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Jungkook is still staring at the door like it’s going to magically open if he looks pathetic enough. It doesn’t. The auto-lock just sits there, smug and final.
Thirty hours. Thirty whole hours of holding, and it started so stupid-cute. Yesterday morning he woke up late, the dorm bathroom was full of yelling hyungs, so he just pulled on his sweats and thought “later.” Later never came.
Practice was long, he kept drinking water because his throat was scratchy from singing, and every time he dropped to the floor or rolled his hips the pressure gave this secret little hug between his legs that made him bite his lip and smile at nothing.
By the time they finished tonight his tummy was visibly round under the cropped shirt, a soft peach bulge he kept sneaking touches to when no one was looking. He felt like a naughty babygirl hiding candy.
So he did the thing. “Hyungs, go ahead, I’ll stay and fix that one part I keep messing up. I’ll lock up, promise.” He even did the big eyes and the bunny smile. Taehyung squinted at him like he knew something was up, but they left anyway.
Click. Door shut. Auto-lock engaged.
Jungkook tried the handle once, twice, three times for good luck. Nothing. Staff card only. His phone is dead in the locker room across the building. Lights on timer, bright and unforgiving, turning the whole room into one giant mirror box of his own stupid face.
He stands there for a full minute, mouth open in the tiniest, most shocked “o”.
His hands fly between his thighs on pure instinct.
Jungkook feels the warm, angry ball in his lower belly shove downward like it’s personally offended he thought he could control this. His cock, fat and half-chubby from hours of teasing ache, gives a sad little twitch against the soft cotton of his boxers.
“aaa… no no no, not yet,” he whispers, voice high and baby-soft, the kind that makes people want to hug him and ruin him at the same time. “be good, please be good.”
He takes one wobbly step and his thighs rub together, the friction making his swollen dick leak a hot coin-sized spot right at the tip. The grey sweats are thin; the wet patch shows instantly.
Jungkook wants to die of embarrassment. His cheeks burn darker than the cherry lip balm he loves. He waddles to the nearest mirror, lifts the hem of his cropped shirt with trembling fingers, and just stares.
His tummy is round, actually round, like someone overfilled a peach. The skin is tight and shiny and when he pokes it, just a tiny poke with one finger, he has to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle the whiniest “uh uh uh, my poor bellyyy” ever.
Another leak. This one longer, warmer, trickles down the inside of his left thigh like it’s shy too. He watches the dark line crawl in the mirror and his eyes go glassy.
“why am i like this,” he thinks, mortified and turned on at the same time. “normal people don’t get locked in and immediately start leaking like a broken baby.”
He cups himself through the sweats, both palms pressing over the fat bulge of his cock and balls. The head is so puffy it pokes against the fabric like it’s begging for attention.
“shhhh dicky, shhhh,” he coos to it, rocking on his heels. “we’re gonna hold, okay? we’re big boys… kinda.”
His bladder cramps meanly at the lie. A fresh spurt soaks straight through, dripping off his balls and pat-pat-patting on the floor.
Jungkook squeaks, high and panicked. “aaa my cock, my cock is crying!”
He sinks down right there on the hardwood, legs butterflied open because crossing them makes him feel like he’ll pop. The cold floor kisses his wet crotch and he shivers so hard his teeth chatter.
“uh uh uh uh, cold cold cold,” he whimpers, hips wiggling without permission.
He peels the waistband away just enough to peek inside. His cock is ridiculous, thick and baby-pink, the head all glossy and fat like it’s pouting. A crystal drop hangs at the slit, trembles, falls.
Jungkook feels like his dick is a separate creature that hates him right now. A very pretty, very stupid creature.
He lets the waistband snap back and hugs his knees, rocking a little. “what if the hyungs knew,” he thinks, cheeks flaming hotter. “what if namjoonie-hyung opened the door right now and saw me sitting in my own pee puddle like a dumb little princess? what if yoongi-hyung laughed and called me babygirl and told me to spread my legs wider so he could watch?”
