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Namjoon tries to keep as quiet as he can, knows he’s too tall not to be seen even if he’s hiding behind a tree. The giant robot is not looking his way, already at the exit of the park, busy trying to crush the hero that keeps destroying its weapons and throwing deadly punches at its mechanic parts.
It’s Saturday, the sun is heating his skin, it’s 3 pm and the park had been full of children before the robot came. Most of the families have managed to escape while Muscle Bun fought it off, but there are still a handful of civilians stuck inside the park, unable to leave. Namjoon can only watch, breathless as Muscle Bun throws one punch after another at the vile machine, drop-kicking its joint hard enough to detach one of its mechanic arm. The robot beeps, and Namjoon can imagine that the person controlling it is not too happy about the loss. He allows himself a small cheer, sending positive vibes Muscle Bun’s way as the hero visibly gains the upper hand.
This, of course, is the moment the villain chooses to be a Villain.
As Muscle Bun rushes forward to aim a punch at the firearms locked on the robot’s shoulders, it redirects its aim and fires everything he has on the small group of civilians that has been trying to quietly escape through the exit. Everything slows down then, and Namjoon watches with horror as the missiles launch towards them.
It should have been a given really, that Muscle Bun would get in front of them, protecting the civilians with his body. When the dust and fire from the explosion fade away, Muscle Bun is still standing, pants shredded and parts of his skin burned. He looks disoriented and it’s the moment the robot, in true villain fashion, choses to hammer its arm down on the poor hero, smashing him to the ground, before it roughly grabs him and sends him flying away from the scene.
There is a loud thud and a pained cry when he lands, crashing on the ground but a few feet away from Namjoon’s hiding spot.
Namjoon freezes, watching the hero’s chest heaves, wheezing exhales leaving his bruised lips. The robot is gloating, gleefully as it escapes the park to god knows where now that Muscle Bun is no longer in its way.
Lowlife , Namjoon curses, gripping the trunk of the tree tightly. The civilians are safe at least, but he doubt the kids are ever going to forget the explosion that almost blew their parents away.
He hears a whimper, the thud of Muscle Bun’s head falling to the ground as he tries to get up despite his injuries, and Namjoon rushes forward, kneeling by the hero’s side.
Despite the burns, the gashes and the bruises, there is no mistaking the identity of the person on the ground - here lies Jeon Jungkook, 2nd year art student, professional hero, college sweetheart (who he does not have a crush on). His identity has never been a secret for anyone, but it is one thing to see him fight from afar, glorious and powerful, and another to see the sweet face of his schoolmate bloody and distorted with pain.
Jungkook attempts to sit up, and from the way he’s breathing there are definitely a few broken ribs in here.
“Don’t move,” Namjoon says, pushing down on his shoulders. “Stay still, I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No,” Jungkook wheezes, pushing against Namjoon’s hands - and even in this state Namjoon can feel his strength. “Need to- go back-”
“You can’t go back like that,” Namjoon hisses, worry tinting his voice. From this close and in this state Muscle Bun looks nothing more than the 19 years old kid named Jeon Jungkook, and Namjoon anguishes to see him going back into battle like that.
Jungkook manages to roll on his side despite him, fingers digging into the ground as he fights not to whimper from the pain.
“Stop moving,” Namjoon repeats, tries to sound firm but he’s begging just a bit.
There is an explosion in the distance and a few cries and Namjoon hopes there is another hero around to take care of it - there is always a hero around to take care of things isn’t there?
Jungkook pushes himself up on his elbows, slowly forcing himself into a sitting position, and despite the blood on his skin Namjoon can see his eyes glow with determination.
“Stay hidden,” Jungkook says. “I’ll deal with it.”
It’s awful really, awful enough that Namjoon’s chest tingles, reminding him of the one way he could maybe be of use to the hero. It has been a while since he’s had to think about his ability. It has been longer still since he’s had to actually use it.
“Wait,” he grabs Jungkook’s neck before he can try to get up any further. “Wait I-” He doesn’t think, lifts up his shirt enough that he can bite on it, and Jungkook blinks, focusing on his chest.
“Uh?” he mumbles, voice weak and hoarse. “I’m not interest-” he tries but Namjoon is pulling his head towards him before he can say anything more. Jungkook’s teeth knock against his nipple and Namjoon bites back a hiss, quickly grabbing his pec and squeezing to make the milk leak.
Jungkook stills, and Namjoon sees some milk drip down his chin - it’s not going in his mouth , he realizes, panicking, he’s not drinking it . He’s not strong enough to force the hero to open up for him, is just going to end up being the guy who showed his boobs to a battered hero like a pervert.
A tongue flicks out to lick his leaking nipple.
Jungkook whines, and in the next second there are lips latching around his nipple and an arm wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. Relief floods him and he stops squeezing himself, allowing Jungkook’s hand to grab on his boob to speed up the stream. He hears Jungkook gulping, swallowing the milk gushing into his mouth, feels him trying to suck more of the liquid out of his tit, and when he checks his body, the burn and scars he was sporting seconds ago are already fading away.
Thank god.
