.
“Please,” Yoongi says and leans forward a little.
The water is warm and soothing, and Namjoon’s hand familiar with finding the tender spots in Yoongi’s shoulders. Yoongi has to make a conscious effort not to nod off, because Isangie is slippery and he’d probably not much enjoy suddenly getting submerged.
Namjoon is kissing Yoongi’s nape now, along the side of his neck, up to his ear, nosing his hair out of the way. It feels wonderful and Yoongi is pretty sure that, if he were to press back, he would feel Namjoon’s cock twitch in interest.
“Not now,” he warns, a reminder for both of them. Now is family time. Maybe they could sneak away for an hour, though, and have one of the others watch over Isang for a little bit.
“Not now,” Namjoon agrees, pressing another lingering kiss to Yoongi’s temple and, as though able to read his thoughts, adds, “But later.”
When Yoongi returns to the dorm, Jimin is sitting on the sofa in the living room, taking selfies.
“Jiminie,” he sighs in exasperation. “Where is my kid?”
Jimin just glances up and smiles. “Taetae has him.”
Yoongi gives him a look. “Why do I even ask you to babysit when you are just going to pawn him off again?”
“But Tae always asks so nicely,” Jimin whines. “I can’t say no to that.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes heavenward. “I bet he dressed the baby and the dog in stupid costumes again.”
“Hey, let him have his fun.”
“My firstborn is not a toy,” Yoongi complains, but Jimin only cocks an eyebrow before pointedly looking down at Yoongi’s flat belly.
“Firstborn, huh?” he teases. “Are you planning on making more anytime soon?”
“Shut up,” Yoongi says, blushing as he swiftly turns toward the hallway.
“Hey, the walls here as not as thick as the rent money might make you think!” Jimin calls after him, but Yoongi only stomps his feet in his haste to get away.
As expected, he finds Taehyung in his room, in the company of both Isang and Yeontan.
“Tae,” Yoongi groans, only for Taehyung to smile widely, proudly lifting up the baby.
“Look, he is a tiny dragon!” he cheers. At his feet, Yeontan sits decked out in what seems to be a knight’s armor made of plush. “Isn’t this adorable?”
“It is not adorable,” Yoongi tells him bluntly, though it is a tiny bit adorable.
“You are such a spoilsport, hyung,” Taehyung pouts. “I took lots and lots of pictures, though.”
“Did you post them anywhere?”
“No, of course not!” Taehyung insists. They had agreed that Isang would not be used for undue social media attention and, so far, everyone had kept to the rule, though it was sometimes difficult to keep from showing off all the pictures and videos they took.
“Good,” Yoongi says as he takes Isang from Taehyung and begins to unbutton the dragon costume. “But you can send them to me later.”
At that, Taehyung grins happily and Yoongi smiles back, indulgent. After all, it wouldn’t do to get on his babysitter’s bad side.
Isang squeals, pats his palm against Yoongi’s cheek. His fingernails have gotten long again; they’d need to cut them soon.
“Hey, my little monster,” Yoongi greets, though Isang is, under most circumstances, an angel. “Wanna take a nap?”
It is, doubtlessly, one of his favorite things about having a baby: the excuse to take naps at random times and call it family bonding. Especially now that he has returned to working at the studio more regularly, he knows to enjoy the additional downtime it gets him.
Once in their room, Yoongi gets comfortable in a bed that smells of his small family, setting Isang down to rest on his chest.
Isang makes a happy little purring sound, his tiny fists bunching in the front of Yoongi’s shirt, and Yoongi presses a kiss to the fuzzy head, humming a little melody. Sometimes, he wishes he were a better singer, but it’s not like the kid is lacking for lullabies in this household. In fact, it seems like every other song Namjoon produces these days is written primarily for Isang. And for Yoongi.
“If we fall asleep now, your appa will be here when we wake up,” Yoongi promises, gently running his hand up and down Isang’s back. “How does that sound?”
Isang agrees with a yawn.
When Yoongi does wake, it’s already turning dark outside. Namjoon is half-kneeling on the mattress, leaning above them, which must be what had roused him.
“Hey,” Namjoon whispers.
“Hey,” Yoongi mutters back, blinking slowly and feeling somewhat groggy. It’s probably time for dinner but he wishes the three of them could just cuddle up for another hour.
Namjoon only kisses him, first on the mouth and then angling his head to the side to fit his teeth over the bite mark that still lingers on the pale skin, almost a year later.
“If you don’t get up now, neither of you will be able to sleep through the night,” Namjoon admonishes, carefully plucking the baby out of Yoongi’s arms.
Isang wakes with a little mewl, letting himself slump in Namjoon’s arms, his head lolling back. He mumbles something that is more gibberish than anything close to an actual word, but Namjoon still beams as though he had just been read an entire encyclopedia.
“That’s right,” Namjoon coos. He’s always going on and on about the importance of speech development in children, citing various articles and studies he has read, but Yoongi tunes most of it out.
Sometimes, he wonders whether Isang would turn out to be just as much of a genius as Namjoon is, and the thought terrifies him a little bit. Other than that, though, the future is a wonderful promise.
For now, he just rolls out of bed, running a hand through his hair to make it lie flat, stuffing his bare feet into his slippers.
“You coming?” Namjoon prompts with a soft voice, waiting for him in the doorway.
“Of course,” Yoongi says and follows him.
In the dining room, the lights are warm, the table is set, and the others are already seated.
Namjoon puts Isang in his high chair. Taehyung whips out a bib and fastens it around Isang’s neck; there are tiny crocodiles on it. Seokjin starts putting the pot and pans on the table, slapping Jungkook’s hand when he tries to sneak an early bite. Isang reaches out, grabs a stray baby carrot and throws it on the floor where Yeontan is waiting with his mouth open. The dog yips happily and the baby blows raspberries, terribly amused.
It’s not the most conventional of living arrangements, Yoongi will admit that much. But, like this, the definition of family finally makes sense.