The image flashes so vivid he has to squeeze his eyes shut. Big hands, teasing smiles, someone holding him while he loses it completely.
His cock gives another traitorous pulse and another warm leak slips out.
“stop it,” he scolds himself out loud, voice wobbly and teary. “this is not the time to think about hyung fucking me while i piss myself, oh my god.”
But the thought is there now, sticky and hot, and his poor swollen dicky just leaks again, like it agrees.
Jungkook is still on the floor, legs open, little puddle cooling under his butt, when his eyes land on the pencil.
It’s just a regular HB, long and smooth, lying there like it’s been waiting for him. The sight hits him straight in the gut.
Jungkook feels his heart do a stupid flip. “no… no way,” he thinks. “people don’t actually do that… that’s porn shit… i’m not that kind of babygirl.”
His cock, the traitor, gives a fat throb and another warm dribble leaks out.
“aaa dicky nooo,” he whines, high and teary, “you’re supposed to be on my side!”
He crawls over anyway, on hands and knees, ass in the air, wet sweats sagging. The pencil looks innocent. He picks it up with shaky fingers.
“this is insane,” he whispers to the empty room. “if anyone ever knew i even thought about this i would actually die.”
He sits back on his heels, pulls the soaked sweats and boxers all the way off, kicks them aside. Naked from the waist down now, thighs shiny, cock standing up thick and pink like a dumb strawberry.
He brings the pencil to his mouth and licks it, slow, shy, cheeks burning. Once, twice, again, until it’s slick. The taste of graphite and spit makes him shiver.
“okay… okay just to hold a little longer,” he tells himself, voice trembling. “just a tiny bit… then i’ll stop.”
He spreads his knees wider, leans back on one hand, lines the rounded end up with his puffy slit. The first touch of cool wood makes him squeak.
“uh uh uh, cold!”
He pushes anyway.
It burns, a sharp little stretch that makes his eyes water instantly. “aaa my poor dicky, it’s too big,” he whimpers, but he keeps going, slow, slow, watching in the mirror how the pencil disappears into his pretty cock.
One centimetre, two, three, four. He stops when half is inside, panting, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Jungkook feels so full, fuller than ever, the pencil plugging everything like a cork in a bottle. His bladder quiets to a deep, throbbing ache instead of screaming.
“oh my god it’s in me,” he breathes, voice cracking. “i’m such a freak… hyungs would laugh so hard… or… or maybe jiminie would call me baby and tell me i’m pretty like this…”
The thought makes his cock twitch around the pencil and a tiny jet leaks around the sides anyway.
He can’t help it. He starts moving it, tiny shallow thrusts, just enough to feel the drag inside his urethra. “uh uh uh uh, feels weird, feels good, uh uh,” he moans, hips rocking on their own.
His free hand slides lower, past his balls, to his little hole. He’s never done this in the practice room before, but he’s so empty everywhere else.
One finger circles the rim, shy. “what if taehyungie saw me doing this,” he thinks, face flaming. “what if he pushed his cock in instead and made me piss while he fucked me…”
He presses the finger in to the first knuckle.
“aaa hyung, hyung please,” he whimpers to nobody, pushing deeper.
The double stretch, pencil in his cock, finger in his ass, makes him sob for real. Tears drip off his chin onto his swollen tummy.
He fucks himself slow with both, pencil sliding in and out, finger curling, looking for that spot that makes him see stars. When he finds it he cries out, high and broken.
“there, there, uh uh uh, right there hyungie!”
Another finger joins the first, scissoring a little, stretching his pretty hole while the pencil plugs his cock. He’s drooling now, actual spit running down his chin.
He lasts maybe seven minutes before his thighs start shaking too hard to stay up. He has to pull the pencil out.
The second it slides free with a wet pop his cockhole gapes and piss explodes in a hard, burning arc that splashes the mirror across the room.