Namjoon feels his heart calm down as the hero grows more impatient, drinking from him like a man starved. He keeps his hand on Jungkook’s head, cradling him almost like an infant he’s breastfeeding - and to some extent it is what’s happening. Namjoon is breastfeeding, but Jungkook is not an infant and Namjoon’s milk is steadily healing all the bruises hurting him.
Jungkook almost chokes with how fast he’s drinking, rough as he draws more and more milk out of him. The seconds go by and his hold on him become tighter, the hero stronger as his bones heal. Namjoon surveys Jungkook’s body with watchful eyes, making sure all the gashes are closing up, all the burns are smoothing away. Soon enough he cannot see any more bruises on the hero’s skin, but he waits a few seconds more to give his blood time to stem again.
Jungkook makes a small noise, close to a moan, teeth sinking into the brown areola. Namjoon tugs on his hair to pull him away but the hero is way too strong for him now, groaning in protest as he continues stealing more than his fair share of milk.
“Jun- Muscle Bun,” Namjoon tries through the fabric in his mouth. “The Robot-” There’s another explosion in the distance and it’s enough to break Jungkook out of his trance.
He pulls back at once, eyes wide and milk running down his chin. He’s alert, eyes trained in the distance, brows setting in a frown.
He’s up before Namjoon can say anything, before he even has the presence of mind to cover his chest again. He watches as the hero takes off, running to the end of the alleyway before he startles, whipping back around to look in Namjoon’s direction.
“You stay here!” he shouts. “I’ll be right back.”
Namjoon gapes at him, shirt dropping from his mouth, watching the hero disappears completely from view. Namjoon can only imagine what Jeon Jungkook, 2nd year art student, professional hero, college sweetheart (who he does not have a crush on) - he can only imagine what Jeon Jungkook would have to say about a stranger breastfeeding him some Magic Milk in the park.
He’s long gone by the time Jungkook comes back.
When Namjoon was a kid, he dreamt he could fly. He dreamt of becoming invisible so he could hide away when he was mad at his sister. He dreamt he had rollers for feet so he never had to walk ever again. He dreamt he could photosynthesize and create oxygen so his parents could breathe a lot. He dreamt he had four hands so he could play a game and read a book at the same time. He dreamt of having the power to find all the bugs in his house before his mom could see them and inflict the Slipper of Doom on them.
When Namjoon was a kid, he dreamt of acquiring an ability and becoming a superhero, like all kids his age did.
He started producing milk when he was 14 - face full of zits, voice going haywire and unsure what bisexuality meant, he realized if he pinched his pecs milk would leak out. He produced too much of the stuff, and too many times he’d had to change his shirt because wet patches had appeared around his nipples.
That had not been a good addition to puberty.
The realization of what the milk actually did only came three years later, when Namjoon, now 17, face smooth but dried by the chemicals that had fried all of his pimples, had tried to go to 2nd base with a girl one summer. She hadn’t minded the pearls of milk at Namjoon’s nipples, had leaned down to playfully lick it off him - and surprised the both of them when all the hickeys that Namjoon had zealously sucked on her neck disappeared on the spot.
That had been the grand revelation - Namjoon’s milk wasn’t a result of an unexplained hormonal imbalance. Namjoon’s milk was his long awaited, dearly dreamed about ability. He could lactate, and his milk had impressive healing properties, and that was exactly as lame as it sounded.
Needless to say, he gave up on being a hero.
Now 22, Namjoon has more important things to think about - like recycling and saving the planet from climate change. He doesn’t need to be a hero to matter, doesn’t need to be a hero to be of use. He’s just a guy with magical milk, it’s not something he has to think about a lot.
That is, until he helps Muscle Bun out.
Two puffy nipples, brown areolas and a mole sitting on the right.
Namjoon gapes, shell-shocked, at the lifelike drawing of a pair of tits staring right back at him. Hoseok is dying of laughter at his side, almost hysterical, adding to the dread currently filling him.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN? the poster asks in bold letters, right above the uncensored nipples. IF YOU KNOW WHO THESE BELONG TO PLEASE CONTACT JEON JUNGKOOK (reward possible).
“No fucking way,” he hisses, not loud enough to cover Hoseok’s wheezing laughter. “No fucking way.”
“Everywhere,” Hobi laughs, leaning on his shoulder not to fall on the floor, and Namjoon has half a mind to move away to let him plummet. “He plastered them everywhere.”
Embarrassment burns hot, enough for his back to feel sweaty and his brain to overheat. He knows they’re everywhere, he’d passed those posters on his way to college but hadn’t paid them any mind until Hobi had pointed at one and brought him to his downfall with one single question, “Hey Joon-ah, aren’t those your tits?”
Namjoon shivers at the dreadful memory, wishing for a time of ignorance and bliss. Those are his tits - so well-drawn he could be looking at a mirror, and while it speaks of Jungkook’s impressive artistic skills, all Namjoon can think about is that his boobs have been posted on the student’s board.
“Fuck!” he shouts, and tries not to think too hard about the fact Jeon Jungkook is looking for him. Hopefully he isn’t trying to sue Namjoon for sexual harassment for breastfeeding without consent.
“It’s so realistic,” Hobi comments, way too cheerful in the face of Namjoon’s doom. He grabs the poster, bringing it closer to his face to study the details of the drawing. “I’d recognize those cute choco chips anywhere.”
Of course, Hobi is an expert in choco chips. He’s been well acquainted with Namjoon’s chest ever since Namjoon had found him on a bench in 1st year, with a broken leg and ruined dreams. He still doesn’t know what possessed him to offer to breastfeed Hobi then, doesn’t know what possessed Hobi to accept - only knows a few gulps had been enough for Hobi to dance again, and for him to win a best friend.
A best friend for life, he thinks bitterly as Hobi drapes himself over his shoulders, shoving the poster in his face, repeating isn’t it cool, Joon-ah, isn’t it?
Namjoon grabs the offending item and tears it to shreds - bad move, as he gets caught red-handed by a student passing by who loudly tells him off for sabotaging Muscle Bun’s efforts to find his Boob Mole Guy.
Namjoon tunes her out, blanking after she says Boob Mole Guy.
It’s the worst June of Namjoon’s life. It’s already summer and the sun burns too hot for him not to be constantly sweaty. Usually he’d wear nothing but shorts and tank tops from June to September, but he’s scared of a nip slip and people outing him as the Boob Mole Guy.
It’s been roughly a month since the Incident, and things are just starting to calm down. After having to listen to absolutely everyone gossip about the Boob Mole Guy and hypothesizing on why Muscle Bun was searching for him, Namjoon can now finally walk the corridors without overhearing boob talks.
He still chooses to play it safe, abandoning his flimsy tank tops and resolving himself to a summer of tee-shirts and clammy armpits.
Of course this doesn’t account for the group of heroes having a water battle on the lawn after classes. The field has mostly cleared of students, who all know better than to involve themselves in heroes play-fighting. Namjoon is taking the longue route back home, circling the field to avoid the water bombs being thrown around. He’s recognized Jeon Jungkook throwing gigantic water balloons, and he grants himself a second to look at his bright smile and bunny teeth before focusing on the road ahead.
He doesn't see his downfall coming. One second there is boisterous laughter and another a 'wait- watch out!' and by that time Namjoon is already drenched, a white noise ringing in his ears because of the sound of the big balloon exploding on him. Cold water rivulets down his scalp, cooling up his heating body, and it would be a welcome respite from the heat if there hadn't been the ringing. He closes his hand, mourning the probable death of his phone, but he finds himself holding onto thin air, phone gone from his hands and when he opens his eyes he finds the item in Park Jimin's palm, safe and sound.
“Oh god-” someone rushes to him, “I’m so sorry, I was aiming for Jimin but he deflected it.”
He recognizes the voice before he even turns to look at its owner, and sure enough, there stands Jeon Jungkook, 2nd year art student, professional hero, college sweetheart who he does not have a crush on, and newly titty showman. Water drips from his wet eyelashes when he blinks at him, meeting Jungkook's apologetic eyes.
“Jimin got your phone away before it hit," he says. "I have spare clothes in my locker, I can lend you some? I really am sorry.”
“It’s ok," Namjoon says, captivated by the strands of wet hair falling over Jungkook's forehead and the pretty pupils blown up in worry.
“It’s not, we were careless,” Jungkook is looking him over, checking the extent of the damage. “I’m sorry, I’ll lend you some-” he freezes mid-sentence, eyes stuck on his chest and Namjoon realizes too late the white fabric became see through. “Oh my god, it’s you,” Jungkook whispers.
Namjoon has had to live through spontaneous bouts of lactation during PE when he was 15 and yet he can confidently say that Jeon Jungkook recognizing him from his tits alone is the most mortifying thing that has ever happened in his life.
The sun is so hot he’s sweaty again as soon as his skin dries. His shirt feels moist, not quite dry yet and his nipples can still be seen through the material. He knows this because Jungkook stands in front of him and hasn’t looked up once since he’d sat down on the bench.
“Sorry, again, for the water bomb,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes trained on his chest. “And I- I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I wasn’t sure how to find you, so I put up posters-”
“Yeah, I saw,” Namjoon says dryly.
“Can I see them?” Jungkook asks, now a faint blush on his cheeks. Namjoon has half a mind to tell him his eyes are up there, but Jungkook is cute so he doesn’t.
He does cross his arms over his tits and tucks his hands under his armpits for further protection though. “No?” he answers.
Jungkook looks utterly disappointed, face falling, and Namjoon almost takes off his shirt to make him stop pouting. Before he can do anything, Jungkook’s gaze trails lower and stops dead on his thighs - shorts still wet and riding up, exposing every inches of Namjoon’s legs.
“Wow,” Jungkook mumbles quietly.
Park Jimin, famously known as Telekinetic Manifesto, currently standing at Jungkook’s side and watching him make a fool of himself, saves them both any further embarrassment by clearing his throat.
“Do you actually produce magic milk?” he says, doubt evident in his tone. Namjoon nods gingerly. “What type of injuries can you heal?”