“no no no stop stop aaa!” he sobs, trying to pinch it shut, but it’s too late, the stream is strong and endless and feels so good his vision whites out.
He collapses forward into the fresh puddle, ass up, fingers still buried in his hole, riding the waves while piss keeps pouring out of him.
When the stream finally weakens he’s a trembling mess, whispering “i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry” like the mirrors can hear him.
Jungkook is flat on his tummy in the cooling puddle, two fingers still lazily curled inside his ass because he’s too shaky to pull them out. His cock is half-soft, drooling the last drops, fat and pink and pathetic.
He knows he should clean up. Should find a towel. Should at least put his boxers back on.
Instead his eyes drift to the big subwoofer in the corner, tall, matte black, the one they all lean against during breaks.
Jungkook feels his stomach flip with fresh shame. “no… not that,” he thinks. “that’s literally the hyungs’ speaker… i can’t…”
His cock gives a hopeful little twitch.
“aaa you’re the worst,” he whines to it, voice hoarse from crying. “you’re literally the worst dicky in the world.”
He crawls anyway, on hands and knees, ass swaying, fingers slipping out with a wet sound that makes him squeak.
When he reaches the speaker he sits back on his heels and just stares. The corner edge looks sharp and unforgiving. Perfect.
“if jin-hyung knew i was about to hump his speaker he’d disown me,” he thinks, cheeks burning. “or… or he’d hold my hips and tell me to be a good boy and make a mess…”
The thought makes him whimper.
He stands on wobbly legs, naked and shiny with piss, and straddles the corner like it’s a pony. The cold edge kisses his raw cock and balls and he gasps, high and startled.
“uh uh uh cold cold!”
He lowers himself slowly, letting his full weight settle. The pressure on his still-swollen bladder is instant and brutal. His tummy mashes flat against the box, cock trapped between speaker and skin.
“aaa my poor bellyyy,” he cries, but his hips rock forward on their own.
The first grind drags his puffy head over the rough edge and a thick pulse of piss shoots out, soaking the front instantly.
Jungkook watches it run down in shiny streaks and starts crying again, soft overwhelmed tears. “this is so gross… hyungs sit here… i’m literally pissing on the speaker like a disgusting baby…”
The words make him grind harder.
He wraps both arms around the top like he’s hugging it, forehead pressed to the warm metal, and starts humping in earnest. Little desperate thrusts, thighs trembling, breath hitching every time his cock drags over the wet corner.
“uh uh uh uh, feels so good, feels so bad, uh uh,” he moans, voice cracking.
His bladder keeps leaking in steady pulses now, squishing with every roll of his hips. The speaker squeaks under him, piss sloshing.
He reaches down with one shaky hand, scoops a palmful of the warm puddle, brings it to his mouth without thinking.
Just a little taste.
It’s stronger now, salty and sharp and so wrong. The second it hits his tongue he moans loud and broken.
“aaa hyung …”
He licks his fingers clean, then scoops again, greedy.
He’s close. He can feel it building low in his belly, mixing with the piss, making his balls draw up tight.
“no no not yet,” he sobs, trying to slow down, but his hips won’t listen. They snap forward, chasing the sting, the wet drag, the pressure.
Another cramp hits and the stream rips out full force, blasting against the speaker and splashing everywhere.
The sudden relief is too much.
He cums without warning, without even touching himself properly.
“aaa hyung hyung hyung aaa!” he screams, whole body locking up as thick ropes shoot out, mixing with the piss, painting the speaker and his tummy in messy stripes.
His cock jerks and jerks, trapped between box and skin, every pulse forcing more out until he’s empty and shaking and crying.
He keeps rocking through it, tiny helpless thrusts, riding the aftershocks until he collapses forward, forehead against the ruined speaker, panting into his own mess.