“All of them? I haven’t used my ability a lot.”
“Right,” Jimin drawls. “You sound completely useless.”
The jab is uncalled for and Namjoon is stunned into silence. He’s never talked to Park Jimin before today, only ever thought he was small in his head in passing. Unless he’s a telepath, Jimin shouldn’t have any reason to dislike him.
Jungkook seems to have focused back on the current conversation, glaring at Jimin before fixing his sheepish gaze on him. “Sorry about him but- um. We actually might need some of your healing milk.”
When they enter his room, Kim Taehyung shoves a pair of eyepatches in Jimin’s face and very excitedly asks him which one would fit him best.
Namjoon has seen Kim Taehyung a lot around campus, but he remembers him very differently than how he appears right now on his hospital bed. Half of his face is covered by white bandages, and both his legs are trapped in casts lovingly decorated. He knows T-Rex had been injured in his last battle, and from the grief on the heroes face some weeks ago he’d gathered the injury had been bad, but it’s something else to see the handsome, cheerful hero trapped on a hospital bed, visibly thinner than two months ago.
“Which one?” Taehyung repeats, and he’s smiling wide even if there’s been a visible drop in his friend’s shoulders since they’ve entered the Hero Medical Center.
Jimin takes the eye patches from him, putting them on the bedside table. “Both would look good on you Tae, but we came with someone special today.” He points behind himself and Taehyung’s eyes follow the path of his thumb, past Jungkook’s figure, until they land on Namjoon standing awkwardly by the entrance.
“Who?” Taehyung asks, tilting his head.
“It’s Jungkook’s boy,” Jimin supplies, earning a cough from Jungkook and a comical gasp from Taehyung.
“The Milk Man,” he whispers - loud enough for absolutely everyone within a mile radius to hear.
“Oh my god.” Namjoon turns an accusatory look at the side of Jungkook’s face as he resolutely does not look his way. “Please tell me this isn’t how you’ve been calling me.”
Only silence follows.
“Milk Man!” Taehyung repeats, excitement tinting his voice. “Kookie has been talking about you for weeks. He never said you were this handsome though.”
“That’s because he was too busy ogling his tits to look at his face,” Jimin mocks, and Jungkook chokes on his saliva, letting out a strangled, don’t tell him that!
Jimin superbly ignores him, turning to level Namjoon with a harsh gaze, the challenge evident in his eyes. “Some of his ribs are still broken and one of his lungs has been perfored. They’re not sure his legs will fully heal and- they know for sure his left eye is never going to see again,” Jimin lists off, eyes cold but a tremble in his voice that Namjoon doesn’t miss but doesn’t comment on. “The doctors can’t heal him, so. Can you do something?”
Namjoon looks at Taehyung, and the boy is still smiling wide, bright and merry even through Jimin’s words.
“Can I see?” Namjoon asks him, and Taehyung nods, allowing him to step forward until he stands close to Taehyung’s bed. He studies his frame and the casts on his legs - from up close he can see it’s been signed by many heroes, great names and new recruits alike. He can’t see much of Taehyung’s face though. “Can I see under your bandage?” he asks again, and Taehyung nods, but Jimin’s voice interrupts him.
“If he takes it off it’s going to be a pain to a redo it. Can you or can you not do something?” he asks, growing impatient, and while Jungkook asked Namjoon to come here, it’s obvious Jimin doesn’t believe much in his abilities. Taehyung is already taking off the bandage though, ripping it off his face like he’d been waiting for an excuse to get rid of the thing. Underneath is pale skin and a closed eye, crossed by a cut that spans from his forehead to his lips, seems to dig deep enough into his cheek that Namjoon thinks it might have been pierced.
He reaches out, gently prodding at Taehyung’s face under three pairs of curious eyes. “I think, yeah,” he says. “I can fix it.”
He feels Jimin’s eyes burning into his back, knows the guy doesn’t trust him much. He also feels Jungkook’s hopeful gaze, and feels a pang of hesitation at the confidence he displayed, because if it doesn’t work his disappointment will only be greater.
Taehyung only beams at him, kind and friendly, beautiful even with the hideous scar. “It’s ok if you can’t! But I’m curious about your milk, Milk Man. Do I need a glass? A sippy cup? Oh,” his eyes widen and he turns to Jimin. “Minnie get me a baby bottle.”
“No,” Namjoon squeaks. “That’s useless. You need to drink straight from me or it won’t work.”
Jimin huffs beside him. “Are you sure you’re not just a pervert.”
“I’m sure,” Namjoon says. “I’ve tried. It loses its properties once it comes in contact with air. You need to drink straight from me or it won’t have any effect.”
He chances a glance at Jimin, who remains silent but levels him with a look that undoubtedly means whatever you say pervert.
Namjoon does his best to ignore him to sit on Taehyung’s bed, quickly taking off his shirt and pretending he can’t hear the small gasp he hears coming from Jungkook.
“Is this ok with you?” he asks Taehyung. “I’d get it if it weirds you out or--”
Before he can finish his sentence, there is a mouth and two pointy teeth at his left nipple, digging in. Namjoon startles, a sting where Taehyung’s canines are grazing against him, milk suddenly gushing out and into Taehyung’s mouth.
Namjoon sighs and lets himself be sucked on. Taehyung is a bit rough but he cannot do anything about his teeth. Breastfeeding is a weird sensation - it relieves pressure that wasn’t there in the first place and makes him feel lighter. He used to produce excessive quantity of milk but now his body only seems to lactate when he needs it to, which is a relief for every single piece of clothing he owns.
He puts a hand on Taehyung’s nape while he drinks from him, keeping a watchful eye on him. He has a good view of his face, sees the scar tissues fade and clear, sees his eye rolling under his eyelid. Jungkook and Jimin can’t see from this angle, but Namjoon heaves out a relieved sigh when he realizes this is working.
He doesn’t move for some time more, counts the seconds in his head to estimate how long it’ll take. Taehyung drinks steadily, eyes closed and lips puckered around his nipple, no reservation whatsoever about being breastfed by a grown man he’s never met before. Namjoon gives himself two minutes, and he thinks it’s ample enough time - certainly he’s never had to breastfeed anyone more than a minute - before he pokes Taehyung’s cheek and tugs gently on his ear to make him draw back.
Taehyung sits up, lips still glistening with milk, and as Namjoon noted, the scar has faded off his face. Jimin audibly gasps.
“Did it work?” Taehyung says.
Namjoon shrugs, climbing off the bed. “Open your eyes and tell me.”
They all watch, impatient, as Taehyung’s eyelashes flutter open. He blinks a few times, and a bright, square smile stretch his lips. “It’s like switching from 2D to 3D,” he says, and then Namjoon is pushed aside as Jimin surges forward, grabbing Taehyung’s face and pressing a fat kiss on his lips.
Uh. The newspapers had definitely missed that one.
Jungkook walks up to them, eyes brimming with happy tears, and Namjoon picks up his shirt and makes to exit the room quietly.
“Wait,” Jungkook breathes out, catching his arm. “Wait for me this time? I need to- thank you, for real.”
Namjoon doesn’t think he needs to be thanked for helping out someone who’d saved hundreds of life before, but Jungkook is holding onto his arm so he nods.
He actually waits this time.
The silence is awkward, but Namjoon blames Jungkook.
They’re sitting side by side in the waiting room and Jungkook hasn’t piped a word since he’d joined him there. His eyes are still a bit red, and from the conversations he’d overheard between the nurses, Namjoon seems to understand Jimin and Taehyung have decided to have a spontaneous make out sessions as soon as the casts had been taken off Taehyung’s legs.
Jungkook is fidgeting by his side, legs jerking anxiously
“I uh-” he finally says, voice soft and barely audible before he clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Why did you leave? Instead of waiting for me, back then.” Jungkook worries his bottom lip between his teeth, resolutely looking at the ground, and Namjoon feels a pang in his chest, something that’s very close to guilt.
He looks at the wall and frowns, thinking. Why had he left? Because breastfeeding a hero without consent was creepy. Because he wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t be tattled on to the Hero Office and planked on a milking machine for extensive testing. Because he didn’t want to give his not-crush the chance to call him weird .
“I’m just a civilian,” he says. “I lactate and my milk has healing properties. It’s embarrassing enough on its own, I don’t need to be talking about it to an actual superhero too.”
Jungkook frowns slightly, and he looks up, meeting Namjoon’s gaze.
“But you saved me.”
“I didn’t,” Namjoon says. “You weren’t going to die.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “I would have got into battle again even if you weren’t there but if you hadn’t healed me… I’m not sure I’d have made it out.” He looks serious, mouth set in a line and it almost makes him forget the red rimming his eyes. “Neither me, nor the people I was able to save when I confronted the robot again. You saved us.”
Namjoon is the one who can’t look Jungkook in the eyes this time, because he’s too honest and too nice, and Namjoon is just a guy with puffy nipples.
“And you saved me.” Namjoon says, making Jungkook’s brows furrow. “No one would have made it out of that park alive if you hadn’t gotten there in time.”
“That was just- Another hero would have done the same.”
“But you did.”
“That’s just my job”, Jungkook insists. “That’s what I do.”
“And I lactate,” Namjoon counters. “That’s what I do.”
Jungkook eyes him, mouth downturned. “Can you not let me thank you for saving me?”
“Not saving if you weren’t going to die,” Namjoon reminds him, and Jungkook’s pout only grows more pronounced.
“You suck,” he mutters.
“ You suck,” Namjoon argues back, a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Jungkook’s pout slowly goes away and he lets a smile thin his own lips, the bunny teeth he’s earned his nickname making an apparition.
“I can do that,” he says. “Will you let me taste it again?” He bats eyelashes, looks coyly up at him, pretty enough that Namjoon almost says yes.
“You’re not hurt.”
“I have a cold,” Jungkook says. He coughs, once, twice, side-eyeing him. “I’m terribly sick.”