The room smells like him now, sharp and thick, piss and cum and sweat. He should be grossed out. He should be crying harder. Instead he feels floaty, soft, like someone tucked him into bed after the best-worst day ever.
His cock is finally going down, small and pink and sensitive, drooling the last milky drops. His tummy isn’t round anymore; it’s soft and empty and a little sore, like he just gave birth to an ocean.
“aaa… all gone,” he whispers, voice tiny and hoarse. “my poor dicky did so good…”
He giggles, high and stupid, then hiccups because the giggle makes another warm dribble leak out.
He needs something soft. Needs to be held. Needs to pretend someone is here cuddling his messy babygirl self.
There’s a big square floor pillow in the corner, the grey one they use for stretching. It’s clean. Was clean.
Jungkook crawls over, naked, knees slipping in puddles, cock swinging heavy between his thighs. He drags the pillow to the middle of the room, right under the brightest light so all the mirrors can watch.
“bedtime,” he sing-songs to himself, voice wobbly and drunk on relief.
He flops face-down, arranges the pillow between his legs like a teddy bear, then rolls onto his side and hugs it tight. His soft cock nestles right into the plush fabric, still leaking tiny drops every time he breathes.
“uh uh uh… night-night dicky,” he coos, kissing the corner of the pillow like it’s a hyung’s shoulder.
He pulls his soaked shirt off too, finally completely naked, skin sticky and shiny. The cool air makes him shiver and snuggle deeper into the pillow.
Jungkook feels so small, so baby, curled up naked in the middle of the practice room with a pillow between his cock and his own piss puddles cooling on the floor.
He wiggles his hips, just a little, because the plush feels nice against his sensitive head. A warm trickle leaks out immediately, soaking into the grey fabric.
“aaa oopsie,” he whispers, but doesn’t stop wiggling. The pillow drinks it up, turning darker in a slow, spreading circle.
He imagines the hyungs walking in tomorrow morning and finding him like this: naked, curled around a piss-soaked pillow, cock still dripping, face all puffy from crying and cumming.
“they’d be so mad,” he thinks, then bites his lip. “or… maybe not.”
Maybe Namjoon-hyung would kneel down, big gentle hands stroking his hair, murmuring “look at our babygirl, made such a big mess for us.”
Maybe Jin-hyung would laugh softly and take pictures, teasing “this is going on the group chat, bunny.”
Maybe Yoongi-hyung would just watch with those dark eyes and say “pretty” in that low voice that makes Jungkook’s knees weak.
Maybe Taehyungie would crawl right into the puddle with him and kiss the tears off his cheeks and whisper “let hyung fill you up again.”
The fantasy makes his cock chub up a little, pressing fat and warm against the pillow. Another lazy leak seeps out, bigger this time, warm and endless.
“uh uh uh… can’t stop,” he whimpers, rocking his hips in tiny sleepy circles. The pillow is half yellow now, heavy and squishy.
He slips one hand between his legs from behind, finds his puffy hole again, slides two fingers in easy because he’s still loose and wet from earlier.
“hyung… hyung please,” he mumbles into the pillow, voice muffled and dreamy. “watch me leak all night… wanna be your piss princess forever…”
His fingers curl, stroking that spot slow and lazy, while his cock drools steadily into the fabric. Every rock of his hips pushes a fresh trickle out.
The pillow is soaked through, dark and warm, squishing softly when he hugs it tighter.
Jungkook feels himself drifting, body heavy, mind fuzzy. The last thought before sleep takes him is soft and secret and a little bit hopeful:
“what if they find me exactly like this tomorrow… naked and yellow and still leaking… would they think it’s hot? would they keep me?”
He smiles, tiny and baby-sweet, drooling on the pillow, cock giving one final sleepy spurt that spreads warm between his thighs.
“night-night hyungs…” he whispers to the empty mirrors. “your babygirl’s waiting…”
And then he’s out, curled small and naked and perfect in the middle of his mess, pillow turning steadily darker with every dreamy leak through the night.