Laughter bubbles out of Namjoon before he can reign it in, louder than is acceptable in an hospital. Jungkook stops fake-coughing to watch him laugh, and breaks out in soft giggles of his own, nose pink and scrunched up cutely.
It’s not a bad day, all things considered.
Namjoon storms towards the table as soon as he sees the pair sitting down, planting his hands on the wood and using every last inches of his height to glare the two heroes down.
“What did you do?” he asks, coldly, letter still rumpled in his hands.
“Nothing?” Jungkook tries.
Jimin doesn’t look too bothered by Namjoon’s grand entrance, offering him a cheerful smile instead. “Oh Joonie-hyung! How are you?”
It gives Namjoon whiplash - in the span of a week, Jimin had gone from looking at him like he’s a pervert to greeting him cheerfully in the corridor and calling him Joonie-hyung .
“Is someone bothering you?” Jimin adds. “Say the name and we’ll deal with them.”
Namjoon’s carefully angry facade slips away to make way for confusion.
“I- You are bothering me.” He waves the letter caught in his fist. “The Hero Office is asking to meet me .”
Jungkook’s lips part into a soft oh as realization dawns on him. He gives Namjoon a sheepish look. “We couldn’t really hide how Tae was healed. We had to tell them about you.”
“And now they want to meet me? Why? ”
“Probably to run some tests. See how your ability works,” Jimin explains.
“I know how it works,” Namjoon deadpans. “I breastfeed someone, it heals them. It’s simple.”
“But what if there’s more to it?” Jungkook says, excitement seeping into his voice. “What if- What if it’s like Taehyung? You know, he has sharp teeth because he can turn into a giant extinct dinosaur. Maybe you lactate because you can turn into a cow too?”
Jungkook’s excitement quickly dies and he cowers in the next second when he meets Namjoon’s eyes. “I am not a cow. Oh my god,” Namjoon clenches his jaw, annoyance darkening his face. “What are they going to do to me? Is this what it’s about? I refuse to be plugged on a milking machine.”
“W-what?” Jungkook stutters.
“I don’t lactate on demand. I can’t be commodified . I won’t let myself be treated like cattle or my tits be pumped by machines! It’s a violation of my human rights and I won’t stand for it.”
Jungkook gapes at him, speechless, and it’s Jimin who answers him, giggling. “It’s not like that hyungie,” he says. “No one is going to milk you.”
“They won’t?” Namjoon asks, doubtful.
“No,” Jimin shakes his head. “If you agree to it they’ll probably check your DNA and the composition of your milk. You can still refuse if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Namjoon deflates, and he searches for Jungkook’s eyes. “Really?”
Jungkook nods, leaning forward. “I can come with you to the meeting, if you want. I won’t let them, uh, treat you like cattle.”
“And pump his tits with machines,” Jimin adds off-handedly, making Jungkook blush.
“Y-yeah, that too,” he blushes.
“You would? Come with me?” Namjoon asks, ignoring Jimin’s comment. Jungkook nods and Namjoon feels a weight lifting off his chest. “I’d like that actually. Thank you.”
Jungkook offers him a soft smile, that makes Namjoon’s heart flutter a bit and eases the worries of his mind.
“Ok well, I’ll let you two eat then,” Namjoon says, clearing his throat. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Jungkook says. “Do you want to sit with us? We barely started.”
Namjoon looks back behind him at Hoseok, who’s trying to discreetly spy on them from afar.
“Your friend can come too,” Jimin offers.
So Namjoon beckons Hobi over, and they share a meal with Jimin and Jungkook. It’s surprisingly pleasant, the both of them easy-going and quick to joke along with Hoseok.
He catches Jungkook looking at him sometimes, all soft wonder and quiet admiration, and Namjoon tells himself that when he stretches to reach something at the far end of the table and his tank top dips and reveals his cleavage and nipples, he’s not doing this to let Jungkook ogle him. That would be crazy.
Namjoon is deep into his biology essay when someone taps his shoulders.
It’s 6 pm, on a Sunday, and there’s usually no one in the library at this hour - so he is rather surprised when he looks up and finds Jeon Jungkook standing in front of him.
“Can I sit there?”
Namjoon looks around, lifting an eyebrow as he takes in the many empty seats all around them. He gives Jungkook a pointed look but Jungkook pretends not to understand it.
“Sure,” Namjoon says after a few seconds of Jungkook stubbornly avoiding his eyes. Jungkook sits down on his left and opens his bag, taking a bunch of mangas out of it. Namjoon snorts. “Aren’t you at least going to pretend to study?”
“I’m studying,” Jungkook says, opening up on a random page of Naruto. “I’m learning how to turn villains into friends through the power of my will and my undying determination.”
Namjoon laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He can’t help smiling, endlessly charmed by Jungkook’s antics, and the fondness linger even when he starts working again. They don’t talk, sitting side by side in silence, the rustling of pages and the clicking of keys the only sound animating them. There’s something calming about Jungkook breathing next to him, and the soft amused huffs that escape him when he finds something funny. It’s quiet, and easy, and Namjoon finds he doesn’t mind this study partner too much.
He’s the one breaking silence in the end.
“Hey Jungkook-ah?” he calls and Jungkook is quick to look at him, tilting his head. “Have you heard anything from Seokjin-ssi?”
“Oh,” Jungkook puts his book down, turning to him. “They’re still testing your genes but he says you’re right about the milk, it doesn’t do anything once it’s sampled. He said it’s good milk though,” Jungkook nods to himself. “Super healthy, strong antibodies and all. Oh also he said judging from the first results of the DNA testing you’re not a cow.”
“That’s- good?” Namjoon says, having had no doubt in his mind that he wasn’t a cow in any way, shape or form.
Jungkook smiles brightly at him, missing the puzzlement on Namjoon’s face. He picks his book again, turning the next page then yanking his finger away. “ Ow ,” Jungkook hisses, and Namjoon catches the betrayed look on his face as he glares at a paper cut on his finger.
“Ah, what has Naruto done to you,” Namjoon mocks.
Jungkook’s head whips to him. “I’m hurt,” he says, looks immensely hopeful all at once and it takes a second for Namjoon to understand why.
“You’re kidding me,” Namjoon says.
“Look, it’s bleeding,” Jungkook whines, purposefully pressing on the cut so small drops of blood would pearl out. “I’m in pain .”
Namjoon stares.
“You’re a big baby,” he says after a few seconds as Jungkook visibly deflates. And really, no one shouldn’t be allowed to look this cute. Namjoon gives in way too easily. “Come with me,” he says.
He gets up suddenly, startling Jungkook when he grabs his hand to drag him away from their table. Jungkook stumbles after him as Namjoon walks them to the most secluded place of the library, where the archeology books sleep. He leads them to the deepest end of a row, where it’s a bit darker because the light doesn’t fully reach, where it smells of dust and old books, and he presses Jungkook against the bookshelves.
“It hurts?” Namjoon asks, and Jungkook is dazed enough that it takes him a second to answer.
“Yes. A lot.”
“We can’t have that,” Namjoon breathes out, lifting his shirt above his pecs. “Come here.”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice, diving in to wrap his lips around his left nipple, a delighted moan leaving his lips. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, a hand pressing on Namjoon’s waist and the other fondling his tit to keep the milk flowing.
It’s different - different from every time he’s breastfed someone before. Different from Hoseok, from Taehyung, from the old lady down the street or the young kid at the train station. Jungkook’s mouth is hot and wet, breathing hotly against his skin, face flushed as he drinks more and more of his milk. He gulps loudly and there’s warmth spreading down Namjoon’s chest, making his skin tingle. Pressure builds up in his chest as he lactates, but the release is immediate, an endless loop of pressure relief pressure relief . Jungkook is eager, loud, unaware of the way he looks as he closes his eyes and lets Namjoon’s milk runs down his throat.
Namjoon puts a hand in Jungkook’s hair, holding onto the unruly mane, breaths coming out harder the longer Jungkook spends sucking on him. There’s the hint of teeth and Namjoon moans, his shirt falling from his hand and covering Jungkook’s head.
“Jungkook,” he whispers, holding onto the rack behind his head, grip tightening in Jungkook’s hair. He feels warm, flickers of arousal awakening his body and lightening up his skin. His clothes feel heavy and he daydreams about taking them off, about undressing Jungkook and watch the light draw shades along his curves.
Jungkook moans against him, soft and muffled. His tongue pokes out to lick at his nipple and he draws back, only long enough to move to his right nipple, sucking the bud inside his warm mouth. He keeps pulling and rubbing at his left nipple, letting milk pearl out and trickle down his fingers. He kneads at his puffy tits and swallows his milk all too eagerly, and every touches and swipes of Jungkook’s tongue has Namjoon’s heart beating faster, pumping blood towards a destination Namjoon knows well : his dick.
Jungkook seems unaware of the effect he has on Namjoon as he swallows mouthful of his milk. The paper cut is long gone, and all that’s left is the thirst, the way Jungkook’s pink lips wrap around his nipples, the way his teeth graze his skin and make Namjoon hold harder onto the shelves. He’s caging Jungkook in, breathing hot and body tight, dick chubbing up in his shorts.
There’s a sharp tug on his nipple and Namjoon moans, loud in the empty library. He tugs harshly on Jungkook’s hair until he moves back, a protest on his lips. Jungkook looks dazed, face flushed and pink lips glistening with milk, and Namjoon can only resist so long before he smashes their mouths together.
He tastes his own milk first - sweet and warm - and then it’s just Jungkook, Jungkook’s pretty lips and his warm tongue and his hands on his waist pulling him closer. Jungkook kisses back fiercely, nose rubbing against his cheek. They share hot, heavy open mouthed kisses in between bookshelves, and Namjoon keeps a hand in his hair, angling his head the way he wants it, tight and vibrating with want against the pretty hero. They’re close, pressed chest to chest, Namjoon’s shirt trapped between their bodies and stuck above his nipples. Milk is still leaking out, wetting Jungkook’s black shirt but he doesn’t seem to care, only moaning when Namjoon nibbles on his lower lip.
Namjoon slides his knee between Jungkook’s legs and is pleased to find him already hard, moving back into the touch. Jungkook breaks away from the kiss, jaw slack and eyes glassy as Namjoon rubs his thigh gently against his crotch.
“Are you still hurt?” he whispers, breath puffing on Jungkook’s cheek, waiting until he focuses back on him.
“Yes,” he hisses. “Blood- Blood circulation issues. Awful blood circulation issues.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon kisses Jungkook’s jawline, the pout on his lips. “Sounds terrible.”
“Do you have a cure for that?” Jungkook pants, and as hard as he is, Namjoon can’t help smiling.
“You need a thorough milking,” Namjoon says, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe I should treat you like cattle.”
He only has enough time to catch sight of Jungkook’s cheek burning red before he feels two hands at the back of his thighs, his feet leaving the ground and his back slamming in the opposite book shelf.
The rack screeches, moved by Jungkook’s strength, and they both still, frozen as they wait for someone to check the source of the noise.
“ Dummy ,” Namjoon says after a minute when he’s sure no one is coming, smiling wide enough for his dimples to show. His glasses have gone askew and he quickly fixes them, hopes they don’t fog up with how hotly he’s breathing.
“Sorry,” Jungkook says. His crotch is pressed against his ass and his lips part prettily when Namjoon wriggles down. Jungkook tightens his hold on his thighs, stilling him. “Am sorry,” he repeats, voice strained.
Namjoon hopes he can control his strength, because nothing would be easier for the hero than to break the shelves if he humped him too hard. It’s hotter to think about than he expected, and Namjoon pulls Jungkook into another kiss, sucking on his full bottom lip. He puts a hand on Jungkook’s ass, squeezing and pushing him towards him.
“God,” Jungkook whimpers. “Your lips,” he says. “Your thighs .”
“Yeah?” Namjoon says, breathless
“ Yeah ,” Jungkook moans, lowering Namjoon’s body an inch to press harder against his clothed ass.
“Shit,” Namjoon curses. “This is so hot.”
Warmth spread through him again and he aches with need, because he’s a big man, he’s intimidating and tall, he’s never been picked up by anyone before but Jungkook manhandles him effortlessly, hands steady under his thighs as he starts grinding on him. He lowers his head to mouth at his nipple over his blue shirt, and the milk is quick to leak out, slowly wetting the fabric.
“Oh god,” Namjoon rumbles low, moans choking him up.
He grips Jungkook’s hair with both hands, cradling him against his chest as he licks determinedly at his nipples. He can’t move his lower half, can’t do anything but let Jungkook move against him, rut against him like they’re animals - and Namjoon is not a cow he might still be in heat, dizzy with want and brainlessly aroused. His cock strains against the zipper of his shorts, pressed against Jungkook’s stomach, twitching from the friction of their bodies moving against one another. He can feel Jungkook’s defined abs even like that, can picture them, longs to feel them under his fingers and under the tip of his tongue.
Jungkook lowers him again so their crotches align, and when he humps him again Namjoon can only hold onto Jungkook tighter. He moans for him to speed up, to go harder, imagines they’re naked and Jungkook is fucking him into the mattress or against the wall. Namjoon shudders at the thought, at the strength he feels even now with every jerks of his body in Jungkook's hold. He thinks he can feel Jungkook’s dick against his through the fabric of their pants, warmth spreading and blood pulsing in both their cocks.
Jungkook draws more and more milk out of him and it runs down his chest and soak his shirt, Jungkook moaning softly as he licks at his clothed nipple, sucking and nibbling through the fabric. He’s messy and the milk drips on his chin, white trails that look too much like cum for Namjoon not to feel feverish. He had no idea his nipples could be sensitive after all the breastfeeding yet he arches back into the touch, can’t find anything sexier than the way Jungkook’s big nose press into his chest, the way his ears grow fully red and he’s whining for more and more of him. His grip on him never falter, only get sturdier even when he picks up the pace, shoving Namjoon up the rack when he bucks up.
Neither of them last long, panting harshly and biting down their moans, sweating and shivering from pleasure in each other’s arms. Jungkook comes first, biting the side of Namjoon’s boob through his shirt, and that pushes Namjoon over the edge. He spills in his underwear, pulsing against Jungkook’s crotch and curling over him. He tries to stifle his voice, tries to control the shivers wracking his body, tense in Jungkook’s hold until his dick stops throbbing.
He goes limp when he’s done, hanging over Jungkook’s head like a drying towel while he catches his breath. Jungkook pants against his collarbone, and he can feel his shirt stick to his skin, wet with milk.
Namjoon makes an effort to unfurl and straighten his back to look at Jungkook, and he finds him glowing, messy hair and red-bitten lips and a dopey smile on his face.
“Still hurt?” Namjoon asks.
Jungkook’s smile turns into a happy grin, bunny teeth peeking out. “I think I have chest pain,” he says. “Can the Milk Man do anything about that?”
Namjoon laughs, loud in the empty library. He grabs Jungkook’s face and squeezes both of his cheeks to kiss him full on the mouth. “Never call me that again and I will do anything you want.”